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kelpan · 7 months

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Our first Sundrop POV chapter!!! Enjoy this precious, handsome boi! :D

Credit for this commissioned Sundrop Headshot goes to wwispie on Etsy! As their shop is closed at the moment, check 'em out on Instagram by the same name! Their art is absolutely incredible!

Might be a little bit 'till we reach Moon's first POV chapter, but that headshot will be ready and waiting until then!

Ao3: Petals on a Stream of Stars

Act 1, Chapter 5: A Quest for Snacks

Tuesday

12:00 PM

Sundrop

Sun’s motors whirred as he waved goodbye to the last of his little sunspots, content to watch them all run off, giggling and screaming under the watchful eye of the two human staff members in charge of handling lunch today. He released a deep exhale, his body slumping forward, shoulders drooped and arms dangling. He loved his little sunspots, he really did—but he just did not have the battery to keep up with them all today!

Not like he ever seemed to have much of a full battery anymore, but still.

Turning about on his heel, he made his way over to the security desk, and grabbed a bottle of disinfectant spray stored there, along with a clean towel. No time to waste dragging feet; The Daycare wasn’t going to clean itself.

He’d start over at the gym mats, he decided, given how many running, sniffling noses he’d noticed during tumble-time today. Spring allergies must be hitting the kids pretty hard this season. He wouldn’t be surprised if a few of his regulars started calling out sick soon.

He sprayed and wiped down every tiny vinyl nook and cranny, refusing to allow even one speck of germ-riddled dirt to remain for the next group of kids to find. Humans were such fragile, susceptible things. A clean environment was crucial to ensure all his kids would grow up to be big and strong!

After he’d finished, he spared a glance to arts and crafts, and spotted his new coworker still hard at work re-organizing and cleaning her section, just like he’d asked her to. Already she’d done better than the others who Fazbear tried to shove in the position. Everyone else had been far more concerned with their phones to even consider interacting with the kids, and Sun knew upper management was getting tired of having to find new hires to fill the role. If there was ever a staff member he needed to ensure he made a good impression on, it was her.

A soft melody floated through the air from her direction, sweet and enticing for such simple notes, the sound commanding he stop and listen. She sang under her breath, too quiet for his audio detection system to make out clearly. The song was light, and cheery, but held a curious note of sadness to it. Wanting to hear more, he made his way over after putting away his cleaning supplies, careful to be soft-footed lest he interrupt.

He managed to walk right up to her from behind without her noticing. After waiting a minute, to avoid coming across as awkward, he attempted to announce his presence as subtly as he could.

“Why, don’t you have a pretty voice!” he said, injecting his voice in the space where she stopped to breathe.

Chrysanthemum jolted on the spot, her shoulders snapping up to attention. She whipped about to face him, her sharp, bright green eyes shooting daggers.

“Jiminy Crickets! God, Sun, don’t scare me like that!”

She clutched a hand to her chest, breathing hard. He flashed an apologetic smile, rays tilted backwards, and held his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He lowered his hands once she relaxed some. “Won’t happen again”. He gestured to the side with his thumb. “So, how goes it? Do you need any help?”

She gave him one more half-hearted, pointed stare before turning her focus back to the sea of tiny tables and chairs.

“No, not really, it’s all done. I just put the last of it away a second ago.”

“Ah, perfect! That’s wonderful.” He stood tall, with his hands on his hips, surveying the space with satisfaction. “I’d say it looks great! Thank you for helping. Why don’t you go ahead and take your lunch break now, get a couple of extra minutes of rest before the next shift rolls around. I’ll finish up the rest on my own.”

Her brows crinkled. “My lunch break? Oh, yeah. Right. Should probably eat something, that’d be smart.” She looked around the room, and tapped her arm. “Hey, are you sure you don’t need another hand? I’m happy to keep going, you know, if there are things that still need done.” Though she smiled, she appeared tense. Something was off.

“That’s very sweet of you.” He said, picking his words carefully. “But no, I’ve got this. Go take care of yourself. I insist.”

Her smile faded as she listened, and she looked aside. He waited for her to speak first. She’d tell him whatever was on her mind when she was ready.

“I… didn’t think to bring anything with me.” She mumbled, as if embarrassed. “Wasn’t thinking that far ahead.” Her voice rose in pitch. “B-But, it’s fine! I can just wait until I get back home later to eat. It’s no big deal.”

He recoiled. “And go that long without fuel? Oh no, no, no, I don’t think so! Kids forget their snacks all the time. Come on, come with me. We’ll find you something to eat!”

He reached straight for her wrist and tugged, guiding her towards the door. She squeaked in weak protest, but he held firm. Only once he saw she would follow of her own accord did he let go.

Out the Daycare and down the hall, he led them to the main crossroads on this side of the building. They walked in silence, the only sound to accompany their footsteps the jingle of the belled ribbons tied to his wrists. Sun watched Chrys stare at her surroundings with interest, and his features relaxed. To see an adult look at his world with eyes like that of a child was… refreshing.

Before long, they reached the first landmark, a large central staircase connecting multiple levels to the rest of the pizzaplex. Once they’d begun to climb the first few steps, a loud thudding noise echoed from out in the distance, each thud reverberating through to the floor. Chrys stopped in her tracks, head swiveling from side to side, stray strands of her red, wavy hair bouncing from the movement.

“Hey, don’t worry,” He chimed in, sensing her unease. “That’s just another animatronic. The others aren’t as, uh… light on their feet as I am. Have you met any of them yet?”

She shook her head no, her discomfort clear. He placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand behind her back, floating just a hair above to keep from actually touching, and kept them both moving until they reached the top of the stairs. Upon reaching the next level, he received an alert on his internal monitor, detecting movement approaching from the left. His rays fell the instant he saw who it was that stepped into the light.

Of course it had to be Monty.

“Well, well!” The Gator perked as he spotted them in turn. “Looky there! Vitamin D, I ain’t never seen you out the Daycare anymore! What’s it been, weeks? Months? Not that I blame ya, ya know, after all that uh… mess. Uh, so! How ya been? Kids recovering?”

Sun tensed, his fists tightening at his sides. This was not the time, nor the place to be talking about that day, especially with such nonchalance.

And in front of her.

Sun grit his teeth, doubling down on his composure as Monty clunked over, his green and yellow endo-skeleton shell polished to a shine.

“Our kids are just fine, thank you very much. I suggest you be more concerned with the kids in your own sector. Heard another fell into the river again. Didn’t they almost drown?”

“Ay now, not my fault if the pizzaplex didn’t install a safety railing!” He pointed a fat, clawed finger at his face. “Don’t you dare accuse me of being neglectful. Those kids are way safer with me than they are with you and your slash-happy brother over at the—”.

“Shut it!”

Sun darted, slapping Monty’s finger away and shoved his own towards Monty’s snout.

“You don’t get to talk about him like that, you hear me? Why don’t do us all a favor and go find some random display stand to destroy. Just as long as you leave us alone, we’re busy.”

Too little too late, Sun realized the error it was to reference Chrys in front of Monty the moment he saw those arrogant red eyes pan down to hers, shifting from rage to confusion to mischief. Sun sidled his hand slightly in front of her, a silent word of warning.

“Aye, wait a tic, who’s this? You steal a newbie or something, Sun? Heh, didn’t think you had it in you. What’s your name, cutie?”

Monty leaned down low, circumnavigating him. Sun kept his eyes trained on Monty’s every movement, ready to respond the moment Monty overstepped—which he always did.

From the corner of his eye, Chrys stiffened, her heart-rate rising enough to ping his monitor.

“Um, Chrys. My name is Chrys.” She said, voice shaky.

Monty flashed his bleached row of sharp, pointed teeth. “Chris? That’s funny. Is that a common human name or something? Seems we got a lot of those on staff. Can’t say it's my favorite, one of them is a righteous pain in my ass. Literally. Though you are the prettiest outta all of them here by far.” He took Chrys’s hand in his own without asking, and raised it to the tip of his snout, pressing to it a makeshift kiss. “Pleased to meet ya.”

That does it!!!

With force, he grabbed Monty’s wrist and squeezed, breaking his hold on Chrys’s fingers and shoved him away, sending the staggered gator backward a few steps.

“Hey! The fuck? What the hell is your problem???”

“Language, Montgomery. You know that kind of behavior isn’t appropriate”.

“Oh, come off it! Ain’t no kids here. I was just being polite with a lady. You got a problem with that?”

Sun stood firm in the face of Monty’s bared teeth. It paid to be one of the few animatronics in the ‘Plex with height advantage, especially given Monty’s reputation for acts of violence. “If being “polite” means harassing my assistant, then yes, I have a problem with it. Keep. Your. Hands. To. Yourself.”

Monty stared him down, before breaking the terse silence with a grunt and a roll of his eyes.

“I wasn’t… I was just… Gah. Whatever, Sun, have it your way. But you listen to me, filly,” He broke eye contact with him and looked at Chrys. “This one may look all brave now, but just you wait. When push comes to shove, he’ll freeze like a deer in headlights, leaving you all alone to drown. And ain’t nobody gonna come save you. ‘Specially not me.”

He emphasized his words with a sharp thumb jab, before shoving past the two of them, muttering “outta my way” under his breath.

Neither Chrys nor he moved until he had disappeared from sight, his heavy footsteps fading to a disturbed silence.

Arrogant lizard.

Sun took a deep breath, in an effort to reground himself. He couldn’t let Monty’s antics get any more of a rise out of him than they’d already had.

He turned to Chrys, examining her features for any lingering signs of distress. She looked him right in the eye, her cheeks dry and mouth set in a straight line. Not great, but better than the tears he’d anticipated.

“Miss Chrys? Are you alright?”

She refused to speak, instead continuing to stare at him with a blank expression. Her heart rate had fallen to a more appropriate level, but still remained higher than her baseline. She didn’t seem frightened, or upset, leaving Sun at a loss as to how to navigate this situation. Had he frightened her? Was she uncomfortable now? The gears in his gut clenched at the thought of her taking the Gator’s words to heart.

“I-I’m so sorry you had to see all that! Don’t let him get to you. Guy has no manners whatsoever.”

“Yeah. Thanks”. She said, arms held close to her, making her appear so small. She hooked a strand of hair with a single finger and fiddled with it. His rays drooped. The ease to which they’d interacted before seemed to be gone.

“Of course.” He said, reserved.

Sun gestured, and the two walked on in silence, him unable to resist looking over at her every few seconds. She kept her eyes to the floor, her face just as unreadable as before. Sun clamped a lid on his nerves, thinking it best to give her some space instead of forcing small talk.

Minutes passed, uncomfortable and drawn out, before Sun saw a light at the end of the tunnel; The marquee sign hanging above the entrance to the theater.

“Ah, h-here we are! It’s just a little further to the storeroom. Sorry for the bit of a walk, there’s no other way to go that has this much light.”

Chrys nodded her head, and ducked under his arm which held one of the heavy double doors open for her. It closed behind them with an unsettling click.

Chrys stood in the middle of the lobby, head tilted back as she took in the space. “Didn’t know the pizzaplex had a theater too.”

“Oh yes!” Sun said, guiding them down past the box office and into a red carpeted hallway littered with “staff only” signs on every door. “Plays, musicals, comedy, poetry readings, you name it! It’s catered more to the adults, but it’s been doing very well lately! It’s mostly just the staff who do the performances though. Saves money, apparently. Hey, maybe you could do something too! I heard that voice of yours, I bet you’d be fabulous at it!”

Chrys let out a conflicted chuckle, and turned away. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

His shoulders dipped. He’d made a misstep again.

Following the carpet down the hall, they passed through a bare metal door, and entered out into a wide, concrete room, a stark contrast to the warm atmosphere of the theater.

“Welcome to the Storeroom!” Sun said, arms outstretched. They stood on a small, railed landing, connected to the center of the room by two small steps. An amalgamation of supplies sat littered about, some strewn across the floor, while some sat haphazard on the rows of shelving units filling the space. The fluorescent rod lights buzzed overhead.

“This space connects to multiple sectors of the Pizzaplex, so we all have to share it. All of the Daycare’s snacks should be right here!” Sun bounded off the railing and made a beeline for the leftmost corner. He popped open three different tubs, each causing him to frown once he’d looked inside.

“Ah. Seems as if someone has done some, uh, rearranging, since the last time I did a supply run. We might have to look a bit, but I’m sure all the snacks are still in here somewhere!”

With a nod of her head, Chrys stepped off to the side, peering around and into boxes without moving or jostling anything around too much. Her footsteps faded into the quiet of the room, her every movement gentle. Even with things that weren’t hers, she was careful, he noticed.

The sound of their individual shuffling filled the air, until his sensors picked up on the tiniest of voices.

“Hey, Sun?” Chrys asked, hands still on the flaps of a cardboard box.

“Y-yes?” He stopped what he was doing to devote his full attention to her, his coils wound tight in the seconds between.

“Who was Monty talking about? The one he called… slash-happy?”

Shoot.

He knew it was too much to hope that she’d forgotten that part. Sun chewed on his words for a moment, before releasing a sigh. Better to get this over with.

“Oh. Yes. Well, that would be… Moondrop. My uh, twin.”

He picked at his ball-joint knuckles. Her hands slid from the box to the shelf, where she let them rest, her brows furrowed as she looked at him.

“Your twin? I didn’t realize robots could have twins.”

He shrugged. “Built by the same person at the same time. Just like human twins.”

She nodded. “Guess that makes sense. Does he work in the daycare too, then?”

“Ah,” Sun tugged on one of his rays. “Yes and no. He’s in charge of naptime, but until the Midnight Garden is operational again, all naptimes have been suspended. He’s been… transferred to security for the time being.”

