#i already have my tickets but in case anyone missed out on the four-hour window you had to buy before it sold out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-gemz · 3 years ago

Text

Summary: This is a continuation of the movie Before We Go and my interpretation and imagination of an A/U. Brooke is you (Y/N) and Nick is still Nick :)

Prompt: "Just admit that I'm right." for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles for Nick Vaughan.

Pairings: Nick Vaughan x Y/N

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: <2k...is this a drabble still? Oopsies XD

A/N: I watched this movie for the first time just last week. It's now one of my top 3 Cevans movies! While I'm all for a romantic, serendipitous, spontaneous trope...much like Before Sunrise *no spoilers*, the ending was great, but I wanted a different spin. No pressure...yah, right! Either way, hope you enjoy xx.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @tonystankschild @a-little-counter-esperanto

****************************************************************

You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spent the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before and it was ending.

You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…

“Nick. It's you again. Listen. I want to give you one more piece of advice. You're gonna be playing one night... Grand Central... thinking of every reason in the world to not go see the girl that broke your heart. Then, you're gonna meet somebody. And now, at first, she's gonna seem… icy. You're gonna know right away she's trouble. She's gonna take all your money. You're probably gonna get punched in the face. But stay with her; you're gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night, you're gonna want to say some things, but don't. Don't ruin it. It's nothing she doesn't already know. Just give her a kiss. Wish her good luck. And thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.”

He was unbelievably charming. You said so yourself. His raw talent with the trumpet was beautiful and different from what you were used to. The suburbia of the Boston bubble was what you were forced to live in now. You were from London, you were cultured and refined. Sure things with Michael were exciting at first, but the ho hum of the daily diatribe of routine became loathsome. Dépaysement. But you still never wavered in your marriage. Unlike Michael who had crossed that sacred line and lost your trust. It wasn't even fully the physical aspect that he went to another woman. It was the intimacy of telling her his deepest desires and then some that hurt the most. That he would want to share that with anyone else but you. But tonight. Tonight was what made you see clearly.

"It's possible, isn't it? It's possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else," you asked as you bit your lip.

"No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else."

You found yourself blushing and cupping your cheek in thoughts of Nick. He was right. The whole night was a cluster mess of you trying to get home before Michael so you'd be able to throw away that wretched note. That he'd come to his senses and forget Linny. That he'd realized he was a fool and you'd start over. Just like old times.

However, slowly that feeling of reconciliation faded away little by little as each hour in the city passed. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but somehow the scrappy trumpet player Nick Vaughan etched his way into your icy heart and left an impression and stayed.

His fluffy, dark hair - so soft and inviting for you to rake your fingers through it was enough to drive you mad. His scruffy beard, which tickled when you kissed. You already loved ghosting your palms over it softly and imagined being able to do it whenever you wished. He said earlier into the night you weren't his type; you scoffed, but we're annoyed that it bothered you. You were a classic model of what guys were into, looks wise. Sure, your attitude was what rubbed some people the wrong way, but Americans really were too sensitive.

He however...he was the full package. Every toothy grin, wink, and full hearty laugh. He was addicting. He was a dead ringer for a heartthrob, but you also couldn't hate the guy for it. He was the friend you'd call to bail you out of jail at 4am and the boyfriend that you could see settling down with. It was nauseating really.

And then his lips. His soft lips...you can’t believe you kissed him in the hotel room. And then again at the train station. But you would have kicked yourself for not doing so in the first place. The way your fingers interlaced themselves on his terry cloth robe, how desperately you wanted to press your body against his. All you wanted was for him to feel that burning need within the apex between your thighs and extinguish it all night. But it was more than that, he was what you were missing. But you were kidding yourself. You weren’t running to Michael, you were running away from Nick.

But why? Because of the unknown? Because he actually knew who you were deep down inside? How could a man you barely knew, change you? Change what you thought was true, what you thought was love?

You dove your hand into your wool jacket’s pockets to push any thoughts of self-doubt, when you realize there was a piece of cardstock. You were puzzled to find it and immediately smiled in recognizing the hotel survey card. You bit your lip as you read down the survey questions one by one and notice Nick’s handwriting at the bottom, ‘turn over’ with an arrow.

Curious you turn over the hotel card and he’s written the word ‘yes’. Yes? You furrow your brow and contemplate further what he would be saying yes to. You think about the night - the time at the bar, helping him with Hannah, when you went to the psychic reading. Yes? What in the world - and then you turn the card back over and realize that on the second to last question it asked “Will you be likely to return?”

None of the boxes are checked, but he’d written ‘yes’ on the back. Yes. Yes he’ll return? Where? To the hotel? But when? You look up and rush to think about stopping the train dead in its tracks to return back to Grand Station. You breathe out heavily and come to terms that this isn’t a movie. He’s not chasing you down the tracks, jumping on the train to find you. Or is he? You wouldn’t put it past him. The whole night was filled with serendipitous concourses, this would be icing on the cake. You dart your head around to see if he’s in the cable car. It’s like in every rom com movie ending, the man of your dreams will be right there. He’s somehow charmed his way into boarding the train and found you waiting like a princess in her high tower. The train car is dark and bleak, only a few passengers are riding it as it’s the first route to Boston on a Sunday. You peer over to see if he’s in the next cart, but alas he is not. You slump in your seat and rub your thumb methodically over his words.

"Have you ever had a feeling that somebody was going to play a major part in your life?” you ask.

“Yeah."

“Do you know the most interesting thing about hotel art? It's what's on the back.”

It’s then you realize you have to return to New York. This story wasn’t about you and Michael anymore. No, it was about the man who selflessly helped you while you were in need, not only at your dire hour, but metaphorically as well. This was meant to be. You were meant to miss your train, break your phone, and meet the handsome man named Nick Vaughn. You knew he’d still be in the city because of his audition for the day with Duke at least, if you could just get to him somehow...

Your knees bounced as you sat on a cushioned chair in the hotel lobby. You had planned to wait there all day, but then realized the $13 train ticket was your only way of providing you security back home. So you went home. Confronted Michael. Cursed, cried, and then relief rushed over you as he had read your letter and how you knew about the affair. How you wanted to throw fists on his chest and tell him how much you hated him. But once you saw him, you found it didn't matter to you anymore. Someone else was worth fighting for. Your marriage was over. The hatred and spite you once had for your husband had dissipated. Your world didn't end like you thought it would. This wasn't your only chance at love. You were choosing to be happy, whether it was with Nick or not. This was the first time you were going to jump without having a net.

And Nick was wrong. Michael didn't want to work things out, he was coming to tell you that he loved you, but that and he'd be returning to Atlanta for good. The house, car, everything was yours: Nick said so himself, you gotta be okay with not being okay. So you walked away. You made the choice just like the psychic said and took it in stride, you faced the music.

However now you found yourself back in New York. Not the once stranded woman at a crossroads less than 24 hours before, but the woman that made a choice. You were worried that Nick would see it as you running away again. Running away because Michael didn't choose you. But in reality you didn't choose each other.

Still without an ID, you took your car and better against the four hour drive to the city and hoped a cop wouldn't pull you over. You thought of the night in the hotel. The laughs, the closeness you two encountered. The playful and cheeky way he could make you feel seen. You were starting to get nervous, what if he doesn't show up? What if I missed my chance?

"I'm an idiot," you murmur to yourself. "I can't believe I'm here."

You stand up and realize there Nick was there in your path. He looked a little worn, obviously from staying up all night. But he had changed and showered from the looks of it, and his signature trumpet case held in his hand.

"Well look who it is. The biggest loser in New York."

You laughed and blushed at the sight of him. He slung his trumpet case over his broad shoulder and walked over to close the gap.

“Just admit that I’m right.”

"Admit what?" You ask as you find yourself touching his jacket sleeve.

"Admit that you couldn't get enough of me." You hitched a breath from his words.

"You can say that."

"I can't believe you came back," he responded. His blue eyes gazed into yours as he brushed away a tendril of hair from your face.

"I read your answer to the survey...on the back."

"The stay did exceed my expectations and I did say I would return," he smiles.

"And here you are."

"Here I am…" he pulls away slightly as he's reminded that you're married.

"I jumped," you replied.

He's taken back by your statement and furrows his brow.

"What? With what?"

"I told Michael it was over."

"Wow. I'm so...sorry, Y/N."

"Don't be. You said so yourself, at some point it was time to face the music."

He nodded, absorbing the information.

"Say what's in your head."

He shook his head and grinned,"I'm just glad you came back is all."

"Yeah? How'd you know?"

"I didn't. Just sure as hell hoped you would."

He intertwines your fingers with his and holds tight. Like a missing puzzle piece found, your hand fits perfectly with his.

"Whaddya say we get out of here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I may know a place," he smiles devilishly and gives your knuckles a kiss.

You grab his dress shirt collar and turn him towards you. He runs his hands through your hair and places his lips upon yours, kissing you deeply. It's a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after you part, neither open your eyes for a few moments afterwards and he embraces you tightly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

#drunk drabbles #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #nick vaughan #before we go #before we go spoilers #nick vaughn x reader #romance

61 notes · View notes

bechloeislegit · 3 years ago

Text

My Spy - Chapter 2

A/N: I had a couple of things I wanted to mention but forgot to put on the first chapter: First, I've taken some liberties and had Beca and the freshman Bellas living in the Bellas House since they were officially Bellas. Second, I have loosely followed the timelines set out in each of the PP movies, with some literary license on some of the events. Third, I will be using flashbacks to tell some of Beca and Chloe's history from when they were together and from their individual lives; flashbacks will be in Italics.

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

The Bellas walked out of the diner to see Beca sitting on a bench, with her head down. Stacie and Aubrey broke away from the group and went over to her. The other girls stayed back to give them some space.

"What happened, Beca?" Stacie asked as she sat on the bench next to Beca.

"What did Chloe say?" Aubrey asked as she, too, took a seat on the bench.

"I didn't talk to her," Beca mumbled.

"What do you mean you didn't talk to her?" Aubrey asked.

"I called and got one of those messages stating the number was no longer in service," Beca said, wiping her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Beca," Stacie said, pulling Beca into a hug.

CR started walking over to the bench; the rest of the Bellas followed.

"Beca, can we do anything?" CR asked.

Beca just shook her head.

"I guess we'll just have to wait to see if Chloe reaches out to you," Aubrey said.

"I don't know if I even want to talk to her anymore," Beca blurted out.

"Don't you want some answers?" Jessica asked. "Answers that only Chloe can provide?"

~~ My Spy ~~

Later that night, instead of being on her way home to Portland as she had planned, Chloe was on a plane with other agents bound for Washington, DC. Her bosses decided that all the undercover agents involved in the drug bust needed to fly to Headquarters for a debriefing.

Chloe stared out the plane's window, wondering what Beca was doing now.

"She probably hates me," Chloe thought as an unwanted tear rolled down her cheek.

Chloe discreetly wiped the tear while glancing at her partner and seatmate to make sure he hadn't noticed. She was lucky; he was talking to another agent across the aisle from them.

Chloe looked up when one of the agents in the seat in front of her got on his knees and leaned his arms on the back of his seat. He looked at Chloe and smiled.

"Nice tackle on that guy, Beale," he said.

"Um, thanks, Davidson," Chloe responded.

"So, uh, some of us are planning to get a drink once we get situated at the hotel," Davidson said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wondering if you would like to join us?"

"No, thanks," Chloe said. "I'm kind of tired. I think I'll just spend some quiet time in my room once we get there. Thanks for the invite, though."

"Sure, no problem," Davidson said before turning and sitting back down in his seat.

Chloe went back to staring out the window at the night sky. She was overthinking everything.

"I should call Beca and see if she's ready to talk to me. God, I hope she still wants to talk to me."

For the second time in ten minutes, Chloe tried to discreetly wipe a tear away, surprised to find both cheeks wet as more tears streamed down her face.

Chloe's partner, Jason, saw this and was momentarily shocked. The ever-stoic Agent Beale does not show her true emotions to anyone. Ever. He always admired that about her because it's a large part of what makes her a good agent.

Jason knew Chloe would be teased and bothered by the other agents. So he did what any good partner would do. He put his arm around her and sat sideways while wrapping his other arm around Chloe's shoulder and putting her face into his chest, essentially hiding Chloe's face from everyone's view.

"You look tired, Beale," Jason said loud enough for others to hear. "Feel free to lean on me and get some sleep."

Chloe nodded into Jason's chest and whispered a teary thank you.

~~ My Spy ~~

It had been four days since Beca last saw or spoke to Chloe. It had also been four days since her dad and the others had been arrested. Her father being arrested is still something she was having trouble wrapping her head around.

Beca's mother sent her money so she could replace her broken phone, with the promise that Beca would get a new number so Chloe couldn't contact her. Beca couldn't keep that promise, so she sat with her brand new phone with the same old number, staring at texts she and Chloe had shared over the past year.

Beca had gone back and forth about whether she wanted to call Chloe and would then remember that the number she had for Chloe had already been canceled. She was pacing around her room when her phone rang.

"Hello," Beca said, answering the call without looking at the caller ID.

"I was wondering why you hadn't called to give me your new number," Beca's mother, Sarah, said.

Beca swallowed. "I'm sorry. I'm still hoping that Chloe will call so that she can explain everything."

"Hmm," Sarah said. "I don't know if I would believe anything she had to say."

"I still need an explanation of some kind," Beca said as tears stung her eyes. "I love her, mom."

"How can you still say that?" Sarah asked. "She obviously was using you to get to your father."

"Is that what you think?" Beca scoffed. "Well, you're wrong. And stop blaming Chloe or anyone else, and put the blame where it belongs. Dad wouldn't have been arrested if he hadn't been involved in a drug ring in the first place."

Sarah sighed into the phone. "I didn't call to fight with you."

"Then why did you call?"

"I called because you've only got a couple of weeks until Spring Break, and I want you to come home. You don't have to worry about the cost, I'll pay for your ticket."

"Oh," Beca said. "I was, uh, kind of planning on coming home and bringing Chloe to meet you. I guess I can still come, but it will just be me."

It hurt Sarah's heart to hear Beca sounding so emotional and defeated.

"Baby, I know you're hurting," Sarah said. "Come home and you can forget about Chloe, your father, and everything else. At least for a little while."

Beca sniffled. "I already said I'd come."

"Good," Sarah said. "I'll buy your ticket and send the confirmation to your email. Keep an eye out for it; I know how you are about reading your emails."

"Text me when you send it," Beca said. "That way I can't miss it."

"I can do that," Sarah said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Beca said. "Talk to you later. And, mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

~~ My Spy ~~

After four days, the debriefings were done and everyone was told they could go home.

"I'm beat," Chloe thought as she entered her hotel room. "It's been four extremely long and tiring days. The debriefings we had to suffer through for four days, could have been accomplished in a few hours."

Chloe threw her laptop on the bed and sat down. Her thoughts took over again.

"It's also been four days of no responses to texts I sent to Beca with my new number. Four days of phone calls going unanswered. Four days of missing Beca more than I've ever missed anyone in my life, even my parents. Four days of suffering the uncertainty about where my relationship with Beca stands."

"Who am I kidding?" Chloe mumbled as she fell back onto the bed. "I'm sure there's no chance of there even being a relationship anymore."

"Go home," the Director had told them before dismissing them for the day.

"Home?" Chloe questioned as she laid there wondering where "home" even was. Barden had been her home for almost four years. She was still enrolled as a student, and she only had a couple of months before she graduated. It was probably for the best if she went back and finished out the year. And if she happened to get to see and speak to Beca, even better.

Chloe's thoughts moved on to her Aunt Peggy and Uncle Matt. Her uncle is the one who got her involved in the agency to begin with, and she definitely didn't want to go to Portland and hear how she screwed up by falling in love while on the job.

Even as she thought this, she knew that no matter what anyone told her, she would never regret falling in love with Beca. She had tried not to let it happen; God knows she had tried. But, she finally accepted that it was meant to be and let it happen. And it was amazing.

Chloe quietly laid there with a plethora of thoughts running through her head. Her last thought fell back to her Uncle Matt, the man she held responsible for everything, good and bad, that had happened since he recruited her. It wasn't long before Chloe had fallen asleep and her thoughts invaded her dreams.

Chloe was a month into her Junior Year at Barden when she was surprised to see her Uncle Matt's name on her caller ID; he rarely called. He usually communicated with her via text.

"Hello, Uncle Matt," Chloe said, answering the call. "Why are you calling?"

"Chloe," Matt said. "I have an opportunity that I think you'd be wonderful for."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"I want you to help us with a case I'm working on," Matt said. "It has to do with Barden University and since you're already a student, you're the perfect person to help.

"What's the case?"

"We've been investigating a drug ring that's operating out of Mexico," Matt said. "They are moving the drugs up the East Coast and we have evidence that Barden is a major hub. We believe there are professors and students involved in the buying and selling of those drugs. We need an agent on the inside to help us gather more evidence about the drug ring and how it operates."

"But, I'm not an agent," Chloe said.

"You will be," Matt said. "We'll train you during your Winter Break. Six weeks is plenty of time to get the minimum training needed to do this. And then, if needed, we can give you more extensive training during the Summer Break."

"Can I think about it?" Chloe asked.

"Sure," Matt said, smiling. "Just don't wait too long. In the meantime, keep your eyes open around campus. If you see anything suspicious, call me."

"I will, Uncle Matt," Chloe said. "I have to go. I have a class."

A week later Chloe had seen a drug deal going down so she called her Uncle Matt to tell him about it. Agents arrived within minutes and she watched as the guys were arrested. She got such a rush from it that she immediately called her uncle and agreed to work for him on the case from that moment on.

Chloe woke up with a start when someone knocked on her hotel room door. She sat up and looked around.

"Chloe? It's Uncle Matt," Matt's voice called out from the hallway.

Her Uncle Matt coming to see her was not a surprise considering he was kind of her boss and it was his case. Chloe jumped up and ran to the door, opening it.

"Come in, Uncle Matt," Chloe said to the man.

Matt entered the room and turned to Chloe.

"Have a seat," Chloe said, motioning to the chairs around a small table.

Chloe walked over and sat down, expecting her uncle to do the same. Instead, Matt remained standing and was pacing back and forth. After a few minutes of him not speaking, Chloe became fidgety.

"So, what's up?" Chloe finally asked.

"I've been hearing some rumors that there is something going on between you and Beca Mitchell."

"Was," Chloe said.

Matt stopped pacing and looked at Chloe.

"I'm sorry, what?" Matt said

"There was something going on between me and Beca Mitchell," Chloe said. "But, thanks to you having everyone arrested on campus instead of waiting to catch them receiving the drug shipment, it's no longer an issue. My cover was blown and now she hates me."

Matt ran a hand through his hair. "We had to do it, Chloe. We got word that the Mexicans knew about our planned raid and had the shipment delivered early. We weren't prepared for that, so arresting the sellers was the only way we could keep most of the drugs off the streets. You should be proud; the agency considers this a success."

"Good for you," Chloe said, standing and facing Matt. "Is that it?"

Matt sighed and said, "Your Aunt Peggy wants to know if you're coming home."

"Home?" Chloe snorted. "I don't even know where home is anymore. My plan is to go back to Barden to finish the year so I can graduate."

"You do know you will always have a home with us, right?" Matt said. "You're like our own daughter."

"Would you have recruited your own daughter to be an agent?"

Matt swallowed and looked down. "Probably not."

"That's what I thought," Chloe said, walking over to the door and pulling it open. "I think you should go now."

Matt looked at Chloe and walked to the door.

"Please think about seeing your Aunt Peggy at some point," Matt said. "She misses you."

Chloe looked down at the floor, not saying anything. Matt kissed the top of Chloe's head before stepping through the doorway and walking away.

Chloe let the door close and went over to her suitcase. She started throwing her clothes into it.

Once everything was packed, Chloe got on her computer to book a flight to Atlanta. After confirming a flight for the next day, she bought a used car through an online car dealership near campus. She also put a down payment on a furnished apartment, sight unseen, just off Barden's campus.

~~ My Spy ~~

The next day, Chloe flew to Atlanta. She took an Uber to the used car lot and drove her 'new' car to her apartment.

Once she had the apartment keys in hand, she checked out the apartment and unpacked her clothes. Looking around she decided to drive to a nearby store to purchase a few groceries.

After a light dinner, Chloe pulled out her laptop and opened the email she had sent to herself with the phone numbers of all the Bellas. She picked up her phone preparing to send a text.

Chloe chewed on her lip, trying to decide which of the Bellas would be the most receptive to her. She smiled as she looked through the list and made her decision. She put in the number and started typing, hitting send when she was satisfied with what she had written.

UnknownNumber: Lily, this is Chloe Beale. I know you and the Bellas are angry with me, but please hear me out. I've tried calling and texting Beca but haven't received a response. I know she's angry and hurt but would you give her my new number and ask her to call me? I really need to speak to her. My number is (555) 809-1985. I'm really sorry about everything. I hope one day you can all forgive me.

Lily was shocked when she saw the text from Chloe. She was torn as to what to do. She didn't tell anyone about the text, but she did respond.

Lily: Beca busted her phone the night of the arrests. I will give her your number, but I can't promise she'll use it. And, for what it's worth, I understand you were doing your job so I forgive you. Good luck to you.

Chloe was surprised to receive a response so quickly. She knew that Lily was different and the rest of the Bellas wouldn't be so quick to forgive her. She had to admit, it felt good to have at least one of them forgive her. It also made her hopeful for the first time since she and Beca last saw each other.

UnknownNumber: Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.

After sending the final text, Chloe put all the Bellas' numbers back in her phone, hoping she' be using them one day soon.

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe knew that if she was going to resume attending classes she would need her textbooks. All of which were still in the room she had shared with Beca in the Bellas House. She thought about asking Lily to get them and bring them to her. She quickly dismissed that idea because it would mean telling Lily she was in Barden, and she wasn't ready to do that just yet.

An hour later, Chloe was dressed all in black, sitting in her car parked down the street from the Bellas House. She knew the Bellas had a rehearsal and would be leaving soon.

Chloe felt bad because the Bellas would have to change the choreography to accommodate her absence. Aubrey would also have to give her solo to someone else. Chloe had loved singing with the Bellas and especially with Beca.

Chloe checked the time and sat up in her seat to watch the front door of the Bellas House. It was less than a minute later the door opened and the girls were coming out. Chloe watched and started counting so she would know when they had all vacated the House.

Chloe's breath hitched when saw Beca walking out after Stacie. It took everything she had not to jump out of the car and run to Beca and pull her into a hug.

As soon as the group rounded the corner at the opposite end of the street, Chloe got out of her car. She looked around and all was quiet.

