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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading!

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Breaking Protocol

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing for JJ for the first time :)

Summary: What will happen, if JJ isn't technically allowed to tell her family about the Anthrax Attack, but tries to do it anyways?

Warnings: Mentions of a sick child, Spencer eats Jell-O, so food

Wordcount: 1.8k

✨Masterlist✨ __________________________________

JJ always says that even though she is a communication liaison for the FBI, she is a mother first. This is something she promised her daughter when she first began to work there. And she is set on keeping that promise.

But today it turns out to be more difficult than ever. Hotch’s strict instruction to keep the information about the Anthrax Attack in the circle of the BAU and the military forbids the mother to say anything to her family. Still, her family is constantly on her mind.

If she is right, Will planned a trip with one year old Henry and 14 years old (Y/N) to the park. JJ can’t think about anything but her most important people in the world laying in the ER, coughing their lungs out and spluttering blood, while she is stuck at the office with the power to warn them.

Spencer comes into her office, asking for a certain file. “Spence, what would you do if your family is in potential danger?” He stops for a second to think about it: “Given the fact that my mother is in a sanctorium with guards and medical staff, I consider her pretty low risk and can’t put myself in a situation where she is in real danger. So I take all of you and since I see you as my family and the people that keep me going I think I would do anything to keep you safe.”

She looks up at him with her blue eyes. “Even if it means to break protocol?” “Especially if it means to break protocol”, he answers her firmly, exactly knowing what she means. Spencer knows that her little family means the world and more to her. If anything happens to them she would never be the same.

Meanwhile JJ sits there contemplating putting her job on the line for an eventually that maybe isn’t even true, Will runs around the house frantically.

“Maybe I can go and get some? I’m sure we can’t disturb mom at work”, (Y/N) suggests as she tries to console the crying Henry in her arms. Her stepdad considers the offer. They originally wanted to go to the park to have a small picnic and maybe even invite JJ to meet them there on her lunch break. But Henry caught something overnight and the only thing he does is crying and puking.

Will is looking for any kind of medicine, but he can’t find anything appropriate for children. “I guess you are right. Do you know which one we need? I’ll try to get him to sleep or calm down at least. Thank you so much, (Y/N), you are a lifesaver.”

“Of course, I do anything. When I get lost or something at the pharmacy I can still call you, right?” He nods while taking his son out of her arms in order for her to be able to put on her shoes. “Good, then see you soon. I’ll hurry up.”

(Y/N) takes her bike and decides to use the shortcut through the park. It’s a nice sunny day with a warm soft breeze going through the bushes. In moments like these the teenager knows that the world is alright. That somehow everything will be good. Always.

Buying the needed medicine for her baby brother takes place without any complications and soon she is back on track with her bike. Shortly before reaching her house, the teenager’s phone is ringing.

In case that Will needs something else (Y/N) has turned her ringtone on. Surprisingly it’s her mother, she sees after descending her bike and looks at the caller ID.

“Hey Mom, is everything ok? Did something happen?” As sad as this may sound, but in 90% it’s the case that she was hurt on her job or anybody else when she calls (Y/N) during her workday.

But JJ is relieved to hear her daughter safe and sound. “(Y/N), honey. Everything is fine. Did you go to the park with Henry and Will?” Slowly the girl continues her way back, pushing her bike. “No, we didn’t. Henry got sick overnight, so there is no way we could have taken him. I think it’s just a stomach bug. Will and I couldn’t find any medicine for him, so I did a quick run to the pharmacy. I’m actually on my way back right now. Why are you calling?”

Once again the mother tries to not answer her question. “Aw, poor Henry. Can you tell him that Mommy will be home soo- Wait, to which pharmacy did you go?”

Puzzled by her mother’s sudden harsh tone (Y/N) stops in her tracks. “Mom, what’s the problem? You never call me during work except when something happens. Is anybody in the hospital? Did you get kidnapped? Is this your last call to a loved one? Mom, answer me!” Panic sets in as the silence grows from JJ’s side.

“Honey, please tell me you didn’t go to the one on West Street. Please.” Her begging tone alarms the teenager further. Is this a clue?

“I did, Mom. I took my bike, went through the park to West Street. It’s the closest one and Henry really doesn’t feel good, so I had to hurry up. Can you please tell me what’s going on?!” But her mother stays quiet for several moments, as if she is calculating something.

Being finally fed up with her, (Y/N) speaks again: “If you don’t want to tell me anything, don’t bother call-” She is suddenly cut off by a huge coughing fit.

“(Y/N)? Honey, are you ok?” The agent’s mind goes into momma bear mode, completely ignoring any protocol in the world. But her daughter isn’t able to answer. Too stunned is she by the fact that she just coughed up blood. How is that poss-

“(Y/N), please answer me”, she begs again. “M-mom, I just c-coughed blood.” JJ feels like her heart stops. This can’t be happening.

“Stay calm, (Y/N). I- There- I’ll send people to you. They will come and get you. They will explain to you what this is, they know more about it than I do. I’ll call Will and tell him that you are not coming home. Penelope will ping your phone, just don’t move.”

After a few more reassuring words JJ hangs up and bolts into Hotch’s office. “Hotch, (Y/N) got infected, she rode her bike through the park and back to get medicine for Henry and I told her to stay where she is. That somebody is going to get he-”

Aaron stops her rambling by putting both hands on her shoulder. “I’ll let Doctor Kimura know. Meet them at the hospital.” “Bu-” Again he cuts the blonde off. “No buts. You always say that you are a mother first. Your family, especially your daughter, needs you now more than ever. Go and be a mother.”

Encouraged by her boss’ words she makes her way to her car, simultaneously calling Will to let him know what’s happening.

Shortly after this the small family sits in a hospital room. (Y/N) lays passed out on the bed, paler than anybody has her ever seen. JJ grasps her hand, mentally kicking herself for not calling sooner. For letting regulations destroy her family. Will holds Henry, who finally is asleep, in his arms and tries to console his girlfriend.

“You weren’t allowed to say anything. Also, I wanted to go to another park if Henry wasn’t sick. There was absolutely nothing you could have done differently.” His accent is thicker than ever.

Before she is able to respond, a nurse enters the room with an inhaler in hand. “What is this?” Ever since (Y/N) was admitted to the hospital, the mother is careful to know what they give her and what not.

“This is a cure for this strand, Doktor Reid found it in Nichol’s office. We already tested it and it’s 100% effective.” More or less convinced JJ let’s the nurse do her job, watching her every move like a hawk.

And then they wait again. And wait. And wait for the cure to kick in. For (Y/N) to open her eyes. To be able to form a sentence. A coherent sentence without being interrupted by a coughing fit.

Once JJ leaves her bed reluctantly, Will forces her to take a walk and get a coffee from the cafeteria. On her way back she visits Spencer’s room, who is already awake.

“Hey Spence”, she smiles softly at him. He stops shoving a cup of Jell-O into his mouth to smile back. “Hi. How is (Y/N) doing?” A frown quickly spreads onto her face. “Still not awake. But the doctors say she will be fine. I wanted to thank you. If you wouldn’t have put your life on the line, none of the others would be alive. Thank you, for saving my daughter”, at the end the blonde’s voice breaks. She can’t imagine a life without her oldest child. Without anyone of her family.

“Hey, it’s alright. (Y/N) is fine. I’m fine. Everybody got their own happy end. Now go back to her, I’m sure she’ll wake up in no time.” She nods and gives him a hug before going back to (Y/N)’s room. There she sits back in her seat, handing her boyfriend his own cup of coffee.

A few minutes later a small groan is heard. “Can anybody turn off the sun? It’s unbelievably bright today.” Not registering what’s really happening, the teenager finds herself in a big family hug with Henry on her chest. “Woah, did I fall asleep during our picnic or something?”

JJ smiles through her tears of relief, seeing her daughter being her confused self again. “No, I’ll explain it to you later. Get some more rest, we’ll stay with you.” “Rest, this sounds nice.” Just a few minutes later (Y/N) is asleep again.

Luckily both she and Spencer make a quick recovery and even get a “Welcome Back to the Living” Party (organized by the one and only Penelope Garcia). From this moment on JJ makes sure to warn her family one way or another. Hotch generously lets it slip, acting like he doesn’t know about it after this close of a call.

In the end the only thing that matters is that they all are back to being healthy and make up for the missed picnic.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x daughter!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #jj x reader #jj x daughter!reader #jj x teen!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #x reader #insert reader #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner

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raunchyom · 4 years ago

Text

Vices, Not Virtues: Kindness

[ Chapter 3 ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

A/N: Surprise! Wasn’t planning to have this out on Levi’s birthday, but also wasn’t planning that hiatus. School, amirite? On the plus side, I’ll officially be free by May 1, at which point I can start updating this (semi-) regularly again, so look forward to it! Tagging: @devintrinidad // @dweeb-central

word count: 2.7k || warnings: n/a

Listening to Leviathan rant was pretty much something that came with the territory of being his friend.

Whether about anime, his brothers, video games, anime, school, socializing, normies… oh, and don’t forget anime. There was always something on his mind, and his severely limited social circle meant you were often the recipient of his rants. Today in particular, it spanned a lot of different topics. Your recent absence hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the way he was going on made it seem like he’d bottled up every single emotion over the past few days and shoved them into a box labelled ‘re-open for Mc.’

Not that you loved him any less for it, of course. Poor Levi really couldn’t catch a break, and he was so excited to have someone like you who really cared about him-- well, who could blame him for wanting to open up?

Over the past week in particular, he’d been subjected to the usual trauma around the house. Apparently, he’d had Asmo and Satan gang up on him about never leaving the house, even the bookworm agreeing that Levi was too far gone. Mammon had ‘borrowed’ something of his, only for it to never return. Levi knew it was a bad idea every time, but he was too easily won over by promises of his investments being worth it. The last Akuzon delivery was supposed to be a limited edition maid-cafe-style Ruri-chan figurine, that smelled like her bean-cake best friend Azuki-tan-- which, of course, meant that Beel took a bite out of the package before Levi could get there to stop him. Lucifer had lectured him about grades, saying that he knew Levi could do better, if only he stopped playing video games so much-- “as if that’s a compliment!”

Levi finally stopped pacing, rolling his eyes at the mere memory of it. He glanced down to where you sat, perched on the side of his tub.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the house, but his room wasn’t exactly made for visitors; you had to make do when you were there for a rant. He’d generally start talking while playing a video game, then gradually pause it, turn around, and eventually stand up and act out his frustrations. It was better for you to just start off seated on the side of his tub, that way he would have an aquarium backdrop for when he inevitably paced in front of you. It gave you a nicer view from the start, and when he wanted to sit again, he could choose to pull up his gaming chair or, if he was feeling particularly bold, sit down next to you.

As if he heard your thoughts, Levi plopped down next to you with a frustrated sigh. “Ugh, they totally don’t deserve to have you helping them all the time.” He grumbled, almost as if talking to himself. “I mean, I don’t either. I don’t know why you spend so much time around some gross otaku. And listen to all my problems, and--”

“Levi, it’s fine.” You assured him, “I don’t mind; we’re friends.”

Levi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as if he didn’t believe you. He shifted his gaze back to the fish tank in front of him and continued, “Still, I know I’m always venting to you, and…”

The lack of eye contact didn’t prevent him from seizing up in your presence. You could practically see the buffering symbol in his brain, mouth wavering as he tried to force the words out. His face was getting red just from knowing your eyes were on him, somehow feeling as if every moment you waited politely for him to continue was a moment of pure torture.

“You don’t ever talk to me.” He mumbled. The words slurred together, as if he could barely convince himself to enunciate the syllables. He fumbled with the cord of his headphones and his stare shifted to the floor. Even eye contact with the fish must’ve been too much.

“We talk all the time.” You sounded much less sure than you felt, probably more out of hurt than anything. Did your friendship not mean as much as you thought it did?

“That’s not what I--!” Levi frowned harder, tugging more incessantly at his headphones. He huffed out a frustrated breath, knowing what he wanted to say but not how to say it. “You do talk to me, but… you listen to me a lot more…”

“So… you want me to talk more?” Levi was usually pretty easy to read. Sure, he didn’t say his emotions outright, but they were often written all over his face. In times like this though, when he was stuttering and refusing to make eye contact even more than normal, he wasn’t quite as transparent.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but not-- I meant-- why don’t you ever ask?” Levi finally blurted out, surprising you both. “...for help? Why don’t you ever ask for help?”

“Uh… what?” Well, this was out of nowhere. You were supposed to be listening to his problems, but now he was upset that you hadn’t brought up yours? Was there some part of his rant that you were supposed to cut into with your own?

“I notice, around the house, and RAD, and-- and everywhere. You never let people help you with things. You never ask for it yourself, even when you need it.” After a second, his eyes widened. “Not-- Not that I watch you! I-It’s nothing weird like that! I-I’m gross, and an otaku, and-- b-but-- I don’t st-stalk you or anything!”

It was funny, watching Levi dig his own grave deeper. On the one hand, it was amusing to hear Levi desperately try to explain away any potential misinterpretation, but it was mixed with a fair amount of confusion about what his point was supposed to be. Your face must have portrayed this in some way, or at least one of these two emotions, because a cursory glance from Levi had him forcing himself back on track before he could say anything worse.

“I mean, I get why you don’t want my help. I-I’m just some yucky otaku, who’s anti-social and um, probably couldn’t help with anything anyway.” Levi was really good at kicking himself while he was down. Given, he always seemed to be down, and he always seemed to be kicking himself.

“Levi, that’s not why...” The words fell away halfway through your sentence, having caught yourself before admitting to anything.

“So why?” You may have caught yourself before admitting anything too damning, but Levi caught it too. He was dense, not an idiot. “No, you don’t have to tell me. I mean, there’s a lot of other reasons you might not ask for help, too. Maybe you don’t want to feel weak, or admit that you need help from other people. Or maybe it’s because it’s hard to ask someone for something, when you’re already annoying them just by being around them. Or… that last one is probably just me.”

“You’re not annoy--”

“It’s not about that!” Levi cut you off, determined to make his point. “The point is, you can’t do everything by yourself. Even Henry has the seven lords to help him. And Ruri-chan has her friends. In fact, her friends are what make her so--”

Levi took a deep breath, for once stopping his own tirade about anime. “Can you just… tell me why, at least?”