“Will I get to meet him?” She asked in a quiet voice.

He raised his gaze to hers, and hesitated before answering. In her he saw not a drop of judgment. No disgust. No fear. He matched her energy by letting his genuine emotions come through, without caring if he was being professional or not.

“I… imagine so. At some point.”

She smiled then, a widening of her lips that lit up her face. “If he’s anything like you, I think I’d like that.”

Sun’s own ever-present grin faltered, and his arms went limp. How can such a simple look hold such warmth and tenderness? He wanted to see it more, more than just this. She returned to the box she’d been originally rummaging through, as if she hadn’t just stunned him still.

With a hard shake of his head, he followed her lead and redirected his thoughts back to the task at hand. Focus! Based on the disorganized mess that was the Daycare’s shelves, he had little inclination to think that what they sought would be in any sort of logical spot. But the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize he might know of one plausible place to look; The lower dressing rooms. Perhaps the daycare’s food had been mistaken as a part of the theater’s concessions and moved there?

Checking to make sure Chrys would be alright before stepping out, Sun made his way through a series of shelves to the back half of the room, and found the connecting door to the basement-level dressing rooms propped open. Stepping inside, just as he suspected—and clearly labeled—were the boxes of snacks he used to help the kids stay energized between meals. Taking a quick perusal of his stock to ensure nothing was missing, he grabbed two strawberry uncrustable sandwiches and a bag of goldfish, tucking them securely in his pants pockets. Not the most nutritious meal, but better than nothing. He’d have to remember to come back after hours and return everything back to its proper locations.

As he turned around, the ripple of his reflection caught his eye, and he stopped to look at himself in the nearby vanity mirror. A hunched, rail thin, gangly figure in jester clothes stared back at him, the ruffled red and gold collar encircling his neck stuffy under such direct lighting. He’d never say it out loud, but he hated this outfit. Too fantastical, too outlandish, too… different. Sure, the kids like it, but often he’d wonder how bad it would be if he snuck some clothes from the gift shop, tried on something simple like a t-shirt, or sweatpants. Would some of the parents talk to him then, like a fellow adult? Or even some of the other staff members? As much as he hated to admit it, with Moon now… reassigned, he often found himself at a loss for company. Actual company. Where he could talk as himself. There were only so many safe topics he could share with the kids.

Least there was Chrys now. For however long she lasted before getting scared away, like had happened with all the others before her.

He’d just taken a step out of the room when his mind nagged at him to go back, that something wasn’t quite right. He shifted a half-step back, and looked around for anything off. It was then that it hit him; While he expected the main running lights overhead to be on, the room did appear far brighter than it usually did when not in use. The reason was easy to ascertain; Every single bare bulb circling the vanity mirrors was lit to full.

“Huh. That’s odd. Staff should know better than to leave those running. They’ll overheat and blow the fuse if left on too…”

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh nononononono!!

He dove for the table, fingers scrambling to find the light switch along the backside. Whether from the timing or his jostling, a low, ominous humming began to fill the room. The noise rose in volume, before climaxing into a booming CRACK that ricocheted and bounced off the walls.

The silence that followed was just as vast and endless as the darkness it brought.

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dontshootmespence · 3 years

Text

Stay

Summary: For years, Emily and Spencer have wondered what could be. It takes Emily leaving for London to spur Spencer into action.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 1,147

Warning: Spoilers through season 7. Drug mentions.

A/N: This fulfills my Reid/Emily square for @cmbingo.

Doyle was breathing down her neck and she needed to lay low, but after Derek approached her about her recent behavior, she knew she couldn’t keep turning down plans either without raising more suspicion. As she had so many times before, she found herself at Spencer’s apartment. With a heavy heart, she knocked on his door.

“Emily?” Spencer quickly ushered her into the apartment. “What’s wrong?”

Despite the desire to air out some long held feelings, the instant she saw the softness in his eyes and realized how much he cared for her and just what he meant to her, she couldn’t burden him that way. If she told him how she felt, he might want to start something between them and she couldn’t put him in harm’s way like that. Doyle was her battle and hers alone.

“Nothing,” she replied, injecting levity into her voice like it was second nature. “I was just in the area and I remember you telling me you got that Russian-subtitled Solaris on DVD and I was wondering if we could watch it?”

There was the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice, like he wanted to question her further, but then he broke out into a smile. “Sure! Um, do you want some popcorn?”

Nodding, Emily thanked him and sat down on the couch, feeling a bit peaceful for the first time in nearly a week. Settling in, she took the popcorn Spencer offered with a smile and watched Solaris for nearly two and a half hours, all the while debating with herself. As if he could sense her inner turmoil, Spencer interrupted the movie. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Emily sleepily sunk into the couch and leaned into him. “Yea, I just have a lot on my mind and don’t really want to talk about it. That okay?”

“Of course.”

She closed her eyes against the sound of his voice. “Thanks,”

----

The night Emily “died” was one of the worst nights of Spencer’s life. Not only did he lose one of his best friends, but the possibility of more - all because he was too cowardly, too afraid of rejection, to bring up how he truly felt. For weeks after her death, he’d gone crying to JJ and eventually told her about his feelings for Emily. Each day felt harder than the last, and in his despair, he nearly returned to dilaudid too many times to count. The only thing that kept him from contacting his old dealer was Emily’s voice in the back of his head.

“Please don’t.”

“This isn’t what you really want.”

“This isn’t what I want for you.”

Every emotion, every tear, every near relapse was thrown into sharp relief when she returned. And though he knew she did what she did for her own safety, he couldn’t make sense of it - and Hotch and JJ’s part in it - for months. “You know what I think it is?” JJ asked, anger and shame running through her body. “You’re made that Hotch and I controlled our micro expressions at the hospital and you weren’t able to detect our deception.”

Spencer swallowed back bile, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. “You think this is about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen - the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you! I came to your house for ten weeks in a row, crying over losing a friend, confiding in you, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.

“I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t?”

“No, I couldn’t!”

Not caring who he hurt, he blurted out. “What if I had started taking dilaudid again? Would you have let me?”

JJ looked taken aback. “You didn’t,” she replied shakily.”

“Yea, but I thought about it.”

That moment nearly broke him. Broke his relationship with JJ and left him more confused than ever about where he stood regarding his feelings for Emily. In the following months, they all made up, with Spencer deciding to forgive and thank any deity that existed that at least Emily was alive.

On Fridays, Spencer and Emily would get together and watch movies, sometimes foreign language ones, sometimes horror, sometimes something completely random, whether they were on a case or not. If home, they would eat popcorn like the used to and dance around the unspoken feelings between them.

It was only a year after her return, when she decided to move to London to find herself again post-death that Spencer realized he didn’t want to let her go. No matter what hang-ups he’d had before she died, or the ones that arose upon her return, they didn’t erase how he felt. But each time he tried to say something, he would get interrupted until she was on the plane and out of his reach.

Though he’d never told Derek about his feelings for Emily, he placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder one night, shortly after Emily departure. “There’s almost nothing worse than the unknown, kid.”

They sat in silence in the bullpen for a moment before Spencer replied. “You’re right.”

----

A week and a half after Emily left for London, Spencer found himself across the pond catching a cab in the middle of the pouring rain. With a windbreaker that was slightly too big and did little to keep away the cold, he knocked on Emily’s apartment door. “Spence?” Although taken aback by his presence, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Spence, what are you doing here?”

Spencer took a deep breath and grabbed Emily’s hand. “Emily, if I’m wrong I’m the worst profiler on the planet, but we’ve been dancing around this for a while. I like you as more than a friend. I have for a long time. Before you came back, before Doyle. I never said anything because I was afraid of what you’d say and then after you came back, the whole situation just left me confused about where I stood when it came to my feelings but then you were gone and it made me realize that I had to say something. Whether it goes anywhere or not is up to you from here on out, but I had to say something.”

“Spence, I-”

At first, Spencer thought that maybe he’d been reading into the little moments between them, but then she smiled.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here. You could’ve picked up the phone and told me and I would’ve said I feel the same way.” As she wrapped her arms around his waist, she laughed. “Instead, you’re all wet and you spent who the hell knows how much money.”

“You’re worth it, Emily.”

For one of the first time’s ever, he saw her blush. “Do you want to stay?”

“I was hoping you’d ask me that.”

#cmbingo #cmbingo21 #cmbingo 2021 #criminal minds #criminal minds bingo #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds masterlist #spencer reid #emily prentiss #spencer reid x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x spencer reid #reidiss #reidniss #dontshootmespence #stay

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ddaehyeon · 3 years

Text

。✧ hyacinth; park serim + reader

— pairing: fashion designer!park serim + photographer!reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff, exes au, post-breakup, slightly suggestive (one scene only!)

— word count: 7.1k

— warning: arguments, heartbreak, mentions of anxiety and emptiness

— summary: years had passed since you broke up with serim; life had been continuously patching up ever since. his name had marked several clothing lines, while your studio was well-known in the small city you lived in. who would’ve known that a sight of him on a bus stop would be enough to bring back wounds you thought had long ago healed?

— navi: playlist | video teaser | cravity masterlist

— a/n: my wips suffered from a major slump and this is quite an overdue fic (i also have another overdue fic help) but i hope someone would still at least read this though >< the first ver of this didn't satisfy me and though this ver didn't satisfy me that much, i feel like after rewriting almost half of the fic, this one's better. i'll do my best to pull something better soon!

autumn must be the most magical part of the year. the leaves experiencing a color alteration, scarlets and golds carpeting the ground— a yearly harvest of the earth where everything was gradually being taken away. long gone was the heat of the summer; the chilly evening breeze sure was much friendlier than of winter. the season served as a comforting quilt. it was such a great time for warm drinks that could lift up the mood even for the wariest.

you let go of a breath as you stared at the window, the sun was setting. the color fleshed out in the sky golden, jiving well with the surrounding that was already of the same palette. with an indoor shoot for a seasonal issue of a magazine, it sure was a tiring day. the sound of camera clicks still ringing in your head, along with the hushed talks and chitchats coming from the staff members and the models.

at first, you were hesitant to accept the project. afraid that you’d bump by one of the renowned fashion designers in your region, park serim. but then, you couldn’t just chicken out when a hefty sum was to be paid. the relief you had when you saw that his name wasn’t on the list of designers was almost the same kind of relief you'd have after preventing big trouble from occurring.

“i finished placing back the props in the room.” hyeongjun’s voice was still as bright as it was this morning as if not touched by any fatigue. he was one of the photographers you hired in your studio, offering only fine shots. “i’ll be going home early, just send me a message about what time tomorrow’s shoot will be!”

“thank you, junie.” a smile was on your brim as you nodded on his words, watching him pack his camera and leave afterward.

silence melted in the room as soon as hyeongjun stepped out. alone in your photography studio, you sat on a stool used earlier by one of the models. the room was dimly lit with only one of the umbrella lights open. it was only by then that you realized your thighs were already stiff from the nonstop work earlier. you wanted to go home and just be in the comforts of your bed.

pulling out your phone, you dialed your brother’s number, frowning when it took him quite a while to pick up. was he busy or did he just forget that he was supposed to pick you up tonight?

jungmo would always fetch you by your studio after his working hours concluded. with the two of you living together in the same house, your brother just found it ideal— bringing you to your work every morning and giving you a drive home every evening. it might seem like he was babying you, but it was a gesture you grew fond of.

“y/n?” jungmo gasped on the other line. it seemed like he was outside, music playing in the background which mingled well with the peals of laughter. “shit, i forgot to tell you.”

you raised a brow, questioning his words. “what’s the matter?”

“can’t fetch you today.” you can already envision the pout he had on his lips. “i’m at a party with allen and woobin, catching up with my colleagues. i’ll make it up to you tomorrow, i promise!”

“alright. i’ll just ride the bus then.” it was your turn to purse your lips. you can’t bring yourself to complain about it though. “have fun! just stay in woobin’s apartment tonight, don’t drive!”

“i will, i will,” jungmo replied, a call of his name following. his friends might’ve been looking for him already. “text me alright? get home safely, y/nie.”

at the end of the phone call came another sigh from you. a tightlipped smile braced your lips as you stood to turn off the remaining lights. you retrieved your camera and placed it back in one of the drawers. making sure everything was back to its place, secured; you gave the place one final look. something you’d do every single day before going home. a reminder of the thing you loved the most. a reminder of what could have been.

the sidewalk wasn’t as empty as you imagined it to be, maybe you weren’t used to walking to the bus stop anymore. strangers of different day occurrences exchanged various looks that shared one same element, tiredness.

when the wind blew, fallen leaves danced along with it. the slight coldness making you tuck your hands inside the pocket of the cardigan you were wearing. you loved the cool breeze, but not when you knew you had to stay out on an open shed with it as your companion. cold weather could be your friend, a company for a better evening sleep. but rather a harsh fellow when you had to be alone, when loneliness can easily be injected to your senses.

tracing the path, a memory went to play in your head. way back in college, this was the same sidewalk you’d walk in with your ex-lover. a camera on your hand while he had a roll of satin in his arms. it was such a usual view for the two of you as you talked about how the day went, ranting about the monotonous lectures, gushing over how you missed each other’s company and how you wished that the two of you could get back to your shared apartment as soon just so you can snuggle on the couch.

you glanced at the sky, the cloud hiding the few scattered twinkling stars. a faint smile spread upon your lips, only to disappear when your gaze went back to the bus stop. the male that passed by in a form of fleeting memory earlier was standing right in front of you as if fleshed out from your mind. a lavender-colored paper bag was hanging on his arm, the logo of his product line delicately stamped on the middle. his phone was resting on his other hand, if he was scrolling through sns or texting someone, you weren’t sure.

the magical feeling he used to offer long gone, your stomach twisting into several knots. a cold sensation went down in your spine as a familiar tug came to pull your heartstring. he’s back? what is he doing here? he lives here again?

your thoughts were loud in your head, but none of it was pulled out loud. each word ending up as a lump in your throat. the air was thickening, your heart beating fast, not out of excitement, but out of the clashing thoughts that left you so nervous and confused. it had been years, how come a single sight of him made you feel like all your resolutions are gone? how did a single sight of him become enough to shatter the glass that protected you from the ache that night had caused you?

it was cold. but no, it was no longer because of the autumn breeze.