Chloe stuck her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and kept her head down as she made her way to the house. She was able to enter with no trouble.

Once inside, Chloe stood and listened to ensure the place was empty. When she was sure, she made her way to Beca's room, stopping outside the door for a moment as memories of the intimate moments she shared with Beca in the room, rushed into her head.

Chloe took in a deep breath and opened the door, scanning the room before quickly gathering her books and stuffing them into the backpack she was carrying. She saw Beca's favorite hoodie lying on the bed and picked it up. She put it to her nose and inhaled deeply; it smelled of Beca. She shoved the hoodie into the backpack and took it with her, quickly making her way out of Beca's room and the Bellas House.

Chloe didn't breathe again until she was safely back in her apartment.

#bechloe fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale

35 notes · View notes

impala1967dwinchester · 3 years ago

Text

Sam Winchester: Trouble Makers

Pairing: Teen!Sam W. x Teen!Reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Sam, making trouble, kissing, teenage love, Getting into trouble.

Summary: All the two of them is getting into trouble and each other.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is just cuteness, with a teenager Sam, straight fluff between Sam and the reader. Also written for band-psychos 1.5 followers bingo writing challenge 2021.

Square: Late night adventure

Sam Winchester Master list

Main Master list

Taglist: @band--psycho @sweetdetectivequeen @wonderfulworldofwinchester

"Come on Sam, hurry your ass up!" Y/n said half screaming and half whispering at me from the window. I grumbled and moved in my bed.

"Sam, you promised we'd go out tonight!" She whispered. I tossed in my bed before throwing the sheets away from my warm body. I had worn my previous day's clothes to bed, knowing that Y/n would be at my window way too early.

"Quiet down, give me a second," I said pushing my sneakers on and standing up. She stood in front of my window, leaving it open just a bit for her. She danced outside the window and gave me a look of excitement.

I grabbed my cell phone and jumped out of the window. It was more chiller than I anticipated. Y/n dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a fluffy long sweater. It was cute. She looked warm as she danced and moved in front of me. She hummed with her eye closed barely missing bumps in the sidewalk, or garbage in the street.

"Y/n watch out would ya'" I said running to catch up with her. I have known Y/n since we were little kids that played in the sandbox at school. Basically growing up with each other. Both of us school being smart, and street smart with people.

She was the type of girl that dressed up for homecoming and graduation but at her heart, she was a full-out tomboy. She is beautiful she stops in the road turns and swings to look at me. Her smile only becomes bigger as she remembers that I'm behind her.

Today at school I had promised Y/n during our second period ap class. She had already been begging me for the last week. Texting me during the week.

"Y/n since you're the one who wanted to go out. What are your plans for tonight?" I asked, looking over at her. Without missing a beat, "Yeah, I have an idea. With it being two in the morning, I was thinking we could go to the old arcade place down on western street." She said smiling, with begging eyes behind that smile.

Whatever you want Y/n, you know all you gotta do is ask me and I'll give it to you. What else would I do for you? Anything to see that bright smile in the light of the moon. Anything to be the boy... man that makes you feel like you're at the top of the world.

"We can figure it out, Y/n," I said taking her hand in mine. We usually walked around for a few hours before getting into trouble wherever we would, or we could possibly never be found out about.

We walked down the street, hands together clasped together like she never wanted to let go of me. It was that homey feeling. The feeling of knowing no matter what else is going on outside, or maybe just around our bubble. Nothing is messing with our moments together.

I'd like to think that's why sometimes we don't get caught. That's the best feeling. But regardless of that, let me tell you of the night that I got into some trouble with my dear Y/n.

We had finally made our way to the arcade. No cars parked outside, and all the lights were out. This was the same building that was lit up during the day and always had a full parking lot in front. It was also the place that Dean would take me most of the time when he had a girl or girls over at the house.

I had all the high scores on the speed racing machines, and I knew all the right patterns for getting the most tickets. The number of tickets I'd have by the end of the day was shocking. The times that I'd gone up to the front desks and claimed my prizes were great.

But that was outweighed by the times that with said tickets I had taken soft animals and stupid little items for Y/n. No, we weren't dating, but yes how much I wished I could have her for my own. take care of her like she's supposed to be.

Y/n had become my friend in a science class. Dean had introduced her to a douchebag, which ended up breaking her heart. Since then Y/n has come to me every time a boy has hurt her, but I've never been harsh and rude about the things she tells me I just console her and do what 'friends' are supposed to do.

'Friends' aren't supposed to fall for each other. They aren't supposed to wake up at two in the morning to break into a building just so she can have some midnight fun.

Y/n hasn't dated anyone in a long while, but the fear of her doing so is raw and harsh for me. Afraid that I'll have to pick up the pieces again, repair her and not kill that guy that broke her down yet again. I just wish.

I wish that she be smart enough to see that she has an amazing guy standing right next to her already. There's no need to go searching through the pit of bad guys, or guys that just want her body for sex.

I don't want those things right now... I just want her heart, I want her beautiful mind. To realize that she isn't missing out because I'm already there for her.

Regardless of that, we had arrived at the old arcade building. Y/n pulled a bobby pin from her hair one that was already there in case she needed it. She was much the female version of macgyver.

Lock picking the front door wasn't that hard. But having Y/n over my shoulder only made me feel hot, it was a weird feeling. My body could feel her eyes tracing down my body.

Down my spine, it tingled. Back up to my neck. it was so strange. I wonder if this is how Y/n feels when my gaze gets stuck on her in school, or just when she's walking in front of me.

"Sammy, you brought the quarters right?" She questioned me as I shut the door after letting her walk in first. "Come on Y/n you know I always do," I said, locking the door just in case.

Going to machines first, she grasped m hand and pulled me with her. Her hands were so soft and warm. They were much smaller than mine. But you ever get that feeling where something is just right, I wonder if Y/n feels it too?

"Come on Sammy, please!" She said as I handed her the quarters for the stupidest game they had. Pac man. The game that Y/n had a strong love/hate relationship with. Her love for the design of the game, but her hate for how she could never get past my high score.

"Sammy go play a game before the sun comes up and we have to leave." She said turning her head slightly to glare at me. "No, Y/n I think I'll stay right here," I said with a cock tone.

"Yeah stay here and watch me fail."She said rolling her eyes before going back to the game. She tried four times before giving up and grabbing my hand once again leading me towards the ski ball area.

"Mr. Kay has really kicked up this area," I said looking at the different colored machines and how many he really did have. She looked around a raised eyebrow before opening my hand and taking the necessary number of quarters and starting a game.

Let me remind you we were doing this all in the dark. She giggled as the balls dispensed. She was thought just a second early causing her fingers to get in the way of the balls. "Shit." I turned around

"What? Did you... Are you okay?" I said stumbling across my words. "Yeah I'm fine Sammy, the balls just hit my fingers." She said as I held her hand in my own inspecting her fingers. Before kissing them all individually.

When I looked up she was blushing and smiling. My actions now processing in my head. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... I'm..." "Sammy it's okay, you know if I had a problem with something I'd most definitely tell you." She said patting my cheek gently, before going back to her game.

I felt so hot, so warm, so in love. Is that possible to fall in love with someone just by what they say. Because if so, that's what had just happened.

when Y/n had finished that game. I couldn't help but let my hands roam, they roamed up her back, up her spine, just behind her neck. "Sam? What?" She started to talk.

But I think she might have got lost in my eyes, or maybe in the moment. IOnce her eye met mine, I couldn't help but kiss her, bring her lips closer to me.

Y/n let me guiding her lips towards my own. She plump kissable lips towards me. She at this moment looked so beautiful, so perfect. The sun was starting to come in from the big glass-paned windows. It laid nicely across her face and her body.

Once our lips did finally meet. It felt like magic if that's even possible. Her hands coming up to grasp my face, mine falling down to her hips, pulling her closer to my body.

"Y/n" I breathed out, turning her in my grasp before I gently laid her down onto one of the used ski-ball machines. She moaned into our kiss, but unfortunately, there's a thing call air. And we both so desperately needed it.

We stayed in this position for a moment catching our breath, but not before we could get any further. The light of the building turned on, I was so dazed and stuck in the gaze of Y/n sweet eyes. I didn't hear the click of the old man's shoes against the tile floor.

"Excuse me?" I heard. In the slipt of a second, I was off of Y/n and standing, as if I had just been caught by my father. "I'm so sorry Mt. Kay. We'll be leaving now. I'm so sorry, please don't tell my father." I jumbled out, grabbing Y/n's hand to pull her up.

He took one look at Y/n and me. He smiled and spoke in a rather harsh voice. "I did feel like I had forgotten somethin' last night. You two are fine. I remember sneakin' away with my girl many years ago. And don't fear, Sammy I won't be tellin' anyone." Mr. Kay said waving us off.

I could feel Y/n's heartbeat in her hand. We walked out the front door, the sun beaming just over the peak of the trees. We walked in silence before Y/n spoke, "You know I thought that was going to worse than it did." She said, our hands still clasped together.

Her hair a wreck since I had run my hand through it while making out with her. "We finally got caught," I said, looking forward. The number of mixed emotions going on in my body right now was confusing the hell out of me.

"Sam?" She said. "Sam, what's going in your mind? I can see the steam pouring out of your ears." She said trying to make me laugh. "Sam please talk to me?" She said tugging on my hand.

"Y/n... I'm sorry." Her eyebrows bent inward. "What? You've.. Huh?" She said stopping in her spot. " I'm sorry that I just kiss you like that, and that we got caught."

She just smiled and rolled her eyes. "Stop apologizing, I liked you kissing me." She said stepping closer to me, a most likely dumbfounded expression. "Close your lips, and kiss me again Sammy." She said leaning in closer.

I hadn't thought that Y/n also was fallin' in love with me. Stupid teenager's minds. Getting caught, but loving the trouble we caused. "I think Sammy.. I think I love you. I think I've loved you for a long time now." Y/n said. I smiled and hummed in agreement.

Completed on: 05/20/2021

Posted on: 05/21/2021

43 notes · View notes

fizzingwizard · 4 years ago

Text

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender, but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it. How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

#triweek2020 #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #taichi yagami #takari #digimon adventure tri #fizz writes #digimon

50 notes · View notes

psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

Text

Fifteen (pt 3)

A/N: Thank you so much for the support so far! This is the first fic I’ve posted anywhere in a long time. I’m totally down to do any requests! There are some season 6 spoilers in this part so SPOILER Alert!! xoxo R

tw: none! just more fluffiness

word count: 2444

(part 1) (part 2)

masterlist

The third envelope, which was labeled #2, was much thicker than the first two. Spencer held it in his hands for a while, just tracing over where you wrote #2. He always made fun of you for writing it like a kindergarten teacher.

“Adults make a two with the loop at the bottom,” He would joke any time you had to write it.

“Good thing I’m not an adult,” You’d reply.

He smiled at the memory. That’s one of the reasons he fell in love with you. You were so incredibly intelligent but also so clueless at the same time. You were definitely book smart. But common knowledge and sense? Not much of that in your pretty head. He liked that though; it meant you didn’t take yourself too seriously. You were down to Earth and kept him there with you, a trait he had to learn as he grew older. He didn’t even realize you taught him so much; he was always too busy trying to teach you.

Ripping open #2 he started to read, a warm fuzzy feeling filling his chest:

“Item 2 is a ticket to the Korean Film festival we went to together. So take it out and admire how bent and worn it is. I was so nervous that day I folded it into tiny pieces in my pocket just so my hands had something to do.”

He took it out of the plastic bag you put it in. It really was bent and worn, so much so you could barely read the name and date, July 7.

“That was our first official date, though we had a lot of time to bond between November 17 and that day. Emily died. Well, not really, but we thought she did. We’d take turns crying on the other’s shoulder. Some days I’d show up at yours and you’d immediately know that I just needed you to be strong for me. I’d often return the favor. We were still just friends then, but our pain bonded us in ways no one else really understood. We get each other, Spence, or at one point in our lives we did. I’m not so sure I understand you anymore, at least not like I used to. Sometimes I’d come over and we wouldn’t cry. You’d teach me chess and card games. But usually we would cry, and that was okay.

That was the start of our platonic sleepovers. Do you remember our first one? The night I cried myself to sleep on your couch and instead of kicking me out you put a blanket over me. You thought I was out cold, but I felt you tuck it around me, your hands lingering for a second too long. For the next few weeks we did that when we didn’t have cases. We’d talk about Em and life and everything and cry, and one of us would crash on the other’s couch. Then, if Hotch didn’t send the bat signal for us, we’d get coffee and pancakes the following morning at IHOP. It became a sweet tradition, born out of one of the darkest times in my life. You always took me at my most vulnerable, loved me, and kept me safe. I don’t think I ever really thanked you for that. So, thank you.

Everyone else didn’t think they were platonic. I mean if I were them I wouldn’t have thought we were ‘just friends’ either. The fact that we started carpooling together after our sleepovers probably didn’t help our case. I remember one time I brought you to work with me after an IHOP blueberry pancake breakfast. Rossi ran into us in the elevator and commented that you had on the same exact suit as the day before and that we had been coming to work together a lot lately. We both blushed profusely; we knew what his side eye meant. It’s funny how everyone else knew we loved each other except us. Some profilers we are.

Okay so back to the ticket. Emily’s loss made me look at life differently. Before she died, I confided in her how I felt. She’s the closest thing to a best friend I ever had. Being her usual supportive self, she told me to go for it. That you felt the same about me. That we’d be perfect for each other. That you adored me. I desperately wanted her to be right, so I selfishly believed her.

When she left, I realized how quickly we can lose each other. And her support of us told me what I needed to do. In some weird way it felt like I was doing her justice by pursuing you. I decided I wasn’t going to wait and risk losing you too. So I bought tickets to the Korean film festival in Georgetown you talked about for weeks, even though I know zero Korean. I walked up to you and flashed two tickets. The look on your face is one I’ll never forget. Your eyes lit up and you smiled bigger than I had seen in months. You (thankfully) agreed to go with me.

“I didn’t know you knew Korean,” You said as I drove us there. (I sneakily put on Stacy’s Mom then too, but I don’t think you realized)”

He chuckled. He most definitely did notice that, but what you didn’t notice was how he looked at you as you mumbled the lyrics to yourself. It was dusk and the street lights illuminated your face just so. It occurred to him then that he’d never seen anyone more beautiful than you in that moment, and probably never would again.

Spencer put the ticket and letter down on the table and got up to pace again. He knows exactly how this story ends; he wrote it with you. And in this story he’s the villain.

His stomach twisted up in knots. He rushed back to the table to grab the letter, but his eyes were too bleary with tears to read any of the words. Truthfully, he didn’t want to read them. He wasn’t ready to relive it yet. He wasn’t ready to feel it, because up until now he still got to see you and talk to you. He was able to protect you, just like he had all those nights when you cried in his arms.

He blinked forcefully a few times, forcing his vision to clear enough to keep going.

“I told you I didn’t know Korean. All I know is enough Spanish to get myself through cases. You smiled at that.

“Then why did you want to come?” You asked me.

“Because you wanted to come.” My answer was honest. I love so many things I never thought I would because of you, Spence. You didn’t answer me; the smile on your face was answer enough. Naturally, I got even more nervous.

“So since there are no subtitles will you translate for me as it happens?” I asked; you nodded.

We were strolling around the park the festival was at. It was warm out but you still had on pants and a dress shirt. I don’t know how you did that. I had on a dress and was still sweating. We got there early and were waiting for the first movie to start.

“You know, (Y/N), 1.2 million Americans speak Korean. Korean culture is becoming a vibrant subculture in America. The success of things like anime, Korean Dramas and Korean pop music are just going to add to that number.”

That’s when I looked at you. Your hair had gotten a little longer, but it was cute. Looking back, every hair you’ve ever had was cute. I miss running my hands through it to mess it up. Your eyes were trained on the people milling around us, and mine were on you. I love when you spew out stats. Contrary to popular belief, smart IS sexy. But anyways, your eyes looked so brown and reflected the lights so beautifully. I’ll miss staring into them and getting lost. I once told you I never liked the color brown until I saw your eyes. That’s still true.

“But like 50 million speak Spanish. So I think my tenth grade skills are more applicable,” I joked.

“It’s actually 41 million and I agree. Spanish is a very important language to know. But only a tenth grade level? Say something in Spanish.”

“Tú y yo va a ver una película,” I said in the worst Spanish accent ever. You laughed and said some beautiful Korean like it was nothing. I grabbed your hand. You flinched and looked at me confused. I gave it a reassuring squeeze and ran my thumb across the parts of your hand I could reach. That’s when you realized this was a “date” date and not a friend date. I could almost immediately see the red creep up your cheeks.

We found a place to sit and the movie started. It was called The Housemaid. And true to your word you translated the whole thing for me, much to the dismay of everyone around us. I found myself nestled into your side with your arm around me. You were whispering everything in my ear. Your breath tickled my neck and sent a chill down my spine. Truthfully, I missed half of what you said because I was too focused on not losing my shit. Here you were, the guy I was in love with, arm around me whispering sweet foreign words in my ear. Anyone would melt instantly.

We got through two and a half movies that night. I don’t remember the other two—“

“Sisters on the Road and A Frozen Flower!” Spencer spoke out loud then, as if you could hear him. When he realized you definitely couldn’t hear him because you were in Seattle, and definitely not in his apartment, he groaned and kept reading.

“We had already watched like four hours of movies and I was getting hungry. So, we stopped and got ice cream. I scolded you for getting a large when we both know you can’t have dairy, to which you just shrugged and said, “Dairy allergies are the most common in the world. 65% of the population has issues with lactose. You can’t expect 4,485,000,000 people to not eat ice cream, especially when it’s delicious.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well don’t come crying to me when your tummy hurts later.”

“Oh I most definitely will be coming and crying to you.”

We walked like that for a while, hand in hand, until the chill of the night got to us. We made our way back to my car and you opened the door for me like a gentleman. I wanted to invite you back to my place, but I thought that might give the wrong impression for a first date. So instead I drove you home and you didn’t invite me in. I was a little hurt, honestly. I have been in your apartment more times than I can count, so what was one more? It’s okay though. You made up for it. Remember?

We were sitting on the side of the street and you didn’t get out of the car yet. The windows were down and the radio was off. We listened to the sound of crickets and passing cars as we enjoyed each other’s company in a different way than we ever had before.

“It’s almost midnight, get some sleep. Your brain needs rest after all that translating.”

“Your brain doesn’t rest when you sleep, your body does,” You said and turned to me. Our faces were probably only six inches apart. Your breath was hot on my cheeks and you kept doing that damn tongue thing.

“But you need some sleep (Y/N). You don’t sleep well.”

“I sleep well on your couch,” I said and you smiled. The space between us had gotten much much smaller.

I put my hand on your cheek and felt the slight stubble there. You made the first move Spence. All I did was hold your face, you’re the one who closed the gap.

That was one of the best kisses of my life. It lasted maybe ten seconds, but it was ten seconds that took years to get to. It was all that longing and pining and pent up feelings released at once. Nothing in the world is as special as kissing you, Spencer Reid.

That next Monday we got shit from the team. Garcia is such a blabbermouth. Derek and Rossi made fun of us like middle schoolers. Hotch gave us that big bad ‘one of you will have to leave speech’. Deep down they were all happy for us. We all needed something to be happy about. And we were happy Spence, so so happy. Until we weren’t.

So take this bent up ticket and admire it again before placing the memory of our first date on a shelf in the corner of your mind that will get dusty. I hope someday you’ll brush it off and relive it.

There’s a Korean proverb I learned from you, that means: ‘At the end of hardship comes happiness.’

I hope that’s true.

xo,

YN”

Spencer put the letter down and picked up the ticket. He walked across the living room to a corkboard on the wall. There he took a pushpin and fastened the ticket to the board. It was surrounded by pictures of everyone he loves. Group pictures, his mom, Henry, pictures of the two of you. But in the center of it all was that ticket that had been so bent up because of how nervous you were for your date. He never told you how nervous he was then too. He had to make sure he wasn’t stuttering through the translations. Your close proximity to him, the smell of your perfume, and warmth of your body pressed against him made it hard to think. He held your hand so tightly that night because he thought that maybe you wouldn’t notice how badly they were shaking. He only got up the nerve to kiss you because when you weren’t looking he texted Derek, and he told him he had to. He remembered how his heart felt like it was leaping out of his chest when he closed the gap, how you sighed into him, how you sucked on his lower lip ever so slightly. You were right, nothing is quite like kissing the love of your life. It’s like every kiss you ever had before that kiss, the kiss, didn’t count. It’s the only kiss that matters.

He admired the ticket one last time, before reaching in to grab envelope #3.

Part 4!

tags: @l0ve-0f-my-life

- if you would like to be added to the tag list just let me know!

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #cm #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #mgg #mgg fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #reid #reid x you #reid fic #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia

177 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 5 years ago

Text

Lie With Me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

For @sunlightwanda summer writing challenge! 💕 - Fake Dating AU - Oneshot

Genre: Humor & Romance

Warnings: Very light sexual situations/thoughts. No smut. Also, every trope that comes with fake dating LOL

Notes: Thanks so much for letting me participate in your writing challenge 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Also whew, made it just before the deadline 😂

Translations/Transliteration: милый/milyj - Darling принцесса/printsessa - Princess

Count: 5975

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Out of all your time spent being an Avenger, you would say that Wanda was the person you were the least close with.

Not because you didn’t like her or she didn’t like you or anything, you just found that there weren’t that many opportunities to get to know the girl.

Wanda was getting private training from Natasha on the art of blending in and spy training 101. Her time was consumed by that, and you were generally busy taking on missions that kept you away from the compound.

On top of that, you’ve never been assigned to a mission with her before. You’ve literally worked with everyone but Wanda.

So, you were quite surprised when Wanda reached out to you for help on her mission.

You had just finished your own mission and on a private jet on your way back. Honestly, you were kind of excited to just go back home to relax. You had no more missions for the next little while, and it’s been a long time since that happened.

But when Wanda radioed in, you assumed you were probably her last choice to ask.

So, you had to make a pit stop instead.

You had no idea what her mission was even about, but whatever it was, you hoped it wasn’t something that was going to need to be dragged out.

You stopped in front of the house that Wanda gave you the coordinates to. Immediately, you notice from your peripherals through your sunglasses the neighbors are watching you discreetly through their window.

Before you can say or do anything, Wanda bursts out the front door, running straight for you. You immediately tense up the moment Wanda jumps onto you, forcing you to hold her, so she doesn’t fall.

“Wanda, what the fu--”

“милый! You’re finally back, I’ve missed you so much.”