Song references aside, it wasn’t an easy question to answer, even if you wanted to. Levi didn’t often ask for this kind of thing though, which made it hard to turn him down. “It’s a lot of things, like you said. I just want to show that I can. Do things on my own, I mean.”

Levi frowned, unsure how to combat you. He already wasn’t exactly a pro on asking people for help, he holed up in his room too much for that. He had been, so far, basing it off the rare times he left his room. But now you were mentioning something that he could relate to on some level, except… “You… want to prove yourself?”

“I guess.” Not how you’d phrase it, necessarily, but not entirely inaccurate. Or really, it was oversimplifying the issue by a long shot, but it was better to give Levi half credit rather than no credit. His self esteem could certainly use it.

“But why!? You’re-- you’re so cool! You made a pact with every demon in the House of Lamentation! You could make a pact with Diavolo if you tried! You taught Satan to control his anger, you got Asmo to care about someone other than himself, you stood up to Lucifer when he was going to kill Beel and Luke-- and you, too!--, you got Belphie to get along with everyone again, you even died and--” It could’ve been that he realized what he was saying, or it could’ve been that he saw your face when he brought it up; either way, Levi clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence.

“I-I mean, not everyone gets to respawn.” He mumbled, hoping a video game reference would make it less awkward again. After a moment of silence, he reiterated his original point. “You don’t need to prove yourself. You already have.”

It was heartwarming, hearing Levi sing your praises as he did. But that wasn’t exactly a quick fix for the fact that asking for help meant admitting you were bad at something. Or even just admitting to needing help at all. Lucifer said he had to teach you some pride, well here was a lesson you could skip. This one you knew well: don’t want to swallow your pride and ask for help? Easy, just don’t ever ask!

Levi seemed antsy to fill the silence, but managed to hit the nail on the head when he spoke again. “I know how it feels, when you see someone that’s better than you at something. It’s frustrating. And painful. Especially if you’re supposed to be the best, and then someone else knows more than you do, about a book series that they just read for the first time, and then spoil stuff about the one that hasn’t even been released yet, even though you’re the number one TSL fan and they shouldn’t even have that informa--”

“That was one time!” You protested. Levi let out a puff of air that was somewhere in between a scoff and a snort, but he didn’t seem to be legitimately angry. Then again, leave it to Levi to hold a grudge from the early days of the exchange program.

“Sometimes though, you can use that jealousy. Being jealous of someone can drive you to get better at things, or to learn from them. Or just ask them for help, if you have to. I’m never gonna work out like Beel, so if I need help lifting something I’ll just ask him for help doing it.” He deliberately didn’t mention his past experiences in asking for Beel’s help in getting fit, hoping you didn’t know about the devilgram posts Asmo made about it. You did, but decided to let it go. After a moment of consideration, he added, “I usually have to pay him with food, though.

“We may not always get along, but at least my brothers and I know how to depend on each other. Lucifer may act-- well, be annoyed a lot, but there’s a reason everyone goes to him for help. He helps the people he cares about… even if it comes with a lecture. Everyone knows to go to Satan if they need information, or help studying. Asmo’s so good with fashion that he works with Majolish, and still--” Levi’s chest puffed out a bit as he spoke-- “he comes to me for help in design too, since he knows I’m the best at cosplays.”

“That almost sounded like you were complimenting yourself.” Levi deflated a bit at your teasing tone, both embarrassed and a bit self-conscious. You felt some guilt about the latter, but none from the former. Not when his embarrassment meant his face scrunched up like that, and he floundered to go back on his own claims.

“W-Well, I didn’t mean-- of course I’m good at otaku stuff! A normie wouldn’t understand!” He floundered, clearly at a loss for what to say if he was falling back on calling you a normie. That was pretty much his version of sticking his tongue out when he lost.

“It’s hard to imagine Mammon ever gets asked for help.” You offered, trying to get him back on track. ...and maybe continue to push his buttons just a tad.

“That idiot--” Levi took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he sought a way to talk about Mammon without including some form of insult, “He gets into trouble all the time, obviously. He’s a moron because of the kind of trouble he gets into, not because he asks for help. At least he knows to come to us for help when he needs it.”

At that, Levi gave you a pointed look. Well, consider that the last time you ever try to help him get back on track.

“Mc, none of us will think less of you. People usually consider it an ego-boost if someone comes to them for help. Especially if it’s y--” Levi fumbled, quick to brush past his near-slip. “If anything, we want to help. If you asked for help with your work and school and things, you’d have more time to yourself; for watching anime and playing games.”

Levi tried to make it sound like he was being benevolent, but the implied ‘with me’ was hard to miss.

“So, you could try asking for help some more, to lighten your load. If you want. It would make me-- um, make u-us feel better, too.” He seemed content in ending it there, and made an effort to end any potential continuation of the topic. Flipping on a dime, Levi was quick to talk over any potential response. “Th-That’s all, anyways! Uh, we can just-- go back to, you know. Playing devilcart, or um, we can watch some anime, or--”

“Thank you, Levi.” You had to put a hand on his arm to make him listen, the simple action instantly sending the touch-starved demon into fight-or-flight mode. “I’ll try.”

He swallowed back his nerves and nodded, surprised he had managed to make it through that whole talk. You were too, really, as soon as you realized that this was supposed to be his intervention for you.

As much as you might loathe to admit it, his talk made sense. Or at least it had some aspects of truth to it, and perhaps you felt marginally better about asking the bros for help. Levi made it very clear how he felt about wanting to help you, the least you could do was see if the others felt the same. And hey, maybe he had a point about people wanting you to ask them for help in general, too. Who would’ve guessed it, but so far these demons seemed to know a thing or two about sinning.

---

“Is something the matter, my Lord?”

“It’s been awfully quiet the past few days. I wonder what those brothers are up to?” Boredom generally caused Diavolo’s mind to wander to the Devildom’s most notorious troublemakers, but this week especially. His fellow members of the student council had been quieter than normal, without even a yelling match in days; much less something exciting enough to warrant Diavolo’s attention. Thus leaving the prince here, sighing as he pondered their goings on.

Barbatos poured Diavolo’s tea with a knowing smile. “They have been quite busy this week.”

“Oh?”

“It seems they’re corrupting Mc.” Barbatos spoke as if it were a common occurrence.

Diavolo chuckled. “Should we be worried?”

“Quite the opposite. They’re working together to get Mc to take better care of themself.”

“Is that so?” Lethargy had caused Diavolo to ignore his tea at first, but the new information made him forget about it altogether. Diavolo sat up straighter, excitement tugging his mouth into a smile. “Perhaps I’ll bring tomorrow’s meeting to Lucifer, and pay the house of lamentation a visit.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

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theradioghost · 4 years ago

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for no particular reason: opinions on Various Frankenstein Movies I Have Consumed

Hallmark Channel Miniseries (2004)

god i want to love this so much more than i do.

there’s so much to love. the sweet sweet face of henry clerval. that absolute baby of a creature. the fidelity to so many details that somehow just make the few-but-significant departures completely unbearable.

“frankenstein wants to bring back the dead” is for me without question the worst sin any adaptation can commit, but especially in one that is clearly otherwise working so hard to be faithful to the original. as i have said before: IF THIS BITCH KNEW HOW TO BRING BACK THE DEAD HE’D HAVE A LOT FUCKING FEWER PROBLEMS.

Also, don't even get me started on their portrayal of late-1700s graverobbing (the professor would not have been shocked! but also, Germany had laws that significantly reduced the need for body theft, so why does this act like he's studying in Britain? WRONG. oh fuck, i’ve gotten started)

i think i actually might never have finished watching this one? i don’t remember. i probably should just for the fact that it contains Clerval

Victor Frankenstein (2015)

Unquestionably the least faithful adaptation.

Unquestionably and by far THE GAYEST ADAPTATION.

This is not a story about scientific hubris and a sad monster, this is a story about Hot Frankenstein gazing lovingly into Hot Igor's eyes and gushing about how wonderful and brilliant he is, and then getting really pissy and jealous when he acquires a girlfriend.

I can almost forgive it for having the single worst creature I've ever been subjected to, and for once again committing the sin of Bringing Back The Dead. Also for having such a flat color scheme in such a weird movie that deserved the jewel tones of the bizarre melodrama that it is.

also, I kind of feel more willing to let this one Bring Back The Dead, because they went so hard on that particular theme? like, these are in no way those original characters from the book, and so it almost works to have given this bizarro frankenstein his own motivation.

a very bad movie objectively but you should watch it anyway

I, Frankenstein (2014)

... I do not hate this movie anywhere nearly as much as I should.

Neatly sidesteps the question of fidelity to the novel by not including any of the events of the novel. It's a refreshing change to have an adaptation truly focused on an articulate, self-aware creature

also I liked that the rank-and-file female soldiers among the gargoyle-people weren't all betitted in their gargoyle forms? If I remember correctly their leader does look very different from the rest, but for the most part all the gargoyles look the same.

It also has a truly, unbelievably bonkers plot? I think this is the rare situation where being such a fan of the source material has made me *more* willing to forgive its many, many flaws as an actual movie. I can really actually live with this one, somehow.

Definitely a So Bad It's Good gem with little hints of a neat idea buried within the weird and bad glory of it

Universal Frankenstein (1931)

I mean, what is there still to say about it?

No, it's not at all faithful to the original novel, but at this point that's almost not a question anymore

It gave us so much. The genius of Jack Pierce's makeup, book-accurate or not. Boris Karloff's star-making role. The iconic censor-terrifying blasphemy - It's alive! Now I know what it feels like to be God! The quintessential images of mad science that have haunted our cultural imagination ever since. James Whale's understanding - which All Us Gays know in our hearts is at least in part because he was one of us - that the creature is as much victim as villain, striking out only against a world that struck him first simply for being who he is. never forget that this movie was made by an openly gay man.

In that sense, I feel like it's ultimately faithful to the novel in the way that most matters? It knows that there is more than one monster on this screen, and it knows which one we should be on the side of when the credits roll.

WRT the sequels I would never neglect to mention the majesty of the Bride, but I also want to give a shout to poor, studio-abused Bela Lugosi, who was told he was playing the creature as blind in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man and then blamed for the moaning arms-out cliche when all reference to blindness and all his lines of dialogue were cut from the movie.

The Curse of Frankenstein (1957)

shoutout to Hammer Films for setting apart their movies from Universal by really focusing on Frankenstein, not the creature

and damn, if Peter Cushing didn’t give us a hell of a villain protagonist though

and of course it's Hammer, so, boobs! Gore! Poor Christopher Lee in that makeup! But what we're really here for is the inevitable gravity that pulls a physically and mentally deteriorating Frankenstein back into this same mistake over and over for decades over the course of this series

I have never heard of Ralph Bates, I don't know who that is, don't call this number again

Ngl I actually prefer the Hammer Draculas and I definitely prefer Sir Christopher there, I know they cast him because he was extremely tall, but he's too dignified for this

There's something very satisfying, though, about the sheer variety of creatures that Hammer goes through set against Baron Frankenstein's complete inability to change or give up. Articulate? Monstrous? Two human souls in one body? Frankenstein himself? It's a wild ride! Every third character's name is Hans!

only watch these if you have a tolerance for Old Movies with Problems but if you delight in cheesy old horror the way I do then go for it

The Bride (1985)

this was the first frankenstein movie adaptation i ever saw and I don’t want to think about it

the creature is played by mr krabs and Sting is there

that’s all

#my posts

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hotchley · 4 years ago

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so why can’t you see (you belong with... each other?)

@whoreforthebauteam I don’t know if you want to be tagged in every chapter, but it was your present, so I am, I hope that’s okay!!

I take back what I said last time, this is my favourite scenario.

This is stupid, wildly inaccurate, probably an insult to every dance teacher that has ever walked the planet and also... just really stupid. But I had fun writing it, it’s almost 11:30pm, I’m tired and yeah.

We’re going with it. Ignore any errors and lack of continuity, I wrote most of this whilst fasting and literally just wanted to get it done so I can work on mr scratch

Erm, updates will probably be even worse after this because I have exams coming up and the next thing is completely... I don’t have any ideas, but yeah- just a heads up

previously: part one , part two , part three

read on ao3!

Chapter Four: Attempt Three- Penelope Garcia

Penelope Garcia loved love, in every single one of its forms. Her unfailing belief in love and its goodness was one of the things that defined who she was. It let her look at screens filled with horrors and was one of the biggest reasons for her to smile.

She loved the romantic love she had for Marissa. She loved the way Derek looked at Spencer when he thought nobody was watching him. She loved the platonic love JJ had for Hotch, and the way she would slip him chocolates when he seemed more pale than usual. She loved the love of a father Aaron had for Spencer, even though neither had experienced it properly.

She loved the ways in which people found love, and how they clung to it. She loved the way it made people smile and the things they were willing to do for it.

Which was why breaking up with Kevin had been the best decision about love she ever made. Because Kevin did not love her in the way that she deserved. And when she walked away from him one last time, she had felt relieved. Not sad, or angry. Relieved.

JJ and Emily had been ecstatic when she'd turned up at their apartment with a bottle of wine. They hadn't liked Kevin much, they thought he was a bit dodgy and not worth her time, but because she had seemed happy and it was easy to keep an eye on him to make sure he wasn't being a creep, they'd refrained from saying anything too obvious.

That same evening, she had phoned Derek and Spencer, who also then dropped their plans and they ended up having an impromptu party on a work night because she was finally free of Kevin and his existence.

When they turned up the next day, slightly hungover, Hotch had seemed like a disapproving parent- they'd exited the elevator with groans and complaints, Penelope massaging her forehead- and immediately gone silent when they realised he was standing there, holding a file, scowl looking slightly harsher than usual.

"It's lovely of you to join us. In the future, if you're going to be running three hours late, please inform either me or Rossi. Hell, tell Strauss. We've had people trying to track you down for the past hour and a half. Poor Anderson looked like he was going to resign from the FBI, and his face is never going to be the same after the frown lines you gave him," he had said, voice completely even.

"Hotch we're really sorry, we genuinely did not mean to cause such a big problem-" JJ had started, the first to recover.

He gave them one of his small, secretive smiles that seemed to light up his entire face and soften his eyes. "I'm joking. Everyone's fine. But seriously, please do tell us, we were beginning to worry. Is everyone okay though? It's not like you five to all be late on the same day."