“serim?” the name was uttered in the same way you would before everything came crashing, yet it held a much weaker tone. you can’t even remember the last time your voice came to wrap around the syllables of his name.

the male turned his head to look at you, a brow raised as he stared at you. no obvious emotion, his eyes held no recognition.

and his reply? it sent a shiver down your spine, your stomach flipping in a horrendous manner.

“who are you?”

for a moment, the air caused such a nauseous feeling— thin and hard to inhale. it was only three words, yet it was powerful enough to serve as a punch in the gut.

how can he forget?

how can he forget how the two of you first met?

not that it was a very momentous event, just a regular struggle faced by two college students that needed someone else to accomplish a project for a major subject. there were no butterflies involved, nor did sparks fly the moment you met. regardless, up until now, that day burned fresh in your mind.

“i know someone from that department,” woobin said without even looking at you, his eyes focused on his book. though you weren’t sure if he was really paying attention to the words written there as he kept on diving in the conversation every now and then.

“and who might that be?” the dreadful task of having to pair up with the design department had been inhabiting your mind ever since it was given to you. pressure rising as you saw your other blockmates having no hard time getting themselves out there and communicating with the department they weren’t really accustomed to. you still have a month and a half, you were sure you can still make it. it was just a photoshoot anyway, featuring your partner’s designs.

“park serim,” woobin finally answered as if he had to think hard of the person’s name. “i think no one had asked him to become their partner, he’d be available to do it.”

desperate to get over with the task, later that day, you found yourself by the catwalk the design students would take. it was a path that connected their building to the main gate directly. your building wasn’t exactly far away from theirs, but still of a different building. with their building equipped with supplies and machineries for final products, yours were of computers, lightings, and screens.

you stared at your phone, his instagram profile opened. earlier, you already took the pleasure of checking his works out and without much filtering, him as well. he sure does love taking pictures of himself; something that could work perfectly with him being your subject. once satisfied, you left him a dm that was probably one of the most awkward sentences you had ever typed in the entirety of your life.

a notification popped out as you look at your screen, which was shortly followed by another. it was only of common courtesy to follow him before asking him for a favor right? you did that before messaging him and now he followed you back and replied to your dm. unlike you, he didn’t spend much time wandering in your profile. well, as if he had so much to look unto aside from the sceneries and some stories posted.

‘you were the person woobin was talking about? i’ll be out in two minutes. see you in the catwalk.’

it wasn’t too long of a duration, you allowed yourself to simply jump from a social media to another, mindlessly scrolling and liking some post every now and then. only lifting your head up when a wave of students began getting out of the establishment. most were holding mannequins with unfinished clothing attached to them, some were holding rolls of fabrics you weren’t sure what to call.

with squinted eyes, you tried to look for him among the crowds. woobin said that serim was a fashion design major, so he’d probably be holding the same thing as the other students that came out.

and he was.

leaning on his shoulder was a mannequin, asymmetrically dressed in silk. it wasn’t sewn yet, only supported by sewing pins. an arm wrapped around a roll of what seemed to be linen of pastel blue color. there was also a paper bag hanging on his arm which seemed to have some extra fabric and maybe some other supplies.

you walked towards him with a wave to which he gave you a confused look at first, the frown melting away when he realized that you were the one who messaged him not even an hour ago.

“you’re y/n?” he asked, merely to confirm.

you nodded your head and offered a hand in carrying the paper bag. something he didn’t refuse to. “so…” unsure of how to bring up the means of meeting with him after his class, your voice trailed.

“what do you need anyway?” he supported your words as he traced the path of the sidewalk. “take pictures of me or take pictures of the clothes i make?”

“both.” a chuckle left your lips, laced with nothing but sheer abashment, at the same time mentally cursing this project. you were okay with taking pictures, but the negotiation that comes with it wasn’t a task you were so used to doing.

serim hummed, saying an almost inaudible ‘i see’ before taking a big step and stopping in front of you to do a curt observation. his gaze trailing from toes up to your shoulder. “i’ll agree to do it, if you’ll model for me for a project.”

blinking your eyes multiple times, a baffled frown came to mask your countenance. “what?”

“i need a model that will wear the dress i’m doing by the end of the semester,” serim uttered nonchalantly, proceeding to turn his back to you and resume walking. “that would be quits.”

“i’ll do it,” you said, despite still being hesitant. having close to zero knowledge about how such a presentation would work, you were so close to disagreeing. but then again, it would only be a good way to repay him, right? and perhaps the other fashion design students would ask you of the same thing if you try to team up with them.

turning to look at you, there was a curve that formed on his brim. “that’s a deal then.”

how can he forget how the two of you confessed to each other?

two months. it took two months of random meet ups, daily conversations, and occasional hanging out to get to know each other. the awkward messages of checking up on each other’s side of the project turned to asking about each other’s day, sharing rants about academic life or life in general. the occasional hanging out turning to planned dates and spontaneous ones when the two of you both have the time to spare.

you’d usually stay in his unit as he worked on the dress for his project, a clothing that perfectly suits your figure. late night talks induced by the slightest energy given by coffee the two of you had clung into in hopes of being able to finish what was due.

it seemed like time flew by and before you knew it, you were in the backstage. serim was pacing back and forth, more nervous than you were. he wasn’t the one that was going to the stage, but sure his body was restless.

“are you alright?” you asked him once the two of you were left alone in the dressing room.

this was enough for serim’s movement to come to a halt. even when his eyes landed on you, it was obvious that his mind was floating. in fact, it even took him hot seconds before he was able to commit to a verbal response. “i am.”

“you are?” a smile broke out of your countenance which was eventually followed by a chuckle. “are you sure with that?”

your laughter was adequate to ease his nerves a little, a curve appearing on his lips. “i am.”

one of his classmates who was in charge of the flow came knocking to the door, signalling that you should be on standby.

“i’ll do my best,” you said, walking toward the door. it would be a definite lie to say that you were not at all nervous. a deep breath taken before twisting the knob, stopping when serim called you. it was covered with a bit, yet noticeable hesitation that it made you cock a brow for a moment.

“good luck.” it was all that he uttered, along with a gesticulation of him raising both fists. though serim’s mind spoke of different words, words he had little courage to let go of. at least not yet at that moment.

you gave him a smile, nodding your head afterward. “thank you.”

and off you go.

roaring crowds and camera clicks; the auditorium set up for the use of the fashion design students as they exhibit their works through their chosen models. formerly, you’d find yourself among the crowds, snapping pictures and admiring the clothes done by the other students. but this time, you found yourself clothed in a floral print silk-blend asymmetrical dress designed by serim himself.

the lights were blinding, being always part of the photographers, you were quite accustomed with how you were part of the persons behind the camera lense. serim was in the dressing room, watching the runway from the screen that displayed the live broadcast. some of your friends were among the crowds, your older brother even telling you before the show started that he’d be sure to take pictures of you.

fortunately, the few days of practice didn’t go to waste, no major mistakes happened when you modeled serim’s design. perhaps the only problem was you were a little stiff, something too trivial for some audience to notice.

as soon as you stepped by the backstage, serim’s proud smile welcomed you. unable to rest in the dressing room once he saw you getting out of the stage, he practically ran to meet you behind the curtains.

his eyes were filled with adoration, not just for the dress he finished making, but for the overall beauty you radiated. without much thought, he walked closer to you, soon wrapping you in an embrace. tight, yet gentle.

“you did well, y/n,” serim whispered, not letting go.

a soft chuckle was heard from you, your cheeks burning. “you did well,” you corrected. “please, it’s your design.”

“thank you.” releasing you, a smile lingered on his visage. “i’ll make you a better dress in the future.”

“you don’t have to, but thanks,” you replied before the two of you sunk into silence. regardless of how the surrounding was of heavy music and cheers, peace had found its way to emanate in the dimmed part of the area.

no words spoken, yet feelings poured when serim leaned closer. his lips easily capturing yours enough to make your heart pound in your chest, louder than it did while you were in the catwalk.

serim broke the kiss, his lips still close with yours. his eyes were of another glow when he uttered a set of words, familiar yet foreign. “i love you.”

once again, you were under his spell. soft kiss turning into a sloppy one once he guided you to a more secluded area. it would be such a waste to rip the dress off given that it was an original design, yet as the person who sewn each part of the clothing you were wearing, serim had his way to resolve the small dilemma.

the surrounding was silenced, your body frail under each of his touch, breath taken away, chest heaving. sure, it was a night you won’t be able to forget.

how can he forget about how the two of you practically lived with each other for years?

the exuberance exuded while the two of you carried several boxes into an empty unit you called home. maybe it wasn’t really about the place, but it was who you were with. his arms served as a shelter. his hand caught tears of both happiness and sadness. his lips pressed affection that no one else could offer. everywhere with serim was of comfort, of tranquility— a home.

living with another person, being under a single roof wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to adjust to. throughout the first few months of living together, your head was filled with memories of sheer trial and error as the two of you tried to learn the curves. this included adjusting for each other or at least compromising for what the other likes that the other doesn’t. silly mistakes became such a fond memory.

the smell of burnt food that wafted in the air when the two of you decided to stay on the balcony while cooking dinner. astonished by the stars and the almost endless stories that passed on both lips the meal you were preparing was left neglected. that night, the two of you shared bitter food of dark exterior, quite hard to swallow. but the laughter that filled the house after the incident lifted up each other’s mood. despite the bad-tasting meal, it was probably one of the best dinners you had in that apartment.

it didn’t end there. who would forget about the laundry disaster that rendered one of serim’s white long sleeves saturated with colors you weren’t sure what to call. the mixture of forget-me-not blue and azalea pink stood as the most distinguishable pigment along with the other colors. serim only let out of a chuckle at what occurred, even joking that maybe the two of you could start a business of dying white clothing in such a way.

the best memory thus far was a late-night run by the convenience store when the two of you were chasing a morning deadline. a grumbling stomach that broke the mutual silence the two of you exchanged, along with a suspecting look that ended up with laughter.

“let’s buy some food,” serim suggested, removing the tape measure from his shoulder and settling it to the mannequin.

you hit save on your laptop, the editing could wait for a few minutes.

pulling yourself off the chair, you gazed at him with a smile. it wasn’t a surprise that he had the same beam, as bright as the morning, regardless of how the evening was already crawling onto the whole city. sometimes, you wondered how a simple smile could give you so much energy. what kind of magic does a beam flashed by the person you love hold?

a few snacks picked up by the convenience store; a bag in his hand, your hand on the other as the two of you walked back to your unit. the evening sky and the soft gush of wind amplifying the peacefulness provided by the city. no words were exchanged, yet the silence was enough of a word.

deadlines momentarily escaping the mind as you allowed yourself to be engulfed by his presence. his soft voice breaking the silence, the phrase that left his lips drew a curve on your lips. “i love you, y/n.” you weren’t looking at him, but you could perceive the smile he had. “so much.”

“i know,” you replied.

serim’s steps became slower as he looked at you, waiting for the actual response. with a tilted head and shining eyes that reflected your figure and the street lights, his gaze didn’t waver.

a chuckle left your lips, finding yourself lost in his eyes for a moment. “i love you too, serim.” you squeezed his hand, cueing him to continue walking. “so much.”

sighing out of content, a radiant smile decorated his lips.

at that moment, the two of you wished nothing more but just to be next to each other for as long as life would grant you.

how can he forget about your first anniversary?

it wasn’t grand, just the two of you sitting by the balcony. the bouquet he bought abandoned on the dinner table as the two of you gushed over plans you were sure were realistic enough to be achieved. your eyes twinkling with mirth, a lifetime with him sure was the ideal one you’d want to spend.

“y/n,” despite being just beside you, serim called.

you looked at him with a brow raised, catching his eyes on yours. “mhm?”

a smile simply spread onto his lips before he broke the gaze. his hand seeking for an item inside the pocket of his hoodie, a small box retrieved afterward. there, a necklace sat. the pendant was of a ring that was not entirely decorated with fancy stones, rather a lone blue sapphire stone was on it.

“the pendant is a promise ring,” serim explained before scooting closer to you. his hand reached for the back of your head while the necklace rested on your skin. he locked the jewelry on your neck, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead after.

you were silent the whole time, not because you didn’t like the gesture. but because you were sure words wouldn’t be enough to express the satisfaction and light feeling that was blanketing your heart.

serim had a faint smile as he admired the necklace for a moment. just like you, his heart was in an ocean of peaceful joy. lifting his head to look at you directly, he gave your lips a light peck. “i’ll buy you a better one once we’re ready for it.”