Darling? You think to yourself confusedly. A scream wants to escape you and your muscles itch to push Wanda off, but you will yourself to calm down.

As an agent, you know that Wanda is putting on a show and you were going to blow her cover if you didn’t play along.

So, you force yourself to smile, wrapping your arms around her fully before spinning her around. You hear her laugh before you settle her down.

“I’ve missed you too, принцесса,” You tell her softly, and for a moment, her eyes sparkle, but it passes quickly before you can really make sure.

Wanda giggled a little more before grabbing your arm and dragging you inside the house with a positively wicked look in her eyes along with your luggage.

The second you’re both inside with the door shut, it’s like a switch.

Wanda drops your arm before turning to you with an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” she says. “Our neighbors, my targets, were looking outside. I had to make sure they see us.”

It’s the first time you’ve probably ever had such a long conversation with her, and you notice immediately that she’s got a subtle accent. Not as strong as when you first met her, nor completely gone like the last time you heard her talk.

It was clear she had a particular profile to play.

“Right...” you respond, “and exactly what is it that they’re supposed to see?”

“Well,” Wanda drags out, “I’m here to recover a specific item. It’s a half a million-dollar gold sphere that actually has an important microchip inside of it. The targets aren’t criminals, just wealthy club owners who may have bought it on the black market without knowing what it is.”

“Okay?” You say, not really sure what that has to do with you being here or the strange public display of affection that just happened outside.

“And,” Wanda continues on, biting her lip a little. “Well, it’s a gay couple who just seems to really only get along with other gay couples...I just want to get this stupid gold sphere so I can go home.”

You’re in disbelief.

Because this can’t be happening.

This isn’t real, you tell yourself.

“So...you’re telling me that your targets hate straight people and you can’t get close enough to them without pretending to be gay and dating someone?”

“It’s not exactly pretending,” Wanda mumbles at you.

“What?”

Wanda sighs and looks at you with her arms crossed. “Look, I really need your help on this; otherwise, I’m going to be stuck out here for months. I’ve already tried to ask Natasha, but she’s still on her own mission for an unknown amount of time and Carol is in space. Please?”

You really want to groan audibly because of course, you’re not going to turn Wanda down...it’s just...this wasn’t what you had expected when she said she needed help.

“Alright, alright, I’ll help you, but you owe me big time for this.” You point your finger at her, and she nods enthusiastically, and the whole thing can only suggest that Wanda wasn’t able to get very far without her “lover” around.

They probably wanted proof that she really was gay and dating.

“Alright, so, catch me up. What have you told them, and what’s our next move?”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“You two are so adorable! I’m so glad you could make it. I was beginning to believe Wanda here had made you up.”

You laugh boisterously even though on the inside you were dying a little. Everything felt sprung on you.

Wanda had let you know the two of you were actually going over to the neighbors later that evening. Their names were David and Liam King, who owned the biggest LGBTQ+ nightclub in the city called The Kings & Queens.

So the next couple of hours, you and Wanda had to work out the finer details of your fake relationship.

Wanda had apparently told them you were a freelance photographer and you had traveled to do a wedding for a couple.

You were so thankful that Wanda had immediately reached back out to base after telling that story to set you up with an Instagram profile to show your portfolio.

It was like an unspoken rule between two agents that you guys would do whatever it takes to accomplish this mission.

You’ve done plenty of missions like this before with Natasha, so it shouldn’t be any different with Wanda.

The four of you were sitting outside on their patio around a modernly built bonfire. Dinner was a leisurely affair where you mostly talked about work. David and Liam were already inviting you out to the VIP section of their club, so Wanda was right in the sense being another gay couple did get her a quick ticket into their circle.

Wanda was currently curled into your side while your arm was wrapped around her, fingers entangled together.

You absently thought about how Wanda’s body was much warmer than you expected. She definitely seemed like someone who would’ve had poor circulation, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“I’m very much real, though I can’t guarantee whatever Wanda told about me is accurate,” you teased looking at Wanda who was grinning back at you and then she was looking at your lips.

The look stirred something in your lower belly, but you quickly shook the thought away, saying it was something you ate.

David laughed as Liam passed around some skewers and marshmallows. Wanda looked at the treat with her eyes narrowed, as if she wasn’t too sure what she was supposed to do.

You tried to not laugh at how adorable she currently looked, just pulling her closer to your side while you roasted the sugary treat slowly.

Wanda watched you do the activity, storing the image in her head so she could copy you after.

Once you determined the perfect texture for the marshmallow, you grabbed the graham crackers and a piece of the darker chocolate, assembling the treat together.

You were idly thinking about how you might’ve heard Natasha say she had gotten Wanda dark chocolate for valentine’s day once since they had to train together that day.

Wanda tilted her head, trying to remember the order you assembled the dessert together, getting ready to imitate what you had done.

But then to her surprise, you handed the finished dessert to her. She looked at your smiling face as she gently took it from you.

She took a cautious bite, immediately groaning a little at how much she was enjoying it surprisingly.

“S’mores are good, aren’t they?” You tell her with a soft smile, and Wanda smiles back at you.

You were subtly telling her they were called s’mores.

It was new to Wanda.

She had never had anyone take care of her in this type of way.

She had to remind herself that it was a role you were playing, just like she was.

“Oh my god, you guys are disgusting,” David dramatically said with a playful roll of his eyes before looking at his husband. “Why don’t you make me my s’mores?”

Liam looked panicked before all three of you laughed.

You ended up making three more s’mores for Wanda before she couldn’t eat anymore. Wanda sighs contently, falling back into your side, snuggling up to you with her arms wrapped around your waists, and your arm falling around her.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Liam asked as he grabbed David’s hand.

For a moment, the two of you panic. You definitely hadn’t thought that one out. You look at each other, Wanda’s eyes telling you that maybe you should tell the story.

The worst thing that could happen is that the two of you both try to blurt something out completely different.

“Well,” you say, trying to gather your thoughts. Natasha has told you some of the best lies she’s told were half-truths, so maybe that’s what you were going to do.

“I suppose we met through mutual friends,” you start off. “I was a newcomer to Wanda’s group of friends. I didn’t quite meet her until a little later, but I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Wanda felt her cheeks flush, the heat traveling all the way to the tip of her ears as she listened to you.

“Still, even after we met, I didn’t spend a lot of time with her. But...she was always on my mind whenever we passed each other or if I just missed being in the same room as her.”

“Oh my gosh, and then what?” David as enraptured.

Wanda was also curious about what you were going to say.

“Wanda one day asked me to help her with one of her projects,” you say, forcing a blush to your cheeks as you looked away shyly for effect.

“One thing led to another, and now I’ve pretty much secured Wanda and never letting her go,” you say jokingly at the end which gets everyone laughing.

“More like I’ve trapped you, милый,” Wanda teases you, and you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“No complaints here, принцесса.”

Wanda’s eyes twinkle once more with the nickname, and you’re caught up in staring at each other before David sigh.

“Even your nicknames for each other is so cute, I’m about to have diabetes from watching you two.”

You merely smile before Wanda lets out a yawn, and it’s either to signal you that it’s time to go or she’s fatigued.

Either way, you take the cue.

“We should head home,” you say to Wanda, a soft look on your face.

She nods as if she was extremely exhausted. You help her up while David and Liam stand up as well.

“Thanks so much for coming over, it was a blast,” David tells you.

“Thanks for having us over. We’ll host next time,” you tell them and they nod.

Before the two of you can walk off, David calls out again.

“Don’t forget to stop by our club on Saturday. I’ll let the bouncer know to let you guys into the VIP section.”

The two of you nod as you grab Wanda’s hand, lacing your fingers together, and lead her home.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda sighs the moment she steps into the house. The two of you are still holding hands, not seemingly noticing until you tried to go to the kitchen and Wanda wanted to sit on the couch.

You cough awkwardly as you let go, Wanda watching you with interest as you walk into the kitchen, grabbing the both of you some water.

“Well, this is going exceptionally well,” you say as you take a seat next to her.

“See?” Wanda brags. “I told you it would go much faster pretending to be dating.”

“They’re definitely an interesting couple. Undoubtedly lives the rich and partying lifestyle. Tonight seemed tame for them. Where do you think they’re keeping the golden sphere?”

Wanda took a sip of her water before replying.

“I’ve been to their house and already searched everywhere, so it’s not there. My guess is that it’s at their club in their exclusive VIP section. We’ll have to keep an eye out Saturday.”

You nod.

“Alright,” you agree easily, sighing as you went to stand up. “I’m pretty beat, so I’m going to head to bed. Any particular room I can crash in?”

It was then Wanda seemed to realize something.

“Yeah...about that.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“This is so cliché,” you mutter to yourself as you finished your nightly routine, getting ready for bed. Wanda just came out of the bathroom and was getting ready for bed herself.

Wanda had so kindly told you that there was only one room with a bed in it. The other rooms were “under renovations” because whoever gave her this house for the mission was too goddamn lazy and only set up one.

“Do you want me to take the floor?” Wanda asked as she looked at your face.

You scrunched your eyebrows together. “What? No, why would you do that? It’s a queen-sized bed, plenty of room for us to share.”

Wanda was about to say something else, but you cut her off.

“Please do not make this weird. We’re both grown-ups, and spies might I add, we can share a bed. I’ve shared a sleeping quarter with pretty much everyone at the compound. In fact, I’ve slept on top of Steve once, so please just get into bed.”

Wanda snaps her mouth closed before slowly getting into the bed on her side. You internally sigh in relief as you slide in yourself after turning off the lamp.

“You’d think my girlfriend would be more willing to sleep with me,” you say in the dark, teasing Wanda who merely chuckles, pushing you lightly from across the bed.

It was silent for a moment, your eyes drooping shut before Wanda opened her mouth again.

“Why were you sleeping on top of Steve?”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The sun was hitting your face directly through the streams of the curtain.

You groaned lightly, shifting yourself into the warmth more intimately, burying your face in the mass of hair that was in front of you.

You felt something shift against your body, pressing back more intimately into you.

There was a fleeting thought in your head that this wasn’t normal. You were tempted to ignore it and go back to sleep.

The warmth was really pulling you in, and the soft scent of cinnamon and dry leaves were just lulling you back to sleep.

But then you opened your eyes slowly.

When you realized what the warmth was...you swallowed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you and Wanda must’ve gravitated towards each other because now you were just a bunch of tangled limbs in bed.

Wanda’s entire backside was pressed into your front as you had a thigh wedged between her legs and arm over her torso. Her shirt had ridden up quite a bit during the night, so your hand was under her shirt, touching her soft, warm skin. You were pretty certain your fingers were just brushing the underside of her breast.

And Wanda wasn’t wearing a bra.

It was still the early hours of the morning, and the entire situation was disorienting for you.

You breathed deeply quietly.

You needed to detangle yourself from this without waking Wanda because you don’t think you could face her if she woke up now.

You try to shift slightly, but all you end up doing is accidentally rubbing your thigh against her.

Wanda groans lightly in her sleep, and you feel the panic rising in your chest.

But Wanda doesn’t wake up, and you silently thank the heavens.

You take a deep breath again, shifting more slowly this time, first your arm before your leg. It takes a ridiculous amount of time, but you manage to escape the bed without waking Wanda, and it feels more accomplishing than any mission you’ve ever done.

You head out the door, closing it as quietly as you can.

You breathe in relief, heading over to the room next door where you left your belongings. Changing into workout attire, you decide to go for a run.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The smell of eggs and bacon hit your senses the moment you come back into the house.

You see Wanda standing in the kitchen, singing lightly as she’s cooking, wearing an oversized shirt.

You can’t describe it, but the image of it brings a warmth to your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body.

Wanda turns around, seemingly hearing the door close.

“Oh, you’re back!” She says with a smile. “I made what they call, ‘a traditional American breakfast.’ Are you hungry?”

You smile at her because she sounds so ridiculous as she excitedly puts the hearty breakfast on the table.

“Yeah,” you breath, “I’m just going to clean up really quick.”

By the time you come back down all fresh and showered, Wanda has finished everything.

You take a seat as Wanda helps you put everything on a plate. You take a bite as Wanda watches your expression intensely.

“It’s good, delicious, really. Best I’ve ever had,” you reassure her and Wanda seemingly loses the tension from her shoulders.

“I’m glad,” she tells you. “Ever since moving to the compound, I haven’t had a lot of time to cook anymore with training.”

“Did you cook a lot before?” You ask before putting some more food into your mouth.

Wanda nods, bringing her hand up to her mouth as she tries to swallow her food quicker to answer.

“Yes,” she tells you. “Pietro couldn’t cook at all. I mean at all. So, I learned here and there.”

You give her a soft smile because you’ve heard since her brother died, she was...different. But you were glad she seemed to be able to talk about him now.

“That’s fair,” you respond to her laughing a little bit. “I’ve learned a few things here and there too since I used to do a lot of missions with Natasha...and she really can’t cook.”

“Are you going to explain to me the eyebrow incident? Everyone seems to reference it all the time.” Wanda asked curiously.

The smile drops from your face, and Wanda blinks at the sudden change.

“Never mention that incident again...I still have PTSD from it.”

Wanda sputters out a laughter which gets you smiling a little.

You would dare to say it out loud, but the way Wanda laughs makes your heart flutter.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next couple days until Saturday is strangely domestic for you since you had to keep up the charade.

The days were filled with gardening, mostly you watching Wanda garden as everything you touch dies, and cooking dinner together.

There was one evening that you and Wanda took a stroll around the neighborhood. The two of you just...talked.

You got to know each other pretty well, and it was weird how compatible you two seemed to be.

But not because you agreed on everything and had the same interests because you don’t. It was the way that you two fell into step with each other, a calming pull with hints of butterflies that settled over you when you’re with her.

To deeply put it, you two vibrated on the same wavelength.

And, well, she was funny.

It was getting comfortable, and you didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

Every morning, you’d wake up in an intimate position you weren’t in when you went to sleep, and you were finding it harder and harder to detangle yourself and get out of bed each morning.

You were shaken out of your thoughts when Wanda called you to help her zip her dress up. Wanda came out, holding her hair up and back turned to you.

You immediately blank your mind because the sight of her smooth bareback and defined shoulder blades was about to give you thoughts that would send you straight to hell.

“I can’t get the zipper all the way up, can you do it?” Wanda asked so innocently and frustratedly that you feel guilty for almost having such thoughts about her.

“Sure,” you reply, dryly. Taking a step forward, you lightly grab the edge of the zipper and pull it up until it reaches its end.

Wanda turns to you, dropping her hair that fell down her shoulders in loose curls.

“How do I look?” She asked you, and you looked at the attire in full. She was wearing a short clubbing dress that accented her breasts and collarbone.

“Perfect,” you say, and she beams at you.

“Let’s hope we find what we need tonight and hopefully we can be on a plane home tomorrow morning,” Wanda tells you, putting on some earrings.

“Yeah,” you reply for lack of anything else to say.

A part of you wondered if you would go back to being strangers once the two of you returned.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was quite the flashy club. Colored lights were blinking everywhere, and the music played so loudly that you could feel the bass thump against your skin.

Bodies were crammed onto the dance floor, dancing (grinding) and making out.

The bouncer let the two of you in easily once your name was given and directed the two of you where the VIP section was.

It was so packed that you ended up grabbing Wanda’s hand tightly so you wouldn’t lose her in the throng of people. You eventually pull her in front of you when you reach up the stairs so she could go first, putting your hands on her waist to follow her.

Once you’re at the top, you feel almost breathless.

“Damn, this club is crowded,” you say, mostly to yourself but then you hear Wanda chuckle.

“It is the most popular gay club here. I think that’s the room they’re in. Let’s go.”

Wanda grabs your hand again, pulling you to the back. Another bouncer is standing at the door, she tells them your names, and he steps to the side while opening the door.

You’re immediately facing a whole other group people.

“You made it!” David exclaims as he gets up to hug the two of you. He smells like tequila, and you know everyone has already started drinking. You look around the room to find another gay couple, a lesbian couple, and a single girl sitting on her own.

The single girl looks like she’s glaring at you slightly as she catches your intertwined hands with Wanda.

You cock your brow.

She looks like she wants to say something but David is introducing everyone to the two of you.

It mostly kind of flies over your head because these people are irrelevant to you and the mission. Wanda seems to be doing better than you for remembering the names.

The only name you caught was the single girl’s, Vanessa. Apparently, she had met with Wanda multiple times before because she hangs out with David and Liam quite often.

She obviously liked Wanda, probably thinking she wasn’t actually dating someone.

It rubs you the wrong way, and you don’t know what to think about that.

“The sphere isn’t in this room,” Wanda whispers to you quietly, passing it off as if she was whispering seductive things in your ear.

You lean against the wall, bringing Wanda a little forward with you as you cup her jaw and bring your lips to her ear.

“We can look around a little later. Focus on getting them drunk so we can look around,” you whisper in return, but to everyone, it looks like you’re biting her ear, especially with the look on Wanda’s face.

“Oh my lord, you two are already at it,” David teased, bringing the two of you apart. You merely smirk before taking a seat down. It just so happens that Wanda ends up sitting next to Vanessa while you’re at the edge.

Drinks are passed around, and you’ve taken a couple shots and now nursing your second beer.

It was good that you had a higher alcohol tolerance, and it seemed like Wanda was more playing into talking to everyone to distract them on the fact she was only taking sips of her drink.

It wasn’t hard to egg on David and Liam to drink more, and you didn’t have to do anything for the other couples.

The party was escalating as time passed. The VIP area was insane with bottle services and their own dance floor.

People were dancing on the floor to the music and flashing lights. You used the opportunity to peek your head out the door to see what else there was.

Around the bouncer, you noticed there were two other rooms and a turn that leads to a staircase.

You hummed.

You looked back to see Wanda dancing on the floor, swaying her hips and running her hands through her hair with her eyes closed.

You couldn’t catch the thoughts fast enough of how insanely hot she was and that you may have wanted to drag her to the washroom.

Wanda’s eyes snapped opened as she locked eyes with you, and it was like a hot electric buzz tingled in the air.

It was cut short when Vanessa came behind Wanda, turning Wanda around and pulling her into a dance—a grind with her.

It pissed you off.

A white, hot burning in your chest flares.

The sheer audacity this girl has to hit on your girlfriend—fake girlfriend—in front of you baffles you.

Wanda doesn’t even really seem to notice, just playing her role and calling for more drinks.

You push off against the wall, stalking your way over to Wanda who’s waving for more drinks from the bartender while Vanessa has her hands on Wanda’s waist.

You stop right behind Wanda, her back facing to you before you grab her arm, spinning her around out of Vanessa’s grasp and into your arms. Your hands slide up to cup her jaws on both sides, strands of her hair caught between your fingers as you capture Wanda’s lips roughly.

You can’t describe how it feels, but it’s like everything in you shifted, everything falling into place in the way you didn’t know you needed.

Wanda softly moans against your lips, pressing her lips over yours over and over again, her hand grasping your fingers against her jaw.

“GET A ROOM!” David yells from the dance floor. Everyone’s chuckling at you while you pull back slightly. You look past Wanda and glare at Vanessa who now seems to register that Wanda is off-limits.

“Might just do that,” you say against Wanda’s lips, grabbing her hand. Everyone is still so wasted and only getting worse as they dance.

You take this moment to pull Wanda out of the room. You notice that the bouncer is still there. Giggling, looking like a naughty couple, you drag Wanda into the room next door. The bouncer leaves you to be because he may have heard the commotion in the other room.

You push Wanda into the next room. As you shut the door behind you, Wanda leaps into you, capturing your lips again.

A surprised moan escaped your lips as you wrap your arm around her waist.

She’s kissing you quite enthusiastically, and you’re trying to return the fervor.

When you break apart for air, Wanda is flushed, her cheeks are a rosy color as she looks at you. You can’t stop thinking about her, how she smells, how she tastes.

It’s a little overwhelming. Wanda’s eyes dilate as she hones in on your thoughts.

“As nice as this is,” you breathlessly say, “we should actually look for the sphere.”

Wanda stared at you for a moment before lifting her body off of yours.

It felt cold.

You cleared your throat, licking your lips slightly, tasting the remnants of Wanda’s lip gloss.

Standing up straight, you looked around the room. There was nothing in the open, so you and Wanda began to shuffle through the shelves and drawers.

“Nothing?” Wanda asks you.

“Nothing,” you sighed.

“You said there was another room, right?”

You nodded but pursed your lips. “I highly doubt it’s in the other room, though. He doesn’t seem to be keeping it on this floor. We should just go straight for the basement.”

You slide the door open slightly to look down the hall. The bouncer is still standing outside at the other room.

You hummed.

At the same moment, Vanessa came spilling out the door, wasted as the bouncer turned his attention to her.

You take advantage of the moment, grabbing Wanda’s hand once more and exiting the room without the bouncer noticing. You lead her to the far back and take a sharp turn where the stairs are.

It leads pretty deep down until you reach the bottom floor. The two of you stand before the door before you open it.

You step in and...

“Are you kidding me?” You ask exasperatedly.

Wanda is blinking at she’s looking around the room. It wasn’t what you had expected at all. There was a large stage, then a built-in dance floor, and then tables and chairs set up.

You look up and...

“You’re telling me he bought a $500,000 golden sphere on the black market...to use it as a disco ball.”

The golden sphere with crystals embedded on it hangs from the ceiling, spinning in all its glory.

“I hate people,” you mumble as you throw a chair on the table and get up onto it. You make a leap and grab the sphere with enough force that it rips from the hook on the ceiling.

You land on the floor gracefully, tossing the sphere to Wanda who catches it with both hands.

“David just really loves dancing,” Wanda teases you as she sets the sphere on the table.

You huff slightly, watching as Wanda’s hands glow and her lithe fingers bring red wisps around.

Wanda essentially bends the metal open, grabbing the microchip out and storing it safely. She bends the metal back perfectly as if it hadn’t been touched at all. Using her powers, she lifts the sphere and puts it back on the hook.

“You’re telling me I just jumped to get it when you could’ve done that?”

“You got to pull your weight around here somehow,” Wanda smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully at her as the two of you leave.

No need to stay longer with the mission completed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

That night when you get back home, Wanda reports in, and Tony is going to send one of his planes to pick the two of you up tomorrow.

You sighed after you had finished your nightly routine. Sliding into your side of the bed, you lay on your back. Putting your arm behind your head, you unintentionally replay today’s events in your head.

Specifically kissing Wanda.

“Keep thinking those thoughts, and you’re going to find yourself in trouble.”

You snap out of your thoughts to see Wanda enter the bedroom. She walks around the bed, taking off her cardigan and dropping it on the floor before she lifts the blanket and slides in.