Spencer looked between Penelope and Emily, who were smirking at each other, whilst JJ and Derek sighed but glared at the two mischief causers, warning them to not give away too much.

"I broke up with Kevin," Penelope blurted out.

Hotch's smile faded, and a look of concern settled over his features. "Oh, Penelope. Are you okay? Do you need some time off? You have lots of leave, I can clear it now if you'd like me to, there's no problem."

She started laughing. "Sir, we were having a party. I was never fully happy with him and breaking up with him was like- it was like coming into the office after a very annoying person was stuck with me during a case and finding that my handsome Unit Chief has sent me flowers."

Hotch seemed secretly proud that Penelope had broken up with Kevin because he had also never been a big fan of him, a fact that he had never really kept secret. When she mentioned the flowers he had sent her, many years ago, his jaw dropped.

"You never-"

"I wanted to let you think I didn't know. Now, shall we go?"

"Of course. Dave will probably want to hear about your reactions to my speech." When he saw how shocked they all looked, he continued. "It wasn't my idea!"

And Kevin had been completely forgotten by all of them.

Three months later, Penelope had met Marissa. As cliche as it was, they met a coffee shop. Their orders had been mixed up- she'd ended up with a flat white instead of the new toffee flavoured latte she had wanted to try- and neither had realised until it was too late.

When she'd gone back the next day, the barista had handed her a coffee without her even placing an order. She'd tried to tell them that she hadn't asked for it, but they had simply smiled at her, then pointed at Marissa, who had waved her over. Said that she wasn't a big fan of toffee, but she thought the pretty woman's boldness was something she wanted to be too, and if Penelope was willing to go on a walk with her.

One thing led to another, and a month later, they were officially dating. Penelope had never been happier in a relationship. Marissa's sarcasm and dry sense of humour balanced out her brightness and inappropriate jokes, but it wasn't just that made them compatible. It was everything else too. They just fit. And when Penelope stared into her eyes, still so mesmerised by them almost seven months later, she could see a future that would've never been able to have with Kevin.

Marissa was a dance teacher. Primarily contemporary and ballet, but she was thinking about branching into ballroom dancing, and it was exactly that fact that sparked Penelope's idea. Her original idea had involved flash mobs and individual confessions of love, but she also wanted to respect that Hotch enjoyed his privacy. And that he didn't like a fuss to be made of him, ever, even when it really was needed.

She didn't tell the others that she was planning anything, otherwise they would've started asking and it was such a good idea that she just wouldn't have been able to keep the knowledge to herself. It wasn't anything bad, she just didn't want to tell them and have it fall through because Marissa wasn't able or comfortable with doing it.

It was date night when her plan began. She had taken Marissa ice-skating, which had been an incredible experience and something that always made her feel like she was flying. Apparently some of the other people had taken some photos of them, holding each other and laughing at their own antics, so she was waiting for them to download. Marissa was laughing at something a child was doing, sipping her hot chocolate as she tried to warm herself up.

And Penelope knew, it was then or never.

"Sweetness, remember when you said you wanted to start teaching ballroom?" she asked suddenly.

Marissa tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, but I still think it might be risky, because I've never been taught how to teach it and I don't want to mess it up."

Penelope took her hands and Marissa smiled. In some way, it reminded her of the way Hotch smiled- small and subtle, but absolutely everything to witness.

"If you want to do it, then you should. And I've seen you teach before, there's no way you could mess this up. But, and this is completely up to you, I have an idea. It could benefit both of us."

“Both of us? What is this plan?”

“You need to practice on someone to gain some confidence. So practice on my team. They’ll be delighted to help you, and then we can all spend more time together. They really like you. Much more than anyone else I’ve introduced them to. They’ll say yes.”

“Would they? It would be amazing if they did.”

“Of course they will.”

“Penelope, I love you so much. Thank you for doing this. I’m confused though. What do you get out of this?”

“The opportunity to go down in history as the best Cupid the world has ever seen.”

"What on earth- actually don't tell me now, I'll end up spilling your plan to the people involved," Marissa said, snuggling closer. Penelope pressed a kiss to her hair, smiling at the thought of spending more time with her girlfriend and winning the bet.

The next day, she went and sat with everyone in the bullpen, balancing her laptop on her knees as she worked. The rest of the team were working on individual consults, but Derek and JJ had decided to spend some time with their partners instead of just sitting in their offices. Rossi was doing his work from his office, and Hotch was in a meeting with Strauss and the Director. He hadn't seemed happy about it.

"Guys, what would you do if I said I can get Hotch and Rossi together but I need you to come to Marissa's practice run of a ballroom dancing lesson in order for it to work?" she asked, not even looking up from her screen.

"Start from the beginning," JJ said.

"Nope, because that will ruin my plan. Would you?"

“I mean, if Spencer didn’t mind, I would go. Any excuse to dance with the prettiest boy I know,” Derek said, a small and loving smile plastered across his face.

Spencer looked down slightly, cheeks tinged with a blush. “If it’ll help the two of them be happy, then fine, yes. But only if you promise to not make any comments if I’m not good at it.”

“Spencer, of course we won’t judge, dancing can be quite hard. And it’s not going to be a super serious session, it’s a trial run for Marissa and my attempt at getting them together, so it’s not the end of the world. JJ? Emily?”

“If Will can take Henry for the day, then sure, otherwise I don’t think I’ll be able to make it, is that okay?” JJ said, already pulling her phone out to see whether or not he was available. He responded moments later, saying it would be fine, and Penelope smiled.

“Sure. I’m excited to see whether your plan can top mine,” Emily said.

Penelope grinned. “Great! I’ll see you all at ten on Saturday then. Now I just need to get the two of them to agree…”

As she headed up to Rossi’s office, the four remaining team members all gave each other identical looks of fear. They knew that, realistically, Penelope’s plan couldn’t be that wild or dangerous, but they also knew how fiercely determined she could be when there was something she wanted to achieve. They also knew how adamant she was that everybody would find love, they just needed to be ready and willing. So they really had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

They assured themselves they would be fine, because they weren’t the ones being set up. And then they immediately felt extreme amounts of relief at the fact that Penelope had never once turned her match-making skills to them.

Rossi was working on the paperwork he’d stolen from Hotch’s office when Penelope knocked, popping her head around the door. The open blinds meant the team were able to watch through the window, and they did. They weren’t profiling, they were just observing for a bit of fun and to try and see whether or not they’d be able to get any more information from their exchange.

“Sir, what are your opinions on ballroom dancing?” she asked, not even bothering with hello.

“It’s okay. I don’t have particularly strong opinions on it either way. Why?” Rossi responded.

“Because Marissa would like to find out whether or not she would be able to teach ballroom dancing, so I have offered us up as guinea pigs for her to test on but she obviously can’t just do it with two couples, so I was wondering whether you’d be willing to come or if I needed to ask Anderson,” she said, tone not indicating any sort of ulterior motive whatsoever.

“If she’s teaching, you would need to be her partner so she could demonstrate. Who exactly is my partner?”

“Hotch of course. Sir, he could never say no to you. He loves you too much- us. He loves us too much. To say no. Or to deny us something small like this,” she said, realising as she spoke that it was too much, too soon.

Rossi went to deny that Hotch loved him- in any way, not just the one he’d found himself thinking about as he’d washed the singular plate and singular wine glass the previous night- but found that he couldn’t. Because Penelope was right. In some way, Hotch loved every single member of the team, in a way that Max Ryan and Jason Gideon would never have been brave enough to do.

It filled him with pride, a little sadness, and something close to admiration that he was too much of a coward to properly define. And then he realised that he had gone too long without speaking, because Penelope was beginning to shift uncomfortably.

“Sir? Are you okay? You kinda… disappeared for a moment there,” she said.

“I’m okay, just thinking. Of course I’ll tag along to the dance lesson, if only to give Morgan a few funnier nightmares. When is it?”

Penelope grinned, so wide and so beautifully, it almost hurt. He pushed the thought from his head. She was never going to lose her faith in the beauty of people. Not whilst she was able to find the beauty in everything, and not whilst she smiled without any shame or hesitance.

“Saturday and ten, unless we get a case, and if we do, we’ll sort it out after. Does that work for you?”

Even if hadn’t, he would’ve completely rearranged his career to make it. He didn’t just want to give Derek some funny nightmares. He also wanted to spend time with the team, and watch Hotch morph into Aaron as he smiled unabashedly and was dressed in casual clothes- he needed to get a grip.

“Of course it does. Thank you for inviting me,” he said, hoping that would end the conversation.

It did. When Garcia closed the door behind her, he groaned, then buried himself in the paperwork. Nothing would distract him more than trying to come up with a real justification for the BAU technology budget (Aaron’s preliminary notes just said: they don’t have to deal with a pouting Penelope.)

She just gave a thumbs up to the team, then went back into the bullpen. As she set about making her own tea, she realised that Hotch had returned from his meeting. It hurt a bit, to see him look so exhausted and disheartened. He always was, when he returned from those meetings with the Director, even with Strauss acting as a buffer between the two of them. So she made him one of her special coffees- with the added caramel and hazelnut milk- before heading up to his office, not bothering to knock because he had spent so long trying to convince them all it was fine to not knock that she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Oh hello Garcia. Did you need something?” he asked.

She set the coffee down and took the seat opposite. “Not in the conventional way.”

He smiled at the drink, taking a single sip, and some of the light returned to his eyes. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“Well you know Marissa right?”

“Of course I do, she’s lovely. Penelope, I really don’t think I’m the best person to come to if you need advice. Surely Derek or JJ would be better?”

“I don’t need advice silly,” she said with a smile, because her boss was just so good to all of them. “I need you to come to the dance studio on Saturday at ten because she wants to start teaching ballroom dancing and I’ve offered us up as test subjects.”

He blinked, and she realised how rude her demand had sounded.

“Only if you and Jack didn’t have plans and if you’re willing and actually able to of course,” she added hastily.

“Are you sure you want me there? I’m not… the best dancer, and I don’t want Marissa to be discouraged just because I have two left feet,” he said, looking slightly hesitant, but like he would say yes with a bit of encouragement.

“Sir, the worst of a dancer you are, the better. But I’ve saw you with Haley. You could give Derek a run for his money. There’s no pressure. I just wanted to ask because Derek, Spencer, Emily and JJ are acting as the other two couples. Rossi said he would come, but if you can’t make it-”

“Dave agreed?” Aaron cut in, meeting her eyes properly for the first time since they started talking. There was something behind the shock and slight glee that made her feel warm inside. She had been right- they both just needed a push.

“Yeah, he said the timing works for him. If it doesn’t for you-”

“No, it’s perfect. Jack doesn’t need to spend every waking moment with me, and he’s actually got a soccer camp that weekend, so I would’ve been in the apartment alone anyways. Of course I’ll come. It’s for you and Marissa after all,” he said, giving her the same smile usually reserved for Jack.

And Dave.

“Oh sir, thank you, thank you, thank you! Marissa is going to be so excited when I tell her! I promise you, even if it’s a disaster, you’ll have fun, and she will appreciate it more than you could ever imagine!”

“Penelope, it’s okay,” Hotch said with a slight laugh. “I’m not doing anything that out there.”

“I know that. But you’re just a good boss. You always have been,” she said, getting up and going to the door.

Hotch blushed and looked down. “Penelope…”

“Yes?” she asked, turning back.

“What does- what should I wear?”

She had to bite back a laugh, because there was her fierce Unit Chief, who had barely blinked when a gun was fired just to the left of his good ear, staring at her like she carried all the answers, with flushed cheeks, asking what he should wear to a dance lesson where the ulterior motive was to get him with his best friend. Not that he knew about that.

“Anything that’s comfortable,” she said, then left.

Marissa was indeed very happy when she found out, and when Penelope watched her face break into a grin as she processed the knowledge, she realised that happiness didn’t come from a relationship, but sharing it was amazing.

By some miracle, no out of town cases crossed their desks, which meant Saturday morning saw them all at the dance studio, dressed in t-shirts and sweatpants, stretching so they didn’t pull a muscle.

Hotch had paled slightly as Marissa explained that one.

“Okay, so what I’m going to have you do is pair up, and face each other. First I’ll describe how you’re meant to position your arms, then you’ll try and do it, and I’ll correct you if you’re wrong. Then I’ll just need you to follow my lead- I’ll demonstrate with Penelope. We’ll go from there. Is that good with everyone?” she said, after everyone had stretched for an adequate amount of time.

“Of course,” Derek said. Spencer nodded, looking slightly nervous, but Derek noticed and immediately placed a hand on his back to try and soothe him. It worked. JJ and Emily also nodded. Rossi grinned, and Hotch seemed hesitant, but stood up nonetheless.

“Great, so if you could all just turn and face your partners,” Marissa said, grinning when she took Penelope’s hands to press a kiss to them.

Derek and Spencer snickered at each other, which set off JJ and Emily, but Dave wouldn’t quite meet Aaron’s eyes. He was too afraid of meeting his eyes. Those beautiful and caring brown eyes that always sparkled with love whenever he saw his son, or his former sister-in-law that had really been his sister ever since Haley first confessed to her about her crush on him, all those years ago.

“Dave, are you okay to lead?” Marissa asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, sure. Aaron is that okay?” he asked.

Aaron nodded, cheeks slightly flushed. “Course it is.”

“Great, so just place your arms… like this,” Marissa said, moving him slightly. It meant he was close enough to hear Aaron’s heartbeat. It was slightly erratic, and he frowned, wondering why. It wasn’t like him to be nervous about something like this.

“Okay, so ballroom dancing obviously covers a wide range of dance styles, so to keep things simple, we’re just going to a waltz. So hands where I’ve told you to put them- Spencer and Derek I am looking at you, and follow my instructions as best you can. We’ll go from there.”

Spencer laughed, whilst Derek pretended to be scandalised. Emily gagged, and Aaron couldn’t contain his laugh at their antics. It was the most beautiful thing Dave had ever heard, so fearless and carefree that it physically hurt him, and he was well and truly screwed. To try and move past the feeling in his stomach that he most certainly was not going to name, he placed his hands exactly where Marissa had told him, noting that Aaron’s breath seemed to catch in his throat. He told himself to not to read into it.

Which was funny, because Aaron was telling himself that he needed to get his heartbeat under control. That there was no deeper reason behind Dave’s refusal to meet his eyes. There was a completely reasonable explanation for the goosebumps that seemed to be spreading under his shirt, and there was no way he had been holding his breath without realising, only releasing it when Dave ran his hands down his arms.