“thank you.” your countenance mirrored the same expression serim had— of joy and serenity. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too.” serim leaned in for another quick kiss, swift yet lingering. “i can’t wait to spend a lifetime with you.”

the evening droned on and on with the two of you staying by the balcony, exchanging conversations about the future. two hearts in one home, seemingly able to find the path where both can hold each other’s hand. minds filled with dreams where the other can also be spotted. a considerably spacious studio apartment became the foundation of your plans and dreams.

aspirations that soon became the neglected cause of why your relationship with him gradually crumbled down.

how can he forget about your very first fight?

gazes that held no definite emotion, silence that cut through the air— it was all an unfamiliar experience, hard to swallow. something that you weren’t able to forget easily as it was the first time you’ve ever seen serim with such a cold expression.

the coaster of shows on the television had long passed, a few recaps played. something that wasn’t really able to get a hold of your attention. your mind drifting elsewhere and the few notifications appearing on your phone were the only ones that managed to pull you out of your daze momentarily.

“where’s serim?” for the nth time that day, you asked. the room was quiet with only a few chatters from the screen in front of you. the evening was growing older and older, but you haven’t received any message about serim's whereabouts. neither had he sent you a message the whole afternoon.

worried, you opted to stay up and wait for him. even prepared a meal that can be easily heated so he can have something to eat once he arrives in case he hasn’t eaten anything yet.

with the door clicking, you were quick to get off the couch. the faint footsteps signaling you right away.

“you’re finally home,” you said, a smile easily located on your brim. only for it to melt away at the sight of serim’s stern look. his gaze piercing through, enough for chills to trace your spine.

he walked past you, not even offering you the regular hugs and kisses he would do every time he’d arrive. all that was left were cold stares. something you attempted to break. and heck did you regret doing so.

“why haven’t you been answering your phone? have you already eaten?” the worry you had accumulated coming through in waves of questions.

a sigh was emitted out of his mouth as he went to get himself a drink. it seemed like a verbal response was not an option for him since he continued to ignore your questions. at this point, it was as if there was no one else in the room. it was like you weren’t there.

“did something happen, serim?”

a minute. it was all it took for the entirety of your relationship to come to an unknown turn. the curve strange, it crawled to the skin with such a frigid touch enough for your stomach to flip horribly.

“can you give me a break?” serim hissed, a glare shoot in your direction. his voice growing power word after word. your breath was taken away, how can words suffice to make you feel so small? he placed his glass on the sink, the item almost meeting its demise. he turned to look at you once again. “can’t you see, i’m tired?”

“i waited for you.” the words spilled out of your lips, disappointment hugging your tone.

“who told you to wait for me?” serim snarled and before you knew it, you were already standing on the same page. similar expression, different cause. yours were anchored in concern, while his were of fatigue from the whole day of heavy workload. those seemed to have lulled both of your senses, blinding each other.

“oh well, i was just worried about you because you didn’t send me a message the whole afternoon up to this point.”

“do i really need to report my actions to you?”

“no, but you have to at least tell me if you’re going home late.” your voice gradually softened, a tear held back.

no, you can’t cry. no, not in front of him. no.

“i was worried,” you broke out. but it wasn’t enough for his fumes to dissolve. like gasoline poured into flames, each of your replies only intensified the exasperation boiling in his stomach.

“i’m going to rest.” serim sigh was audible as he stormed off to your room, leaving you with tears in your eyes.

a minute.

it only took half a minute for everything to fall out of its order. that fight wasn’t the last one and each passing day, the unit you once called home was stuck with unfamiliarity.

it was no longer a home.

how can he forget about that night?

cold meals by the table had your eyes fixated on them. the date encircled in red, a supposedly special day that turned bitter. different from how you used to spend it before—of laughter and warm touches— serim wasn’t there. he was far too involved with projects that your shared unit only became a short shelter. words were barely exchanged, yet alone gazes. you still sleep on the same bed as him, but no warmth was offered.

you weren’t sure which was better, to continue living with him even if it felt like you weren’t living with him or to have him gone in your life for real. regardless of the turns that occurred, the continuous erosion of your relationship, you couldn’t find it to yourself to let go. still tied by your attachment to the former serim.

a sigh left your lips, desolated gaze trailing on the table. you tried. but it seemed like those attempts were futile. it takes two people’s efforts. you can’t revive a relationship alone.

switching place, you went to the living room and sat by the couch. the place dimly lit by a lone lampshade. the city lights filtering through the window. the air gradually thickened around you, it held your throat in a vice grip. the photographs displayed by the shelves were foreign to you, despite how it was simply you and serim. it was like you were staring at completely different people. smiles had long been taken away, touches had melted, flutters subsided— all that was left was a terrible feeling of helplessness. something that seemed to guide you to nowhere. you were lost.

before, you were sure of how the story was to be written. how the chapters were to unfold. but right now, you weren’t even certain what would be on the next page. it was like the next ones were torn from the spine, gone. oh hell, you weren’t even sure what page you were on right now or if the story was bound to be written in the first place.

serim’s arrival went unnoticed at first. only until you heard the clink of the glass meeting the sink did you turn in his direction. an empty gaze was earned and for some reason you found yourself offering him a faint smile. a small gesture packed in pain that was quick to course through your senses.

sighing had become his way of greeting. dark circles under his eyes and the disheveled look emanated how his work had been weighing him. but your mouth was closed regardless of how you wanted to speak of reassurance and praise. it was strange, the inability to speak of warm words around him. why were you so held by fear?

“serim,” you called, breaking the floating silence.

he looked at you, eyes deep like he was examining a piece of fabric. it was enough for your stomach to churn. the stillness continued after your call. you weren’t sure how to continue it; it was as if his name was unnatural in your tongue. not only was your breath sucked, but also all the possible words had dissipated.

yet again another sigh as he tore his gaze away, stepping towards the bedroom. “i’m so tired, y/n,” he uttered, setting a line for you to not cross onto. “very tired.”

resurfacing on your brim was a smile. your eyes weren’t exactly skillful of lying though as tears soon gathered on it. heart hollowed in emptiness as if a scream would echo on its wall. likewise, your voice decided to betray you— shaking. “serim, i’m getting tired too.”

for a swift moment, serim tried to come up with an answer. but just like you, comforting words seemed to be an unfamiliar language. even aware of how a look would be inadequate, he only stared at you. his eyes don’t speak of words nor radiated comfort— it was vacant. lowering his head, he carded his fingers on his hair before letting go of a breath.

serim finally stepped inside the bedroom.

and that was how the two of you parted ways.

how can he forget about you?

it went on and on in your head, the question continuously striking.

a gush of autumn breeze pulled you out of your daze. serim was still looking at you, his eyes slowly lightening with recognition. a few blinks and he spoke. “oh, wait.” he tilted his head to the side. “y/n?”

you weren’t exactly sure what kind of answer to give, but you gave it your best to offer a faint smile. “yes.”

still— despite how other people were walking on the sidewalk and how vehicles passed by the road, the surrounding seemed to come to a stillness you didn’t ask for. denying and pushing away the feelings you’ve long ago tried to bury and made yourself believe that you’ve healed from only brought a new wave of pain. as if you were its child, sadness came to hug you.

just in time, the bus arrived as if to save you from further drowning in emotions you didn’t wish to engulf you in. to your surprise, serim also boarded in. while you chose to sit somewhere just nearby the driver, he went to the last row.

usually, your rides on the way home were the most relaxing ones. a time to just stare at the window and watch the night spread into the city. it will always be accustomed by jungmo asking you on and on about how your day went and also sharing about how his day went. but your brother wasn’t around for that kind of support right now. and you can’t blame him for it. you can’t blame anyone for this unexpected meeting with the person you never knew you’d ever meet again.

the ride was sickeningly slow, all you wished was to get home and allow your voice to echo in your room. to release the emptiness if it was even possible to empty something that was already vacant. the sky held no comfort. its color dissipated and all that was left was an empty canvas that like a broken record, played memories. it was silly how despite those quick memories popping in and out of your mind, questions still managed to penetrate.

serim was living in another city, why did he ride the same bus? was he to meet his new lover? maybe to meet an old friend?

or did he perhaps mean to meet you? this was a guess you despised. the hope it brought that maybe an answer for all the questions formed that night were to be given tasted bitter in your mouth and offered restlessness in the heart.

an urge to talk to him surfaced, but then you asked yourself why. why would you want to talk to him? for what?

despite being curious about the reason why he left that night, a certain fear crawled onto your senses. the fear of knowing.

what could knowing his reasons possibly bring you?

the time when the two of you loved each other wasn’t of the best timing. two newly graduates seeking career growth, wanting nothing but to achieve various goals. those were dreams drawn with the other person placed as a part of it. however, during the process of achieving those, that same person where the aspiration was rooted gradually disappeared from the mind. the path the two of you promised to take together came at crossroads and you ended up taking something different from what he preferred to go to.

at first, there was a powerful yearning that made the two of you grow more fond of each other. but it was slowly replaced by numbness towards it, making love such a foreign word.

you understood. but it wasn’t something you had fully accepted.

a familiar shed came to flash on the window, your stop nearing. and when the vehicle finally came to a halt, you gave serim a final glance. he was looking at you, not moving from his seat. dismissing the contact, you walked down the bus and began tracing the sidewalk with heavy steps.

disappointment curled into your stomach when you arrived near your house, realizing that the recurring questions will not be answered. however, fate played its game. anxiousness arose when once again you heard your name wrapped around serim’s voice.

you turned to look at him, his lips hesitant to let go of a word.

serim was also in deep thoughts, mind all over the place despite how he already had the resolution to talk to you, not to explain and justify himself, but to apologize for the damage done.

“i’m sorry for that night,” serim began, the initial words already clinging into his chest, weighing down. “i should’ve been more honest with you and trusted you more with my struggles.”

there was nothing serim wanted but to prove himself worthy of you. achieve things that could make you be proud of him and deem him as someone who deserves you. working up to late hours, diving into designs in order to perfect his craft. the thing was, he forgot that you already loved him even when he was simply that serim. that you loved him as park serim.

blinded by the goal, the mean diminished. as he was too caught up with it, he was no longer striding towards it for you, but for himself.

“it was selfish of me to decide for something we both should be deciding for. i left that night thinking it was better that way without even considering how you will feel,” serim continued, his voice weakening. he lifted his hand as if to hold you, but stopped midway. it fell to his side as he breathed in. “i’m sorry. i’m really sorry.”

“i was hurt, but you were probably hurt as well.” the way those words left your lips ever so calmly surprised you. “it wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but i hope we both learned from it.” a smile became evident on your visage. “promise me one thing serim, do not make the same mistake with your future lover.”

“i will not,” serim replied.

both of you never really imagined the end of your relationship and as the page of it was torn years ago, an ending was deemed impossible to earn. closing a book would never be that easy, but some stories were meant to end— yours included.

“also, this is for you.” serim handed you the paper bag he was holding. “i told you years ago that i’ll make you a better dress, and here it is. i figured that i wouldn’t be able to keep the promise laced on the ring i gave you before but i at least want to have one of my promises kept.”

you looked at the item for a moment before turning to serim once again. “thank you.”

“i also want you to know that i truly loved you.”

never at once did you doubt serim’s love for you. the thing about it is that people will grow and know love from a better perspective. know how to best keep it. know how to best show it. but it will not change the fact that back then, you felt that it was love.

serim had a single flaw and that was to hold everything to himself to the point that those created a wide gap between the two of you. the distance far enough that reaching his hand became impossible despite how you wanted to hold him.

and maybe during that time, parting was the best solution. and up to this point, it was too.

“it’s nice seeing you again, serim.”

“likewise, y/n.” a genuine smile crossed his lips. “goodbye?”

“goodbye.”

tonight, you gave him a piece of your heart. it was his, to begin with. whatever he was to do with it— keep it, throw it, crush it�� it was a decision for him to make. keeping something that shouldn’t be there would only bring further destruction, it’s way better to have an empty spot in your heart rather than keep a damaged one.

the breeze embraced you. the goodbyes uttered were to serve as a beginning. there were new questions that formed and you knew there were tears that were yet to be spilled. but it was a start. opening a buried wound would never be pleasant, but it was way better to open it yourself than have it bare you.

staring at the newly planted hyacinth in the neighboring flower bed, you let go of a sigh. they will bloom in the spring. and you hoped that you would experience the same.

#cravitywriters #cravity imagines #cravity oneshots #cravity scenarios #cravity x reader #cravity angst #cravity fluff #serim x reader #serim #this has been in my drafts for quite a while...#finally got that push to post it u_u #cravity

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Pumpkin Kiss (Monoma x Reader)

Pairing: Monoma x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Fall with Monoma, wither, pumpkin pie, hayride (I used all three ayee)

Summary: Class 1-A and 1-B take a trip to the local fall festival where Monoma starts acting more zealous than normal.

Word count: 1,555

Tags: @rintomoj @yamichxn @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Ahhh the fall entry for the Seasonal Love Event. With Fall, we’ve reached the last 2 days of the event... I really hope I did Monoma justice with this, it’s my first time writing a 1-B character, but I tried to inject as much fluff as I could into it so it’s sweet (like pumpkin pie, hehe)

Seasonal Love Event Masterlist

"I think Monoma's being crazier than usual today," Kendo comments, munching on her kettle corn.

"Wonder if he's on edge about something?" Pony also perks up. There's syrup smudged cutely over her lips from the caramel apple she's eating. She's in absolute childish bliss picking on it.

"It's probably about you," Tetsutetsu says bluntly, his gaze directed straight at me.

"Why would any of his dramatic episodes have to do with me?" I snort as all of them direct their attention after his remark.

"Because even right now he's staring straight at you from across the field." Ibara nods her chin over behind me. "I also believe he must be put off by something." I don't miss how she mumbles under her breath about him possibly needing an exorcism because of the sudden change.