She invades your space, scooting herself until her back is pressed against you. Reaching around herself, she grabs your arm and pulls it over her torso.

Wanda settles and sighs in content.

Her fingers are tangled with yours, and she’s taken the liberty of entangling your legs as well.

“Being pretty bold, aren’t we?” You say in the dark, eyebrow raised.

Wanda smiles, her eyes closed as she’s getting ready to sleep.

“Why not? I think after today there’s no need to wait for us both to fall asleep before we cuddle. Think you can at least wake me up tomorrow morning before you wander off?”

You feel your cheeks flush slightly.

“We did a job,” you argued.

“You didn’t need to kiss me like that,” Wanda retorted, referring to the dance floor and Vanessa.

“And let Miss Single and Desperate put her paws all over my fake girlfriend? I think not.”

Wanda shifts a little against you. “So, you were only fake jealous then?”

You don’t answer right away, nor do you move. All your life, every mission you took had meaning, had a direction, had a purpose.

The mission stayed the mission.

This was the first time you had to consider your actions--why you did what you did.

Without this mission, it’s possible you may have never considered Wanda in such a way.

Would Wanda consider you if you weren’t the one here?

Regardless, it happened, and now you cannot stop thinking about her.

“You should consider it,” Wanda says, interrupting your thoughts.

“Consider what?”

“Consider being mine for real, милый.”

The nickname rolls off her tongue so easily that you feel like you’ve been hers for a long time.

Your arm tightens around her, burying your head in her hair, the smell of cinnamon and dry leaves washing over you. You sigh lightly.

“It’s been considered.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next morning, the two of you leave bright and early. Everything all packed up as you get ready to meet Tony at the airport.

The two of you weren’t going to even say goodbye to David and Liam. They would just find a new family living in this house.

You’re holding hands as the taxi driver drops you off on the tarmac where Tony has his jet parked.

Tony sees your linked hands, smirks, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank god that the two of you are finally coming home,” Tony comments. You’re putting your suitcases away and hum in response.

“Natasha’s been complaining about having nothing to do while she’s been home for a week.”

You pause for a moment.

“Wait,” you say, turning to Tony with your brows furrowed. “Hasn’t Natasha been on a mission for an unknown amount of time?”

That’s what you recalled Wanda telling you as she roped you into helping her on this mission.

Tony laughs. “I wish. She’s been getting stir crazy at home. It’s so bad, she’s contemplating trying to cook again.”

Tony walks past you, entering the plane while you’re confused.

You stand there, eyes slightly narrowed and looking down as you process that information.

If Natasha was home, then why didn’t Wanda--

Wanda smirks as she walks past you to board the plane as well, but not before quickly pressing her lips to your cheek.

“Come, милый, perhaps you can explain to me what the mile high club is that Tony keeps talking about.”

You blink, your brain nearly short-circuiting.

Wanda winks at you once more before she disappearing on the plane.

You’re hot on her trail as you hurry up the stairs and board the plane yourself.

Of all the Avengers, you would say that Wanda is someone you were planning to get the closest with.

Because you like her, and there were many opportunities for you to do so.

#mm: my fics #cantcontroltheirfearswc #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x ofc #Wanda Maximoff Imagine #Scarlet Witch x Reader #Scarlet Witch Imagine #Avengers #avengers imagine #Avengers AU #avengers reader insert #marvel imagine #marvel mcu #modern avengers AU #genre: humor #genre: romance

2K notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1161

survey by pichu4850

What color do you think of when I say...

Anger? Red, or a really bright red-orange.

Confusion? Gray.

Inspiration? Sky blue. Both word and color give off calming vibes to me.

Shy? Something like an off-white shade, and maybe even pastel pink.

Agony? Olive green was the first color to come to mind, though I have no idea why.

Sleep? Dark blue, like the night sky.

Chipper? Yellow.

Beautiful? Red, the way roses are.

Morning? Light blue or yellow.

Would you rather be named...

Andrea or Aimee? Andrea.

Emily or Erica? Emily. I know an Erycka that I’m not too fond of, so this is an easy pass.

Kelsey or Casey? Casey, though I’d mix up my name a bit and have it be pronounced and spelled as Cassie.

Madeleine or Marina? Eh, not really a fan of either but I’d mos likely go for Madeleine.

Alec or Aaron? Alec.

Ryan or Ross? Not a fan of both names as well though I’d probably go with Ryan, but only as a feminine name.

Dylan or Daniel? Dylan.

Jack or Jordan? I guess Jack, if I have to pick.

Gabriel or Gavin? Gabriel.

How often do you...

Brush your teeth? Once or twice a day.

Eat breakfast? Twice a week, during weekends; though sometimes I’ll end up skipping it for an entire week altogether.

Check your email? I literally never check my personal email anymore after having gotten hired, but I know I should quit that habit and check it every once in a while just in case an intriguing opportunity might come my way. My work email is a different story; I have to use it everyday. I open my emails even during weekends so that when I report to my shift on Monday, my Gmail won’t look as clogged.

Go to the mall? When quarantine protocols loosened up a bit I used to go either on Saturdays or Sundays for some me time as well as some much-needed time away from the house, for the sake of my mental health and sanity. But now that we’re going through another surge in cases, no one’s allowed to go out again and malls are back to just keeping the essential stores open.

Go to the beach? A few times a year, at least before the pandemic. I haven’t been to the beach since 2019.

Play card games? Only happens once in a blue moon, when I get together with friends and someone happens to bring a deck of cards. This isn’t a usual occurrence with any of my friend groups, though.

Have at least 20 minute phone calls? Never. I have 20-minute Google Meet and Zoom calls instead.

Paint your nails? They are never painted.

Wish you were happier? Every now and then.

Did you ever want to be...

A veterinarian? Yes, when I was younger. I once stumbled upon an interview with a horse vet on one of my kid’s almanacs and thought what they did was so cool.

An astronaut? Yup, definitely became a big obsession of mine at one point in my childhood. I still think it would be cool to go to outer space and should the opportunity ever become accessible in my lifetime, I wouldn’t want to miss out on it.

An artist? Not really. I knew from the get go I wasn’t meant to be one.

A school teacher? I would guess yes, but I definitely wasn’t as interested in teaching compared to being an astronaut or like a firefighter.

A housewife? Lmfao yeah. This was the answer I would give when I was like 8 up until I was probably 10 and I knew it stressed out my Asian mother big time. My grandpa got a kick out of it, though.

A firefighter? Yes. This was up there with astronaut.

A princess? Not so much.

A lawyer? I definitely considered law for a brief period, but it was already during my latter college years. There wasn’t enough time to mull over it. But hearing all the law school horror stories from my friends kind of made me relieved I didn’t push through with it; I knew I wasn’t passionate enough about law to want to go through all the hardships that come with law school, so I was fine letting that dream go, and still am.

A doctor? This was never a dream of mine.

Would you consider yourself...

Materialistic? Yes.

Pessimistic? It comes out occasionally, but I don’t think it’s a main trait of mine that people would generally see me as.

Avoidant? Not so much. I can be shy and anxious sometimes but I get over it at some point.

Sarcastic? Only occasionally. I wouldn’t say I speak the language.

Talkative? Definitely not. I hate being in the spotlight, and whenever it’s my turn to share a story or talk in a group I usually have the tendency to rush through it or make it as short as possible so as to return the spotlight on someone else. I’ve always been more of a listener.

Strange? Maybe not strange but weird to an extent?

Intelligent? I guess in some ways.

Lucky? In some ways I am, but I also got handed the short end of the stick in other contexts.

In the next twenty-four hours, will you...

Talk to someone you care about? Probably. I talk to at least one friend a day.

Go to work? Yep, I’ll finally be going back to work since the Holy Week break is over. My workaholic self felt kinda unsettled with all the free time, so I’m actually kinda relieved.

Go to school? I’m not in school anymore.

Be in a different city? Nope, it’ll be working from home for me like usual. We were initially allowed to book visits to the office if we really needed to go there to pack some goodies and stuff, but because of re-heightened Covid protocols our admin has once again prohibited anyone to go there for the meantime.

Read a book? I highly doubt it. I haven’t read any in months.

Watch a movie? Nope. It’ll be a Monday coming from a 4-day break, so it will be incredibly busy tomorrow as there would be a lot to catch up on.

Go to a dentist/orthodontist appointment? No, I won’t.

Do your laundry? My parents probably will seeing as our hamper was nearly full the last time I checked.

True or False: Family...

I have two brothers or more. I only have one brother.

My mom lives with me. This is technically true but isn’t phrased right in my case. I’m currently living with my parents.

My grandparent(s) live with me. No, we moved out of our duplex (where I did use to live with my grandparents) well over a decade ago.

I have half-siblings. Don’t have any.

I am the oldest in my family. Eldest child, that is.

I am an only child. I have two other siblings.

I have 15 cousins I can name off the top of my head. Easily. My first cousins are less than 15 in total, but I know a good number of my second and third cousins as well so this is a cakewalk.

The nearest Aunt or Uncle lives less than an hour away from me. The aforementioned duplex we moved out of is just at the next village; we didn’t move too far so that we can continue visiting them.

True or False: Food...

I am allergic to chocolate. I’m not, fortunately. I’m not crazy about chocolate but I’d be pretty miserable if I could never have it either.

I like vegetables more than fruit. Infinitely more, hahaha. I hate fruits.

I have tried pizza dipped in ranch sauce. Ranch isn’t a very common dressing where I’m from, so it’s not usually offered in restaurants. Given the chance, though, I’d definitely try my pizza with ranch at least once.

I've never eaten kiwi fruit. True, but then again I’ve never eaten most fruits and don’t plan to.

I love junk food.

I love to try new food.

Ketchup goes best with fries (chips). I don’t like ketchup and barely put it on anything.

I like fried rice. I haven’t met an Asian who doesn’t like fried rice.

I can prepare dinner for myself (using a stove or oven).

I hate sushi.

How many...

Pairs of shoes do you have? A little over 10, maybe? I don’t feel like counting in my head rn.

Songs do you have on your music player? I don’t have a music player anymore.

Hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 4.

Times have you had alcohol? Like, ever since I started drinking when I was 18? I never kept track lmao but if I would guess, maybe around 50-60 times? I’m not a regular drinker; I drink probably once or twice a month at most.

Books have you read/started reading in the past month? None.

Windows in your house/apartment are open? I know my parents and sister have their windows open at the moment, so that’s 2. Mine are usually open as well, but I’ve turned on my aircon so I’ve closed them for the night.

Pets do you have? 2.

Kids do you have/want to have? I’d cut it off a a maximum of 3 kids, but having just 1 would already be so nice.

Minutes does it take to get from your home to school or work? I work from home, but in the two times I went to the actual office it took anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour.

Have you ever...

Spilled a cup of grape juice on the carpet? I don’t think I’ve ever even encountered grape juice in my entire life.

Played spin the bottle? I don’t think I’ve ever played this. My friends and I usually resort to truth or dare.

Played Twister? Yes, and there are many fond memories that come with it as well. So when I was 7 years old I befriended Katreen, and her mom and mine hit it off instantly so they started this arrangement where every Friday, her mom picked me and my sister up from school along with Katreen and her sisters, and we’d stay for several hours at their place until my mom would pick us up. Her mom was an amazing host and every week we’d play Twister, watch Pokemon, read books together, etc; anything to keep us comfortable and entertained.

Been caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing? It’s bound to happen every now and then.

Walked out of a movie because it was horrible? I’ve gotten this feeling a few times but I always stayed in my seat because I paid for the damn ticket.

Given the finger to someone on the street? Oh most definitely, as well as drivers passing by. And it’s always been towards men that are being disgusting pigs.

Been so sad/angry that you started laughing? Sure.

Been in a wedding? Yes, but I only got invited as a kid since I was usually picked to be one of the flower girls. I haven’t been to a family wedding since 2007.

Been in a situation where you almost died? Probably not died but almost substantially injured, sure.

Misc...

Are you stressing out about anything right now? Just worried about the deluge of tasks that will inevitably come at me tomorrow but knowing how easygoing my bosses are, I know I’ll be able to ease up soon enough.

Do you think before acting or act before thinking? I used to be the latter but I now see the importance of first considering possible consequences of or how others would be affected by my actions.

Do you act upon your emotions and instinct, or logic and reasoning? Again, I used to be one of these, this time the former. Now that I’m at a much more stable and peaceful place in my life I try not to let my emotions get the best of me.

What are some personality traits you find appealing in a potential partner? I had a number of negative experiences in my last relationship so forgive me for scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to my expectations lmaaaao – I’d love for someone to be sensitive to my needs and feelings, and for them to be able to own up to their mistakes or hurtful habits and know how to apologize and be open to changing if it’s for their self-improvement.

How have you changed as a person in the last 5 years? I tolerate less bullshit now. I think I’ve also grown to be happier and a lot more stable, emotionally. I also have a better sense of what I want out of life and where I want to be, and I’ve also learned to be more sociable and open up to people.

If you could do anything you wanted right this moment, what would it be? Order sushi :(

Is there anyone you can totally relax and be yourself around? Yes, that’s what my friends are for. If I can’t feel comfortable around my friends, I’d view that as a problem.

Did you ever wanted to say something to someone, didn't, and regretted it? No.

Are you scared about the future? I’m scared of the idea of not meeting some of my goals, like having a family; but I’m also excited about what the future could bring me.

#survey #surveys

4 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

Text

Written In The Stars LXV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m soft and EXCITED cause we’re starting book four next week and you guys have no idea what’s coming -Danny

Words: 1,798

Warnings: None! Tooth rooting fluff

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Book IV

Chapter Twenty-Four: Good Omens.

Dumbledore left when Harry walked out of Lupin's former office, he stopped when he noticed Mel was outside.

"Oh," He said, "I thought you'd be with Ron and Hermione."

"I was talking to Dumbledore," She replied simply. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," He moved to where she was standing. "I talked to him too, when you left the office..."

"You did?"

"I was... I told him that I felt like our mission hadn't made a difference," He explained. "He told me I was wrong... sort of."

"Sort of?" She smiled.

Then Harry told her everything. Including the prophecy Trelawney had told him on their last day of exams. She had to admit, it sounded terrifying, but their teacher was known to be a bit dramatic. Still, the part about the dark lord rising... she didn't like that bit at all.

"What he said about the people that loves us never leaving..." Harry frowned, trying to put his thoughts in order. "They help us when we're in trouble, one way or another... I'm lucky to have you, Ron, and Hermione. Emily, and Sirius... they care and they'd help me if I needed them to... Not everyone is that lucky, though."

"I suppose so," Mel tilted her head, patiently waiting for the rest of whatever he was trying to say.

"Erick," It was the second time he'd mentioned the boy's name and it still sounded completely strange coming out of his mouth. "What you said about his family... he doesn't have many people helping him. I guess... I understand why'd he go out of his way to talk to you... You're brilliant and all..."

"Thanks?"

"What I mean," Harry pressed on, having a hard time expressing himself. "What I want to say is, I think you're a good friend and you're right– I shouldn't judge people without knowing their story first, that's what made me think Sirius was trying to kill me... I'm sorry I reacted that way, my interactions with the Slytherins haven't been nice, but I get that not everyone has to be the same. I trust you–"

Harry's speech was interrupted when Mel threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly (no kisses this time, though- She wasn't going to do the same mistake twice) and apologized profusely.

"I know... Mellow, I can't breathe!" He complained.

"Sorry!" She stepped back. "Sorry..."

"So... I'm your hero now, right?"

"What?" She frowned.

"You said that whoever made the dementors disappear the other night was your new hero, turns out it was me," He smirked.

"I was also there!" She exclaimed. "That was my Patronus too!"

"Well, you can't be your hero!"

"Says who?"

"It doesn't make sense!"

"I say it does. I'm my own hero," She teased. "For all I know, I saved your life this time."

"I've saved your life before," He pouted.

"Now you're just being pretentious..."

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies," Hermione commented once they were settled on the train's compartment.

"But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!"

"I know, but I can't stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again. Besides, I asked Erick and he told me he'd be happy to tell me all about what he studies in class."

"I still can't believe you're friends with him," Ron rolled his eyes. "And I still can't believe you didn't tell us about the time-turner. We're supposed to be your friends."

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," said Hermione. "And you know how important it is to keep secrets when you're not the only one involved..."

She looked at Mel, who was looking at Harry, who was looking out the window with a sad expression.

"Oh, cheer up!" said Hermione.

"I'm okay," Harry jumped lightly. "Just thinking about the holidays."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about them too– Mel, Harry, you've got to come and stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now —"

"A telephone, Ron," said Hermione. "Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year..."

"Or ask us more about muggle life, like Erick does," Mel teased.

Ron ignored them.

"It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

Harry did cheer up at that.

"Yeah, I bet the Dursleys'd be pleased to let me come... especially after what I did to Aunt Marge..."

"I'd love to see the World Cup!" Mel said excitedly. "I can picture it already, all the wizards from around the world..."

They wasted a whole hour playing and talking when Hermione pointed out to the landscape.

"Harry– What's that thing outside your window?"

It was the smallest owl Mel had ever seen. It dropped a letter onto Harry's seat and began zooming excitedly around the place. Hedwig clicked her beak while Grey and Crookshanks sat up, following the owl with their eyes. Ron caught the owl safely and threw a disapproving look their way.

"It's from Sirius!" Harry said happily.

"What? Read it aloud!"

'Dear Harry, I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle.

I don't know whether they're used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job.

I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted.

There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt —

"Ha! See! I told you it was from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?– Ouch!"

'Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather.

I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you and Mel that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me.

I'll write again soon. Sirius

P.S. Mel, if Remus tells your mother what happened during the school year, will you please send her my regards? I miss her, I'm hoping I'll find a way to communicate with her soon.'

"I absolutely will," Mel smiled widely. "What else did he send, Glasses?"

Harry looked inside the envelope. She saw his eyes grow in surprise and then he was grinning, handing the small piece of parchment to her.

'I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends.'

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry. "Hang on, there's a second P.S."

'I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat.'

Ron's eyes widened.

"Keep him?" he repeated.

He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do'you reckon?" Ron asked. "Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred.

"That's good enough for me," said Ron. "He's mine."

"You know," Mel said to the boy once they arrived at the station. "I'm really sorry you can't live with Sirius, but there's a good side!"

"Which is?"

"I'll still be your neighbor!"

"I thought you'd be happy," He teased. "Finally getting rid of me, a well-deserved break."

"I was happy because Sirius cares about you and you would've had a good life... besides, I get to see you in school, which is almost the whole year."

"Well," Harry put an arm around her shoulders. "We'll still have to stand each other for the years to come."

"I think I can live with that," She chuckled.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after they parted.

Mel saw her mother standing a few feet away from the Dursleys and ran to meet her.

"Hello!" She said cheerfully. "Do you think we can stop by that place we like to get lunch? I'm– You know everything, don't you?"

Emily was looking down at her with such a severity that Mel prepared herself for the impact.

"Time-turners, dementors and sneaking out of the castle after curfew," Emily whispered angrily. "Helping a convict escape, attacking a Professor–"

"Snape had it coming!"

"Are you trying to drive me insane?" Emily hissed. "I swear, every time I get a letter I feel like I'm about to hear you murdered a teacher!"

"You're exagerating–"

"Watch me overreact all the way to our house, young lady!" She retorted.

"Very well," Mel sighed. "Can I tell you two things first?"

"What things?"

"I spent a whole year having a normal period -dreadful and gross, not reccomended– but that means I can take the potion now! Second, Padfoot says hi."

Emily's mouth opened and closed, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face.

"How do you–"

"Didn't they tell you the whole story?" Mel asked. "I'll have to do it myself, then..."

"What's that?" They heard Mr. Dursley spat at Harry while they walked past. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another —"

"It's not," Harry smiled brightly. "It's a letter from my godfather."

"Godfather? You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have– He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though. Keep up with my news... check if I'm happy..."

Mel and Emily shared a look and left quickly, holding back their laughter until they were safe inside their car. There, both of them laughed until their stomachs hurt.

"You know," Her mother said breathlessly. "Prongs would've been so proud of his son..."

"I know," Mel smiled, looking out her window and watching Harry's gleeful face as he walked out of the station with a terrified uncle following close. "We all are..."

Next Part —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @omiwashere @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @tomshollandz @thesuitelifeofafangirl @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #hermione granger #ron weasley #WITT fic

27 notes · View notes

lovinlikeloki · 3 years ago

Text

The Lone Wolf

Masterlist // 01

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Orlaith and I get off the bus and start walking down the road.

"Where are ye going?" Orlaith asks me.

"I'm away de Saint Marie's, ye wanny join me?" I tell her.

"Aye, sure why not?"

"I finished a job last night and didn't get de give Eoghan the card," I say, brandishing a gold colored card, "I need to get paid and get me next one."

"Why do you do this?" Orlaith asks, shaking her head at me.

"Eoghan's letting me stay in one of the rooms at Saint M's. I'm earning my keep, besides, the money's good."

"If you say so," she shrugs.

We keep walking and then I pull her sleeve, to show her the alley we need to walk down. We reach the end and I pull off my school blazer, shoving it in my school bag and exchanging it for my green and grey striped hoodie. I push open the door to the old Catholic school, I see that people are already in, clearly people like to start drinking early, well, if 5 in the afternoon is early to you.

I pull Orlaith to the bar and I slam the gold card on the bar, making Eoghan look at me. He takes the card and puts it in the out box, he then lifts a wad of cash and gives it to me. He begins to tell me that someone called for me, someone who called me 'Malen'kaya Volchitsa.' Only two people have ever called me that...and one's... not here anymore, so I know exactly who's after me. And just in case I didn't, the name she left, 'Cáileach,' was a nice hint. The witch is a smart one, I'll tell you that much.

(Little she-wolf) (Witch)

I take the number she left and smirk at the gold card.

"We'll take two cokes Eoghan," I tell him before going to the corner table by the door, my table.

Orlaith follows me to the table and sits across from me, "Why's a witch looking for you?"

"Because after leaving me for two years she's finally reaching out," I reply.

"Okay...and what the fuck does that mean?"

"What it means is that I'm gonny be leaving for a bit. My sister needs me, and I can't leave her hanging, 'sides, I owe her."

"You have a sister? Since when?" my confused friend asks.

"Not by blood, not by law she's... emotionally? my sister. Yeah, let's go with that. Basically when I went missing two years ago she was there, we bonded, and she saved me. That's all you need to know," I finish.

Eoghan brings us our drinks and we thank him, I hand him back a tenner, he tells me that he'll be behind the bar if I need him and that we'll talk about this job later.