“Okay, so person that’s leading, step this way,” Marissa instructed.

Dave did exactly as she said with no hesitation. Aaron flushed as the realisation that they were about to be dancing together, with all of their subordinates there to witness any failures. It was strange, but he felt like both Marissa and Penelope were watching him more intently than the others.

Dave had said everything would be fine, that there was nothing going on, but he couldn’t help the uneasy feeling forming in his stomach. The same feeling he instinctively got every time Jack appeared with glitter in his hands. He wondered when he started seeing the members of his team as children.

He also wondered how soon he’d be able to retire, now that more and more parallels between the qualified FBI agents who were trusted to carry weapons and talk down killers and his seven-year-old son were becoming clear.

“Where’s your mind gone?” Rossi asked, pulling him back into the moment.

Hotch stumbled slightly, but Dave’s arms were solid and firm around him, keeping him upright and leading him around their little area as though it was the most natural thing in the world to him.

“Nowhere interesting,” he said. Dave was always so smart, and everything he said had a purpose. If he knew Aaron was thinking about the younger members of the team as children, he’d never hear the end of it.

Dave stepped back, pulling Aaron flush against him as Marissa demonstrated exactly what they were meant to be doing. Aaron turned so Dave wouldn’t see the colour rise to his cheeks. It was beautiful to see the other members of his team, just having fun and enjoying themselves like there was nothing wrong in the world.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. Even if nobody else does, I find that brain of yours fascinating, no matter what it is you’re coming out with.”

“I was just thinking about the team. And how far they’ve come. And how I have no idea when I became their pseudo-parent, but that it doesn’t fill me with fear anymore,” he confessed.

“You’ve come so far too. And you’ve always been like family to them,” Dave said. Family. Nothing more. Certainly not anything romantic.

Hotch couldn’t help but laugh. “If Max heard you say we were like a family-”

“He’d murder me and they’d never catch him. I know.”

“Guys you’ve done really well, and this has really helped me, so I think we’re good to call it a day now. We’ll just do some cool-down stretches and then you can all go back to normal and pretend this never happened. Unless you want to go for lunch. That’s also an option,” Marissa said with a slight laugh.

“Lunch would be amazing, I’m starving,” JJ said.

Derek shrugged. “We don’t have any plans, do we, pretty boy?”

Spencer shook his head. “Also Marissa said she would try and show me that new magic trick, and lunch would be the perfect time to try and understand how it works.”

“Aaron?” Marissa asked.

From behind her, Emily and Derek cringed. It was stupid, but hearing Hotch be referred to as Aaron always felt weird. It didn’t matter whether it was Jessica, Erin, Marissa or Dave doing it, there was just something about their boss being known as anything but his nickname that felt like calling a parent their first name.

“If I won’t be intruding,” he said.

“Never!” Penelope exclaimed, grinning even wider when she realised that Dave’s hands were still on Hotch’s waist. She tapped Marissa on the shoulder, subtly gesturing to the sight. Marissa had very quickly realised what was going on, so a lot of what she had done was to try and aid the attempt.

“But before we do, Dave, do you mind if I use you and Aaron to demonstrate one last thing? It won’t take long, I just want to do it before we go,” she said.

Derek frowned, and Penelope let out a quiet gasp when she realised that Marissa didn’t really want to demonstrate something, she wanted to push them even closer than the morning already had.

She was going to win the bet!

“Oh sure. Aaron, you mind being my partner one last time?” Dave teased.

“Never,” Aaron said, voice strangely vulnerable. Something flashed across Dave’s face, before he smirked and adjusted the way his hands were positioned.

Marissa led them through a different type of waltz. Aaron stumbled and missed the steps a few times, but Dave carried him through flawlessly, and was so confident as he glided around the small studio, Aaron following him without a shadow of doubt because of the trust between them, that it was almost impossible to pick up on.

“And Aaron, twirl into his arms!” Marissa shouted, as the music reached a climax and Dave let go of his one of his hands, forcing him to spin outwards. Her plan was for them to meet the others eyes, and see the love that everyone else had apparently picked up on, and do something about it.

What happened was slightly different.

Aaron overbalanced as he turned into Dave’s arms, which wouldn’t have been the end of the world. Unfortunately for everyone, at some point during the final dance, his laces had come undone. So not only did he overbalance, he stepped on the aforementioned undone lace. Which also would have been fine, if it had just been that, and that alone. But because it was combined with the overbalancing, he did not manage to meet Dave’s eyes and see something more than friendship reflected in them.

He did however, manage to make an absolute fool of himself as he fell to the ground, reflexes too slow to stop himself from hitting it face-first. The noise of pain he let out was enough to make Emily stop laughing at his misfortune.

Dave immediately crouched down next to him, gently turning him and shifting him into a sitting up position so they could check that he didn’t have a concussion or any other injuries.

“My face really hurts,” Aaron whined after blinking a few times, feeling more oriented.

“I mean you did hit the floor pretty hard,” Emily teased. When Penelope hit her arm, she pretended to look completely innocent.

“Aaron, I’m so sorry-” Marissa started.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t feel guilty. Besides, that was the most fun I’ve had without Jack in a while. I would definitely do it again, just with my laces actually tied properly. Dave, why are you looking at me like that?” he rambled.

“I think you’ve broken your nose,” Dave said, sounding nonchalant but panicking because he had no idea what he was meant to do in this situation.

“Oh,” was all Aaron said.

Morgan leapt into action the moment he processed the words. “Dave, get him to the hospital. They can make sure that nothing else is wrong and fix his face properly, without causing more damage. And you’re his proxy. Because it’s just a minor thing, the rest of us don’t need to be there, but we will all go for lunch so that we’re together if there’s any news. Okay?”

Everyone nodded, quickly gathering their things and departing. Before she left, Garcia gave her boss a kiss on the forehead, feeling terrible that things had gone downhill, but also grateful that he wasn’t mad, had ended up having fun, and that Marissa’s confidence didn’t seem too shaken.

Derek shook his head as he watched the women argue over something, whilst Marissa showed Spencer the magic trick she had promised him. How the bet had gone from the joke it had started as to this was beyond him, but he wasn’t blind. He had seen them dancing. They loved each other. It was just a matter of making them realise that it was romantic, not platonic.

An idea was forming, but until they got confirmation that Hotch- not Aaron because that was weird, no matter what Marissa said- was fine, he would put any and all thoughts about it to one side. He was a bit annoyed at himself for being such a romantic though. It meant he needed to actually come up with a decent plan.

Hotch did end up being fun. The doctors were- in Morgan’s words- fix his face without causing more damage. And whilst he passed their tests without any issues, they did decide to keep him in overnight, just to make sure he didn’t have any sort of delayed confusion or injuries.

Dave stayed until visiting hours ended. A fact that was not lost on the rest of the team.

Before he left, Aaron called out his name, and he turned.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for staying,” Aaron whispered.

“It wasn’t difficult to. It’s never been difficult with you,” he replied, wishing he could put it more eloquently, but he had no idea how to.

Aaron just smiled, wishing he could say something intelligent too, but he was tired and his head was killing him. “Have a nice evening Dave,” he settled on in the end. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Sweet dreams Aaron,” Dave said. It didn’t sound sarcastic, so Aaron smiled.

He dreamt of dances and double beds and drenched shirts, but throughout all of it, Dave seemed to be watching over him like a guardian angel, so the sleep he had was peaceful. Strange, but peaceful.

He would cling to that feeling of peace when he entered the office on Monday, because something was definitely going on.

Only it seemed like Derek was plotting. Aaron wasn’t sure how he felt about that. All Derek knew was that soon, the other members of the BAU would be buying him coffee and deeming him the best matchmaker of all time.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x david rossi #hossi #hotch x rossi #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #sumayyah writes cm

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queenetoilewrites · 4 years ago

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WIP Intro: Price of Betrayal

Sometimes, the saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. Once, I had loved a boy with all my heart, had an amazing group of best friends that I would willingly go above and beyond for if they asked me. They repaid me for my unwavering love and trust by stabbing me in the back and screwing me over. As Daenerys once said, "A Queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a Queen who trusts everyone." I will never make the mistake of trusting so easily ever again, getting stabbed in the back by the people that you thought you could trust isn't very fun, you see. I wonder if this is how Caesar felt on the ides of march, or how Catherine of Aragon felt when Henry VIII turned on her.

PoVs: Third Person, Jae Hwa, Jae-gyu, Jae-kyung, Jae-young, Hwa-young, Ji-won, Han-gyeol, Soraya, Elisabeth, and Alexandre

Genre: YA/NA, Romance (takes a backseat to main plot though), Coming of Age, Problem Novel

Themes: heartbreak, betrayal, a fall from grace, moving on, self-identity, individuality, family, friendship, love, building and rebuilding trust, facing the consequences of your actions, finding your own path

Warnings: Ableism/ableistic language/trivializing mental illness/invisible disabilities, trauma, confrontation of abuser(s), anxiety/anxiety attacks, mention of cyberbullying, past toxic relationships/friendships, manipulation, racial microaggressions, bullying, talk of classism and elitism, emotional abuse, off-page car accident, death of a loved one, underage drinking, blood, mentions of sexual content, mentions of the death of a sibling, sexism, (emotionally) abusive father, fatphobia/fatphobic comments, body shaming, grief, loss, infidelity, non-consensual touching, hospital, person pressured to drink, unexpected kiss, mentions of previous incidents of intimate partner violence, dubcon/forced kiss, abuse, violence, age gap, wrongful imprisonment, violation of privacy, colorism, and mentions of murder.

Current Status: Brainstorming

Synopsis:

At Seoul’s private Lee Hwa Arts School, Lee Jae Hwa has it all: A loving boyfriend, great friends, and the role of class rep under her belt. Being the eldest daughter of the beloved Emperor and Empress and twin sister to the Crown Prince of Korea has it's perks, namely being allowed the privilege of being able to travel without having to endure security going through your luggage since no one would accuse you of smuggling contraband (which comes in handy when you buy snacks from the airport gift shop in New York or Belgium before departure). However, her life comes crashing down around her when she finds out that her boyfriend Myungsoo cheated on her with his ex-girlfriend Elisabeth (on valentine's day and her own mother's birthday of all days), and she is betrayed by her best friends and ousted as class rep because of the subsequent fallout of his infidelity in which she is painted as just nothing more than a jealous liar on Monday. And just like that, Jae is jettisoned from beloved friend and girlfriend to a bully and jealous harpy no better than the mayor's daughter within the span of one day. Not even her own teacher is willing to stand up for her star pupil, believing wholeheartedly that Jae Hwa has become a problem child over a boy who cheated on her.

Wrong move, no one stabs a Princess of Korea in the back and gets away with it. Her friends quickly find themselves paying both the personal and social price of their betrayal. No more attending events or hanging out at the palace as her honored guests, gone are the free pastries from her grandfather's bakery, the carefully planned class events using her connections, and so are the prospects of being presented at the imperial debutante ball. Eventually, the girl she treated like a sister stoops low enough to try and get her expelled as retaliation for refusing to yield to the pressure to roll over and go back to being their thankless errand girl, but when it fails (thanks to the principal stopping the witch hunt in it's tracks when her parents show up to plead her case), her parents decide that enough is enough. Under the reasoning that the other school is much closer to the palace, has better academic offerings, security, and offers their students better electives/extracurricular activities; Jae and her six siblings are transferred to the highly prestigious Joseon International School for the Arts over the spring break. Jae finds herself making new friends and missing her old school less and less as the days go by. Unfortunately, her former friends take her departure and changing her phone number as a betrayal despite the fact that she had no choice in the matter, and continue to hound her about her jealousy and bullying of "poor Elisabeth" over Myungsoo. Funny how she can bully her former friend over her ex-boyfriend despite the fact she's stopped caring and blocked everyone's cell phone numbers, right? Sadly, fate isn't kind to her and her former school burns down over winter break, meaning that her friends will temporarily be transferred to her school. This causes more conflict once they're placed in her class, and they quickly try to reassert their dominance over her, thankfully her new friends and siblings stand by her and defend their best friend and sister against their underhanded attacks.

It's all fun and games until they go after her new friends and siblings, which Jae Hwa isn't about to take lying down. She has dirt on her former friends and ex-boyfriend, and she’s not about to go down without a fight. Everyone knows, hell hath no fury like a princess scorned. Will they withstand the price of betrayal, or will they find themselves blown away by the storm that they caused?

Note: Price of Betrayal (or the Betrayalverse, as i call it) is a revamp of my OG WIP, Behind the Phoenix Throne. While it’s predecessor the Phoenix Throne duology followed Jiwon in the lead-up to her becoming the Empress Consort of Korea by marrying Hangyeol, the Betrayalverse trilogy follows their eldest daughter Jae Hwa. Also, Jae’s former school was originally supposed to burn down over the same spring break that she left, but i moved it to winter break in order to give her a break/let her settle in to her new school.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added or removed): @inky-duchess

#WIP: Price of Betrayal #writing #writeblr #wip #wip intro #wip introduction

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years ago

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Is It Really THAT Bad?

How many fucking times must I talk about this movie?

I feel like this movie doesn’t need an introduction. Everyone knows this film. Its reputation precedes it. It didn’t bomb and it’s not generally considered one of the worst films ever made (at least on the level of films like Robot Monster or The Cat in the Hat), but this movie is easily one of the most divisive films ever made. This film has generated enough arguments that, if we harnessed the energy of all the flame wars it has caused, we could probably power the entire world until the heat death of the universe.

With the impending release of Zach Snyder’s bloated redo of Justice League, I’ve decided to go back and ask myself of this film here… is it really that bad?

THE GOOD

Here comes the most uncontroversial opinion: the action scenes in this movie rock (or at least two of them do). The standouts are the titular showdown, which almost makes sitting through the rest of the movie worth it, and the epic warehouse fight Batman gets into, which is like something straight out of the Arkham games. It’s so good. And aside from that, a lot of the cinematography in the film is good. The film knows how to look good, though unfortunately it does end up being a lot of style with little substance.