"I'm really tired of having to chop his ass every two seconds. It's like he forgot how to act all of a sudden." The orange-haired girl rolls her eyes and hands me the half-full bag. "Have the rest, I'm full."

I figured she wouldn't be able to eat all of it. Kendo openly gaped at how generous the bag of kettle corn was when she bought it and - wrongly - proclaimed she'd be able to finish it. I was correct to not buy anything and wait for her to give up.

Kirishima strolls over to greet Tetsutetsu with their secret handshake - no one really knows when they came up with such an elaborate routine, it just happened - before flashing his sharp teeth at me next. "Hey, Bakugou, Sero, and I are gonna go hit up the carnival games, you wanna come with?"

"Sure, I wouldn't mind-"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

The atmosphere suddenly fills with vexation as we all know who's voice that is. The blond stomps over from behind Kirishima and crosses his arms over his chest. How did he even hear that from across the field? Was he eavesdropping or was he already slowly making his way over like the creeper he's become today?

"(Y/n) doesn't need to be hanging around you pompous, fake heroes." I can practically hear the way he looks down his nose at Kirishima, thought there's a bit more edge. "We provide enough company and enjoyment by ourselves, you're not needed."

I want to roll my eyes. And why should I let this fool decide who I should hang out with?

"Besides, we all wanted to go on the h-hayride together," he concludes, sounding indignant until he stutters.

Monoma stuttered?

"Oh! I think that would be so fun!" Pony's eyes shine as she claps in joy. "That's actually a pretty good idea, Monoma!"

"Yeah, it was the first intelligent thing you've said all day," Kendo jabs at him.

Kirishima shrugs and flashes an unbothered smile at me. "We can hang another time then. See you around!" After bidding goodbye to me and Tetsutetsu, he jogs off to find the rest of his crew.

I whirl onto the blond and point a finger at his face. "Don't try to control me and my friends, I do what I want."

Monoma flicks his hair casually, disregarding everything I just said. "But I had a great idea, didn't I? A much better one than just playing silly carnival games."

"Carnival games are fun, you know! It's not just sitting on a stack of hay twiddling your thumbs!"

"But it would be relaxing, don't you think?" Pony chirps, her eyes still twinkling at the thought.

I don't have the heart to deflate her excitement. "Yeah, I guess you're right," is my meek assent. Though, I don't think it would be ll that relaxing considering the crisp weather we're experiencing. Relaxation is more for summer I'd say, not fall with the withering colored leaves.

We make our way over to the hayride plain, Ibara deciding to leave in favor of taking some scenic pictures of the surrounding leaves. There are only two carts and five of us, so we decide to split into a group of three and a pair.

"Kendo's the only one who can handle Monoma, so they should be together," Tetsutetsu suggests. "I'll go with Pony and (Y/n)-"

"Uh, no way!" Kendo interrupts, a clearly displeased sneer morphing her features. "Just because I can handle him doesn't mean I want to sit near him for at least 20 minutes."

"I have to agree," the boy in question pipes up. "Besides, I'd rather be with (Y/n) who's nicer to me."

An unspoken hangs for the briefest moment after he said that, everyone glancing at me before Kendo shrugs. "Welp, fine by me."

Aw come on.

Before I can complain, the three of them get into their hay-covered cart and get themselves comfortable.

"Shall we get going then?" Monoma questions in his over-dramatic way, sweeping his hand toward our own cart.

"Yeah, let's just get this over with," I mumble.

We mount ourselves onto the wagon. Some of the hay is soft enough that it doesn't poke into me. Once the horses start moving, the gentle rocking of the wagon is somewhat comforting. I try to relax and ignore my partner, hoping he'll get the hint that I don't want him to talk as I lay my back against the floor.

"Pie?"

I peek an eye open to see an aluminum container hovering above my face. I sit up and stare at Monoma questioningly. "Where did you get this?" Judging from the dark orange color, it's pumpkin pie.

"While you guys were discussing arrangements, I bought some for us to eat." He places it in my lap before opening the clear lid on his own. "Since you said there was nothing to do on a hayride, I gave us something to do."

Cautiously, I roll up and open the container. "You didn't poison this, right?"

He waves his hand at me. "Why would I do that?"

It's not that I don't trust him, I'm just wary of his behavior today and him being kind while choosing me to ride with is slightly unsettling. Yet, I know he wouldn't hurt me and I appreciate the gesture, so I open it and take a bite. The natural sweetness of the pumpkin dancing on my tongue while the crust has just enough texture to balance the softness of the middle.

Monoma's eyebrows furrow minutely. "I also didn't want you to regret riding with me instead of the others."

I raise my own brow. "I'd only regret it if you started your bullshit."

He levels his periwinkle gaze at me. "Do you prefer Tetsutetsu and 1-A to me?"

I'm taken back by his question. "Just maybe for fun, when you're in your moods about them I guess. You're my classmate, not them. And Tetsutetsu is fun to hang out with. I prefer just talking to you like this."

"Oh. I see." He looks down at his half eaten pie.

Past his head, I observe a line of pumpkins decorating the road and laugh at one of the more irregularly formed ones. "Are they sure that's a pumpkin?"

Monoma turns his head around and lets out a chuckle. "I think the irregular ones taste sweeter."

"You don't say?"

I finish the rest of my own in silence, stealing glances at the boy's contemplative expression. He's actually quite handsome, anyone would fall at his feet if he weren't such an uptight pain in the ass most of the time. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face, even a strong quirk - he just needs to work on his attitude.

"Hey," his head lifts up and meets my probing eyes, only for his words to catch when he notices how I've leaned slightly forward.

The fork still frozen in my mouth as I hold it, I maintain his gaze and hum, waiting for his question.

A sudden brush of pink dusts his cheeks and he rubs his hand. "You said like my company, right?"

"Yeah, I do." My voice gets softer, chest pounding in anticipation for what's coming next.

Monoma coughs with the difficulty of formulating his words. It's endearing to see him struggle instead of being overzealous. "I-I like your company too," he rushes out like ripping off a band-aid. "In more ways than one. I'm trying to say I like you." With every word, his face saturates in more and more color.

A tenderness wells up inside me as I process his confession. Monoma being out of character towards me proves the sincerity of his words, or at least the fact that his feelings for me are more special than the rest.

In a spur of the moment, I lean over and plant a light kiss on his cheek. The response I got was priceless: scarlet blood flowing straight to his ears as he clears his throat to regain his composure. Until he catches me off guard and counters with another kiss that barely misses the corner of my lip, causing my own embarrassed warmth to flood through me and butterflies to gather in my belly. The sweetness from the pumpkin pie he ate lingers there when I swipe my tongue over to wet my suddenly parched lips.

"So, do we agree to spend more time with each other?" Monoma attempts sounding calm and collected.

I shuffle over closer to him, our fingers brushing together. "Yes, I'd like that."

Monoma's like that weird shaped pumpkin in a way. He doesn't present as the best outwardly, but he's sweeter if you decide to take a bite.

#monoma x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #monoma fluff #monoma neito #gender neutral reader #Seasonal Love Event #monoma scenario #monoma imagine #mha monoma #bnha monoma #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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jamie-leah · 3 years

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War of Wolves (18)

Season 1

Episode 18 - Revelations

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word count: 2966

Warnings: Violence, Car crash, blood, swearing

A/N: This takes place seconds after the end of the last episode. The format is going to change a little bit after this one so enjoy!

I also wanted to make a special shoutout to @marvelouscatharsis for making amazing fan art for this series! I loved it and I feel incredible to have inspired it and to know you all enjoy the series this much!xox

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

WoW Masterlist Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

As Sam drives off, the only light comes from the half moon in the sky. You stare off where the cars had been, and you feel Bucky watching you until he speaks softly, “you made the right call”.

Your eyes stay fixed to the distance, “did I?”.

Bucky moves to stand in front of you. He uses his flesh hand to tilt your head up by your chin, “if you hadn’t done what you did something horrible would have happened tonight. Steve is just scared and not thinking straight”.

You nod as your eyes finally meet his. He speaks again, softly in the night, “we’ll figure everything out when things calm down. But right now, I want to know if you’re okay?”.

Your eyes automatically start darting away from his, “yeah, I’m fine”. He continues to stare at you, his hand still holding your chin. When your eyes can no longer avoid his gaze you crack, “I’m just scared Buck. I just have this dread in the pit of my stomach and I feel like I brought this all on you, that this is all my fault”.

Bucky frowns, confused, “how is any of this your fault?”.

You take in a shaky breath, “you didn’t have a problem with Isaac until I came along”.

Bucky’s hand slides to cup your cheek, “none of this is your fault Doll. You don’t control what other people do and I have plenty of enemies out there. Something like this would be happening with or without you here by my side. The only difference now, is that I have one more person to fight for. One more person to protect and I have one more person that has my back”.

You study his face before saying, “I love you James”.

Bucky smiles before leaning down to connect with your lips. He gives a deep but quick kiss before murmuring, “I love you too Doll”.

When he pulls back you feel cold and disappointed, but you knew you still had things to do. Bucky gets his phone out, “I’ll call two guys to come to the end of the dirt road. I don’t want them to see the house, so I’ll go take care of the bodies and hand them off to the guys to take care of while you and I go and check on Peggy”.

You nod as you make your way back to the house, “what do you want me to do now?”.

He steers you over to Steve and Peggy’s car, “stay here, I’ll go get the keys and you can wait for me in the car”.

“I can help-“, you start to protest.

But he cuts you off, “no. It won’t take me long. Stay here, let me go get the keys”.

Bucky runs off into the house but is only gone for a second before coming back with the keys. He waits for you to get in the car before going back into the house.

Twenty minutes later Bucky is dragging two bodies wrapped in tarp towards the car. He throws them into the boot and then throws his ruined suit jacket in the back. He gets into the driver’s side and rolls up his shirt sleeves before turning the car on.

As he travels down the dirt road his hand rests briefly on your leg and you give him a grateful smile, even as the dread in your stomach grows.

When he gets towards the end, there is a car waiting. Bucky talks to them briefly before they make light work of moving the bodies to their car. They drive off in the opposite direction to you.

The road is dark and empty, and you were happy to be heading back home to see Peggy. It was only twenty minutes down the road, but five minutes in as you drive into the middle of the intersection you finally notice a road block.

There are three cars in a row stopping you from progressing. The dread in your stomach turns to icy fear as Bucky quickly throws the car into reverse. Only Bucky never gets the chance to get the car moving as a van ploughs into the side of the car.

The van hits you with such force that the car flips and slides until it rolls down a small embankment until it finally stops upside down.

Adrenaline is coursing through your body as blood starts rushing to your head. You can feel panic brewing in your chest as you move your head around. Your seatbelt is keeping you strapped in, so your movement is limited but you manage to look to your side and see Bucky unmoving.

The panic increases, clawing at your throat as your hands reach for the belt. You try to unclip it but its not working as you use your strangled voice, “Bucky? Bucky?! You need to wake up”.

You start pulling frantically at your seat belt but to no avail, “Bucky! Please wake up”.

You think you can hear voices further away, so you leave your belt and reach over to Bucky. You shake his as best as you can until you finally hear a groan. Relief floods you hard and fast at hearing him make a noise and you feel a tear slide down your face and fall to the floor.

After that Bucky comes around quick. He looks over to you, “Y/N, you okay?”. You nod, your voice still coming out strangled, “but I can’t get my seatbelt off Buck”.

He reaches for his and yanks it out with his metal hand. He braces himself from falling and then kicks his door open, “its okay, I’ll come and get you out now, don’t panic, I’m here”.

You watch him get out and try to keep your breathing even. Its not long before he rips the door away and half climbs back in on your side. His flesh arm braces you as his metal one yanks your seatbelt out.

The voices are much closer now as Bucky helps you crawl out. When you stand you notice blood trickling down Bucky’s face steadily from the top of his head. He starts to pull you towards the treeline, to try and run, but he stumbles. You catch him just about, but he stumbles again and this time you both fall to your knees. You see the men come around the car now and you know its over.

You hear Bucky slur, “run”.

You just shake your head as you take your jacket off and press it to his head, “I’d never leave you Buck”.

His half-lidded eyes look at you, “please run for me Y/N”.

You just give him a sad smile until a guy grabs your arm and yanks you away. To your surprise Bucky moves fast, throwing a punch before you even blink. The guy falls to the floor and Bucky catches you, both hands on your upper arms.

You stare at each other for a few seconds before more men come. You’re ripped away from Bucky again and there’s too many for him to handle on his own, especially in his current state. He holds his own until someone tasers him.

Bucky drops, convulsing on the floor. Despite his being on the floor the guy still carries on and you scream at him, “stop it! Please!”. You struggle violently until you hear him.

Isaac’s voice cuts the air, “enough. Get him in the car”.

You want to throw up when Isaac steps in front of you. Pure hatred distorts your features as you look at him and his sick smile, “Y/N, nice to see you again. Should we go somewhere for a chat?”.

They put you and Bucky in separate cars. They also put a bag over your head which did not help your breathing.

You think it was about an hour later when the car stopped, and someone dragged you out of the car. The only reason you went along with it is because they had Bucky, and you weren’t going to leave him.

You felt the air change when you entered a building. You were finding it hard to keep up with whoever was pulling you along as your body ached from the crash. The man keeps pulling you no matter how many times you nearly fall, until you eventually get thrown into a chair.

Your hands and feet are immediately tied causing your joints to ache. When you’re secure to the chair, the bag gets whipped off your head.

You find it hard to see at first, your eyes watering at the brightness of the room. When they start adjusting you notice you’re in a warehouse, one that looks similar to Bucky’s where he takes people to interrogate.