Orlaith and I stay at the table for a bit while we finish our drinks, talking about our day and how much we hate our math teacher. Then Orlaith gets a text from her mam saying that she needs to head home to do homework and have some family time, whatever that is. I wouldn't know, it's been a while since I was at 'home'. It doesn't matter though, this, Saint Marie's the mercenary job fair of a bar, this is my home now.

When Orlaith leaves I head up to the bar and sit on a stool. I look up at the dead pool to see who's been picked this week, the dead pool is fun for me because as a minor I'm not allowed to get picked, I can just sit and watch the chaos. Only downside is that I can't pick anyone, so... I mean it's a two-way street, so I guess that's fair.

"So, what's this witch after?" Eoghan questions.

"Not sure," I reply honestly, "But whatever it is, it must be important. We haven't spoken in two years, and last time we spoke, he was still alive."

"Him as in-" Eoghan begins.

"Yes, he as in my grá cáilte. She didn't even call me then, so whatever this is has de be big. It better be, or I might just hang up."

(Lost love)

"You won't. The stories you've told me- you wouldn't leave her. If you did you'd hate yourself. You can't bring do stóirín back, he's gone, but you can still help her."

(Your darling)

"You're right, it just breaks my heart, I had to find out they escaped from rumors and stories, but I found out that he died by watching it, live on tv. We had so much potential, he had so much potential, but now I'll never know. Glac siad a anam ró-ghasta."

(They took his soul too soon)

"You're right. But now she needs you. So go find out what the witch wants, and try your damndest to deliver," he says.

"I will," I say, smiling at him sadly, "Thanks, E."

"Not a bother," he assures me, smirking, "Mactíre."

(Wolf)

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

I dial the number, she picks up after a single ring.

"Wanda, it's been a while," I say, trying to stay happy even though I know hearing her voice again will probably bring tears.

"Fianna, it has," she says, and I inhale sharply. No tears, not now, not yet at least.

"So, what do you need me for so urgently?" I begin to cut the shit.

"I need help. I need a friend, I need a soldier. Are you available for some last-minute travelling?" she says hesitantly. Clearly I'm a last resort, a "break glass in case of emergency" type help.

"Of course, when and where?" I ask.

"I need you to get to Leipzig-Altenburg Airport asap. We'll get you where you need to be from there," Wanda explains.

"Yeah, uh, when exactly do you mean by asap?"

"I mean, like literally buy a last-minute flight and get on it, within the next two hours. It'll be a two-hour flight, I'll pick you up and we'll get where we need to go."

"Alright, fine. I just need to know, what I'm up against. You said you needed a soldier? I need to know what I'm fighting for before starting a war."

"This is... the fight of a lifetime. You'll be fighting for truth and... safety. Who you'll be up against? Some of my closest friends and some of the deadliest assassins in the last thirty years. Now are you in or are you out? I don't blame you if you're out, but it would really help."

Wanda sounds... more than desperate, she's hopeless, she needs me, more than she ever has. I've fought many's a fierce foe in my time, but Avengers? Deadly assassins? That's usually more than a smidge above my paygrade. But she needs me, she's calling in her last favor, she clearly thinks I'm up for it. I hesitate for a second, weighing my options before making a life-changing decision.

"I'm in. I'll be there in four hours, max," and with that I hang up.

Guess I'm going to Germany.

I walk back into the bar and go through the side door that brings me to the lodging. I go to my room at sit on my bed. I'm leaving. I begin to pack my shit, I pull my kitbag out from under my bed and begin filling it with clothes. Leggings, t-shirts, hoodies, leather jackets, everything I might need. I pack all the essentials and then begin to think of how I'll smuggle my brass knuckles through security. I lift my mattress and take out a couple hundred pounds in cash, shove it in my wallet and keep packing.

When I'm all packed I begin to forge a note from my 'mother' for the school so that I can get time off without them calling up people who haven't seen me in over a year and a half. I make a simple excuse of appendicitis, was rushed to hospital late tonight blah blah, they won't really care, the school year's nearly over. I just need something for show so that I don't get called out.

I text Orlaith, letting her know I'm being called out of the country. She questions me at first, but when I explain that Wanda needs me, and I can't let her down she lets me be. She says she'll drop in and pick up the note tomorrow morning before getting on the 212 to Coláiste Feirste.

(Belfast College {It's an Irish speaking high school})

Now I've just got to talk to Eoghan. I tell him to come to the lodging hall, behind the bar. He serves the last couple of drinks that were ordered and joins me in the back.

"I have de go de Germany," I tell him, "It seems above my paygrade, but she needs me and I gotta be there for her."

"Okay... do ye have enough for the flight?" he simply asks.

"Aye, I've got all I need, me kitbag's packed an' everythin'."

"Ye said above yer paygrade. What'd ye mean by that?"

"I'm not just fighting with Wanda's friends. I'm also fighting against a couple o' them."

"What? Naw- What the fuck Fianna!"

"Look, she needs me, Eoghan, I can't just leave her."

"You're not fighting them assholes."

"Yeah, I am, Eoghan."

"Naw you're not."

"You can't stop me. I tol' her I'm in, and I'm going," I say, standing up and throwing the strap of my kitbag over my shoulder.

"Fianna, ye can't just leave to fight those dickheads," he stands up.

"I'm away," I say firmly, walking out the door.

"Get your arse back here, now!"

"You're not my da, Eoghan. You can't make me stay."

"I might not be your da, but I'm the closest thing to a father you've had these past years. You better treat me with a bit more respect."

"Maybe," I shrug, "But I'll stick with this for now," I say, throwing up my middle finger before leaving the bar. The taxi I called beforehand pulled up and I got in.

"The airport," I tell the driver.

"Right," is the simple reply he gives me.

I get a text when we're about halfway to the airport.

I click my phone off and look out the window at the familiar city I've grown up in. All my life except a year was spent here. When I wasn't here I was with the twins, me becoming who I am, them becoming who they are... or were, and then I left them. Not by choice. Not on purpose. But I still left them.

But now I've got Wanda back, and while I don't know how long I'll be with her for, it will be good to see her. If only I could've seen him one last time before I left, spoke to him one last time, made sure nothing was left unsaid. Instead I'm here, he's gone, and I'll never know how things could've gone if perhaps I never left.

The driver stops at the airport entrance and lets me out, I pay him the fare and he takes it with a smile. I grab my bag, close the door, and go into the airport. I go to the desk and ask if there are any last-minute tickets to Leipzig-Altenburg I could get on. While there was a seat I could take, it cost a little more than a pretty penny. Luckily I had enough to buy it and went through security immediately. I opted for a pat-down rather than the metal detector and thanks to my damn good hiding spots the woman didn't find my brass knuckles.

I wait for the half hour before my flight and board along with the others. I get to my seat and sigh. A two-hour flight isn't long, it's just boring to sit through, no one to talk to and not long enough to sleep through. I just sit there messing on my phone for a bit, making faces at the baby looking through the gap between the chairs a couple rows in front of me.

When the plane finally lands I prepare myself. This is it. I have to fight Avengers. I have to fight deadly psycho assassins. But first. I have to see Wanda. For the first time in two years. For the first time since he died.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

When I leave the airport I scan my surroundings and all the cars parked there. I stop when I come across a van that could be owned by no other, a white panel van with what I'd consider an iconic license plate: L: T34MC4P, I know that it's gotta be my ride. I go to the passenger side and knock on the window, the door opens, and I'm promptly enveloped in a hug.

"Someone order a conriocht?" I sat into my sister's shoulder.

(Werewolf)

She laughs and hugs me tighter, "I did, you little volk."

(Wolf)

I look at her with tears in my eyes, smiling sadly. She looks back at me with a similar expression and we just stay there in the embrace for a moment.

"Okay," I say, finally pulling away and wiping my tears away, "So who's ass do I have to kick?"

She laughs, wiping away her own tears, "No one's just yet. We gotta get there first, so get in the back."

"Back of a van?" I quirk an eyebrow, "Are there seats of does this look like a kidnapping?"

"There are seats, but they're laid down. Scott is sleeping on them, and I thought you'd want to stretch before we get there, human or not."

"That's fair, but the second I shift I'm gonna be stuck with Lu, you know that."

"I can get her to ease up, but you're stuck with her, you have to learn how to get along with her, okay?"

"Yes mom," I mock, "I'll see you on the other side."

I salute her before opening the back door, seeing a middle-aged man sleeping on the seats. Must be Scott. I climb behind the seats and lay down, shifting to the Mactíre, and as expected I hear Lu.

Lu is like a voice in my head, she's the canine and lupine instincts that got transferred during the experiments. She talks to me, mostly degrades me for my logic and emotions, planning things out rather than acting on instinct and figuring it out on the fly.

"So, she returns," Lu mocks.

"Yes, I've returned. Wanda needs help, she needs me, needs us to work together," I reply.

"Wanda? Wanda needs us?"

"Yes. And we're gonna work together. Right?"

"Yes. Of course. Anything for Wanda."

"Good. Now we're gonna be driving for a bit, so what do you suggest we do?"

"Sleep. Sleep is good. Sleep builds energy."

"Okay Lu, we'll sleep. But when we're fighting I need to take control, okay? I need to be able to focus."

"Okay Fi, you take control."

"Thank you."

And with that I begin to drift out of consciousness.

#peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x reader #peter parker #fianna macbhfloscaidh #the lone wolf #the lupine saga #nyx writes #jynx writes #pyre writes

1 note · View note

spicyfloaty · 4 years ago

Text

Give & Take | Chapter 4

pairing: kacchako

genre: slowburn/fluff

words: 2.4k

summary: Ochako's grades are slipping. Bakugo is dangerously nearing suspension, or worse, expulsion. A certain twist of fate pairs them together for tutoring sessions. He teaches her math. She keeps him from getting suspended. A simple exchange, but what if this only brings them closer than necessary?

header credits: @alexbenedetto

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter Three

Chapter Four: Bakugo’s Fingers

If you told Ochako that her first tutoring session with Bakugo Katsuki was going to be as dead silent as it was right now, she would have laughed and thought you were crazy. A scenario she had been playing over and over again in her head consisted of flipped tables, burning paper, and repetitive yelling. She had expected all of these and more, but Bakugo just loved to prove people wrong, didn't he?

She could have heard the tiny footsteps of an ant, if anything, she bets that she could have counted its breaths in this deafening silence. In all honesty, she’d much rather have Bakugo say absolutely anything if it meant that he would at least talk and give her something to work with. She felt as though she had been having a discussion with a brick wall for the past 20 minutes, given that the brick wall plopped himself on the other side of the room, chin cupped in one hand, looking out a window completely uninterested.

Ochako looks down at the bulk of text on her book and begins to read it out loud. She modulates her voice just right, properly enunciating each term to give off an air of confidence around her even though in reality, her head could hardly keep up with what she was saying, “So basically this means that I should...factor it out?” She asks.

The air of confidence she had while reading almost instantly diffuses after trying to make sense out of what she just read using her own words. She hated the way she sounded so unsure with every concept but asking these kinds of questions out loud was the only way she could get some kind of affirmation that Bakugo was still in the same room as her.

He grunts, not even bothering to look at her. This sound usually meant that she got it right...or wrong, she wasn’t sure, she still had a ways to go in decoding this new language Bakugo had introduced her, he was really fluent in I don’t care. Ochako resists the urge to ask him if he was even listening to her because if there was anything she would dislike more than the painstaking silence, it would be a screaming match with Bakugo. Then again, at least he’d have to say something if that were the case.

She sighs, then proceeds to read the next few paragraphs. The tone of confidence in her voice falters as each topic she comes across becomes exceedingly harder to comprehend, “This means um,” she quickly rereads the last portion to make sure she has it right, “I factor it again?” Ochako looks up at him hoping for some kind of reaction this time. Unfortunately, the view from that window was still ten times more interesting to him compared to this conversation, if you could even call it that.

“No.” Bakugo says flatly. She waits for an explanation that should usually follow that kind of response, but to nobody’s surprise, it never comes. Ochako almost throws her hands up in frustration, but instead, she just rests her forehead on the palms of her hands. She knew that massaging her temples won’t resolve the steady decline of her patience, but she goes ahead and does it anyways. This way, the not-so-proper things she’d like to say to him right now, bouncing off the walls of her mind, won’t cause an unwanted migraine.

She lifts her head to sneak a glance at the blonde mess that was the back of Bakugo’s head, what goes on in that mind of his, Ochako will never know. She thinks back to Aizawa discussing his situation and how these sessions were quite literally the only chance he has of not being suspended, or if worse comes to worst, expelled. Bakugo’s behavior so far surely wasn’t that of someone who cared about any of that, but one thing’s for sure, he’s here, which meant that he did care. Well, at least to some degree.

Bakugo might think that all he had to do was show up for this agreement of theirs to be fair game, but Ochako couldn’t just let herself be used as his one-way ticket out of trouble when she’s sitting here wasting her time not learning anything.

“Bakugo,” she starts, and for the first time, he actually looks at her, but only for him to glare at her as if saying his name, let alone, speaking to him directly were a mortal sin. Ochako feels herself shrink under the intensity of his gaze, but she doesn’t back down. She wanted his attention, she’s got it right now.

“I don’t think this is working.” she says this in the gentlest way she could possibly put it, her heart rate races as though she was getting ready to poke a sleeping dragon with a wooden stick. One might say that she already did.

“What?” Bakugo snarls. Oh, the dragon was definitely awake now.

Ochako chooses her next words carefully, but she just stumbles over them with nonexistent grace, “I um, I don’t think I can learn just by,” she struggles to find the words to describe the ineffective mess they were doing, “this.” Great job, Ochako.

Bakugo’s eyebrows knit together so closely she’s surprised they don’t start knitting sweaters, “And why the hell not?”

Ochako decides that she’s gonna have to be more specific if she wants to get her point across, even if it means increasing her chances of getting barbequed by flaming hot dragon breath, “It’s almost been an hour and you haven’t said anything to help me understand any of this yet.”

She tries to cushion the slight harshness of her words with a soft expression, but this doesn’t stop Bakugo from narrowing his eyes into slits. He might as well have had trails of smoke fuming from his nostrils judging by the look of disgust on his face, “I don’t know what gave you the idea to talk to me like that, but you shouldn’t”

The point must have missed Bakugo’s head and flown straight out the window along with the rest of the restraint Ochako had been using up until this very second, “You can’t just expect me to not say anything when you’re supposed to be helping me with this,” she dares rival his intense stare with her own, “and I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re not.”

Bakugo grimaces, his scowl sinking deeper into his face as he shifts his whole body in his desk to fully face her, “Listen, round face, I dont know know what the fuck your problem is, but things were going just fine before you chose to complain about it.”

“Fine?” She almost laughs, “You think me talking to myself is fine?” Ochako doesn’t normally raise her voice to anyone, she had always considered herself to be someone who could stay calm and collected in any given situation no matter how stressful it was, but there’s something about him that makes her blood boil to temperatures that would make Endeavor jealous.

“Who says I have to say anything for you to learn something?”

Ochako wasn’t proud of it. Maybe it was all the stress and pent up frustration from her job, her studies, hell, maybe both, that finally snapped the last thread of patience keeping her composed and rational, “Ugh! Why do you have to be so difficult?”

She sends her eraser flying towards Bakugo, but without even flinching, Bakugo catches it before it hits his face, the corner of his mouth lifts to give her a shit eating grin, “Wanna try that again, round face?” He tosses the piece of rubber back and she catches it just in time before it reaches the floor.

Ochako takes a mental step back to close her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down before they spend the rest of the hour bickering, and before she runs out of stationery as ammunition, “Don’t you think it would be best if you actually explain these concepts rather than just having me read these over and over again?”

Bakugo lifts an eyebrow, “You got some kind of problem with reading?”

She releases the tightening grip she had on her eraser, she knew better than to do that again since it won’t even have the chance to crash land on where she wanted it to, “No! I--god, how do I put this, it's just that,” She gestures towards her textbook, “I’m not getting anything.”

“Why?” He asks as if she just told him that she didn’t know how to count to ten. Ochako decides that she didn’t want to argue anymore, she had already exhausted enough energy from just trying to make herself make sense to Bakugo and resisting the occasional urge to throw an entire desk at him. The last one took every single cell in her body not to do.

“I don't know, okay?” She exhales, “I’ve already tried reading all of this stuff on my own, I wouldn’t be here if I could understand it just from that.” She attempts to give him the most earnest look her face can muster, “So can you please just try and help me out here?”

Ochako momentarily catches a flicker of surprise in Bakugo’s eyes, maybe she looked a bit too earnest, just before his face twists into another scowl as he turns away to direct his attention to the wall. Bakugo’s eyes seemed to dart everywhere except her direction, but after a few moments of contemplation, he throws his arms up in frustration, “Fuck, fine!”

She expected him to pull out his own textbook from his bag, but nothing could have prepared Ochako for Bakugo making his way towards the other side of the room until he was right in front of her. He grips the corner of her desk with one hand and flips her text book to face him with the other. Red eyes peek at her from behind the blonde strands of hair that fell on top of them as he offers her his free hand.

Wait, is he asking me to hold his hand?

“Your pen, idiot.” He spits.

“Oh! Right, yeah, um here you go.” He was right, she was an idiot. Ochako hands him her pen and the brief contact of their fingers only add to the heat spreading like wildfire from her neck to her cheeks.

He pulls a chair from the table behind him and sits down, “Tell me what you need help with.” he grumbles. Ochako still couldn’t bring herself to string a single sentence due to the sudden change in proximity, not to mention the fact that they were also sharing a table that wasn’t exactly meant to accommodate two people.

She flips to a couple of pages back and points to an especially complicated part of the lesson. Bakugo takes a moment to read the entirety of the text, underlining a few words and phrases here and there as he goes through each page. Ochako didn’t know what to do while he was doing this, she can’t exactly read along with him since she’d be reading upside down. Instead, she quietly watches Bakugo, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips occasionally parting as he muttered parts of the paragraphs. She wondered if this was what he always looked like whenever he was studying with his friends or alone in his room back at the dorms.

“You done being a creep?” He suddenly asks, his eyes still fixated on her book.

Her eyes widened as she quickly looked for something else to look at, “Yes--no! I mean, no I wasn’t being a creep.” Her eyes find the ceiling. It amazed her how she could find 30 different ways to embarrass herself in front of a single person within the span of a few minutes.

“Sure.” he mutters flatly, eyes still glued on her textbook.

Bakugo finishes reading and turns the textbook again so she could see the things he had underlined along with the short notes he wrote beside some of the paragraphs. He begins to go over each concept and Ochako had to actively slide her finger along each sentence because of how fast he was going. Despite the ridiculous speed that he was explaining in, she manages to successfully keep up, the difficult terminologies and formulas slowly but surely begin to make sense, each cog in her head finally coming together for her to actually understand the examples shown after each concept.

Bakugo hands her back her pen, “Your turn.”

Ochako doesn’t miss the feeling of their fingers touching again when she takes it. This happens a few more times as she answers a set of questions in an exercise, both of them taking turns writing down solutions to each one. After the fifth time, yes she counted, she asks, “Did you bring your own pen?”

Bakugo’s eyes settle on hers once more, a familiar scowl painting his face, “You got a problem with me using this one?” He retorts. She debates on whether it was a good idea telling him that his fingers were distracting her, phrasing, Ochako, but she ultimately decides against it for obvious reasons.

“Nevermind.”

One problem in particular had her stumped for a couple of minutes and it takes all the little Ochako’s in her head to figure out how to approach it. She had been scribbling down the beginning of a solution when she feels a pair of eyes linger on her for a suspicious amount of time. It’s only when Bakugo’s staring hits the 2 minute mark that she says, “You done being a creep?” She grins, not taking her eyes off the page.

“Tch, you wish.” She didn’t have to be looking at him to know that he rolled his eyes at the remark.

An alarm goes off from Ochako’s phone, signaling the end of their session. She had miraculously gotten half of the questions right this time which was a huge improvement considering that she couldn’t even get one right before. She was about to thank Bakugo when he suddenly sprang up from his seat, hastily grabbing his bag from the other side of the classroom. He glances her way one last time before wordlessly exiting the room, leaving Ochako alone with her own thoughts that seemed to only revolve around the warm feeling of Bakugo’s fingers on hers.

#kacchako #kacchako fic #kacchako fanfiction #kacchako fluff #kacchako slowburn #kacchako week #kacchako week 2020 #bakuraka #bakuraka week #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x uraraka #mha ochako #urakara ochako #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha #ao3 #ao3 kacchako

4 notes · View notes

comfortmarvelimagines · 6 years ago

Text

When You Can’t Find the Quiet

ya can all thank my autistic ass for projecting onto this? i needed to finish this and it’s now almost 1am so i’ll post part 2 tomorrow lmao i know it sucks but like. i don’t have friends who Get It ya know? i figure peter n co. would try super hard to help sooooo

It was a Bad Brain day from the second you woke up.

It didn’t start off horribly, on the level that made physical touch sting and laughter split your skull in two. That didn’t stop the repetition of your mom’s alarm clock in the next room from feeling like it was chipping away at your bones at 5am, as she got up to go swim laps at the community pool. New York was never quiet, and going back to sleep wasn’t an option, even though it wasn’t your choice to be up at such an ungodly hour. All of a sudden you were hot. Too hot. Suffocating. Throw-off-the-covers-and-stick-your-head-under-the-kitchen-sink kinda hot. And as you stood with your hair dripping, pyjama shirt soaked hours before you even had to think about the hustle of teenagers fighting to get to homeroom, you realised that it was just One of Those Days.

The bathroom in your apartment had an east-facing window. Which may have been an irrelevant fact to most, but on days like today it meant you could crack it open to let the steam out and shower completely in peace. No hard lights, no grating whir of the fan. A brief reprieve of soft light and floating before the world pressed play again. The only other sound besides the stream hitting the tiles were those your mother made, in another room, grabbing files before she left for work. Most days, you wouldn’t be in the same room for more than ten minutes at a time, and that suited you just fine- for the majority of instances, you could act normal, hold eye contact and try to remember what you knew about small talk for long enough to think you were ‘fine’. Words weren’t gonna happen today, though, and you stood pressed against the bathroom door, listening for the click of the front door signalling that you wouldn’t have to force out a stuttered attempt at speech. Finally, she left and you could finish getting ready. Not stopping to think, you swept the textbooks from last night’s homework into your bag, swung it on your back and ran out the door. You might miss your train, but you’d only be late for homeroom.