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On the subject of Batman, I think Ben Affleck is a great and inspired choice. I certainly think he’s worthy of standing alongside Batmans like Clooney and Keaton, easily embodying both the Dark Knight and Billionaire Playboy aspects fairly well, though the writing does not always handle him quite as well as it should (we’ll get to that soon enough). Henry Cavill, while still a rather dour Superman, is as good as ever as Superman, and Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman was a great choice here, especially since she didn’t have control so that she could insert anti-Arab racism, like some DCEU movies.

Perhaps one of the movies most impressive feats is how, in an uncharacteristic moment of brevity, it manages to condense the backstory of Batman into the prologue, getting it out of the way and not making us sit through yet another Batman origin film. This is literally the only thing the movie has over the MCU; where that franchise just has the character Spider-Man inexplicably in existence without even a hint of his origins, they just get Batman’s tragic backstory out of the way so we can see him beating the crap out of people. If more superhero movies want to take this route and just condense the backstory into an opening montage like this, I’d be down for it.

THE BAD

I really could just say “most of the movie” but that’s such a cop out. Let’s actually look at the problems. Let’s work our way up through the things from least problematic to most, shall we?

The best place to start is what Zach Snyder did to Jimmy Olsen.

Jimmy Olsen is made into a CIA spook who is brutally killed early on, and yes, that was Jimmy Olsen. Snyder put him in to shock audiences with his senseless murder, and also because he felt the character had no place in his series. Does making Watchmen just turn people into joyless husks who like to horribly bastardize iconic characters? Jimmy Olsen is ultimately a small microcosm of the film, but he is the sum total of everything wring with the early DCEU. He is bleak, soulless, and shows a critical lack of understanding about the comics and why people enjoy them.

Now let’s move on to the more exciting problem to discuss: the villains. I don’t even think it’s worth wasting much time discussing what’s wrong with KGBeast. While it is kind of interesting they’d think to use the guy at all, the fact he never dons the costume and dies by the end of the film is unfathomably lame for a character named KGBeast.

Now, onto the main antagonist, and the most infamous part of the movie: Lex Luthor.

Lex Luthor is horribly, horribly miscast. Jesse Eisenberg is a great actor for sure, and he’s effective in movies like Now You See Me, The Social Network, and the Zombieland films. But here he is being asked to play one of the most diabolical cunning geniuses in comic book history, and rather than play him as such, he plays him like a cartoonish twit. This Lex is utterly unrecognizable as Superman’s greatest foe. Does anyone think Lex Luthor would send a jar of piss to someone as a joke before he blows them up? That’s more something the Joker would do on an off day. Lex is not cunning, not intimidating, and not diabolical in the slightest, and yet there are moments where Eisenberg’s acting chops shine through and Lex, for a moment, is almost engaging. Luthor really suffers the way Doctor Doom tends to in film adaptations: the filmmaker clearly doesn’t get why people like the villain, and decide to do some weird, unique take that will only cause to alienate fans.

But perhaps the worst of them all is Doomsday. Doomsday has exactly one claim to fame, and that’s killing Superman, so as soon as he shows up if you have even a passing awareness of the character you know how the movie is going to end, which robs the film of tension for its last battle. The fact he also appears with little buildup and doesn’t have any characterization doesn’t help; Doomsday is just the Big Gray CGI Blob that superhero movies try and pass off as a final boss for the heroes to fight. This has worked precisely once, in Iron Man. The Incredible Hulk and Venom did not make it work, and this film is nowhere close to being in the same ballpark as Venom.

By and far the biggest problem, though, is the movie’s incredible length and its very existence in the franchise at this point in time. This is an epic superhero crossover in which two of the biggest comic book characters of all time fight and then team up… And it is the second movie in a franchise. While they do a good job of establishing Batman rather quickly, Wonder Woman comes out of nowhere. And then at the end, Superman ‘dies.’ We have had one single movie prior to this to make a connection to the guy, and yet here he is getting a temporary comic book death with no buildup whatsoever that we know is going to be reversed sooner than later because the movie telegraphs this to us.

Imagine if, instead of building up the character over the course of a decade and putting him in all sorts of different stories, the MCU went right from Iron Man to Endgame. You go from a simpler, character-driven piece to a massive crossover where a hero dies right away, and it doesn’t give anyone time to care. Tony Stark had multiple films worth of characterization under his belt before they threw him in a crossover, let alone killed him, but Snyder expects you to give a damn about a Superman who just started his career in the previous movie of a franchise.

And the ass-numbing length of the movie is no justification. Even before the director’s cut came out this film was a slog, and the director’s cut really does nothing to earn its existence. All it does is add more runtime to an already tedious and bloated film, leading to the same exact ending and fixing none of the overarching narrative problems of the thing. The problem with any director’s cut is that ultimately the movie is still going to be Dawn of Justice, it’s still going to lead to extremely rushed character decisions, and it’s still going to be a mess. You’d have to redo half of the film to make this into a worthwhile and coherent narrative that’s actually worthy of being an entry in a superhero franchise.

And to top it all off, the movie spends far too much time foreshadowing for its own good. People criticized The Mummy for shoehorning in way too many shared universe elements right off the bat, and if that movie was bad for it, so is this one. The cameos from all the members of the Justice League, while striking, could be excised from the plot with little to no impact, and the Knightmare sequence is just excessive and weird.

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Is It Really THAT Bad?

The answer to this question has never been harder.

On the one hand, this film does have some merit. There is some good casting choices, good cinematography, good action… But then, on the other hand, the film is overly long, pretentious, has poor writing and dialogue, mishandles everyone aside from Superman, and is just incredibly unpleasant.

This film is in many ways the exact problem Christopher Nolan created with his Dark Knight trilogy. Nolan, by grounding the fanciful characters of comic books into a realistic setting, created a climate in which someone could suck any sort of joy or meaning out of comics. The success of his films meant that people would see dark, gritty realism as preferable to joyous, colorful escapism, and the negative effects of his films, however good you find them, are still felt today even as filmmakers are finally shaking off the grit. Dawn of Justice is the zenith of Nolan’s style of superhero film. There is nothing fun, joyful, or engaging to be found here; it is simply the characters you know and love forced into dark, miserable scenarios that ends in death and misery. Where’s the fun? Where’s the color? Where’s the wonder, the excitement, where is any of it? This film paints a bleak and miserable and hopeless picture of a world of superheroes. It really makes me think of this rather famous comic panel:

I absolutely hate this movie, but not because I think it’s bad. I hate it because it has enough good ideas where it should be the best thing ever, but it really isn’t. It’s a miserable slog of a film that does nothing to justify or earn its massive runtime whatsoever. It really does belong somewhere between 5 and 6 on IMDB, because I can almost see why people like it, but it just isn’t even remotely close to being how good its fan say it is. This is not a good superhero movie, and this is not how we should want superhero movies to be. There is a market for serious superhero fare of course, and there’s no reason that these films can’t engage with mature themes or anything, don’t get me wrong. But this is absolutely not the way to do it.

#Is it really that bad #IIRTB #Review #movie review #Batman v Superman #Dawn of Justice #Zach Snyder #Batman #Superman #DCEU

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themoonlily · 3 years ago

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Can’t believe that Eomer of ALL fuckin characters is getting hate, wtf. This modern bs of blaming every problem a female character has on the men in her life or making her be this flawless, perfect, and amazing in everything creature is absolute trash and totally not feminist. Fandom has become fandumb.

Btw on a lighter note, what other Tolkien couples do you like/ship? And other fictional couples in general? Love your stories ❤️

I guess it's easier to pin the blame on the men close to her rather than look at the whole picture or others' point of view (and it’s certainly convenient for certain agendas). I myself don't see how it's useful or even truthful to use specific men of her family as scapegoats, especially when there are so many signs to the contrary. In this day and age mental health problems ought to be understood better; I'm not saying things like abuse and manipulation can't cause or contribute to mental illness, but that's hardly the case with Éowyn - except for what Gríma Wormtongue did, but he was never even mentioned in the original statement, which is surprising because he's literally right there and we have the actual text saying that he stalked her and fed his toxicity as much to her as he did to Théoden. Somehow the actual stalker is not to be blamed at all, but the people who do love her.

But it's a delicate issue, not necessarily well-handled in discourse, and often it means individual men get thrown under the bus, no matter if they deserve it or not. Which I think feminism shouldn't be about, but I digress. And like you said, making women into perfect and flawless martyrs doesn't do any good, and it's certainly not doing them any justice in the context of their stories. Neither does it do any justice to men, and it's ignoring the larger structures of society that impact both men and women in harmful and toxic ways. In Éowyn's case, if you wanted to be one-sided and biased, you could blame her for abandoning her people in a time of great need and letting down her family, but somehow that doesn't happen. It's generally recognised she deserves compassion for the state she was in and for her circumstances, and you'd think the same would apply for her family, though they are men.

Anyway, thank you for your message. I believe I won't be answering (publicly) more asks about this issue, because I don't want to drag it out more, but I'm happy to talk further in private messages! I have always had a soft spot for Aragorn/Arwen, and Faramir and Éowyn are one of the most wholesome couples I've ever come across in literature; so much about them is mirrored in each other and answers to specific troubles they go through during the story. Tolkien writes a more convincing and rewarding romance between them in one chapter than some writers do in entire book series. Also I do love the story of Beren and Lúthien, it’s one of my favourite parts of The Silmarillion. Moreover, I am fascinated with the story of Andreth and Aegnor, although it’s among the most tragic of Tolkien’s relationships, and I wish there was more about them.

Outside of LOTR, I enjoy Lizzie Bennet and Mr. Darcy, and I have to admit, I enormously liked Mary and Matthew in Downton Abbey (poor Matthew, though!). Another well-written relationship is Agnieszka/Sarkan (from Naomi Novik's Uprooted), although I'm not sure if I could be called a shipper. One of Ye Olde Goode Ships of mine is Henry and Danielle from the film Ever After (which I really should rewatch soon!). I haven't been reading or writing anything about Tanz der Vampire (a weird European musical) lately, but I still feel for Alfred/Krolock. I generally have a weakness for the Beauty and the Beast type of situation, and the Disney film was my big favourite as a kid.

Also, this is probably going to sound weird considering what I normally post: I loved InuYasha as a teenager, and used to read the occasional fanfic years ago when I came across this brilliant story with Kagome/Sesshoumaru (titled Tales from the House of the Moon) - lo and behold, I've been a grudging shipper ever since. I don't really read InuYasha fanfiction anymore and I certainly don't participate in the fandom, but that one story I still return to now and then.

Thanks for the ask!

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

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“All I have in this world is my balls and my word, and I don’t break them for no one,” Tony Montana declares in the 1983 gangster classic, Scarface. Yet Al Pacino’s antihero breaks both in his quest for money, power, and women. And just as he is on the brink of winning the trifecta, he is blown away like so much dust up a nose.

Did he lose because the Cuban mobster didn’t heed the advice of his first crime boss? Or is it because he just couldn’t stand to see his sister and his best friend wearing his-and-her pajamas? In truth, Montana’s fall can probably be traced back to when he learned to speak English by “watching guys like Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney.”

Directed by Brian De Palma, and written by Oliver Stone, Scarface is a remake of Howard Hawks’ vastly influential 1932 mob movie, so Montana’s explosive descent was preordained. Tony Montana continued Pacino’s run of criminal icons, which included Sonny in Dog Day Afternoon and the ultimate crime family head, Michael Corleone in The Godfather films. The actor supplanted Paul Muni’s Tony Carmonte as the recognizably scarred face of the title role. Pacino would go on to play Carlito in Carlito’s Way and Lefty in Donnie Brasco, but while each hoodlum brings a new facet to his rogues gallery, none of his gangsters ever achieve their ultimate desires. They almost all reach dizzying heights, and everyone of them sees the dream slip through their fingers. Still, Montana experiences perhaps the greatest fall of all.

The original 1932 film took place during Prohibition when crime was a viable means of survival. De Palma’s adaptation happens in the Reagan era, a time when lucky opportunists could get their lips around the spigots of cash before it got a chance to trickle down. Tony’s economic theory is much more succinct: “You know what capitalism is? Getting fucked.”

Scarface is a rags-to-riches-to-self-destructive fireball story, and nothing succeeds like excess. Montana’s first crime boss in America, Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia), has weathered the climate change from President Carter to the Gipper, and warns Tony to never “underestimate the other guy’s greed.”

In the original Howard Hughes production, Tony was an immigrant from Italy. In the Cold War era film, Montana is a refugee from Cuba. Their shared first mistake is to believe in the American Dream.

The World Is Yours

These words are flashed in both films and hit each of the two criminal aspirants as hard as the “give me your tired, poor, and hungry” promises carved under the Statue of Liberty. Scarface opens shortly after the Mariel boatlift, the 1980 exodus which followed Cuba’s economic crash. Montana seeks asylum, telling immigration officers he is a political prisoner who doesn’t agree with his country’s politics and owns nothing under communism. He says even American prison is better than his life on the Caribbean island. The officers note his criminal past, the telltale tattoo on his arm, and the scar on his face, which despite their insults was obviously not caused by oral sex.

In exchange for a Green Card, Montana and his friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) assassinate Gen. Emilio Rebenga, who tortured the brother of the crime boss Lopez. Tony settles in sunny Miami. And when he gets out of the kitchen and into the heat of crime, he hits the ground running. “The World Is Yours,” after all. All you have to do is take it, and Montana has both hands out.

Frank warns his protégé, “The guys who last in this business are the guys who fly straight – lowkey, quiet; and the guys who want it all – chicas, champagne, flash – they don’t last.” But Montana is a meteor, bound to burn up in the atmosphere. He gets caught on the orbit of Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar), agreeing to supply cocaine from Bolivia independent of the other drug lords. Within a few years, Montana is doing so well, the feds target him for tax evasion.

Tony’s Betrayal of Frank Lopez

Montana’s betrayal of Frank Lopez is crucial to his downfall. Frank is the father figure who initially took a chance on Tony. He let him rise through the ranks, even as he tried to bite off more than he could chew. Frank’s biggest mistake is not making sure his underlings follow his sage advice. He also ignores one of his own commandments. Lopez underestimates Montana’s greed. He trusts Tony to accompany his trusted second-gun Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) to Bolivia to meet with Sosa, and continues to let Tony operate after the druglord hangs Suarez from a helicopter.

The deal Montana makes behind Frank’s back is a major step toward the fall. The vow Tony takes never to betray Sosa ultimately leads to the last splash. Montana breaks his word to both of these men, and they bust his balls as a result. When Tony returns to Miami, Frank is suspicious over Omar’s death and his returning soldier’s independence. As Montana begins to build his own cocaine empire, Frank orders a professional hit.