The next thing you notice is Bucky in the chair opposite you. He’s tied down too, except they used metal chains to keep him in place. His head is hanging forward, obviously still unconscious.

It doesn’t take long for Isaac to make his appearance. He walks in smug and sure. You would give anything to claw his eyes out.

His voice echoes in the big space, “Y/N, I’m so glad you could join me, I hope the drive was okay?”.

You barely contain your hatred, “fuck off Isaac”.

He shakes his head as he approaches, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you and you talk to me like this? We’ll see if you change your tune soon”.

Your heart squeezes painfully as he walks over to Bucky. Isaac takes a syringe out of his jacket pocket and injects the contents into his neck. You try to keep the panic out of your voice, “what did you just do?”.

Isaac steps back and looks at you, “its only a little something to wake him up. This won’t be as satisfying if he’s unconscious”. His words create a knot in your stomach.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to come back to the land of the conscious. He lifts his head slowly and you watch him take in the scene before his eyes land on you. You give him the smallest of smiles and you see his jaw clench before staring daggers at Isaac.

Isaac just smiles at Bucky until Bucky speaks, his voice hoarse, “what do you want?”.

Isaac studies him, “did you gather much information on me Mr Barnes?”.

Bucky remains quiet, obviously not wanting to give anything away, so Isaac speaks again, “I’m assuming not and if you did, none of it was the right information”.

“What are you getting at?”, Bucky practically spits the words at him.

Isaac shifts his gaze to you now. His lingering eyes making the knot in your stomach tighten, “you still don’t remember do you?”.

You look at him confused, “remember what?”.

Isaac walks closer to you and you see Bucky strain slightly in the corner of your eye. Isaac speaks again, watching your expressions closely, “your accident. I can’t believe neither of you figured it out yet. I was there”.

You just became more confused and by the looks of it, Bucky was confused too. Isaac just laughs and carries on, “I orchestrated the whole thing. I planned the crash. Of course, you wouldn’t know that, but I was there that day. I was the first person you saw…well after you saw your mother dead next to you”.

You didn’t know how to process what he was saying, nothing was making sense. You were grateful that Bucky asked the questions for you, “why? Why Y/N? It doesn’t make sense”.

Despite Bucky being the one to ask the question, Isaac never takes his eyes off you, “I was a doctor a long time ago, until I lost my licence. I did research that allowed me to discover that certain people in the world have very specific different DNA profiles. I won’t bore you with the science, it would be wasted on you, but essentially if something were to happen that allowed that gene to evolve that person could unlock aspects of the brain that no human can do in tandem to their other parts of the brain”.

Your mind was racing, and you were close to throwing up, but you managed to hear Bucky ask, “how did you know Y/N had different DNA? And how the hell did you know causing an accident would work?”.

Isaac still spoke to you, “I discovered this when I was still a doctor. I had access to databases that allowed me to obtain blood samples of people I suspected that had these different DNA profiles. Y/N was on the list and I kept the list after I lost my licence. As for the crash, I had taken a few people to experiment on trying to unlock the gene myself, but it never worked. They all died. I thought a traumatic head injury might do the trick”.

The anger in Bucky’s voice rang loud and clear, “you caused a crash as an experiment and just hoped that Y/N wouldn’t die?”.

Isaac runs a finger down the side of your face. You jerk away from it, “don’t touch me”.

You hear the chains around Bucky shift. Isaac just tuts, “don’t be like that. I gave you a gift”.

You couldn’t help the way your voice raised in anger at him, “a gift? What part of it was meant to be a gift? The fact you killed my mother? The fact you made me homeless? Or perhaps the PTSD?”.

Isaac grabs your chin, but you move out of his grasp only for him to grab your face roughly. He speaks low, venom lacing his words, “don’t pretend like I did you anything less than a favour. Your mother was dying, and she was ruining your life”.

He lets you go and steps back. You spit at his shoes, “you ever talk about my mother like that again and I’ll do more than spit at you”.

The fury on his face was hard to miss as he made a move towards you, but Bucky’s voice stopped him, “you touch her again and I swear to every god that exists I will kill you”.

Isaac turns to face him this time with a chuckle, “I don’t think so Mr Barnes. Before I take Y/N away to carry out some tests, I’ll be making sure to kill you”.

Your eyes flick from Bucky to Isaac as Isaac pulls out another syringe. He moves towards Bucky, “how does it feel to know that you lost White Wolf?”.

Before Isaac can get any closer you shout, “wait! Please stop. If you promise to let Bucky go, I’ll go with you willingly. I’ll make it easier for you take me wherever you want. But if you kill him, I’ll fight you every step of the way”.

Bucky was looking at you with alarm on his face, but you ignored him instead staring at Isaac as he turned your offer around in his head. Isaac nodded slowly, “I suppose that wouldn’t be too terrible…excuse me for a moment”.

Once Isaac leaves the room Bucky starts speaking to you, “what are you doing?”.

You give him a small smile, “saving your ass…again”.

Bucky shakes his head, “you can’t seriously be thinking about going with him for me?”.

You’re surprised when your voice comes out steady, like you knew what you were doing, “Buck, even if I fought him, I would never get away. Look how many men he has here, and he could knock me out if he wanted and take me wherever he wanted…he’s taking me whether we like it or not, at least this way I get to save you in the process and you may even find me”.

“I will find you”, his eyes burn with promise. He drops his head, “this is all my fault, I should have protected you better-“.

You cut him off, “no. Don’t do that. None of this is your fault, we didn’t know any of this would happen. So, stop thinking like that, you need to keep your head clear. No matter what happens it wasn’t your fault and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. I love you”.

He finally gives you a ghost of a smile, “say it again”.

You smile back, “I love you Bucky Barnes”.

“I love you too”, his voice is thick with emotion and it broke your heart.

You never got to say anything else as Isaac walks back into the room. He’s carrying a different syringe and you narrow your eyes at him, “what are you doing?”.

Isaac walks over to Bucky, “don’t worry, its just something to knock him out while we leave”.

You can see that it takes everything Bucky has not to resist it, but he also knows this is the only plan we have. After Isaac injects Bucky, it takes less than ten seconds for his head to fall forward again.

Isaac turns to you, “and then there were two”.

You pay him no attention as you commit Bucky to memory. Isaac unties you and starts leading you from the room when you say, “I told you to let him go, that doesn’t mean leave him here chained”.

You watch him roll his eyes and he pull on your upper arm harder, “I’ll get one of my men to untie him. We have places to be”.

You don’t detect the lie so let it go as you try and keep up with Isaac. He ends up shoving you into the back of the car before pulling you by your hair. The sudden movement causes you to cry out as he exposes your neck.

You feel the sting of the needle and the darkness claiming you before you fall sideways on the backseat.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @asapkyndall @yaszx @amoredashley @aveatquevale- @putinovertime @melimelbean @valsworldofcreativity @lokilokilokilokilokilokilo-blog1 @vesper852

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #buck x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky series #mob!bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky fandom #bucky fanfiction #bucky fucking barnes #bucky fic

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zeldasayer · 4 years

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I transcribed and translated Pedro’s interview from GQ Germany for all of us. I tried translating as good as possible but bear with me, English is not my mother tongue. By @sixties-loser

Pedro Pascal, the star from “Game of Thrones”, “Wonder Woman” and “The Mandalorian” talks about becoming an adult, film, fashion, corona – and a painful surgery in the exclusive GQ interview.

It seems almost eerie how empty the streets of LA are in the sunshine. Meanwhile a new normality seems to be coming to Europe, most people in L.A. are still cutting their own hair. Many have not seen their friends for half a year. The pandemic is out of control. The reaction towards it too. Inviting someone into their garden for a “distance drink” can cause the same distress as suggesting to switch spouses.

Therefore, it was particularly surprising that Pedro Pascal immediately accepted. He accepted the drink, not to switch spouses. He is one of the rising stars and newcomers this year – if it wasn’t for corona sending the whole film industry into a forced vacation, there would most likely not have been time for said drink. After having his skull crushed in “Game of Thrones” followed the lead role as a DEA agent hunting Pablo Escobar in “Narcos” in 2015 and now he is stepping towards big Hollywood films. From the 1st of October onwards the Chilean-born actor will be starring in the blockbuster “Wonder Woman 1984”. Moreover, the second season of the “Star Wars”-series “The Mandalorian” on Disney+ starring him as the lead is going to air in October this year – but he will be underneath a helmet. Well, we all are under a helmet in 2020 in one way or another. We want to meet the man who a few years ago still worked as a waiter in New York, whose parents were political refugees who found asylum in Denmark and settled in Texas and whose son one day signed up for a theatre group in High School.

Then, the cancellation! While we were in the middle of fixing up the house and the garden for the drink with Pedro and organizing the fashion shoot, which was not easy considering the safety measures in L.A., his management called with an unfortunate message: Pedro – no, not sick with corona – had to get emergency surgery because of a damaged tooth and was lying in bed with a swollen face that was hindering him from speaking and taking pictures. The sun is shining onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later he nonetheless arrived at our front door without a swollen face but still with threads in his mouth. He was not chauffeured by a limo-service but he came with his own car – he even picked up his make-up artist. He is helping her carrying all of her utensils into the house and declares: “I’ve got time today!”. What a celebrity! It seemed like we did not want to ask him how he made it to the A-List of Hollywood but he wanted to ask us how we made it to the A-list. Pedro Pascal! Yes, what kind of a celebrity?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for messing with your plans. The surgery was an emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling wasn’t the product of a secret visit to the plastic-surgeon. Apparently, they are drowning in work because of the quarantine in Hollywood.

PP: I have to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I was rushing to the hospital with a fractured tooth and the worst pain in my entire life – a hospital in which treats people with severe cases of corona. I was unable to reach any dentist! Right in front of the parking lot a specialist called me back. The pain was hell despite the ten injections I got. The doctor said I was not an exception because a lot of people are grinding their teeth because of all the stress.

GQ: What are you most afraid of at the moment?

PP: How the government is handling the pandemic is worrying me more than the virus itself. This shortage of intelligent management of the crisis is a moral shame. The leadership crisis in this country is turning us all into orphans – destitute and abandoned.

GQ: How did you spend your time over the last few months?

PP: I spent it with frozen pizza and sweatpants in Venice Beach. I live in a rear house that’s in a family’s garden. Actually, there are a lot of good takeout places nearby but for some reason I just love pepperoni pizza from the supermarket.

GQ: That does not really sound like movie star-lifestyle. What does it feel like being suddenly stopped from top speed to zero?

PP: Regarding what is going on around the world one should hold back one’s own mental turmoil. I would be lying if I was saying that I am not disappointed. The whole team put a lot of heart and work into the production of “Wonder Woman 1984”. We had a lot of fun on set. I wished to travel around the world and introduce the film with the same lively energy.

GQ: You come from a politically engaged, socialist family that fled from the Pinochet-regime in Chile. What do you remember from that time?

PP: My sister and I were born in Chile but I was only nine months old when we first found asylum in Denmark. From there we quickly came to San Antonio in Texas where my dad started working as a doctor at the university clinic.

GQ: Texas is not known as a socialist utopia. How did you assimilate?

PP: San Antonio is not a Cowboy-town but very diverse with big Asian, black and Latino communities. I remember it as a romantic place, culturally open. The culture shock only came as we later moved to range county in California. There the atmosphere was suddenly white, preppy and conservative.

GQ: How were you received in California?

PP: I’m still ashamed of the fact that I did not correct my classmates when they kept on calling me Peter. I am Pedro. Even if I didn’t grow up in Chile the country and the language are still a part of me. I was very unhappy in that environment. However, I was fortunately able to go to another school close to Long Beach where I felt more comfortable. Through the theater group at that school I found my way.

GQ: Were you able to visit Chile as a child?

PP: Yes, when my parents made it to the list of expatriates that were able to travel to Chile without consequences. First, there was a big family reunion and then my sister and I stayed there for a few months with relatives while my parents went back to Texas. They likely needed a break from us. They got us when they were very young, had a buzzing social life and my mother was obtaining a PhD in psychology.

GQ: Was your mother a typical young psychologist who wanted to apply her theoretical knowledge at home?

PP: You mean, whether I was her guinea pig? For sure! I remember strange tests and sittings that were disguised as games where someone was watching me react to different toys. I cannot have been older than six but I was already aware of the dynamic. My favourite thing was being questioned about my dreams. That was a wonderful opportunity to come up with fantastic stories.

GQ: Was that your first performance?

PP: Of course! My mother worried about my strong imagination because I was living in my own fantasy world rather than reality. I hated going to school. I was always categorized as the troublemaker. At one point, the topics at school became more interesting and my grades also went up. There are so many kids that are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be abhorrent. Why is it so accepted to be bored in class when there are so many stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

GQ: Considering al that has happened this summer around the world: Do you believe that we can seriously demand social change now?

PP: I Hope so. After lockdown, the first time I went out was to protest for “Black Lives Matter” on the streets. The energy was peaceful and hopeful until the police provoked severe conflicts. Nevertheless, we cannot run from problems like we used to this time and we cannot distract ourselves from them either. It seems like the pressure of the pandemic led to a new clarity: We cannot go on this way.

GQ: The “Wonder Woman 1984” Trailer revives the optimism of the 1980’s. From today’s point of view, it seems almost nostalgic.

PP: That’s right. You really are happy for two hours. The director Patty Jenkins created a film full of positive messages. We shot in Washington D.C., then in London and Spain – this sounds like I am talking of a past time.

GQ: Do you miss traveling?