You didn’t miss the train, if only for the fact that it was three minutes late and you’d speed-walked the whole way there. The perk of being so focussed on your feet on the concrete was that nothing else existed. Unfortunately, once the adrenaline of making the doors before they closed wore off, everything came back. Hard. That specific kind of warmth that comes from people standing too close. That one flickering light that you couldn’t directly see, but after a few minutes made you want to punch that fucking thing out so it would stop. The awful hot shock of touch when the person next to you fell into your arm as the train slowed to a stop in the tunnel, shuddering down your spine and making you want to crawl out of your skin. The tinny bass of too-loud music through someone’s airpods, someone talking on the phone, everyone breathing and shifting and rustling and the train breaks whining and-

Headphones. Should have headphones. You pulled your backpack around to your front, ripping open the zipper and rifling through the loose papers and the water bottle you forgot to fill before you left. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing you forgot. Fucking great. You haphazardly shoved everything back in your bag and pulled a fidget cube from your pocket, remembering that you’d left it in your hoodie from yesterday. Hands on each side. Thumbs on the switch. Focus. Click left. Click middle. Click right. Click middle. One, two three, four. Over and over and over and over until it was your stop.

You walked through the school gates head down, hoodie up, thumb running over the spinny metal ball of the fidget cube in your pocket, determined to just make it through the day and get back home to the quiet. Unsurprisingly, you were completely unaware of Ned and Peter running up behind you, completely oblivious to how loud they were being. “Hey y/n, how was your weekend? Peter and I were just planning to go see the new Star Wars movie at the cinema next week, do ya wanna come?”

“Yeah y/n it’ll be fun! We can get popcorn and soda and Skittles.”

“If you wanna come, my mom’s booking the tickets this weekend so we can get good seats. It’s gonna be AWES-”

“Shut it, nerds.” MJ was slouched against the peeling paint of her locker, two down from Peter’s. “You’re hurting them”.

At some point, your hands had made their way up to your ears. It wasn’t really Ned and Peter’s fault, but their voices just added an extra layer to the soupy mess of sounds echoing through Midtown Tech. It also didn’t help that the shoving and pushing of kids running through the corridor was prickling your skin, the thickness of your jumper doing little to help at this point. You twitched as someone grabbed the fabric near your elbow, tugging. “I know you don’t want to be touched right now but if you go inside with Peter, it’ll be quieter,” MJ spoke as softly as she could without being completely drowned out by yelling teens. Your eyes flickered over to Peter, the only sign to MJ that you’d processed what she said. Peter, having shoved most of his stuff in his locker and grabbed whatever textbooks he needed, fumbled to try and untangle his earphones.

“Here, try these. I know it’s not your headphones, but it might help if you focus on music so you we can get to the quiet?” You quickly took them from him and jammed them in your ears, plastering your hands back over the top. In all honesty, they didn’t do much and you couldn’t really tell what song was playing, but you were desperate to get any sort of relief from the barrage of input. You were grateful when Peter didn’t try and pull you through the crowd, instead opting to try and create a path for you to follow, and made sure you were seated up the back in a corner well before the bell rang.

The bell.

The bell that was right over your head.

Well shit.

The only way you could describe how it felt, was that every atom in your body was on fire. Out. Out. Get out. You didn’t remember when you started scratching at your arms, only that you needed to stop to open the door. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you began to question where the door was, where you were, but that thought was abandoned when you realised the room was dark. Quiet. Staggered to your knees, you found the corner and crouched there, waiting for your head to stop spinning.

***

Meanwhile, Peter was back in homeroom, stressed out of his mind. The teacher hadn’t come in until after y/n had ran, and Peter debated whether or not to stay for attendance or try and find you, in case something bad happened. Eventually deciding on the latter, Peter bolted down the corridor, yelling for someone to tell the teacher to mark him and y/n as here. He had a vague idea of where you could be, but after checking under the back library tables, the unused changeroom out the back of the gym and the photocopying room, he was getting desperate. There were dozens of empty classrooms and homeroom was nearly over. If the sounds of chairs scraping and kids screaming wasn’t going to make things even worse for you on your already super-shitty day, then having a presumably unsympathetic teacher find you huddled at the back of their class, without a verbal excuse, was just plain cruel. He was almost about to head to the nurse and see if there was anyone they could call to come help find you, when he heard a high-pitched sound coming from an empty chem lab storeroom

***

The squeaking of the door as it swung open was enough to set your teeth on edge, and you bit even harder on the finger jammed into your mouth. “Hey, hey y/n, it’s okay, s’just me”

You kept rocking. The door squeaked again, the sliver of light disappearing. Then footsteps. “I know, I know this is rough, but I think I have something that can help.” Peter’s voice still hurt your ears, but not in the mind-numbingly harsh way of before. “Can you maybe stop rocking and take your hood down for a sec? I have something to put over your head, like a mask, it’s gonna make everything go away. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry but trust me, this’ll work.”

You slowly moved your free hand up, pushing back the fabric and moving it back down to brace on the ground. Peter pulled something out the back pocket of his jeans, the room too dark to make it visually distinguishable, and quickly braced your cheek whilst tugging it over your face. Your breathing hitched; there was a sound, a woman talking, the mask-thing wasn’t down all the way and you could feel it resting on the top of your knuckle, the taste of blood in your mouth…

“Uh, shit, okay, Karen that’s okay I did that, uh, make it quiet? Make it dark? I know Mr Stark put a protocol for this why can’t I remember it, just hold on a sec y/n you’re fine you’ll be fine I got this,” Peter’s frantic rambling was interrupted by his pocket vibrating. Insistently. Knowing the light would hurt your eyes, he tried to shield the screen with his hand, answering the call.

“Want to explain why your mask is on someone else’s head.”

“Uh see you see-”

“At school. When you were just marked as absent. And May just called me, asking if I knew anything about it. Oh, and why those vitals are off-the-fucking CHARTS.”

“I can explain I promise it’s just my friend is- they’re not doin’ too great and I’m trying to help them out”

“Can that explain why you’re whispering”

“Yes, yes it can. You know how my senses are like, dialed to eleven. Like, all the time?” “Mmm”

“Well their’s is just like that. Normally. And sometimes school is too much for them but they can’t communicate properly, and I guess they just, like, run? They, uh, need to get out but they don’t know where to? And so the bell went earlier and they disappeared and I found them in the chem storeroom but it was before the teacher marked attendance so that’s why we’re marked absent-” “Don’t care about that now. Where are they?”

“We’re in the chem storeroom still. I thought maybe I could use my mask to make it quiet to try and help, since you installed those mods- thanks by the way- but Karen won’t stop flashing and talking and I forgot the protocol name and they won’t let me get the mask off and oh shit now their hand’s bleeding Mr Stark please help-” Tony cut him off again. At this point, all attempts at whispering between the two had been abandoned, and you wanted to get out.

“I remotel…”

Silence. Complete, blissful, beautiful, enveloping silence.

You didn’t feel your head hit the linoleum floor.

#marvel #mcu #marvel imagines #peter parker #spiderman #sensory overload #mj #ned leeds #peter parker imagine #avengers imagine #actuallyautistic #peter parker x reader #autistic!reader #actually autistic #tony stark #irondad #eventually #more in part 2

531 notes · View notes

lilaswordsandthings · 6 years ago

Photo

A/N: If they wanted to do a Reid/JJ storyline and drop a bombshell this is how I would have done it. The Jeid in this fic is 100% Platonic

That’s what Friends are For

Season 14 Finale and Final 10 as written by #lilaswordsandthings for all my lovely fellow CM Fans. @illegalcerebral @dontshootmespence @stunudo @reid-effect

Chapter 1: Bombshell

When Reid stepped off the elevator and entered the BAU through the glass doors, he never expected how much his life would change that day. He did, however, notice that JJ seemed to be eyeing him with a strange look on her face. She smiled at him, but there were tears in her eyes and her hands shook as she poured her coffee. Had something happened? Reid immediately went over to talk to her.

“Morning Spence.” She said when she saw him.

“JJ, is everything alright?” He asked.

Is everything alright? JJ didn’t know how to answer that. There was a lot of good and a lot of bad in the bombshell that had just been dropped on them, on him. So no, everything was not alright, but it wasn’t all bad either. She knew he’d asked because of the look that must have been on her face when he’d walked in. He had no idea. He was worried about her, which, at that moment, was just bizarre.

“I’m fine Spence.” She assured him.

“JJ, something is obviously going on, what is it?”

“It’s complicated, we can talk about it later. Emily was looking for you, she’s in her office.” She replied.

“O-K…” He said, still analyzing her facial expressions as he headed up the stairs to Emily’s office.

When he got there, Emily was sitting at her desk. She appeared to be reading a case file, perhaps their next, but he could tell that she wasn’t focused on the file’s contents. She was only reading it to make it look like she wasn’t just sitting there waiting for him. At this point, between her and JJ, he had a sinking feeling that his life was about to be turned upside down again. This feeling only worsened when he realized they weren’t alone. There was another woman, one he didn’t remember ever seeing before. She was sitting on the small loveseat in Emily’s office, which had been relocated from its usual place across from her desk to backed up against the window, directly across from where Reid was standing. The woman wore a red sweater, a long floral skirt, and a long necklace made up of large red and pink beads, she had short, pixie-cut brown hair. Something about this woman told Reid she was here in some kind of official capacity and that had him unnerved, so he kept his focus on Emily.

“JJ said you wanted to see me?” He asked.

“Spencer, good morning, go ahead and have a seat.” She said as she stood up and closed the door.

He obeyed. Despite himself, he looked from Emily to their guest and back with nervous curiosity.

“What’s going on Emily?” He asked.

“We need to talk.” She replied. “Spencer, this is Carolyn Frankfort, she’s with social services in Las Vegas Nevada. She came here to talk specifically to you. Did you ever know a woman named Rebecca Thompson?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, she’s a couple of years younger than me. She grew up living in an apartment above her family’s restaurant. We grew up together, outside of you guys she’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” He explained.

“When was the last time you spoke with her?” Ms. Frankfort asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Last week, last Sunday at ten-thirty PM to be exact. I haven’t seen her in a little over three years, not since I went down to Las Vegas to get the rest of my mom’s things. Why? What happened? Why is social services involved in this?”

“There really is no good way to say this. She died, a week ago.” She began, pausing to give him a moment to process this.

Reid was aghast. How could one of his oldest and most treasured friends suddenly be gone? He had to know everything. “Go on…” he said, nodding as if to reassure her that whatever came next, he could take it.

She was discovered on the steps of All Saints Orthodox Church just after midnight a week ago today. The priest there was leaving when he discovered a newborn wrapped in a blanket and left on the floor of the narthex. He picked up the child and opened the door to see if the mother might still be in the area. That’s when he saw a woman in her mid-thirties with black hair laying on the steps leading up to the building. He set the child down on a chair and tried to resuscitate her but, it was already too late. He called the police, who called us and that’s when I became the little girl’s case manager. As I’m sure you’re aware when the in-state search fails to identify a suitable guardian a child would normally be put into the foster system. However, it appears Miss Thompson took great pains to ensure that didn’t happen in this instance.

“You didn’t find anyone?” Emily asked, she’d been silent up to now but the horror of what she was hearing had made her speak up.

“No.” She answered

Reid shook his head. “I’m not surprised. Becca’s only other family are her parents, and social services would never place a baby with them. Her mom is severely mentally ill, she’s volatile and abusive. When we were kids, Becca would quite often have cuts and bruises all over her. She tried to hide these with long clothes and dark makeup, but it didn’t always work. By the time she was ten, CPS started to take notice. She was almost removed from her parents’ custody three separate times, but each time her dad covered for his wife and talked their way out of it.”

“He’s right, which is why even though she is their grandchild we can’t place her with them. Fortunately, Miss Thompson left us other instructions. There was a handwritten letter placed inside the blanket she was wrapped in. You can read the whole thing for yourself but essentially it states that she knew she was dying and rather than let her daughter be raised either by her parents or complete strangers, she’d like you to raise her. She told us who you are and where we could find you. Now, normally the odds would favor the grandparents in a case like this but, taking into account that they are, in our own estimation, unfit, and the mother’s wishes you do have a legitimate claim to custody of this little girl.”

For a moment, Reid just sat there, unable to find the right words to sum up what he was feeling, the thoughts racing through his mind.

“Of course, there’s a lot to work out if you do decide to adopt her, and the final decision would be up to the courts but…I leave to return to Nevada in three hours. If you agree to take her, I’ll get things started and figure out exactly what the next step is as soon as I get there.”

“I’m doing it.” He said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Reid? You don’t have to decide right this second.” Emily reminded him.

“I’m taking her Emily. I’ve already made up my mind. It’s what Becca wanted. I owe it to her to make sure her daughter is safe and her last wishes are honored. Which means it looks like I have to go back to Vegas.”

Emily nodded. “Ok, I’ll get Garcia to get you on the next available flight.” She said.

“I need to get going as well or I’ll miss my flight…”

“I’ll walk you out as far as the elevator.” Emily replied, turning to Reid she said: “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

He nodded as they left the room. Reid didn’t understand any of this. Becca had only been thirty-four years old. The last time he’d heard from her, she’d seemed fine. She’d never told him that there was anything wrong, or that she was pregnant. He didn’t know what to think. He needed answers, answers only a trip to Las Vegas would answer.

***

Ten minutes later, Emily walked into Garcia’s office.

“Morning Garcia…”

“Morning. Do we have a case? Or did you just come to say ��hi’?”

“Neither. Actually, I need something else, two tickets on the next available commercial flight from here to Las Vegas.”

“You got it, you got it,” Garcia replied, pulling up the website for every major airline. “What’s this about?”

“It’s a long story. Apparently, an old friend of Reid’s suddenly died roughly a week ago, he had no idea until this morning. It turns out that the last thing she did was abandon her newborn daughter in a church with a note pinned to her blanket asking Reid to raise her.”

“OMG, Em… please tell me you’re kidding.” Garcia asked as she sat there multitasking.

“I wish, and to make matters worse, the only reason the friend hasn’t been buried yet is that the ME hasn’t pinned down a cause of death.”

“What about the baby?”

“Reid’s determined to adopt her. That’s why he’s going to Vegas, to start that process.”

“Is he ok?”

“I don’t know. He seems pretty calm all things considered, certainly calmer than I would be in his shoes right now, but we all know that sometimes that’s just how Reid is when he’s so freaked out he has to compartmentalize in order to function. That’s why I’m sending JJ to go with him.”

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #fanfiction #season 14 #finale re-write #jj #spencer reid #oc #famiy #friendship #emily prentiss #david rossi #season 15

38 notes · View notes

littleredinmotion · 6 years ago

Photo

live through this and you won’t look back by royalklaroline

(ff) (ao3)

Caroline left Rousseau’s determined to keep it together. Determined not to cry because if she did she’s afraid she’d never stop.

It wasn’t until the frantic drive down to New Orleans a few hours before that she realized that the reason Klaus dying affected her this much was because somewhere deep down she always knew that they’d end up together. Like fate.

But apparently, she was wrong.

Now it seems that fate is ripping them apart before they’d barely begun.

She’d lost a loved one before. Quite a few times actually. But this time was different. She thought losing Stefan, her newlywed husband, on their wedding day was as bad as it could get. But Stefan was human. Part of her knew that someday he would leave her, she just hadn’t expected it so soon.

Losing Klaus was different. She always imagined that once all her loved ones were gone, she’d always have Klaus. But now…

She felt like she’d lost her future. Her forever.

Klaus was the one who’d helped her embrace the joys of being immortal. Now the thought of a future without him felt empty and uncertain and scary.

In an attempt to keep from falling apart and to keep any last bit of him that she could, she turned and headed back to find the street painter they’d admired together earlier. She found him sitting in the exact spot with the now finished painting at his side while he started on a new one.

“I’ll pay you however much you want for that painting,” she inquired to the man.

“Sorry miss. It’s already been sold.”

“Please. I’ll pay double whatever they paid. I’m begging you,” she pleaded now on the verge of tears.

“I wish I could help you but the owner was very specific that it had to be this painting. I can paint you one like it, if you wish.”

Defeated, Caroline thanked the man but declined. She was once again reminded of how much she regretted shredding the drawing he once gave her.

She took her time making her way back to her car before leaving New Orleans with nothing but the fading sensation of the man that promised her the world on her lips.

Two weeks had passed since she had gotten back to Mystic Falls. Two weeks since Klaus had successfully sacrificed himself for his daughter. She had hoped that returning home to her girls would help her fall back into the same routine that she’d had for the past 7 years. She’d gone 16 years without seeing Klaus up until a few months ago, so she thought that going through life without him now would feel like normal.

She was wrong. Being back at the boarding school now made her feel like she was just going through the motions. A school filled with history of the Salvatore’s also meant a school filled with the history of the big bad Klaus Mikaelson.

Everywhere she turned, something reminded her of him. The snowflake painting hanging in the dining hall. A hummingbird outside the window. The British accent of one of the new werewolves she’d recruited to come the school.

With each day, she felt a rising panic that time was going by too fast. To her, it felt like only yesterday that he was chasing her all over town, but now she is the mother of two teenage girls. What happens when they grow up and she doesn’t? When Alaric, the girls, Elena, Bonnie, and all her other friends die?

Even after his death, she began to understand how loneliness had been his biggest enemy.

“Mom, there’s a package here for you!” Josie yelled from the front door downstairs, jolting Caroline out of her racing thoughts.

When she reached the door to find a large package, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. “This isn’t…” she whispered.

But it was.

She ripped the paper away to find the painting from New Orleans. The last memory she has of him. A piece of artwork to remind her of the man who introduced her to the beauty of it.

But that wasn’t all.

Stuck to the back was an envelope. Sealed with the all too familiar Mikaelson crest and penned with the handwriting she’d know anywhere that only said “Caroline”

Her breath caught. The little voice in the back of her head said “Maybe he’s still out there…” but she knew that couldn’t be the case.

With shaking hands, she opened the letter and read.

My Dearest Caroline,

For almost eight centuries, whenever I defeated an enemy all I would take from them were their love letters. I guess somehow, I thought stealing the love from their letters would help me to find some of my own. It never worked. Yet after a thousand years on this earth, I find that the tables have turned. Now I am the one writing the letter with death waiting on my doorstep.

When you came into my life, I was a shell. Fueled by greed and anger with no care for life other than my own. Until I met you. A mere eighteen years old and you spoke to me with more honesty and strength than I’d experienced in centuries. You never cowered in fear of my darkness because your light turned it to shadows.

I know that I once told you that I intended to be your last love, alas fate had other plans for us. But know this. I always intended for you to be my last as well. I find comfort knowing that you were. And you being here for me today, just as you have been for the past few months, means more than you could ever know. Your presence somehow makes everything I do easier and harder in equal measure.

My biggest regret is that I never got the chance to show you the world like I told you I would someday. Rome. Paris. Tokyo. But I keep my promises. Included in this envelope are four tickets to London Heathrow. For you, Josie, Lizzie, and, if I may add, Hope. Caroline, I beg that you be the one to bring her to these places. Though I know my family could very well take her, I’d like her to experience it with you. And don’t worry about hotels or any other requirements of the sort, it’s all been taken care of my love.

Also attached, I would like to include a list of a few tips for your travels abroad.

There’s a small pub in Blackfriars called Williamson’s Tavern where Elijah and I lost quite a bit of money once while gambling after a few pints. Still I’d do it all again. Though I hear they’ve cleaned up the place and it’s more family appropriate now.

Located on a far wall on the second floor of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg you’ll find a landscape I did of the view outside our home in southern Italy in 1475 titled “Landscape of Fallen Leaves”

In Berlin, look up a man named Alexander Schütze near the East Side Gallery. Tell him I sent you and I’m sure he will show you the best of the best. He owes me a favor.

San Miniato al Monte has one of the best views in Florence. Though I did sire one of the nuns for fun, so if you meet a woman named Silvia tell her that I finally got what I deserved.

The only way to explore Rome is on a Vespa.

The best flavor of gelato is pistachio. Trust me.

At the Louvre, the painting across from the Mona Lisa titled “The Wedding Feast at Cana” is an incredible piece by an old friend of mine Paolo Caliari. I visited him often as he was painting it.

Be sure to rent a bike to ride around Luxembourg Gardens.

When at Versailles, go as deep into the gardens that you can. Spend the whole day if you must. Get lost. That’s the fun part, love.

Lastly, once back in London visit the Tate Britain and go find the painting entitled “The Hummingbird.” I think you may find it quite amusing.

There are a million more things I would have liked to show you but I don’t have enough time left to write them all down. So, I’ll leave the exploring to you in hopes that you find everything that I did and more.

If you were anyone else, I’d end this by saying I wish to see you again someday, somewhere, somehow in whatever there is after all this. But alas, I won’t. More than anything I want you to live your life to the fullest. I hope you have a thousand more birthdays and that you get everything you ever wanted out of life. I pray that my daughter learns as much from you as she ever learned from me. Please look after her as you always did for me. May your lifespan far outnumber mine and that they tell great stories of the mythical Caroline Forbes who loved with her whole heart to everyone she encountered, even those who did not deserve it.

Forever yours,

Klaus Mikaelson

She spent that summer exploring all that Europe had to offer. She’d brought her girls and Hope with her just as Klaus had wanted. They had ticked off numbers 1 through 9 on Klaus’s list and added much more to it over the past few months. On their last day in back in London where they started their trip, they were set to finally visit the Tate and knock off the last sight on the list.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to finish the list and head back home. Being in Europe had made her feel closer to him in a way that she didn’t know was possible and he wasn’t even here.

Over the past couple of months, she had become quite an art enthusiast. She thought he’d be proud. She finally understood how art had this ability to transport the viewer somewhere else and fill them with emotion with just a glance. Now she knew that’s why he loved art so much. It was his escape.

They’d been exploring for just over an hour, hoping to stumble upon “The Hummingbird” on their own. The looking was always the fun part.

“Oh my God. Mom. Over here,” she heard Lizzie say from around the corner.

She’d expected just some picture of a hummingbird. She should have known better.

Wide eyed, she gasped because there, in the middle of the Tate, was her.

Blonde hair. Blue dress. It was the night of the Mikaelson Ball. The portrait of her wasn’t looking at the viewer. She looked calm, collected, and confident. Surrounded by other party goers that blurred in the background. She was the only focus.

It was then that everything clicked into place for Caroline. She’d finally gotten the thing that she’d always wanted.

She was finally the one.

The one for Klaus.

Now that Klaus was gone, she was surprised that she didn’t feel sad at this revelation. She felt thankful. Thankful to have known him and that he’d given her everything she’d ever wanted. Culture. Art. Beauty. The world. He’d given her the world. But most of all, she felt thankful that he was intelligent enough to know that she loved him too. Even if she never had the guts to say it to him aloud. He had to of known.

She walked over and read the description.