For gangsters, the only good cop is a bad cop, and it is advisable to grease the wheels which move crime. Mel Bernstein (Harris Yulin) demands his take early in the film at the Babylon Club, which has the perfect cocktail napkins for bribery notes. Bernstein was willing to overlook the murders of Rebenga, “Hector the Toad,” and “that bloodbath at the Sun Ray Hotel.” Tony should have taken him at his word when the cop said he could clean up Tony’s Lopez mess.

Before Tony eliminates Frank, he is hungry. The money and drugs are not a distraction. After he begins to accumulate power, he lets his public profile rise and indulges in conspicuous consumption. Montana keeps a chained-up tiger in front of his compound just to let everyone know how powerful he is. There are real life precedents for this. Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar imported hippos for his private zoo. Brooklyn mobster “Crazy” Joe Gallo kept a pet lion named Cleo in the basement of his headquarters. The scenario was also probably inspired by Miami’s most notorious drug lord, Mario Tabraue, whose predilection for wild cats was featured in the Netflix documentary Tiger King. But the most conspicuous acquisition Montana leveraged cut Frank the deepest.

It’s always a mistake to go after the boss’ girl. James Cagney’s Tommy Powers knew this in The Public Enemy (1931). James Woods’ Maximillian “Max” Bercovicz skirts this in Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America (1984). Montana sets out to steal Frank’s trophy wife, Elvira Hancock (Michelle Pfeiffer), from the moment he lays eyes on her, though he waits for the height of his reign to claim her. He does it as much to emasculate his former boss as he does it out of desire. It’s a betrayal equal to having Manny whack Frank while he pleads for his life.

The new couple is married by 1983, but with a marriage always on the rock.

Don’t Get High on Your Own Supply

Montana’s downfall is aided, abetted, but most of all mirrored in his descent into addiction. He probably took his first sniff from Elvira’s stash, but even as Montana bemoans, “I got a junkie for a wife,” he doesn’t get wind of his own problem. “Another Quaalude, and she’ll be mine again,” he reasons as the trophy wife climbs off the pedestal and up on a shelf.

Montana is in deep drug denial when Elvira leaves him after he openly complains she can’t have children because she is polluted with the yaya he’s been peddling. He should at least entertain the notion when she openly wonders if he would even be alive to raise their child.

In American Gangster, Denzel Washington’s Frank Lucas knows enough not to dip his nose into the supply. And while Pacino’s slide into the junkie aspects of his character is physically more subtle than Ray Liotta’s bug-eyed Henry Hill in Goodfellas, the results are just as devastating. When Montana was crushing the competition and bagging the Sandman, he had discipline. His mind gets muddled as his drug use spirals out of control. He makes rash decisions, dips into schizoid delusions, and succumbs to white powder paranoia. He can’t see his way through the haze to find alternatives. He walks right into the undercover cop’s money laundering bust.

The drugs dull his instincts. If Tony wasn’t high at the security command center, he would have seen Sosa’s soldiers encroaching his compound over the cameras. He had 10 bodyguards on the property, he could have positioned them defensively. The only thing his ultimate hit man is hiding behind is a pair of killer shades. He never should have been able to sneak behind Montana’s back. Tony also wouldn’t have gotten rid of his most trusted weapon.

Over and Underestimating Little Friends

Tony Montana’s right-hand man would have been the best, first defense against the Sosa attack. What Tony does to Manny Ribera is his worst action. The two are virtually brothers. Their bond goes beyond being partners in crime, it tightened in the “Freedomtown” concentration camp, and solidified in the Miami chainsaw massacre. It is because Manny is Tony’s most trusted soldier that he will never be good enough for Tony’s sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Tony’s saving grace is he believes he is doing all this to ensure a better life for his sister. Gina is supposed to represent the innocence he sacrificed, but she is also an unattainable sin.Tony’s mother doesn’t try to separate her children merely because her daughter might be swallowed in the criminal life; she is curbing what she sees as Tony’s unnatural urges.

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Even if Tony doesn’t see Manny as a rival for his sister’s affections, he still sees him through the eyes of a fellow criminal, and a womanizing one at that. Tony is just like his mother, who rejects him. Tony brands his friend, and ultimately seals his fate with it.

The problem is Ribera wasn’t made to be a gangster. He is a loyal and efficient consigliere and soldier for Tony’s crew, but he would have been happier slapping his name on knockoff designer jeans. Besides the bubbling incestuous tension exacerbated by the coke haze, Tony doesn’t want to see his best friend happier than him, and denies Gina a real chance at the happiness he wants for her.

It’s the one thing Tony can’t buy for her. Gina and Manny fully expect Tony to be thrilled by their marriage. They were going to surprise him with the news. Tony’s incestuous protectiveness speeds his downfall. He murders Manny as a punishment. Gina is shot by Sosa’s men. Montana loses the two most important people in his life, and his inability to control his lusts destroy them all.

“Say Goodnight to the Bad Guy”

The biggest contributory factor in Tony’s downfall is his humanity. In The Godfather, Sonny Corleone advises his brother Michael not to take things too personally in business. When Lopez gives Montana the mission of delivering a bundle of cocaine to Columbian dealers, the rising mobster takes things very personally. The deal goes bad when Montana’s friend Angel Fernandez is murdered with a chainsaw in a scene so aurally graphic (watch it again, there’s no violence shown, only heard), it almost got the film an X rating.

It was allowed in the film in the name of education, Stone pointed to a DEA report which detailed the exact scenario. Tony teaches the Colombians a lesson in humanity. Not content with leaving with the cash and the coke, he kills every single gang member who had anything to do with Angel’s death.

Tony also lets his conscience be his guide when he’s working the GPI on a hit. Faced with serious jail time for his tax evasion arrest, he makes a deal with Sosa, who is also under fire. Montana agrees to fly to New York and assassinate a journalist before he can give a speech on Sosa’s organization. A bomb has been planted in the journalist’s car, and Tony is in charge of tailing until the perfect detonation point. But when Tony arrives on the scene to assassinate the journalist, he notices the man’s wife and children are with him. Montana not only breaks his word, the promise to protect his powerful partner, but he murders Sosa’s right hand man, Alberto, rather than kill the children playing in the back seat.

“I Always Tell The Truth. Even When I Lie.”

Tony Montana may have been the ballsiest and most charismatic of his machismo mob, but he wasn’t the brightest. He acknowledges his intellectual shortcomings, “I come from the gutter,” he admits. “I know that. I got no education, but that’s okay. I know the street.” But he doesn’t read signs. He can’t tell a freeway from a dead end. Frank Lopez may be a blowhard, but his words of wisdom could have been carved in the cement.

All the concrete Tony brags about has gone to his head, making his skull thicker than Pacino’s accent. Montana is brash and unbending, narcissistically adherent to only his own advice, and his own worst counsel. His anger blinds him, the battery is running low on his foresight, and he’s so flashy his enemies can see him coming from miles away. And he can’t see them when they’re standing close enough to breathe on the back of his neck.

Final Massacre

Of course the most obvious reason Tony ends up the way does is because he fights off an army by himself. He’s got quite an arsenal, and the coke probably makes it seem like a good idea at the time, but the decision to stay and fight is vastly miscalculated. Even if Tony had survived the last assassination attempt, Sosa’s men would always be hunting for him. It would have been a short hunt. Tony Montana would have died of a heart attack from all that coke he snorted.

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marvelslut16 · 5 years ago

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I Promise

Pairing: Stanley Uris x Bowers!Reader (young)

Request/synopsis: “Hi! If you’re still writing Stanley Uris, could you write a little childhood piece taking place during the first movie where the reader is one of the bullies’ little sister and hates what her brother and his friends are doing to the losers and starts to hanging out with them and the boys make fun of Stan because it’s obvious that he likes her and one day they’re walking and end up on the kissing bridge and he just starts rambling to her about something he saw and she interrupts him by kissing him”

Word count: 4,390 I think I got carried away

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of attempted murder? Use of the term flamer, it means flamboyant gay, Stan is called that by Patrick in the books. Mentions a lewd act that happens in the book as well. Violence from a brother. Bullying. Some angst? Pennywise, that should definitely be a warning lmao. Blood/gore/violence, typical for the IT fandom. Sort of mentions character death.

A/N: Sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted, I tried to do this request justice (since it was my first! Thank you to the anon that asked for it!) but I definitely took it on an angsty ride lol. I definitely focused more on Henry and the time in the sewers than I originally planned. Sorry this took so long as well, I wasn’t sure how to fit all of my ideas together. I really like how this turned out, but it’s also like two in the morning so there could be typos.

Do you like being Henry's little sister? Of course not. Siblings or not, Henry treats you like shit too, at least he has the decency to keep it behind closed doors. On top of that, everyone avoids you, expecting you to be just like your brother or Greta. Greta is relatively nice to you, or as nice as demon spawn can be, she never makes fun of you or bullies you, she even tries to include you in her shit. Thinking, like everyone, that Henry actually likes you; and this way she can make a good impression and he can finally ask her out.

You walk out of the front doors of the school on the last day to see your lovely brother and his idiot friends teasing Stan and his group of friends, stealing the curly-haired boys kippah. Richie, being his typical self, starts screaming and insulting Henry, making him angrier. Henry takes said anger out on Stan, pushing him to the ground and pulling his leg back to kick the smaller boy in the side.

“Hey!” you scream and rush over to the scene, before you can realize what you're doing.

“Come to defend your boyfriend?” your brother sneers before laughing like a lunatic.

“Back off Henry,” you glare at him, stepping between him and Stan. You can hear the poor boy behind you struggling to stand up.

“Or what?” Henry leans in, face inches from yours. He has never made his dislike for you public, even his friends are shocked by his actions. “You gonna run home and tell Dad?”

“Tempting,” you push him away from your face, mindful that your father is on duty somewhere in the ocean of students. As he’s distracted by the shove, you yank the kippah free from his grasp. “You want them, you go through me.”

“That can be arranged,” he grits his teeth, gesturing for his friends to grab you.

They look shocked for a second, before Belch wraps his large arms around your middle to hold you back. Your brother smirks at you as he advances on Stan, preparing to punch him. Your pleas for him to stop advancing on the loser’s, as they’re dubbed, fall on deaf ears.

“Let go of me you creep!” you yell at Belch, before slamming your foot down on his. He lets go of you before bouncing around in pain, like a stupid cartoon character. You run between Henry and the Losers, but not before he can shove Richie to the ground. “Go home Henry,” you shove his chest again.

“You can’t make me,” he flips open his switchblade as he advances on you. The rest of the world seems to still and all you can think is will Henry really hurt you? You hear the muffled cries from the boys behind you get louder with each step your brother takes towards you.

“What’s going on here?” your dad's voice cuts through the haze, Henry backs off and hides his knife before Dad can see.

“I was just offering her a ride home,” Henry scowls as he turns to your father.

“And I was telling him that I was going to go hang out with my friends,” you use your thumb to point at the boys behind you. Your Dad eyes them wearily before ultimately coming to the conclusion that they’re a harmless group of nerds. He nods at you and sends Henry a small glare that if you blink you’ll miss before heading back the way he came.

“Watch yourself,” Henry warns before making his way to Belch’s car, friends in tow. You let out a sigh as they drive away, shoulders slumping as your adrenaline wears off.

“I think this belongs to you,” you smile at Stan, handing him his kippah.

“Thanks,” he breathes, he looks like he wants to continue speaking but no words come out. As he grabs the kippah from you, his fingers brush against yours and a blush creeps up his cheeks. You grin at how adorable he is.

“Are you guys okay?” you glance between him and Richie. Stan just nods and Richie rolls his eyes at the doe eyed look his friend is giving you.

“I’d say we didn’t need your help, but Stan the man here certainly liked being your damsel in distress,” Richie smacks a hand on Stan’s shoulder and laughs, you soon join in. Stan smacks the boy with the glasses harder than you think anyone realized he could. “Ow, that fucking hurt” Richie whines, rubbing his arm and sulking off to Eddie.

“D-do y-y-you wan-nt to go-o to the qu-qu-quarry wi-with us?” Bill asks and Richie smirks at the idea.

“I should go before Henry gets even more mad,” you play with the hem of your shirt. “But thank you for asking.”

“Please,” Richie clasps his hands and blinks dramatically at you, sticking his bottom lip out in an over dramatic pout.

“Why not?” you grin at the losers, but at Stan the most.

Over the following weeks you grow closer to the boys; Bev, Mike, and Ben too when they join the losers club. One day the eight of you are at the quarry trying to ignore the whole killer clown thing. Stan looks nervous about jumping into the water, even though you’ve seen him do it multiple times already. So you decide to grab his hand and pull him down with you withput warning. He lets out a high pitched screech that you almost can’t hear over the wind whipping past you.

Once you and Stan, the last two to jump down, break the water's surface Richie grabs Eddie repeatedly screaming the word chicken and shaking the smaller boy. Bev grabs Ben’s hand to which he grins at. Richie and Bill share a look before the stuttering boy wades over to you.

“W-w-will you b-be my par-pa-partner?” Bill smiles at you, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Of course!” you smile at your friend, happy that the group accepted you quickly even though you’re a Bowers. You don’t see the glare Stan is sending Bill as he pairs up with Mike. Richie smirks at the rest of the group, you and Stan oblivious to the looks they send each other and their plan to make Stan so jealous he tells you how he feels.

“So Stan,” Richie sings.

“No,” Stan says, watching you and Bev ride your bikes to your house for a sleepover. Her dad was worse than normal lately and she needed an escape, and you loved the escape it created from your brother.

“I never asked my fucking question,” the boy with the coke-bottle glasses pouts.

“Because nothing good ever comes out of your mouth,” Stan deadpans, finally turning to look at his friends. You rode past the curve at the end of the road effectively taking you out of Stan’s line of sight, so he had no reason not to look at his friends now.

“You were holding hands with (Y/N),” Eddie speaks up from Richie’s side. “Which is just fucking disgusting! Do you know how many germs-”

His voice is cut off when Richie slaps his hand over the smaller boy's mouth. The look of terror on the hypochondriac’s face is one that Richie won’t stop laughing at for years to come.

“She pulled me off the ledge,” Stanley rolls his eyes, suppressing a blush as he remembers how soft and warm your hand was. “It meant nothing.”