PP: I’m just now realizing the privilege of just packing up one’s stuff and being able to fly anywhere. An American passport used to guarantee unlimited travel. And that’s why it the small radius of our lives is actually unimaginable. Over the last years I often retreated for a break after shootings because I was constantly on the move and overstimulated. My friends were already complaining I had become too comfortable. We all took social contact for granted and are only realizing now how dependent we actually are on human contact. Over the last weeks I often longingly thought about all the parties and dinner invitations I declined.

GQ: In L.A. people spend more time at home or nature than in other metropolises that are more geared towards public life. Could this city become your second home after New York?

PP: My Real Home are my friends. I have been a nomad since I was little and I do not have a place where I have put down roots. Up until not long ago my physical home was a place in between departure and arrival. Therefore, it was something I did not want to complicate through the accumulation of stuff. On the contrary: Without having read Marie Kondo’s book I have freed myself from excess baggage over the last few years and I lived relatively minimally.

GQ: Is there nothing you collect or something you just can’t throw away?

PP: Books! I even still have the literature I read when I was a teenager and when I was in college. Recently, I stumbled upon a box full of old theatre manuscripts and materials from my time at the New York University. I also cannot part from art easily, just like I cannot part from lamps or old photos. On the other hand, I can easily get rid of furniture and clothes.

GQ: Do you remember roles that were really only completely defined through the costume?

PP: Yes, I am particularly thinking about “Game of Thrones”. At that time I understood for the first time what it meant to be supported by a look. This is thanks to the costume designer Michele Clapton. She created very feminine robes and brocade coats for my character that nevertheless looked masculine when worn and I felt very sexy in them. Of course, Lindy Hemmings power-suits and Jan Swells bleached hairstyle for the tycoon-villain in “Wonder Woman 1984” were very important as well. At first I did not really see myself in the role because the cuts and colors of the 80s do not really fit my body. I’m more the 70s type.

GQ: Do you incorporate those inspirations into your personal wardrobe?

PP: In my free time I choose comfort over a cool look these days. Sometimes I miss the times when I expressed myself through a certain style. It is hard to imagine that I went to Raves as a teenage in the 90s; I was a real club kid with ridiculous outfits: overalls, balloon pants, football shirts and a top hat, like in Dr.Seuss’s “Cat in a Hat”. Later in New York I was hanging out with a group of people that felt it was very important to have a certain style. The fact that I am basically only wearing sweatpants everyday is actually tragic.

GQ: whoever plays roles in comic book adaptations becomes a bodybuilder and eats ten chicken breasts a day. You don’t?

PP:My body would not agree with that. It is hard enough to stay in shape normally. When you’re in your mid-forties you have to live with a lot more discipline. Up until before my tooth-incident I worked out with a trainer in my garden multiple times a week to keep the quarantine body in check.

GQ: Apart from the personal trainer, are you in a steady relationship?

PP: I am not ready for that yet. Maybe at some point I will be but until then I’ll let it be. I can’t even offer you absurd corona dating stories.

GQ: What would annoy you the most if you were your own roommate?

PP: I can be quite controlling. I have to conjure all my humanity to prevent myself from going through my entire film collection. When I don’t want something I cannot keep it to myself or be passive-aggressive, I always have to take it to the frontlines. Other than that, I tend to have tunnel view: when I am not feeling well I cannot imagine to ever feel better again. I have trouble relativizing my emotions or to wave off problems. Method-acting would really not be for me. This is why I try to only work on projects that feel good, where there is mutual support and encouragement.

GQ: When we were trying on the clothes earlier you spoke of a lack of self-confidence. How does that get along with a career like yours?

PP: Isn’t it interesting how these characteristics and circumstamces relate? Self-worth comes from inside but it is also influenced by what society values because we often internalise the public gaze. I have lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and made a living by working as a waiter until my mid-thirties because the theatre and film jobs I got did not pay the bills. There were so many times I was almost there. The disappointment of having missed the perfect role or opportunity by a hair’s width can be crushing. When should you give up and what is plan B? That is a question that is not only on many actors‘s minds but also on many others minds who struggle for a living – no matter how much potential they have or how close they seem to be to the top. We are seeing now how our narrow definition of success destroys society. At the same time, we are realizing that where we come from and the color of our skin still decide whether we can exist with dignity.

GQ: What are the positive aspects of a relatively late success as leading-man?

PP: I feel like I can decide over my own life without the pressure of having to accept projects or to have to present a certain identity on social media. This is for sure also because I am a man. Regardless of age, Women have to try harder to stand out.

GQ: Life always consists of risk management – now more than usual. For what would you risk losing something?

PP: Generally, when you never risk something you might never get ahead. That is for friendship, love, work and creativity. I have to be ready to take risks for the things that really matter to you.

#pedro pascal #THANK YOU MY LOVE!#submission

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op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

Hopefully, Yours (part 1) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8823

Summary: A fight between co-stars leads to you taking their place, along with the man you’ve been carrying a rather fervid torch for. A happy accident—except it’s a dating show and you have to pretend your feelings aren’t real. | Part 2

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff, oblivious behaviour, dating show, social media, Victor might be a little OOC because I’ve written him differently, some making out in the next part hence the rating, no smut though, my sense of humour

A/n: as always, I’m here to clown around. I tried something a lil new (for me) in this one 👉👈 something I picked up quite recently from works I adored, so I hope you like it! It got longer than I intended so I had to split it into 2 parts ;.; Victor said: keep writing, hoe.

ALSO!!! Yours by Ella Henderson is. THE Victor/MC song for me. I felt it in my bones when I listened to it again after all these years. brb crying

It’s the incessant buzzing of your phone that lures you out of the warm cocoon of your blanket.

You don’t really want to come out of your haven. Not after the week you’ve had, and because you know what awaits you. But as Anna had told you, there’s no way you can avoid this. They had finished editing the episode on Thursday, and Jason had already texted you last night to let you know it would be ready to be uploaded at 7:00 pm today.

Reaching listlessly for your phone, you squint at the bright screen through bleary eyes; it’s 9:00 pm already, and you’ve managed to sleep most of your Sunday away. It’s been a whole week since you filmed the episode, and while you were able to keep your thoughts at bay through it, it’s finally caught up to you.

After all, this is the episode you’re going to be in.

Pulling your laptop towards you, you open the tab that has the streaming site open. Your heart begins its anxious thump against its cage, a beat all too familiar to you by now. As the video begins playing, the memories of that day rise up to the forefront of your mind, refusing to be outdone by this meticulously edited version.

It started with a plan. A very well-thought-out plan.

“He called me a bitch. How can you still expect me to shoot with this jerk?”

Things were not going according to the very well-thought-out plan.

From your place next to Homer, the camera guy, you watched with mounting apprehension as Hollow resisted the AD’s attempts to placate her. But she did seem calmer, the scalding rage of her glare simmering down as he continued to reason with her.

And then her partner for the episode walked back onto the set.

“She said my songs are predictable! You want me to work with a hater?” Kai protested loudly, and Hollow turned back to him in a fury. The AD looked back at you in dismay, the rest of the staff watching with varying levels of exasperation.

“This is supposed to be a cheesy, ultra-romantic show,” Kiki whispered from her place at your side.

“This is what the reality is. All that sappy crap is for the camera,” Willow snorted, shaking her head in disenchanted disappointment.

There may be more than a kernel of truth in that. Hopefully, Yours was your company’s latest project; the second season, the first one having been produced by a different group. It’s a romantic web-series that featured different couples going on dates around town. The couples featured ranged from non-celebrities to people who are household names. So far, there hadn’t been too many issues with the participants—so you really should have expected this.

“Not always!” you cut in, fiddling nervously with your planner. “Some of the couples have gone on to date for real. Raymond and Liliana got married!” A lovely couple from an episode that aired last year. They’d been in the news recently too.

“They’re getting divorced,” Homer piped up in response. You hoped the look on your face let him know how unhelpful that was and turned back to the clashing couple. The AD looked harrowed and harassed as things turn increasingly hostile.

“Willow, do we have a backup couple?” you asked after a long moment of watching them spit insults. “Or just one person to replace either of them. What about Carlson?”

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow.”

‘Can I leave town?’ You wondered in a fit of desperate, wishful thinking.

“And we’ve got everyone here, with everything set up. Can we really waste time?” Kiki wondered out loud.

“No, we can’t,” answered a strained voice from behind you. All four of you turn to see Anna striding towards you, her hassled expression sending a frisson of worry through your stomach. “___, we’ve got guests.”

“Guests?” you repeated numbly. “What guests?” From the look on her face, it couldn’t be good news.

Anna held your gaze for a second, looking vaguely apologetic, before stepping to the side, allowing you to get a look at who Jason, the director, had rushed off to greet. You felt the ground shift beneath you, throat drying rapidly and the surrounding noise dimming as you focused on the new arrivals—your friend, your boss if you insist on the technicalities, and the star of most of your daydreams. LFG’s very own CEO, Victor, and his loyal secretary, Goldman.

In other words, people you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Why?” you whimpered, mostly panicked, but distantly amused by how enthusiastically he’s being greeted. It gave you a few moments to get it together, a familiar buzz coming to life underneath your skin.

This is terrible. Surely, this is karmic retribution for some misdeed committed by you.

“Boss, get it together,” Kiki hissed in an echo of your thoughts, and you realized you had half-fallen back into her and Willow’s arms, their hands steady on your shoulders.

“This is really bad timing. Like, really bad,” Willow pointed out unnecessarily as you straightened up, running a quick hand through your hair.

“Goldman said they just dropped in to see how it’s coming along. I don’t really understand why, this is not at all Victor’s cup of tea, but he’d been hesitant about the show, so...” With a sympathetic smile, Anna placed a hand on your elbow, squeezing lightly. The comfort it brought is chased away almost immediately by a furious screech.

“That is it. I’m done!”

Turning just in time to watch Hollow stalk off the set, you tried to restart your thought process. You just needed to solve this.

“How do we solve this?” Kiki asked in a low voice, and Willow shook her head helplessly.

With no answer for her, you could only watch as Jason led Victor and Goldman towards the set. You knew the exact moment he saw you; there was no smile, but a slow blink. It was still early in the afternoon, and his patrician features were alight with a soft glow in the golden sunlight, the curve of his lip relaxed and his clever gaze taking in you and everything happening around you in seconds. You’re not sure what he saw in your face but it made the corners of his mouth pull downwards.

Your stomach plummeted, seized by a sudden urge to flee.

But with his long strides, he reached you before you could take a step back. Kiki and Willow retreated silently, greeting him like newly registered soldiers coming face to face with their general and leaving you at his mercy. You would have felt miffed, but the way the sunlight softened his features was a little distracting. His lips moved, and you’re certain he said something, but couldn’t quite hear him over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Homer coughed loudly, popping the bubble.

“Good morning, Victor!” Certain your lack of actual delight was obvious, you tried to inject as much enthusiasm into your voice as you could while your project went up in flames behind you. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, as the sudden thrill twisting through insisted on reminding you, but the prospect of disappointing him was one you would rather not face.

There was no visible reaction from Victor, but Homer looked a bit disturbed by the attempt. Goldman just looked like he pitied you, while Jason looked oddly contemplative. This was probably his first time seeing you this…dazzled.

“Good morning,” Victor replied evenly. His eyes, a constant, focused storm and his silken hair falling artfully over his forehead form a picture so lovely, almost beyond words. It’s never stopped you from waxing poetic about them, or his long list of admirable personality traits, but he had a way of knowing when you’re not paying attention. “Looks like I picked a bad time to check in.”

You couldn’t quite pin down the inflexion in his tone, but your immediate guess was that he was either severely disappointed or was low-key mocking you.

With how quickly things derailed, it’s understandable.

“Haha,” you laughed—an unfortunate coping mechanism that seems to flare up most often in his presence. Also, because Victor looked unfairly gorgeous, as always and you were a fool with a worryingly erratic pulse. “Just a few bumps. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Behind you, Kai declared his intent to leave as well. There’s a contract, so they would have to look into this, but that would take time. At that moment, Victor was eyeing the singer leaving the set and your nervous smile with his brows steadily climbing higher.

“Right. Anything I can do to help?” he offered, and the shame that elicited is so fierce you felt like you’d shrunk. This was supposed to be a casual visit, for him to see how the filming was going and instead you made him feel the need to step in and clean up the mess.

“No,” you said, firm, immediate, vehement. He frowned down at you. “We’ll come up with something. Why don’t you two take a seat, we’ll get you some drinks and Anna can go over the ratings and numbers with you.”

Victor seemed to hesitate, still frowning at you, but relented when you mustered up a small but convincing smile for him. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he insisted, because he’s nice like that, before following Goldman and Anna into the small room you’ve converted into an office. You have a small but closed set for the first meeting of the couples, before the crew moves to whatever location has been picked out for the date.

“He’s nicer than he looks,” Homer observed as the two of you watched him leave.

“He’s lovely,” you said miserably. Who would have thought there’d be a day when you said that about Victor? He was still an evil capitalist, but he’s a kind man.

Homer didn’t get the chance to reply as Jason rushed up to you.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to sit those two down for a talk, but we don’t have time for that today. We need substitutes,” Jason said, not nearly as panicked as you would expect from a director who had no one to direct. It was admirable, this ability to keep his head even when he hits what looks like a dead end.

“I’ll make some calls.” Reaching into your pocket, your mind ram through your options as your hand closed around your phone.

“I want you to do it,” Jason declared.

It took you a few seconds to realize you hadn’t misheard. He looked back at you steadily, already resolute in his decision. You looked around, expecting protests, but the staff members only looked eager.

“…I don’t like this joke,” you said, slowly.