The Hummingbird (2011) by Niklaus Mikaelson

“This portrait is for a woman much like a hummingbird. Small and beautiful yet fierce. She showed me how satisfying life can be every day with her. I’ll wait for her to fly back to me someday. However long it takes.”

#klaroline #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #kcedit #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline oneshot #the originals #to #tvd #this is the first piece of fanfiction I've ever written so I'd love feedback #sorry for all the sadness #i know this is hella sad but in my headcanon Klaus comes back to life so it's fine I'm fine #I may come back and edit this later once I post it to ff.net and ao3 #my stuff #mine #my writing #live through this and you won't look back

431 notes · View notes

welcometothepenumbra · 6 years ago

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE LESSON LEARNED (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Detective Steel entered the Fortezza trying to prevent a murder. But the way this case is going, he might soon be the victim of one. A serial killer from twenty years ago has set her sights on our detective, and if she wins, her murderous curriculum will be renewed.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Lesson Learned.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MICK: Hey, Jay?

JUNO: Yeah, Mick?

MICK: How come it feels like every time I see you we get trapped in some lunatic’s crazy murder-game?

JUNO: I don’t know, Mick. Just lucky, I guess.

MUSIC: STARTS.

MICK: Yeah. Now that you mention it… I think you might have pretty bad luck, Juno.

JUNO: Me?!

MICK: Yeah! I mean, the Proctor locks us up, gives us both guns, and says we’ll have to shoot each other if she’s gonna give us the antidote to the-the-the whatyacallit, the-the Sundial Toxin?

JUNO: Hourglass Venom.

MICK: Ha, that’s a good one, Jay, but I’m pretty sure it’s Hourglass Venom, like I said.

JUNO: That’s not what you—

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

PROCTOR (FROM COMMS): That’s enough bickering, Mr. Steel, Mr. Mercury. Now, your test is just down this hall. Onward! Education awaits.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The attic of the Fortezza was a condemned cell block from back in the days when this place was for sealing criminals away – not rewarding them. In a lot of ways it reminded me of my old wedding gown: it was dusty, smelled like a lot of dreams had probably died in it, and pushed off into a dark corner somewhere in hopes that everyone would just forget the damn thing ever happened.

And the worst of it all was the tenant here: the Proctor, a fame-seeking serial murderer who’d just come out of retirement and was making up for lost time. First, she planned to kill Mick and me with Intro to Chemistry, and then in two hours she’d move on to the first candidate for mayor in fifty years who might actually try to make this city a better place.

That guy’s name was Ramses O’Flaherty. And my name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye. And right then I was the only thing standing between Ramses and death. And me and death.

MICK: (WHISPERING) Psst! Hey, Jay!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And him and death.

MICK: Jayjay! I just thoughta somethin’!

JUNO (NARRATOR): I was usually the only thing standing between Mick and death.

MUSIC: ENDS.

MICK: This is, like, my moment, isn’t it? I took this job so I could prove that danger is what my life’s missing. And hey, this is very dangerous! That’s pretty lucky, I think.

JUNO: With luck like that, you should start investing in lottery tickets.

MICK: Hey, that’s not a bad—

JUNO: Don’t!

(QUIETLY) Can’t make that joke with him, Steel, he’ll really do it.

MICK: What was that?

JUNO: Alright, so you want to be a P.I. or a special agent or something?

MICK: I-I was thinking more like a superhero, but… I’m willin’ to work my way up.

JUNO: If you want to do this, you gotta be able to analyze your situation. So, they must’ve given you some training before they stuffed you in that uniform – didja pick anything up?

MICK: Uhhh, I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention.

JUNO: And, there it is.

MICK: Except… oh, oh!! They showed a map of the Fortezza! And I even memorized it!

JUNO: Wait, seriously? That’s perfect, Mercury!

MICK: You’re tellin’ me! And hold on, now, gears are turnin’, gears are turnin’…

Oh! Sweet shining nebula, Jay, I think my brain mighta just done a clue!

JUNO: We’ll clean that up later. This is great! If you remember how this old cell block is organized you should be able to get us to, I don’t know, a boarded up window or wall or something, and maybe we can break through—

MICK: This floor wasn’t on the map!

JUNO: …What?!

MICK: Yeah! They didn’t tell us anything about these floors during training at all! Heh. Wow, this Proctor really is smart, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve lost a room before, but losing two whole floors? You’d have to be, like, a genius to hide two whole floors from the people who own the building!

JUNO: I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. (SIGHS) I don’t know if that’s a sign of genius, Mick, but it’s definitely a sign of something.

MICK: Like what?

JUNO: Not sure yet. But I’ve got a hunch.

MICK: I mean, I didn’t want to say anything, but you should probably work on your posture, buddy.

JUNO: That’s not– nevermind.

(CALLING) Are we there yet? I’m tired and he keeps bugging me.

PROCTOR: Just one more door, Mr. Steel. That’s it… just ahead…

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Your next exam!

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO: Wow, more mannequins!

You shouldn’t have. We moving on to Art 102 now?

PROCTOR: No no, art is behind us. The three lessons you’ll have to pass today are the three Rs: Reasoning, Reading Comprehension, and… well, the last one’s a surprise.

MICK: Sure glad spelling isn’t one of them. I didn’t know surprise started with an R.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The test on Reasoning didn’t look like much. Four mannequins stood in front of us, each with a button on its chest and a tangle of wires snaking into its feet. But there was going to be a trick to it. There had to be.

PROCTOR: The mannequins are only half of the test. Are you ready for the second half?

JUNO: Depends. Is it four more mannequins?

MICK: Jay, that was kinda rude.

PROCTOR: No no, I’m afraid not. Now listen closely, because I’m only going to say this twice:

MICK: Twice?

PROCTOR: Sage, Vladimir, Aisha, and Sponge walked down the road together side-by-side, holding hands. Two wore shirts of red, and two wore shirts of blue; but none would stand next to another wearing the same color shirt.

JUNO: Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

MICK: Who? What? Who??? What???

JUNO: It’s a puzzle, Mick. A stupid puzzle.

PROCTOR: It’s a very good puzzle. Now be quiet.

(CLEARS THROAT) Aisha, the baker whose shirt was red, held hands with only one other person. Sponge’s shirt was also red. Vladimir held hands with two people, one of whom was a detective; the other was Aisha. Sage could not tolerate anyone holding her right hand. Vladimir was not the murderer.

MICK: Well! That got exciting very quickly!

PROCTOR: Among them were a detective, a baker, a fortuneteller, and a murderer. If you do not find the murderer, they will kill everyone else in line – and they will kill you, too. (CACKLES) So tell me: which of these four mannequins is the murderer?

JUNO: This is what you got famous for? Seriously?

PROCTOR: I know! Very impressive, isn’t it? I’ll give you a tip: in a multiple choice exam, always be certain to eliminate silly answers before—

JUNO: It is not impressive! It’s the kind of thing they give to bored middle schoolers when the radiation storms are too bad to go outside for recess!

PROCTOR: So if you can’t solve it, detective, what does that make you?

JUNO: Too busy for this stupid—

MICK: Hey, wait a second, wait a second. You said you’d say all that twice, right? Can you say it again?

JUNO: You’re not really buying into this.

MICK: You said bored middle schoolers did these! And, well! I was a bored middle schooler for nearly five years!

JUNO: Mick, you repeated those grades ‘cause you never went to school.

MICK: Come on, Jay. I really need this. Please?

JUNO: Fine… fine, listen to the dumb puzzle again.

PROCTOR: (CLEARS THROAT) Sage, Vladimir, Aisha, and Sponge walked down the road together side-by-side, holding hands. Two…

JUNO (NARRATOR): While our host gave Mick the rerun of her stupid puzzle, I took this opportunity to investigate my feelings about the last few hours.

Stupid goddamn waste of time puzzles! What am I, some kinda—

MICK: Shh, Jay! I’m tryin’ to listen!

JUNO: Hmph.

PROCTOR: …Vladimir was not the murderer. There. Your last reading. Think carefully – and be sure to check your answers.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It wasn’t an easy puzzle, sure, but it was pretty typical crime scene investigation. Gather the clues, listen to the witnesses, rebuild the past. Hell, this was easier: these witnesses couldn’t even lie to you.

If Mick could solve this… maybe he had a point. Maybe danger was the missing ingredient in the Mick Mercury cocktail.

MICK: Hmm. I see.

JUNO: You… do?

MICK: I thought about it real hard. And my answer is… we press all the buttons at the same time.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Or… not.

PROCTOR: A very… interesting approach.

JUNO: Mick, seriously?

MICK: Yeah! I mean, I thought about the whole puzzle thing, but then I decided it was probably just a red herring. ‘Cause look at them all! They’re so weird and creepy! And I swear a second ago, I saw them all twitch or something, real murrrrderer stuff, so we gotta—

JUNO: They didn’t move, Mick. And the murderer is Sage, on the far right.

MICK: Well, I mean, yeah, that’s the obvious answer.

JUNO: Oh, yeah? Why’s that?

MICK: Because… uh…

(NERVOUS LAUGHING) I-I mean I-I don’t think I gotta waste both our– our time, tryin’ to talk through things we both already know, Jay—

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Mick, where the hell are you going?

MICK: C-c-c-y-y-y… I-I… ‘cause– like, d-don’t you feel p-p-poisoned? Definitely feel poisoned, Jay; at– at least a little poisoned? So, I’ll just press this here button, and—

JUNO: Damn it, Mercury! That’s the wrong button!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. THUD.

MICK: What gives?! You said far right! I was goin’ for the far right!

JUNO: You were going for our right, Mick. You need to go for their right.

MICK: No, I mea– I mean—! Well that’s just—!

(SIGHS) Yeah. Yeah okay, that’s reasonable.

SOUND: BUTTON CLICKS. CONGRATULATORY JINGLE PLAYS.

PROCTOR: Excellent job, Mr. Steel! You’ve passed your Reasoning exam with flying colors!

SOUND: HINGE CREAKS OPEN.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Above us opened another trap door, and, another ladder fell out. The top floor. Finally. And with an hour to spare.

MICK: Whew! So, uh, good thing we made it through that one, huh… Juno?

…Jayjay?

JUNO: Give me your gun, Mercury.

MICK: …What?

JUNO: The gun the Proctor gave you. Give it to me.

MICK: But Jay – I’d never shoot you, you know that—

JUNO: You’d never shoot me on purpose, sure. But whatever the hell is up there for the Reading Comprehension test? Some monster made of goddamn books or something? You’re gonna aim for its table of contents and shoot me straight through the epilogue.

MICK: But Jay, we always got into trouble and it was always fine—

JUNO: Yeah, when we were kids. You’re forty, Mick. You’re not a kid anymore! You’re a screw-up, and this stupid danger idea of yours is going to get me killed. Now give me your gun.

MICK: I’m a… screw up?

JUNO: Don’t. You say it about yourself all the time.

MICK: Yeah, but… it’s different hearing it from, uh… Alright.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

Here’s the gun.

JUNO: Thanks. Now let’s go.

SOUND: ROPES CREAKING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I didn’t mean to snap at Mick like that.

Well actually I did mean to, but I felt bad about it, at least. And that's gotta be worth something, right?

Anyway, I didn’t have time to let my conscience have the floor. I could already feel the Hourglass Venom working through me – I could feel my head bloat and stomach throb. It would kill me soon. And just a few minutes after that, it’d kill Ramses.

MICK: (COUGHING) Ah, jeez buddy, I… really don’t feel so good.

JUNO: Yeah, a fatal dose of poison’ll do that to you. (COUGHS)

MICK: I guess in some ways we’re lucky, though. Back in the day I remember her tests were all over the news, and they were so…

There was that guy she killed with a geometry test… I’ve never seen someone’s legs go at that angle before. Or the Phys Ed case: the lady she made run so hard she wore holes in her feet. Or, the worst of all… Home Economics. What makes a person do all that, Jay?

JUNO: Who the hell knows, Mick. It’s not my job to psychoanalyze the killers. I just lock ‘em up.

PROCTOR: Then allow me, detective: raw creative genius. The greatest minds in the world are overtaken with it – the need to build, to create. When one is as skilled as I am, it simply… overtakes you. I am but a slave to the Muse within me.

MICK: But… that doesn’t make any sense.

JUNO: Mick, stop humoring her already.

MICK: No, but it doesn’t make any sense! If she’s got this creative bug or whatever, why should she wait twenty years—

PROCTOR: The Muse cannot be tamed!

(CHUCKLES) > Those old murders were excellent, of course. Nobody’s ever thought of all the applications for a protractor that I have. But genius, like wine, only improves with age.

JUNO: Unless the container’s as cracked up as you are. Then it turns into vinegar.

PROCTOR: I am not vinegar! You’ll see. This is a new era for the Proctor. My second creative career begins with you. And it will be even greater than the first. Go. The Reading Comprehension test is just through that door.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

MICK: (YELPS)

JUNO: …Wait, seriously?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

PROCTOR: Deadly seriously, of course! (CACKLES)

JUNO: It’s just… sixteen more mannequins.

PROCTOR: Just sixteen mannequins, he says! Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to read the directions first?

MICK: Hey, Jay! There’s a paper on this table that says “Reading Exam Directions!”

JUNO: Don’t—! Touch it.

SOUND: PAPER FLIPPING.

“Davis, Major, Anya, Jean, Cobweb, Hephaestus, nine of their friends, and Sponge were walking down a road side-by-side, holding hands—” (GIGGLING)

MICK: I mean, Jay, that is a pretty wide road, but I don’t see what’s so funny—

JUNO: This is the best you’ve got, Proctor? Seriously? Twenty years to think something up and you start writing crossword puzzles?

PROCTOR: They are not crossword puzzles! They are works of logical genius, designed to test your…

JUNO: Ha!

PROCTOR: Stop laughing!

JUNO: HA!

MICK: Heyyy, uh, Jayjay, maybe don’t piss off the killer lady so much—

JUNO: No, come on, Mercury, this puzzle is hilarious. Listen to this: “Thompson had a deadly nut allergy, but none of them knew Anya very well. Major often confused Sponge with one of their friends in a yellow shirt; Cobweb was known to fingerpaint with peanut butter”—? (COUGHING)

PROCTOR: The test you’re laughing at is going to kill you, do you understand? And then who will be laughing? Time’s up! I will! D Minus!

MICK: If you’re laughing, you must have a plan, right? You know the solution to the puzzle?

JUNO: (COUGHING) ‘Course I do. Same as the solution to every test I ever passed in school.

MICK: Study hard? Apply yourself?

JUNO: No. Cheat.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC POWERING-UP BEEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I should’ve thought of it hours before. Getting rid of headaches is the point of technology, isn’t it? Or maybe that’s aspirin. Aspirin’s a kind of technology. Shut up, Steel. The point is, the Theia Spectrum had a filter for detecting electromagnetic frequencies.

THEIA: Now detecting electromagnetic frequencies.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Like that. The cables coming out of the mannequins’ feet had to be hooked up to all the other junk in here, didn’t they? All I had to do was track whichever mannequin had the cable that went back to the door and not… whatever the hell they were gonna do to us. It was hard to see through that rat’s nest, though… and even harder with all the shouting in my ear.

MICK: (COUGHING) Oh, Juno! The mannequins, they’re—

JUNO: Not now, Mercury.

MICK: But it’s just like downstairs, I’m trying to tell you that—

JUNO: You said you wanted to help, right? Well, y’know how you can help me now? By shutting up, staying still, and letting the goddamn professional do his job!

MICK: (WORRIED GROAN)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I found it in seconds: the mannequin three in from the left had a thick coil of wire extending from its feet, through the floor, and toward the door on the room’s far side. The other mannequins weren’t hooked up to any traps I could see – just a little glowing box on each of their chests.

When I thought about it later, I realized those were wireless transmitters. And when I thought about it later, I realized I probably shouldn’t have interrupted Mick, too.

MICK: Jay—

JUNO: It’s that one. Come on, let’s press the button and get the hell out of here.

MICK: I don’t know if you should get so close, Jay; I swear I saw ‘em move and—

SOUND: BUTTON CLICKS. CONGRATULATORY JINGLE PLAYS.

JUNO: There, see? Button’s hooked up straight to the door, now it’s open. Let’s– gahhh!

SOUND: WOODEN RATTLING & CLANKING.

MICK: Jay! The mannequins are moving!

JUNO: I can see that! This one’s got my arm!

MICK: And that one got your other arm!

JUNO: Gee, I had no idea!

PROCTOR: I educate you… I craft these tests for you with my own blood, sweat, and mannequins… and this is how you show your appreciation? You cheat?!

JUNO: Watch it, buddy, you’re gonna pull my damn arm off— ahhhh!

MICK: Oh, no, no, no! Don’t come any closer…

SOUND: RATTLING GETS LOUDER.

PROCTOR: Well, I suppose the last test will have to be cancelled. And too bad: I had an excellent plan for your ‘rithmetic exam.

JUNO: That doesn’t even start with an R, you has-been! AH!

PROCTOR: Perhaps not. But here’s another R for you: Recess!

MICK: Recess? Hey, that sounds kinda nice…

Wow, those things are movin’ quick!

PROCTOR: At Recess, all rules are suspended. Good luck, Mr. Steel and Mr. Mercury. Your classmates play rough.

SOUND: CACOPHONY OF WOODEN CLUNKS & BANGS.

MICK: Jay, what do we do?

JUNO: Personally, I think I say bye-bye to my arm, because it feels like Pinocchio over here’s gonna pull it out of its socket.

MICK: Seriously! Oww!

That one almost got me! I’d fend ‘em off for you, but you took my gun and—

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me! Just get the hell out of here, Mercury! I opened the door, you go without me. Maybe you can find the antidote on your own.

MICK: I’m not just gonna leave you!

JUNO: You’d better! Augh! The only thing I want less than for this wood shop project to rip me in two is to watch it rip you in two first!

MICK: But I can’t— oww!

JUNO: Just go before one of those things gets you!

MICK: I said I wasn’t gonna leave you!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And so in came Mick Mercury to the rescue, fists flying.

MICK: (YELLING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): And sure, it wasn’t exactly elegant—

MICK: Ow, ow, ow, ow, that smarts—!

JUNO (NARRATOR): —but it got the job done.

MICK: Hey, I got ‘em!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And there goes number two.

MICK: The other ones are getting closer!

JUNO: Make for the door, quickly!

SOUND: CLANKING NOISES FADE. PANTING, GASPING. DOOR CLOSES.

MICK: (COUGHING) That was a great idea, Jay… good on ya, closin’ that door behind us.

JUNO: Close it? I didn’t close it. I thought you did.

PROCTOR: Aaaaaaand locked!

SOUND: LOUD SNAP.

Did you really think I’d have remote controls on my mannequins and not on the doors, Mr. Steel? You underestimate my genius.

JUNO: To be honest, Proctor, I haven’t seen any evidence of it yet.

PROCTOR: Of course you have! I have accounted for every possibility! You have been outsmarted at every turn!

JUNO: (COUGHS) Funny. I remember us outsmarting you, twice so far.

PROCTOR: That’s—!

But you still haven’t passed the biggest test of all, have you? It is wise to save the most difficult questions for last, but… your hourglass is running low. Only ten minutes remain before the venom claims you, and only fifteen before I claim Ramses O’Flaherty. But you still have one test to pass: Arithmetic.

JUNO: Still doesn’t start with an R.

PROCTOR: The equation is simple, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you any hints on this one. You will find it written over the doorway you must pass through. And you will find the window you seek on its other side.

JUNO: What about the damn antidote?

PROCTOR: Oh, if you solve this test, Mr. Steel, you will certainly have found the antidote. Though I must say that’s a big “if.” Good luck.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: Alright… alright, let’s do this stupid puzzle. I think I can feel my lungs curdling.

MICK: Uh… Jay? Did you look at this equation yet? ‘Cause… I’m a liiiittle worried.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I looked.

JUNO: Oh, god damn it.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And this was what the Proctor wanted us to solve:

A stick figure, minus a skull and crossbones, equals a picture of an open door.

MICK: Is that algebra? I was never any good at algebra.

JUNO: The door will only open when we’re not poisoned anymore.

MICK: Hey, that’s alright! How do we do that?

JUNO: I have no idea.

MICK: That’s… less good.

JUNO: Either that, or, the door will only open for someone who isn’t poisoned…

And we know one way to get the antidote.

MICK: Jay, come on, don’t…

JUNO: Here. Take this gun. I never should’ve taken it from you. Just shoot me and get it over with.

MICK: I mean, come on. This isn’t funny.

JUNO: Usually I’m very funny, Mick. Just not trying right now.

MICK: I’m not gonna shoot you.

JUNO: You should.

MICK: Well, whether or not I should, I’m not, alright? You shoot me.

JUNO: No.

MICK: Why not?

JUNO: That’s a stupid question and you know it. I know you’ve got your dumb danger thing or whatever, but it’s a fantasy, and this is real. Just take the damn gun already.

MICK: My whole point was that I didn’t like my life the way it was, alright? I’m not gonna like it any better if I gotta think about shooting you all the time, okay?

JUNO: Hmph.

MICK: Look. We’ve still got ten minutes for this to turn out okay. Okay?

(COUGHS) Anything can happen in ten minutes, Jay. Anything.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Or, nothing can happen in ten minutes. We spent our time kicking the door, coughing, searching the walls for a secret passage, coughing, scanning the room with the Theia Spectrum, and coughing. But that was it. No way through, no secret passage, no hidden antidote: the room was bare. Mick and I were the only things in it.

Oh wait – I think at one point, Mick might’ve puked in the corner. But besides that, there was nothing in the room but us.

SOUND: COUGHING, PANTING.

MICK: How much more time we got?

JUNO: Two minutes.

MICK: That long? (PANTS) Agh, this hurts.

JUNO: (GASPING) So whaddya think, Mercury? Is this how you expected to die? Yukking it up and wishing you’d killed Juno Steel?

MICK: Kinda, yeah.

JUNO & MICK: (LAUGH-COUGHING) Ow, ow, ow!

JUNO: So it turns out this job wasn’t just the biggest mistake of your life, Mick: it was the last one, too.

MICK: Hey, don’t count me out yet. I still got a minute and a hal– agh! Ah-ahhh—!

JUNO: Mick? Mick!

MICK: No, no, I’m alright, I’m alright. (COUGHS) Hey, Jay… why d’you think she goes through all this, just to kill people? I mean… if she wanted to just poison us and lock us in a room, she coulda done it at two minutes in. Hell, she didn’t even need to wait for you – she coulda poisoned me while I was napping in the closet. So… why? Why would you do all that?

JUNO: That’s… that’s a good question, actually.