“And big Bill doesn’t fucking stutter,” Richie rolls his brown eyes, which look like googly eyes since they’re magnified by his glasses.

“What?” Stan asks looking at the road in front of him, not wanting his friends to see how red his face and ears are.

“I thought we were coming up with obvious lies,” Richie shrugs. “You’ve been in fucking love with her since you two got paired up at the beginning of the damn school year.”

“Have not!” Stan tries to lie, but his face darkens three shades deeper. The red instantly gives his obvious feelings away to his smirking friends.

“It’s that or you have rosacea,” Edidie looks up at the Jewish boy with mock innocent eyes. “Because your cheeks are bright red every time you're around her.” Stan doesn’t respond because he knows they’re right, so he just walks away from them.

“Do you like Stan?” Bev giggles at the sleepover. The two of you had been talking about her and Ben prior to the question.

“Yeah,” you mumble, looking down at your hands resting in your lap. “He’s so nice, and so sweet, and so caring. Plus, he went out of his way to help me when I was confused in class this year.”

“Yeah-” you cut off the redhead.

“And the way his curls fall in front of his eyes when he’s leaning forward, so he has to angrily huff at it to try to blow the curl away. And the way his face scrunches up all adorably when he’s concentrating on a hard problem.”

Before you can continue fawning over your friend, your door slams open. It hits the wall behind it with a loud crack, where you later find a hole in the wall the handle created. In the doorway is a pissed off Henry, steam practically shooting out of his ears.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him and the rest of those fucking losers?” he shouts, you’re dad isn’t here to hear him. “And now I hear you talking about that damn flamer with the schools slut no less.”

“Funny that you call Stan a flamer,” you smirk at your brother as you stand from the bed, subtly stepping in front of Bev so she’s behind you and away from your brother's wrath. “When Patrick gave you a hand job.”

“How the fuck did you hear about that?” he slams his fist into the wall beside him, knocking off a framed photo of a bird Stan had sketched for you during the school year.

“I saw it with my own two eyes, dumb ass,” you sneer at him. “Next time you want to get a hand job from your boyfriend, don’t do it at the dump.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” he roars, closing in on you. Bev lets out a small gasp behind you, you feel bad she has to witness this. Especially when she came here to get away from her dad.

“Go ahead, then run off to get your oral from him,” you laugh. Before Henry can do anything else, the front door opens and your dad calls for you two. You sigh in relief as your older brother storms out of your room. You and Bev never bring up what was said or what just happened.

You got separated from Stan while in Neibolt, but luckily Bill was with you. The horrors you all faced in that run down house will forever haunt each and every one of you. You’re shaking slightly as Stan and you cling onto each other as the two of you walk out of that horrendous place.

You gasp loudly and hide your face in Stan’s chest as Bill punches Richie in the face. Your body starts to shake slightly without your permission, being taken back to when Henry punched the wall a few days prior. Bev pulls you into her side as Stan and Mike help Richie up. Bill goes for Richie again, but Ben holds him back. Richie yells back in retaliation.

“Stop,” you whimper, body trembling worse. Visions of your dad and Henry yelling at each other and shoving one another flash through your mind. A memory of Henry punching the locker beside your head when you were the last two in school floats to the forefront of your mind. “Please.”

Stan immediately rushes over to you and pulls you into his chest, you don’t care if he finds out about your feelings anymore as you grip onto his striped polo. He’s an anchor in the storm of your mind. Even when Henry isn’t around, he’s still lurking in the back of your mind making sure he can hurt you. The rest of the group stops what they’re doing for a minute to glance at the two of you before walking in two separate directions. Bev gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she leaves.

“How about I walk you home? Stan offers, rubbing his hand in a calming motion on your back.

“Can we go on a walk instead?” you ask nervously, pulling away slightly. He keeps his arms wrapped around you as he studies your face. He keeps his arm around your shoulder as you walk through the park.

You and Stan take a seat in front of the giant Paul Bunyan statue, soaking up the summer sun and the sounds of the birds singing. For the next several hours you and Stan lay side by side on the grass as he points out different birds and tells you about them. Your heart pounds every time your fingers brush against each other as they lay in between you. Your body and heart are aching to slip your fingers through his, but your mind is telling you no. You ultimately listen to your mind, feeling dissatisfied with yourself at the awkward wave he gives you as he drops you off at your house.

The days where the losers are fighting rush by, each of them spent doing something with Stan. before you know it, it’s nearing the end of the summer and Pennywise is gone. You reluctantly take part in the blood oath, wanting to leave this town as soon as you turn eighteen and never look back. But you would do anything for your friends, even risk your life for them again. As you're hugging Bev goodbye, you can’t believe she’s really leaving, Stan comes up beside you.

“Will you go on a walk with me?” Stan asks timidly, not meeting your eyes. The puffy bandages around his face make your heart lurch at the thought of how much pain he must have endured.

“Sure,” you nod even though he’s staring at the ground in front of his feet. Bev gives you a smile and a slight shove in encouragement. You give her one last smile as you start off down the trail, Stan taking long strides to catch up.

“What happens now?” Stan asks, his fingers brush against yours as you walk side by side.

“My aunt’s moving here, so I’m staying,” you don’t turn to look at him, scared to face more disappointment.

You stop walking when you two reach the kissing bridge, not that you expected anything to happen, but it was a nice view. You look down to see the small S inside the heart you carved earlier in the year, it sits near Richie’s R + E. You absentmindedly rub your wrist, Henry had grabbed you so hard he bruised you when he caught you with his missing switchblade. But it was worth it, in twenty or thirty years from now those markings would still be there, your own little mark on history.

“I’m glad,” Stan says it so quietly he doesn’t think you’ll hear him, but you do. You glance up at him and immediately frown as you get a better look at the bandages wrapped around his face. It takes you back to the day in the sewers, the day he yelled at you.

“Stan!” you scream in fear as you wade through the grey water. Your heart is pounding in your chest, this can’t be happening! You can’t lose him, not Stan. One minute he was with the group and the next he's gone. “What if IT got him?” your voice shakes in fear.

“You can’t think like that,” Richie says firmly, but you can hear the fear in his voice.

Before you can respond you hear a scream, one eerily familiar to when you pulled Stan off the ledge at the quarry. “Stan!” you scream again as you run past your friends through the dark smelly sewers to find the curly haired boy that you care for.

You reach the closed door at the end of the tunnel, opening the rusty metal on your own thanks to the adrenaline rush. Your friends' screams of Stanley get louder as they catch up to you. All six of you rush through the door and look for Stan in the large underground room. You walk around and come face to face with the creepy women from the painting he hates eating his face. A strangled sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper escapes your mouth, alerting your friends that you found him.

“What the fuck is that?” Richie asks as Eddie shines Stan’s discarded flashlight at the thing. The multiple rows of teeth finally let go of Stan and the lady looks at the lot of you.

“Get off of him!” you scream, reaching down beside you and grabbing a rusty pipe. You chuck the metal at the creature smacking it in the middle of the face, it opens its mouth and hisses at you before retreating.

You all breathe a small sigh of release, until Pennywise peeks his head out from behind the corner. All six of you let out high pitched screams, but all you can think about is Stan’s safety not your own. As Pennywise hides behind the corner again you run and drop to your knees at Stan’s side, the rest of the boys quickly following suit. You reach out and touch his arm, muttering his name in a soft calming voice, but all he does is scream in terror.

“Get off me!” he pushes six pairs of hands off of him as he scrambles away from you and the rest of the losers club. “You left me! You took me to Neibolt! You aren’t my friends!”

“Stan, we were looking for you. We were so worried, I was so worried,” your hand gently touches his cheek, trying to see how much physical damage IT had caused.

“Get away from me!” he glares at you as he smacks your hand away from him. “You're no better than Henry! Worse than him! You tricked me into being your friend just so you could hurt me!”

You rip yourself away from the curly haired boy so fast you fall flat on your ass as you try to move away. You gasp and tears fill your eyes, Bill’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder. He had been with you at Neibolt, he saw that your fear was Henry. Your feelings for Stan were obvious, so the accusations made the rest of the boys angry at Stan for hurting you. Tears fall quickly from your cheeks as you stand and back away from the group. You need to get out of there, away from Stan, away from the pain.

The rest of the losers back away from their friend and get ready to search for their favorite redhead. You all find Bev quickly, and you smirk as Ben kisses her to wake her up. Pennywise soon appears, attacking Bill first, the rest of you try to fight the clown but it doesn’t work.

“Let him go!” Bev’s plea reminds you of yours from earlier.

“No, I’ll take him” IT shakes its head with a grin. The killer clown explains to the group how it will eat your flesh as it feasts on your fears. “I’ll take him and only him,” IT offers.

“Leave,” Bill begs the losers.

“I’m gonna have to kill this fucking clown,” Richie complains. “Welcome to the losers club asshole!” he screams, hitting Pennywise in the face with a discarded baseball bat.

Chaos erupts, everyone grabs for a weapon to fight the clown with. As everyone starts attacking IT with the garbage they found, IT manages to slip away. You all decide, stupidly, to split up and look for Pennywise.

“Good morning sunshine,” Henry’s annoying voice whispers into your right ear, dialogue straight from an incident where he almost seriously injured you. “Dad’s not home.” You can hear the smirk in IT’s voice.

“This isn’t real! You aren’t Henry! You aren’t real!” you scream, the losers stop their search for the clown and watch on nervously.

“It’s time to play sis!” IT laughs like a maniac as he walks in front of you, you're forced to stare up into IT’s eyes. Pennywise steps closer so you step back, which you do again and again. A replica of Henry’s switchblade pops open and is pointed directly at your gut. “Daddy dearest isn’t home to stop me!”

“Go through with it! Do it! Do what the real Henry never had the guts to do!” you scream at your brother- well Pennywise. He has you backed into a wall, switchblade dully pushing into you just above your navel. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as you pant, angry tears mixing with the heartbroken ones from earlier as you stare defiantly at the thing that had been after you and your friends all summer.

IT backs away slowly, your brothers-Pennywise’s- head tilting to the side as he studies you. A grin too large to be humanly possible splits across Henry’s face, rows of teeth on display as IT laughs in delight. You see your friends inching closer to you and the clown, you make eye contact with Richie giving him a slight shake of your head. He sighs in defeat, grabbing both Stan and Eddie pulling them back, the rest of the losers halt when they realize what the trashmouth did.

“You were easy to crack,” IT giggles loudly, shifting back into a clown. IT lifts a hand up, finger tracing your cheek down to your throat, stopping directly over your artery.

“Take me and leave my friends alone!” you glare up at IT.

As the clown goes to open its mouth, Ben comes out of nowhere and stabs IT right in the back. The rest of the losers start attacking IT again, the clown shifts from fear to fear in hopes of getting one of the losers to stop. It shifts to Bev’s father, so she stabs a rusty rod right down IT’s throat in order to make him go away. The clown convulses and backs away from the group.

“That’s why you didn’t kill (Y/N) and Bev, because they weren’t afraid of you!” it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Bill not stutter. “We aren’t afraid of you. Now it’s your turn to be afraid, because you’ll starve.” IT flips itself into a hole that leads lower into the sewer system, letting go and disintegrating before Bill can whack IT with a pipe.

You all stare in shock for a few moments before making your way out of the sewers and towards your homes. The losers all talking amongst themselves, all but you. you’re ahead of the group, wanting to put as much distance between you and Stan as you possibly can. Eddie too, he had already asked what you meant while Pennywise was still Henry. Two conversations you definitely didn’t want to have.

“(Y/N/N)? You okay?” Stan’s distant and worried voice breaks you out of your memories. “Where were you just now?”

“I’m fine,” you lie and he can tell by the flash of pain that crosses your face. “Just thinking about the other day.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Stan frowns, turning away from the carvings on the wood to face you fully. “I wasn’t in the right head space-”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, fingers gently running over the S carved into the wood.

“No it isn’t,” he says firmly, you look at him with wide eyes. You weren’t expecting him to get so serious about it. “IT messed with my head, made me see things that weren’t true and I took it out on you.”

“Stan, I get it. IT knew how to hurt us most,” you reach over and lightly wrap your hand around his in a reassuring gesture. He stares down at your joined hands for a moment, ears turning a vibrant red, before continuing with his explanation.

“He showed me a vision of you and Bill kissing,” Stan flips his hand over and laces his fingers with yours.

“What-” you’re eyebrows furrow as you watch his face grow from pink to red.

“I like you, (Y/N). A lot. And when IT showed me that it broke my heart. Deep down I knew it wasn’t real, but it felt so real. I’ve liked you since the beginning of the school year, and I never had the guts to tell you. Because why would you like me? You could have any guy, how could you ever possibly want me-” you cut him off by gently pressing your lips to his. It’s a soft and fast peck, but you still pull away smiling. “What?”

“I like you too, you loser. For just as long, I was scared to say anything because of Henry,” you giggle at his shock, mouth open and eyes wide. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

“Speaking of Henry,” Stan’s mouth snaps shut before his lips pull into a deep frown. “What did you mean back in the sewers?” You sigh, not wanting to admit it allowed. Stan pushes a strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek gently.

“Henry thought I broke his Atari, so he screamed at me endlessly and threatened to kill me,” you admit softly, rage and sadness battle within Stan’s eyes as he takes in the information. “It wasn’t the first time he threatened that, but it seemed different that time. My dad had no idea, he only heard some of the yelling, which he screamed at Henry for doing. So that made Henry even more mad at me. But anyway, it turns out that it was Belch that broke it.”

“(Y/N),” Stan says softly, pulling you into his embrace. “I’ll never let anyone else hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask hopefully, could you really finally be happy?

“I promise,” he kisses your forehead softly. “I know this isn’t great timing, but will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’d love to,” you grin at him, gently caressing the bandages as you pull him in for another kiss.

tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny

#Stan the man #stan uris #stanley uris #stanley uris imagine #stan uris x reader #it fanfiction #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #stan uris fanfiction #stan uris imagine #stan uris one shot #stanley uris one shot #stanley uris x reader #it 2017 #it 2019 #the losers club #the losers club x reader #stanley uris fanfiction

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

Note

Regarding what was lying in mom's bed three months after she had passed.

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Bonnie Jennings, regarding a discovery made in her mother’s bed three months after her mother’s death. Original statement given May 18, 2009. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Mum and I… we weren’t close. That’s probably an understatement. I suppose the correct word for it is that we were estranged, but that’s always seemed far too gentle for my liking. If I’m being honest, Mum and I hated one another. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but my mother was a difficult woman to get along with. She drove everybody away in the end, but not even in the tragic, oh, she can’t help it kind of way. No, she knew exactly what she was doing. She revelled in it, I think. Well, I know she did. I’m not sure what she got out of it, but she liked to… to hurt people, I guess. She got a kick out of it. She was never quick about it, never in-your-face, because that wasn’t fun for her. She was so insidious. She would draw it out, let it take its time, ensure you never had enough to directly confront her about it. She never had a kind word for anyone or anything, and especially not for me. You know, I absolutely hate it, because whenever I mention that my mother and I didn’t talk much people always assume it’s because of well, you know. Somebody like that, you don’t expect them to be accepting of these kinds of things, do you? They always assume I had the classic story of coming out and being booting into the street, but no. That’s just a tragic story that gets parcelled up and delivered out as sad little stories meant to tell everyone how brave we are, and how much we endure, and it always ends with a reconciliation or with us getting back on our feet, stronger for it. Really, that’s not what happens most often. Of course it still does, and I’m not denying that, but I think people need to talk more about the more subtle kind of dismissal we might face. When I told Mum I was trans, all she said was “alright”. That’s it. Just the one word. She didn’t want to know anything more about it, she didn’t want to ask what it meant. She was completely disinterested, but not even in the way that some parents might be – struggling to deal with the fact that they’ve lost a child or whatever crap they come out with. I’m charitable about it – I know it is a shock. I have a lot of trans friends with good relationships with their parents who reported that their parents did need some time just to get used to the idea, but I think that’s normal. When somebody has an idea of you and you tell them they’re wrong, and that you were never that person, it’s a shock. But Mum was so self-centred, so absorbed in her own existence, that she really didn’t care about anything or anyone else. It didn’t matter that her son was actually her daughter. It didn’t centre on her, so who cares? It was infuriating, because on the surface she looked like a model mother. She began using the correct name and pronouns immediately and didn’t slip up once. She advised me on clothing and hair and makeup and gave me beauty tips. She looked so supportive, but really it was just her controlling criticism repackaged. I think, in a sick way, she loved having a daughter. Now she was the expert, as the older woman, and she could boss me around and condescend to me even more. It was an absolute nightmare, but I’m not here to talk smack about my mum – even though I could quite happily do so all day. No, this is about what happened after she was dead and gone. You hear that? Dead. She’s dead, and she’s still causing me problems.

I hadn’t spoken to Mum for over a year when she passed. She never even told me she was sick. None of my business, I guess. It was just Mum and me growing up, and there was no extended family. As I said, Mum drove everyone away in the end. There was absolutely nobody there at all, and that’s why her body rotted in her house for months before anyone found her. She died in the winter, and it was so cold her body basically froze – she never left the heating on a timer, always turned it on manually so she could have more control over the cost. It wasn’t until the weather started getting warmer that neighbours noticed all the flies on the window, realised they hadn’t seen Mum for a while. They called the police, the police broke in, and they found the putrid mess that used to be my mother. Pretty messed up, right? Somehow I was still her emergency contact, because I guess there was nobody else, and so the police called me and broke the news and I was shocked but not really that upset. I mean, that sounds bad, but she’s been dead to me for some time, you know? Really it was sort of nice to know she was actually dead, because grieving for a living person – especially a person you never really had – is a very complicated business. Now she was dead, I thought I could finally just close that chapter. Of course it’s never that easy.

As her next of kin, I was responsible for her… estate, I suppose. That sounds so grand considering it was just a small semi-detached in rural Lincolnshire, but little though it was, it was mine. She never made a will, as I found out when I expressed surprise she’d left me anything at all. She hadn’t actually bothered, so by default it had all gone to me. I was living in Peterborough at the time, and Mum’s house was only in Spalding, so we didn’t live that far apart at all. It didn’t take long for my then-boyfriend and I to get in the car and head down there to see what all we needed to do. I wasn’t interested in keeping the house for myself, because why would I want it? Not to mention Henry and I had been considering buying a place together – later, when he proposed to me, he confessed he had been planning to pop the question that weekend but then they had to go and find my mother’s corpse, which was kind of funny in a morbid way – so we figured if we could sell the place it might be good money to put towards our own first house. Of course, there was the small matter of trying to sell a house where somebody had died, but I figured it wouldn’t be that hard. It wasn’t a brutal murder or anything like that. If we could clean the place up nicely, I didn’t think it would matter too much.

Well, they hadn’t exactly told us how bad it was going to be. Did you know that the family are in charge of cleaning up a house after a death? I didn’t. I thought that would be something that would be covered, you know? By who I’m not sure, but I didn’t think it would be down to family members to scrub up blood and worse from the carpets or the walls or whatever. I at least thought the police would warn us, and maybe it just slipped their mind, but whatever happened or didn’t happen ended up with Henry and I walking into that house not knowing what to expect at all.

We soon got the idea. The stench was abysmal, even just walking up the garden path. Of course, the body itself had been taken care of, but a body that’s been laying in the house for three months leaves behind a lot of evidence, even if it did spend most of that time mostly frozen. Mum’s bedroom was just… it was a nightmare. Words cannot describe the stretch. Sweet and sticky and sickly; you can taste it more than you can smell it. Cloying. That’s the word that came to my mind. I always thought it was a stupid word, but in that moment I understood exactly what it meant. Cloying. I could feel it in my throat and in my nose, thick and viscous, like having a cold and needing to cough up phlegm. Thank God I hadn’t had anything to eat or I would have thrown up. Poor Henry wasn’t so lucky – though he just about made it to the bathroom. I suppose I’m just morbidly curious, because despite the stench I walked right in there, holding my cardigan over my nose. The covers were pulled right back from the bed and there was this incredible stain on the mattress, almost like a bruise in the way it faded into different colours and shades. Sort of like a bruise meeting a patch of rusted iron, black and deep red and dark purple and then lighter shades of brown and grey, all in the vague outline of a prone body at the darkest parts, spreading out like some messed up halo as it grew lighter. It was absolutely vile, but fascinating in its own way. At the very least, she had done us the favour of dying in the bed rather than on the floor, because the carpet would have been a lost cause. With this, I reckoned we could throw out the bed and everything on it, air the room out, and it would be good as new.

I needed a little fresh air myself, so I opened the windows wide and then went to see if Henry was alright. He was still retching pretty badly, so I snooped around the spare room a bit – nothing much to see, if I’m honest – and then decided to wait for him in the back garden, where I’d be able to take advantage of the breeze. I was sure I could smell that heavy stench clinging to my hair, and do you know for weeks afterwards I still thought I could smell it? It doesn’t come out, no matter how much you wash it. Anyway, I obviously glanced into Mum’s room on my way out, and immediately I saw something was wrong. The covers were all back on her bed.

Now, I know for a fact they weren’t there before, because I saw the big stain on the mattress. Now the covers were back in place, not tucked in or even overly neat, but definitely covering the bed and tossed around like somebody was curled up under them, asleep. Strangely I didn’t feel scared or even very confused. I kind of… stood there for a moment, wondering how I was seeing what I was seeing, and then quite quickly I just accepted that I was seeing it and there was nothing I could do about that, so I decided to check it out. It’s not something I would ordinarily do, I don’t think – I’m curious, but I’m not touch a bed covered in decomposing body juices curious – but for some reason I just walked in there and pulled back the covers. One fluid movement, like a mother trying to get her teenager up for school. I just yanked it back from the top, near the pillows, and then I finally felt the horror that should have come much sooner.

It was… maggots, obviously. They were everywhere, writhing around in a huge pile, twisting their way over the stain and out of the bedsheets and even crawling up my arm, where I was still holding the covers. I screamed and shook my arm frantically, sending maggots flying in all directions, and immediately they began making their way back to the mass on the bed. It was like there was some kind of gravitational pull dragging them back to that pile of wriggling, twitching creatures, and as I watched I became convinced there was some kind of method to their movements. They were arranging themselves, forming into a shape, and I only dragged my eyes away when Henry appeared in the doorway, looking alarmed. I realised then that I’d screamed, and I tried to play it down – in that moment I wasn’t overly surprised, now I’d had a second to think about it, because yeah, of course there are maggots. They like dead bodies, right? I guessed that after the body was removed there were probably a ton of them in the mattress itself that had wriggled up in search of food, though thinking about it again, I didn’t recall seeing any holes in the cover sheet or anything. I tried to calm down, but something drew my eyes back to the maggots – I think it was the way Henry was just staring at the bed, horrified in a way I’ve never seen before – and I saw that the maggots had… how do I even describe this?

They had sat up. They were sitting, and they were in the vague shape of a person. I could see a head, shoulders, the arms limply by the sides. There was a torso that joined on to the bend of hips and legs stretched out in front, over the bed, the feet disappearing into the covers that were still left. I could see the slight rise in the covers where the feet were. The maggots were still moving around, so the shape was constantly shifting, but I could distinctly see details beginning to emerge. Hair. The sunken pits where eyes should be. A gaping mouth that was opening and closing, a black void behind it, as though the figure was trying to say something. And it was. I could hear this strange voice, like an exhale of air, a voice that was barely there at all – but I knew it was saying my name. Bonnie. Bonnie. I could hear it as clearly as anything. In that moment, it was the loudest thing in the room.

I stumbled backwards, but it was as far as I could go. I was frozen, even as I watched the figure swing itself out of bed and get to unsteady feet. It stumbled towards me like a drunk, wheezing deep in its throat, and I thought it sounded like a laugh. I’m not even saying that with hindsight – it was laughing at me. It was my mother’s laugh, and in that moment I knew she was doing this. I mean, I don’t know if she was, because how could she? But in that moment I thought I knew she was doing it, anyway, and I was so angry at her. I was so damn mad at her, for dying in such a horrible way and leaving me with the mess, for all the stuff she’d pulled on me growing up, for every single thing she had done to me, the big things and the petty things, and now this! She couldn’t even die properly, she had to come back and terrify me and traumatise me and ruin everything! I screamed again, but this time it was just pure, animalistic rage – I’ve never heard myself make such a sound. I looked around and I saw the chair sitting in front of the mirror and I picked it up by the back and chucked it into the air, catching it by the back legs and swinging it at the maggot figure with everything I had. I don’t even know what good I thought it would do, because it was just maggots, but the figure disintegrated around the torso and the maggots scattered to the floor. The figure half-collapsed, just a pair of legs wobbling towards me, and I let out this manic laugh before I saw the maggots were already regrouping. Finally I gathered some of my senses and I turned for the door, yelling at Henry to run. He didn’t need telling twice. We both sprinted down the hall and I think we both jumped clean down the entire set of stairs – or it at least felt like that. We ran out into the street and I pulled my cardigan off and started jumping on it, because I was sure I could feel all those maggots crawling on me. Henry finally grabbed me and pulled me away, and we got into the car and drove off. Left the cardigan right there on the street.

We didn’t really discuss what had happened. I hired a cleaning company that specialised in that kind of clean-up, and they never reported any problems. The house was cleaned up good as new, aired out, all Mum’s stuff either sold or thrown away. Eventually the house sold too, even if it did take a little longer than I’d like. Henry and I got married, managed to buy our first house, and while we’ve mentioned it vaguely a few times we’ve still not really talked about it. I think we both probably mutually agreed that we must have been seeing things, and to be honest I let myself believe that for a while. I mean, there’s no way, right? But recently it’s just been bugging me, and I’ve been dreaming about it. It’s just been on my mind, and I can’t pretend that I didn’t see what I saw any longer. I don’t know if this will be of any use to you, or even if it’s the kind of thing that you go in for, but I thought I would write it down nevertheless. I do feel a little better now, weirdly. I thought reliving it all would make me feel worse, but I’m not going to complain.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Well. That certainly makes me wish I hadn’t eaten lunch before recording. It all seems mostly standard up until the sentient maggot hivemind, and if it had just been Mrs Jennings present I would say it’s possible she might have been mistaken. It’s a fairly specific thing to see, but given the circumstances and the inherent revulsion most people experience when seeing that many maggots at once, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the stress of the situation resulted in Mrs Jennings believing she saw something unusual. There is, however, one more thing included with this statement – a brief affirmation from Mr Jennings, which, while he chose not to go into detail, does affirm that everything in Mrs Jennings’ statement is true to what he himself witnessed. Of course, he wasn’t present with his wife for the entirety of the time period the statement covers, but he was there at the most important part. One person having such a highly specific hallucination would be a stretch, but two people experiencing the exact same highly specific hallucination is even less likely.

Tim contacted the current residents of the house that used to belong to Mrs Jennings’ mother, but they reported nothing at all unusual in the time they had been living there. They were aware of the fact a death had occurred in the house – just as well, really, as Tim was quite happy to tell them about it – but didn’t seem overly bothered. In fact, Tim reported that they seemed almost disappointed that the house hadn’t come with a resident ghost, though looking at Mrs Jennings’ description of her mother, I’m not entirely sure that’s the kind of ghost they would want to have to house share with.

Tim also managed to get in contact with John Atchieson, owner and operator of Atchieson Cleaning Solutions, a company based in Peterborough that, alongside general domestic and commercial cleaning jobs, also specialises in cleaning up biohazardous materials – crime scenes, accident scenes, natural deaths. The case of Mrs Jennings’ mother was found in their records, and Mr Atchieson could remember nothing unusual about it. In a rare stroke of luck, the employee assigned to oversee the clean up at the house was Mr Atchieson’s son, also named John; Mr Atchieson Senior was able to contact him and ask if he remembered anything specific from the site himself, but apparently there was nothing remarkable about the job at all – just a standard decomposition job, hauling away the hazardous materials and cleaning the room with heavy chemicals to try to get rid of the smell. Mr Atchieson Junior helped remove the mattress himself, and reported no maggots of any kind.

Given the lack of physical evidence I would like to claim that there is no basis to this statement, but considering the fact there are two witnesses and this wouldn’t be the first time that a being apparently made of some kind of larvae or insect has been observed wandering about, I’m more inclined to worry about where Mrs Jennings’ mother may have gone, if she was no longer in her bedroom.

End recording.

#tma #statement prompts #my writing #fakements #long post #anon #asks

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