Well, I mean, based on what was riling her up earlier, she probably just wants to prove she's smarter than us?

MICK: What? But she’s a genius! Why’s she gotta prove it?

JUNO: Being smart and feeling smart are different things, Mick.

MICK: I guess so. I just can’t believe… she cheated us, after all that.

JUNO: Cheated us?

MICK: Yeah. I mean, I thought her whole thing was that her victims can technically make it through her tests alive, right? How’s it prove she’s so smart if she just poisons us and locks us in a room? It doesn’t seem fair.

JUNO: No… it doesn’t.

Actually, now that you mention it, it’s not fair at all.

MICK: I mean, yeah, I’m upset about it too, Jay, but I don’t know how much complaining’s gonna do right now—

JUNO: And it doesn’t prove a damn thing, does it? If one of us has to die, she hasn’t proven she’s smarter than us. It doesn’t make sense.

Mick, I’m about to do something really stupid.

MICK: Yeah? Mind if I join you?

JUNO: Kinda. Just promise me something, alright? If this goes bad – and, trust me, it’s probably gonna go bad – promise you’ll try the door? One last time?

MICK: How come I get the feeling this isn’t gonna be the fun kind of stupid, Juno?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Mick got that feeling for a good reason. Because the man was a disaster, and a mess, and a klutz, and a… well, you get the idea. But here’s one thing he wasn’t, not really: an idiot.

So I took the pistol the Proctor had given me, and I pointed it right in between my eyes.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

MICK: Jay! What’re you doing?!

JUNO: Later, Mick. See you on the other side.

MICK: Put down that gun!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

Juno!

SOUND: THUMP.

Augh, Jay! Jayjay! Don’t leave me here, buddy, come back! You can’t just shoot yourself and leave me—!

JUNO: The other side of that doorway!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

MICK: Owww! That smarts!

JUNO: Damn right it does. That’s what happens when you load your antidote into the barrel of a revolver, Mercury: you get all the fun of a shot with none of the cartoon band-aids.

MICK: But– hey, I-I feel better! The poison’s all gone! You did it, Jay! We made it! But how—?

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

PROCTOR (FROM COMMS): Well done, Mr. Steel. Now, as promised: the door.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Come along, I’m waiting for you.

JUNO: I’ll tell you while we run. Got a mayor to save.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Honestly, Mick, you figured it out before I did. The answer’s all in the motive. Why does the Proctor kill the way she does?

MICK: To prove she’s smart, you said.

JUNO: Exactly. And it doesn’t count as proving she’s smart unless there’s a way we could have figured it out. She said that if we made it through her tests, we’d be cured – which we assumed meant she’d give us the antidote, but she never told us we didn’t have it already.

MICK: But… she told us to shoot each other!

JUNO: And because I’m your friend and you’re a moron, she knew we’d never do it.

(PANTING) So if we had to have access to the antidote somewhere, and there were no hidden compartments or anything in that room—

MICK: That means she had to have given us the antidote ahead of time! Wow, Jay. You’re really good at this, huh?

JUNO: I get by. Barely. And usually with a broken leg or three.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

This must be the room.

SOUND: WIND.

MICK: And that must be the window you were looking for, right?

JUNO: Looks like it, but… where the hell is the Proctor?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Through the window I could see the Fortezza courtyard below: the crowd of people shuffling into their seats and Ramses O’Flaherty shuffling his papers at the podium. I checked my watch. 11:55. Only five minutes until the Proctor took out Ramses… and I had no idea where the hell she was.

PROCTOR: (LAUGHING) You’ve done very well to make it this far, Mr. Steel, Mr. Mercury. Better than expected, I will admit. But this is the end of the line. Welcome to your Final Exam.

JUNO: Where the hell are you?! Damn it, you really did lie to us!

PROCTOR: I didn’t lie to you. I said I was waiting for you, and I was… just not in the Fortezza. When taking an exam, always remember to mark up the questions – that’s how they get you.

JUNO: Where are you?

PROCTOR: I’m afraid that is the sole question on your exam, Mr. Steel. Question one: where is the genius murderer? (LAUGHS) On the windowsill in front of you lies a long-range laser rifle. Enough to kill me, certainly… if you can find me. (CACKLING)

MICK: A rifle? So do you think… she’s somewhere down there, Jay?

JUNO: Maybe, yeah, she’s got to be.

SOUND: MECHANICAL CLICKS.

But… the rifle doesn’t have a stun setting! I can’t kill random people in the crowd!

MICK: You’ll get it, Jay. I know you’ll get it! You’re a sharpshooter! The sharpest there is!

JUNO: Mick…!

MICK: So you better watch yourself, Proctor! He’s the best sniper in this city! They call him One Eyeball Steel!

JUNO: Mick, nobody calls me that—

MICK: One-Ball Steel, then!

JUNO: Nope, nope, went the wrong way on that one.

PROCTOR: Only three minutes left, Mr. Steel. Your answer, please. (LAUGHS) All the best tests instruct just as much as they measure, you know. I wonder what you’ve learned from this one?

JUNO (NARRATOR): That was a good question. In fact, it might’ve been the first good question the Proctor had asked all day.

So what had I learned from this test? The Proctor was working with someone, that was for sure. Even a genius couldn’t manage to smuggle in all of those weapons and mannequins without some serious help. I’d learned that she had confidence issues, too – that whoever had hired her had probably pulled on that, told her that she’d never be able to pull off what she did twenty years ago. Which meant whatever the answer was to this exam, it had to be perfect. It had to be flawless.

JUNO: …Flawless.

PROCTOR: And don’t I know it.

JUNO: It’s got to be flawless. That means the diorama down there has to be completely accurate!

MICK: But you told me the diorama said the laser must have come through this window.

JUNO: Straight from here to the podium, Mercury – but it never said which direction.

MICK: She’s hiding inside the podium?!

PROCTOR: Time’s up, Mr. Steel. You have five seconds to answer.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was no time, and another problem to deal with: in order to shoot a laser from here to the Proctor, I’d have to send it through Ramses O’Flaherty’s head. So I fired a shot to break the window—

SOUND: GUNSHOT. SHATTERING GLASS.

—and I gave the best warning I could.

SOUND: RAIN.

JUNO: (CALLING) Ramses! Duck!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And either it was my first stroke of luck for the day or the old man had a hell of a reaction time, because he was down on the ground before I was finished shouting his name.

THEIA: Target locked.

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

PROCTOR: (GASPS)

MICK: Did it work? Did it work??

SOUND: DISTANT SCREAMS. STATIC CRACKLING.

JUNO: I… guess so.

PROCTOR: (COUGHING) Very well done, Mr. Steel. Perhaps I… finally did meet my intellectual match.

JUNO: Alright, at the start of this whole mess you said you’d tell me who you’re working for if I passed all your tests. Well, I passed ‘em; start talking.

PROCTOR: I suppose I must… I haven’t much time left…

You want to know who hired me to kill Ramses O’Flaherty? It was his worst enemy, of course.

JUNO: Oh, come on! No more tests, no more riddles. I won.

PROCTOR: Education… is its own reward. Now, here's your final question.

(COUGHS) In order to find Ramses’s enemy, you must go home again.

JUNO: Home?! How the hell do you know where I live?

PROCTOR: A frozen place, this home… a land the past, of heroes, of justice… a place further than the inky blackness of space, yet as close as the heart of every child… Home, Mr. Steel. You’ll find Ramses’s enemy, if you just go home.

JUNO: Damn it, stop babbling and give me a straight answer!

PROCTOR: You’ll never solve this. I can hear it in your voice! You’ve lost! I’ve won!

JUNO: Don’t die on me! I’m talking to you!

PROCTOR: I’m the smartest! I’ve beaten you! I could beat… anybody… (PANTING)

SOUND: STATIC FADES.

***

JUNO (NARRATOR): Ramses barked a few orders and the cops were off with their tails between their legs looking for a way to get us down through the Fortezza window. In the meantime, Mick and I celebrated. As well as you can celebrate in the dusty old attic of the person you just killed, anyway.

SOUND: HEAVY RAIN.

MICK: So… we made it! That’s somethin’, right?

JUNO: Sure, Mick. It’s really somethin’.

MICK: Got a little hairy there for a few minutes, but I always knew we’d make it through! Or, at least, I often thought we would. Sometimes, suspected. (CHUCKLES)

Hey… what do you think that riddle she said at the end meant? It sounded pretty tricky to me.

JUNO: I don’t know, Mick. But, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t really want to think about the Proctor right now.

MICK: I get it, I get it.

I-I just don’t understand, Jay. She was so smart. She made all those crazy traps and stuff while she was locked in a prison cell. And even if she did have help, she had to build all that so quickly, and so secretly… she must’ve been one of the smartest people on Mars.

So, why’d she have to prove that she was smart all the time? Why’d she have to kill people to do it?

JUNO: I don’t know, Mick. Why’s anybody hurt anybody?

MICK: I guess so. …I’m sorry.

JUNO: For what?

MICK: I don’t know. I just felt like one of us had to apologize, and you weren’t gonna do it.

JUNO: Yeah, that makes sense.

But look… Mick, maybe I should apologize. I gave you a lot of crap about your stupid danger theory, but… you were right. We made it out. Again.

(SIGHS) I wish you’d do something else, but who the hell knows? Maybe you’re onto something.

MICK: Wait, seriously? What are you, stupid?

JUNO: What?

MICK: Taking this job was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, Jay! I didn’t make it out ‘cause I’m lucky, or I’m good at dealing with danger. I made it out ‘cause you bailed me out. I’d be chalk dust without you!

JUNO: That’s… probably true.

And surprisingly responsible.

MICK: I don’t know why nothing ever works out for me, but you were right. I don’t think getting in danger all the time’s the answer either.

Maybe it doesn’t really matter anymore. I mean… I’m just gonna make myself miserable if I’m always trying to be the guy I used to be. So I guess the hard part… the hard part is, figuring out who the hell I am now? …Does that sound right?

JUNO: You could always just stay so busy that you don’t have time to think about it. That’s usually what I do.

But, for what it’s worth, Mercury, I think when you finally figure out who you are… you’re gonna make an impact.

MICK: Aw, Jay, that’s the nicest—

JUNO: Only question is whether the impact is the galactic-peace kind or the gigantic-smoking-crater kind. Could really go either way.

MICK: …Oh. That still might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.

JUNO: You’re welcome.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The cops got us down a few minutes later. I told Mick to go home and then waited on the edge of the crowd while Ramses talked down the reporters.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the Proctor. About the sound she’d made on her last breath. It wasn’t that I thought I shouldn’tve killed her; I-I was… just a little shaken, I guess.

Because, if real evil exists, then the Proctor – a woman who killed twenty people without remorse – was it. But that means sometimes evil is just someone trying to prove to the world that they’re worth something. Or just prove it to themselves, maybe.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

RAMSES: Juno. You cut it a little close at the end there, but over all… nice work. Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.

JUNO: Home…

This isn’t over yet, Ramses.

RAMSES: Hmm?

JUNO: The Proctor said she’d been hired by someone to kill you. Your worst enemy, she said, and whoever they are, I don’t think they’re gonna let up.

RAMSES: Did she, now. Well. I suppose that’s what I have you for.

JUNO: Ramses, I don’t know—

RAMSES: What else did the Proctor say to you?

JUNO: It was some kind of riddle, I guess, I– couldn’t make any sense of it. Something about going home, a place of heroes, as distant as the stars and close as kids’ hearts…?

RAMSES: (CHUCKLING, THEN FULL-ON HOWLING WITH LAUGHTER)

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO: What? …What’s so funny?

RAMSES: An interesting place to strike. I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

JUNO: You know the answer to the riddle?

RAMSES: I do, in fact.

SOUND: CAR PULLS UP.

My limo will bring you home. On second thought, I don’t think I’ll be coming with you. I have some calls to make.

JUNO: But Ramses—

RAMSES: Tomorrow morning, I think… no, no, I’ll send a car for you again tomorrow night. Rest up until then.

JUNO: Ramses, listen to me, damn it! Where the hell is she trying to send us? All this stupid stuff about my home?

RAMSES: (CHUCKLES) Oh, Juno. When she said ‘home,’ she didn’t mean yours. She meant mine.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

Bring him home, please.

JUNO: Ramses, you can’t start talking nonsense, too.

RAMSES: All in good time, my friend. Rest up. Tomorrow night… adventure awaits.

SOUND: CAR DOOR SLAMS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I watched him as the car pulled away – Ramses O’Flaherty, who hadn’t even existed thirty years ago, who had a good shot at being the next mayor of Hyperion City. Ramses O’Flaherty: the man who was all future and no past.

There was something appealing about that, I’ll admit. The thought that you could just shed your old self like an old skin and become someone new. Someone important. Someone like Ramses O’Flaherty.

So turn your back on the past, Steel. Tie yourself to the man of the future… and hope that what’s ahead is better than what you left behind.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you've enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you will receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from Noah Simes, co-creator Kevin Vibert, and actors ALlison Choat and Stefano Perti:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

NOAH: …I mean I think this is a testament both Kevin, to your writing of Mick and Stefano, your portrayal of him, but, y’know, I– I certainly can sort of identify with that feeling of like, I haven’t done… enough, or I haven’t done what I’m supposed to do—

STEFANO: Yes. Please don't have let that have been my greatest moment—

NOAH: Right, right, yeah!

STEFANO: —no matter what that moment is.

NOAH: Right, beca– right. You never know what the high peak is gonna be, and you just pray that it…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Jaimie Gunter, The Princess and the Scrivener, Hannah Tsim, and Elizabeth Miller for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Lesson Learned, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Matthew Zahnzinger as Ramses O’Flaherty, AlLison Choat as the Proctor, and Stefano Perti as Mick Mercury.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I'm afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

12 notes · View notes

runthemaze · 7 years ago

Note

newtmas and 26!

Newtmas + “Conversations? Socializing? Being outside of my house? That sounds horrible, no.”

I bet you wanted pure fluff. Well, it’s fluff + college!au + battle couple??

tw: swearing, underage (maybe??? They’re in college so idk) drinking, violence, blood, bullying (I swear this isn’t as angst as these tags make it sound it’s pretty fluffy)

want one??

Hold My Fucking Beer, Mate

“We’re going to a party tonight,” Minho says casually from their shared small kitchen.

He doesn’t look up from his book, “Conversations? Socializing? Being outside of my house? That sounds horrible, no.”

“Come on,” Minho says, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Newt inhales deeply, bracing himself for one of his roommate and best friend’s world-class pep-talks. There was nothing he took more seriously than them and Newt had long since learned to both oblige (and occasionally heed) his speeches.

“It’s one party,” he says, raising single finger as though to keep Newt from misinterpreting. “You’re a junior and you’ve been to how many parties?”

“Two,” he answers begrudgingly, already knowing the path of the conversation.

“Exactly,” Minho sits back with a smirk, foreseeing the outcome. “And what was our deal about parties?”

He doesn’t bother to suppress his sigh, “One party a year.”

Minho claps him har don the shoulder, “And tonight’s the night, buddy.”

He’d known this day was coming. The entire winter had passed and now the the weather was warm and they were closing in on summer Glade University was once again a hub of parties. He’d expected to be forced into one of the parties early in the year, before summer fully fled; however, when the fall semester came and went and he was allowed to remain at home he’d let himself foolishly hope Minho had forgotten their freshman year pact.

Clearly that was not the case.

An hour later they stand outside a house, multicolored lights shining through the windows and base reverberating beneath their feet despite still remaining on the sidewalk.

“Let’s go!” Minho says, stepping forward before he’s caught by the arm.

“Who’s our ride?” He asks, knowing the answer but making the other boy repeat it anyway.

“Fry,” Minho says, making it clear he thinks Newt’s concern is unneeded and irritating.

“Good,” he releases his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”

Together they approach the house. As they approach Newt can hear the sounds of laughter and shouting, both of which already grate on his temples. Its going to be a long night.

It isn’t that he hates interacting with people. It’s just a lot of work. He’s got a group of close friends and he’d be lost without them, but expanding his circle seems unnecessary. To be fair, aside from Alby—a friend from high school—the friends he did have had actively barged into his world and refused to be ignored. He’d met Fry in the dining hall where they both had work study. Minho was his assigned roommate freshman year and they’d lived together since. A few others: Winston and Chuck, had simply wandered into his life and made themselves at home. For all that they annoyed him, he wouldn’t have it any other way and if he was feeling particularly sentimental he’d acknowledge that he was probably the happiest socially that he’d ever been.

Still didn’t make him want to go to a fucking party.

Minho is his ticket in, pulling the doorman into some sort of bro-handshake. He’d been accepted to the school on a track scholarship and was easily one of the most popular students in their year. The same could be said for Alby. Amongst them Newt was an unspoken packaged deal: where they went, he went. It wasn’t an association he minded, but in the midst of the athletic crowd attending the party he stood out like a sore thumb.

“Here,” Minho says, finding Newt nestled in a corner roughly five minutes after arriving.

He thrusts a plastic cup into Newt’s hand, the red contents nearly sloshing on him. He raises the drink and sniffs it, nose wrinkling at the cloying scent.

“What the hell is this?”

The other boy takes a glance into the swirling liquid, “Vodka, wine cooler, and….Caprisun?”

“Why the fuck would I drink this?” He asks, holding the cup away from him as though it might bite.

“Gally made it,” he says with a shrug.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just another reason not to.”

“Thought it might loosen you up.”

“Thanks,” he says, passing the drink back to his friend. “But no thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he takes the cup. “I’mma wander around for a bit. Shoot me a text when your ready to get out of here.”

Minho drifts away into the crowd of bodies, his laughter ringing out above the haze of noise.

Eventually Winston finds him and offers him a beer. They fold into the wall, chatting mindlessly about their shared Physics courses. It was a nice bit of idle chit chat, but he still felt as though it wasn’t worth leaving his house for.

“Big mistake Greenie!” A voice shouts, followed by a surprised yelp.

Looking away from Winston he sees a crowd has formed by the patio doors. The entirety of the party seems to have paused to observe whatever spectacle was taking place. They amble over and push their way to the front.

Gallly and Ben, two hockey players that Newt had thankfully only had to share courses with a few times in his years at the Glade, stand, arms crossed, fuming with rage. Their fury is directed at a brown haired boy, standing with his hands up, looking both irritated and confused. Thomas, he recalls he boy’s name. They’d sat a few seats from one another in the fall semester. He was nice, a transfer student or something. They’d never had a conversation as far as he can remember aside from Thomas asking if he was in the right class.

“I didn’t touch Brenda,” he snaps, words directed at Gally. “We’re partners for a presentation. That’s it!”

“Yeah right,” Gally says advancing.

Thomas steps back slightly, only to realize that the ring of people had formed a barrier, blocking his escape. This was going to get extremely messy, extremely fast.

As if prompted by Newt’s thoughts, Gally throws a punch which Thomas narrowly misses, ducking beneath his arm only to side step to avoid Ben’s fist. It wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest. Two hockey players, each of whom had at lest four inches and fifty pounds on Thomas, coming at him at once. The kid was going to get pounded and judging by his tone, for no good reason.

Time for some bad decisions.

“Hold my fucking beer, mate,” Newt snaps, pushing the bottle into Winston’s hands.

He brings back his fist and slams it into Ben’s face, sending him clattering backwards and into the coffee table. Pain sparks in his knuckles.

‘Behavioral issues,’ had been Newt’s tagline through middle school. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but somewhere early on he and his twin sister, Sonya, had been branded as bully fodder. They’d sat and taken it for a few years, it was just insults at first. Then in eighth grade, some bastard cut off Sonya’s braid in the lunch line. He’d found her sobbing in the bathroom. It was that very night that they made a pact not to take shit from anyone any longer. Unfortunately, with that came bruised knuckles, two broken noses, and several suspensions. It hadn’t lasted long. In tenth grade they moved to the United States and managed to leave that shit behind them. Still, it came as comfort knowing that he didn’t have to worry about Sonya as they lived separately for the first time in their lives in college.

He appreciates the experience he got now because Ben staggers back to his feet and fixes his eyes on him. He lunges forward and Newt uses his momentum to sent him crashing into he crowd of people that have gathered. Gally and Thomas are locked in a hard struggle, and Thomas is thrown to the ground at Newt’s feet. He pulls him up.

“You okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes fixed on Gally.

“Thanks, Newt,” he gasps, patting his shoulder.

A few guys appear behind Gally, other members of the godforsaken hockey team.

“I didn’t touch Brenda!” Thomas spits at Gally.

The other’s face contorts into a sneer, “Bullshit.”

Ben climbs back to his feet and stands at Gally’s side, blood running his nose. There was no way in hell they we’re going to be able to take these guys like this. And of course they were between them and the door.

“If this gets ugly,” he says out of the side of his mouth. “You run, get it?”

“What?” He can hear panic in Thomas’ voice.

Newt doesn’t answer, stepping forward and picking up 40oz off the table.

“You’re letting us go,” he says calmly. “Or I’ll glass you. I’m sure Brenda won’t like you as much with ribbons for a face.”

Gally laughs, “‘Glass us”?”

He grips the bottle hard. It isn’t the first time he’s done this, but he’d hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat.

“The cops are coming!” A voice from the crowd shrieks.

It’s the saving grace they needed. Immediately chaos ensues, people running in every direction, trying to get free of the house before the police arrive.

Thomas pats his back, dodging a punch from Gally, “Thanks, Newt.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he snaps, pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go.”

They leap down the steps of the house, cold night air rushing around them. Shouts rise from the house and they don’t stop running down the street. Thomas bursts out laughing as they round a corner, winding through the suburban neighborhood. Newt’s leg aches and his lung burn but he can’t stop smiling.

They run to a shitty looking diner at the every edge of the neighborhood. It’s yellow and red lights warmly beat back the two AM darkness. They slip through the sliding doors and sit in one of the booths. The plastic leather sticks against his shirt, and he leans back, looking up at the garishly patterned ceiling, out of breath.

“What’s ‘Glassing?’” Thomas asks after a moment of rest.

He raises an eyebrow, “Really?”

“If you couldn’t tell,” he replies. “I don’t usually deal with that sort of thing. Seems like you have though.”

“‘Glassing,’ is when you take a bottle,” he mimes the motion. “And smash it into someone’s face so it shatters.”

Thomas’ eyes widen, “Shit.”

“Shit, indeed.”

They’re quiet for another minute until Thomas speaks again, “You wanna milkshake?”

He grins, “Sure. Strawberry.”

“Cool,” the other boy slides out of the booth to order, throwing a bright smile over his shoulder.

Maybe the party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

#newtmas #m writes #answered #newtmas fanfic

40 notes · View notes