“Good thing it wasn’t one!” Jason returned cheerfully. “Before you turn it down, let me say—please? And don’t go off with the ‘I’m nobody!’ thing. People know who you are.”

“Um.” You really, really didn’t know what to say to him.

“My brother thinks you’re hot,” Homer offered, and Jason beamed at him.

“Okay, we’ll do this. You’re the producer of one of the oldest and most popular shows. You’ve gained more media presence over the last two years. You’re also friends with Kiro and Professor Lucien, so people have been quite curious about you for a while! This is just a fun little thing. Please?” Jason pleaded.

In the spirit of fairness, you took a minute to think about it. It would solve half the problem. And today’s location was a local fair, where the couple got to try out anything they want to, with all the expenses covered by the company. The very thought of stepping in front of the camera left your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the bud of excitement that seemed to have taken root.

In the end, your stomach made the choice for you.

“If you think it’ll be fine, then sure,” you acceded, thoughts filled with stir-fried noodles and holding hands with a faceless person. “But what about the other person?”

“Hmm,” Jason looked in the direction of the office, reminding you that you don’t have all day to decide.

“I could call Gavin and ask if he’s free,” you suggested. People adore him. “Or Lucien?”

Jason nodded as if truly considering it, his gaze sharp on you. “Good choices. What about Victor?”

“Yeah, no. That is a bad idea,” you said at once, without giving it a moment’s thought. This was a dating show, where people go on cute dates and act adorable on camera. The very thought of Victor doing that at all, let alone with you…was something you couldn’t think of because it was ridiculous. And bad for your poor heart.

“It is an excellent idea,” Jason disagreed. You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but this was necessary. You’ve known Victor for a while now, and felt responsible for Jason’s well-being that would inevitably be threatened if he embarks on this particular path.

“He’d never agree to it,” you told him solemnly. The man barely agrees to do interviews; a show like this? Out of the question. “You know who he is, right? He doesn’t have time for this.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me, and go get ready. I’ll go get your man,” Jason said, loud and bright, shooing you in the direction of the dressing rooms. You stood there for another minute, dazed and afraid. What if Victor thought it was your idea?

The horror.

The terror.

“I’m still texting Lucien!” you called after him, voice pitched high in your alarm. Before you could follow Jason to make sure Victor knows you would never suggest this, an arm slid around your shoulder.

“Darling,” Arnold, the head stylist, cooed at you. “I heard the good news.”

“How?” It had been two minutes. People shouldn’t be spreading this without the director’s confirmation.

“Forget the hows. This is your time to shine. Come, we’re going to make that CEO drool,” he proclaimed, shepherding you towards the dressing rooms. “And I can finally do something about this hair!”

“He’s not going to agree.” You were absolutely certain of that, even as your mind continued to conjure cutesy images of you sharing cotton candy with the reticent man.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you reached for your phone over the cotton pads, watching Arnold’s reflection in the large mirror as he flitted about the small room, picking out different outfits. You hadn’t gotten a chance to check it for a while, and scrolled through your texts swiftly, pausing on a few in particular.

‎

Victor [9:00]: Hello. I’ve got some time off today.

Victor [9:02]: Is it alright if we drop by the set? What time is your lunch break?

Victor [9:20]: You must be busy. I spoke to Anna. I’ll see you later.

Victor [9:25]: Also, good morning.

‎

Oh.

He had actually let you know he’d be dropping in. Taciturn and domineering he may be, but Victor’s quiet consideration often left you glowing with warmth. In comparison, your own clumsiness often left you embarrassed. In this instance, it made you feel doubly determined to do this right.

‎

Y/N [12: 05]: Hi, sorry I missed these. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track.

‎

Closing Victor’s chat, you took a moment to consider your options before making your choice.

‎

Y/N [12:07]: Lucien! Are you free?

Lucien [12:15]: Hello. Just wrapped up a lecture. I thought you were going to be shooting today?

Y/N [12:16]: I am. Actually, I had a favour to ask.

‎

You stared down at the screen of your phone, shoulders relaxing as one of the assistants fussed with your hair. Should you wait for Jason before asking him? You knew what the outcome will be, regardless of what you wanted. You’ve always known, always kept your thoughts safe behind a barrier, never letting them spill out in Victor’s presence.

You thought back to his disappointment, and something fragile in your chest tightened.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you prayed to all the powers above that this works out.

‎

Victor [12:18]: Dummy. I’m not worried.

‎

There was a knock at the door as you opened the chat, thrown off but pleased by Victor’s confidence.

“Guys, can I come in?”

It was Jason.

With trembling fingers curling tight, you sat up straighter as he was let in. Your pulse quickens, your emotions jumbling together until your can’t tell them apart. You kept your expectations low. You knew what the answer would be. It couldn’t hurt if you expected it.

You just hoped it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t your idea.

“He agreed!” Jason announced with a flourish, and your heart halted its despondent march. “His secretary’s picking up his outfit, they said it won’t take too long. We’ll do his hair and mak—uh, are you okay?”

You swallowed your heart back down. “He said yes.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stretching out his answer, nodding as Arnold thrust an outfit at him.

“And he…knows it’s with…me?” you asked carefully.

Jason’s brows climbed a notch higher. “Yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite read.

“Right, right. That’s great! Fantastic. Wonderful,” you said admittedly weakly, turning your gaze back to your reflection. The colour seemed to have drained from your skin, and you ignored the concerned glance exchanged by Jason and Arnold.

“___, hey,” Jason began gently, coming up to stand behind your chair. “Are you okay with this?”

You studied his worried expression, thoughts turning inward. You shifted aside the panic, the disbelief, the prickling nerves, and shushed the sparks of excitement.

A date with Victor.

It sounded wonderful. But the problem was never about you not wanting it. It was that you’ve wanted it for so long and so badly. Could you really have this?

“It’s okay to say no. It’s just…I don’t think it’ll be as awful as you think,” Jason said. His brow furrowed as the lines of your face smoothed out.

Oh.

“It’s for the camera,” you remembered, and Jason hummed thoughtfully. Regardless of what he may think of you, Victor wouldn’t let it show on the screen. You knew he was aware of what the show entails. So, perhaps, you could have this. It was for work. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

Your breath evened out from its shallow state, and you smiled up at Jason, who still looked concerned.

“It’ll be okay.” Your phone buzzed again, and you gathered yourself once more.

‎

Lucien [12: 23]: What can I do for you?

Victor [12:24]: And I look forward to working with you.

‎

It wouldn’t be real.

Telling yourself it wouldn’t be real was easy.

Sitting next to Victor, your high stools positioned close together as you tried to keep your thoughts away from dangerous paths, was not easy. But the light notes of his scent, sandalwood and myrrh if your nose hadn’t led you astray, threatened to lull you into a state of near-intoxication.

Jason had wanted to film the ‘first meeting’ and, for the sake of authenticity, decided to have Victor wait in front of the camera while you got to be the one to walk in. Which meant it was straight from the dressing room to the set. While you were thankful you wouldn’t be filmed drooling on camera, it still meant you wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until after, or in between takes.

You were a lot more grateful for the arrangement when you did walk to the set, because the sight of Victor—clad in a slim-fit black shirt, paired with a dark grey jacket and black pants that stretched deliciously over his muscled thighs—stopped you dead in your tracks, your thoughts wiped blissfully clean.

The look on his face, bright under the studio lights, had been unreadable, but it didn’t look like his usual unimpressed poker face, so you decided to take it as not quite a win, but not a loss either. Then the small upturn of the corners of his lips, however, threatened to overload your system, prompting you to avert your gaze slightly as you walked to him, for fear of losing yourself.

Your hi had been shyer than intended, but his hello had been the gentlest you had ever heard it.

And then he handed you a bouquet of red, fragrant roses and you felt yourself grow weak.

It was a short take, where you both introduced yourselves, and discussed where you’d be going for the date.

“Do you like fairs?” he’d asked, gaze intent as if your answer was of the utmost importance.

“I love them,” you’d answered, meaning it completely, and he’d looked glad.

Even through the wild beating of your heart, you had managed to feel impressed. He was doing wonderfully already. Who knew Victor had these acting skills? Hopefully, he thought the same of you. You weren’t acting, though, and this, you were quickly realizing, could be a wonderful way to lift the lid off the pot just a little, and let your real feelings shine through.

You would be filming the individual, interview type scenes last, after the date.

With the first meeting done, with Jason going over the take to make sure he had everything he needed, you would be moving to the location soon. But first-

You looked around quickly, covering your mic and making sure nobody was paying too much attention to you, before turning to Victor—only to nearly jump in fright when you met his eyes. How he’d known you wanted to talk, you’d never know. His own eyes had widened when you’d turned around all of a sudden, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He had probably been startled by your reaction.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning up at him, and his lips twitched as he covered his mic.

“You’re doing well,” Victor told you, giving you a firm nod, and you couldn’t quite keep from beaming at him.

“Thanks, you too. I never knew you were hiding such a skilled actor in there!” You really meant it, but your words gave him pause, mouth opening and closing as he considered his response. Strange, as modesty was something he didn’t often bother with. Not to say he’s arrogant, just that he knew his strengths.

“…thank you,” he finally said. “You too. I didn’t know you could…act.”

Because you weren’t acting. The blushing, the shy giggling, the warmth buzzing through you, they were painfully real.

You shrugged, smiling slightly, and he looked away.

“Just…thank you, Victor,” you murmured. “I know this isn’t really your thing. But I promise I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable.”

The light, airy sound that escaped his mouth could almost be a laugh. He did shoot you a small smirk, facing you once more. “Well, you’re not wrong. But it can’t be too bad. I’ve heard they’ve got good street food.”

“Good street food,” you repeated blankly. Wasn’t he taking this acting thing too far? This was bordering on alarming, coming from the man who used to look down on you for eating instant noodles.

“Yes.” He looks at you as if daring you to argue, and, well, who are you to argue with an actor’s method?

His smile faded slightly as yours widened, eyes fixating on yours, your voice pitching higher in your excitement. “I know, yeah, great food. Literally the only reason I agreed to do this!”

Victor’s face shutters at that, his lips pressing tightly together. “Hm.” He turned back to face the camera, leaving you confused, before realisation dawned.

“Hey, don’t worry! I won’t be too much of a glutton, we’ll be on camera, after all,” you told him, as reassuringly as possible because you and good food were a dangerous combo.

He arched a sharp brow at you. “We’ll see about that. I may spend most of my time in kitchen, but Mr Mills has much to tell me about some of your reactions.”

It was only through the sheer power of your offence that you were able to scowl at him even with the heat flaring up in your cheeks. “Well, there’s no way the food there will be as good as the one in Souvenir, so we have nothing to worry about.”

You resisted the urge to cross your arms, keeping your hands neatly folded in your lap as you turned away from him. But when he said nothing for a whole minute, you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek, only to be left with your jaw slack.

Victor was still facing forward, but the corners of his mouth seemed to be curling up despite the effort he was clearly putting into keeping them neutral, his tiny smile still managing to spill through the seams. It enraptured you, a willing captive to the sight of him so pleased, and you wondered if you could make it through this with your heart intact.

But then, you told yourself through your daze, any chef would be happy to receive such praise for their food.

[video]

hopefully, yours, episode 3, part 1: Introductions (Victor and Y/n)

450,569 views • Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers

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51,509 comments

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Jason P ✓

pinned comment

This is a special one guys ♡

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needwater 45 minutes ego

AM I HALLUCINATING OR IS VICTOR LI ACTUALLY ON A DATING SHOW?

view 50 replies

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somsom 23 minutes ago

omg it’s y/n! We rarely get to see her on TV. She’s so cute!!!!

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orangeismycolour 16 minutes ago

!!!! Victor and Y/n!!! Omg ever since I saw them attend the Loveland gala together last year, I knew there was something there!!

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tooktiktook 8 minutes ago

um. isn’t this kind of an odd combo?

cheribb 5 minutes ago

@tooktiktok I thought so too but they look pretty cute together. I mean…he totally blushed when he saw her! And his eyes went so soft!

tooktiktok 4 minutes ago

@cheribb Well, she seems sweet but I think he was just being nice.

By the time you were shuffled into a van and driven to the site of the fair, your nerves had mostly settled.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the pudding cup Victor had handed you once you were in your seats. Goldman had brought over a paper bag, with Victor plucking two cups from it like a magician with a hat. With that said, while it’s a trick you’ve seen many a time, it never fails to bring a sparkle to your eye.

With Arnold’s permission, you were more than happy to dig right in. Your makeup would have to be retouched once you got there even if you didn’t eat.

It was easy to relax in the steady familiarity of Victor’s presence. A dangerous notion, your unwavering faith in Victor, that dictated everything would be okay if he was there because he would either make it so, or you, with confidence half-drawn from him, would make sure of it yourself.

It was only once you were halfway through the treat, humming and wiggling in your joy, that you realized Victor hadn’t started on his. Rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on you, intent in observing your devouring of the pudding.

The next bite went down a little heavier as you turned to him.

“Is something wrong?” Your enthusiasm surely couldn’t have come as a surprise.

He hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, before clearing his throat and looking out he the window at the slow-moving traffic.

“No. Just…eat slowly,” he muttered, refusing to look at you. You squint at him, at the pink creeping up the back of his neck, sucking on the spoon thoughtfully. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Sorry. I got a little too excited.” Your laugh is a little hollow, and you muffle it with another mouthful of the soft, sweet dessert, missing his quick glance back at you.

He sighed, sudden and a little ragged.

“No, I meant that you should take your time and savour it,” he told you, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I can make it for you anytime, so there will be many more chances in the future.”

The next spoonful remained frozen by your mouth as you struggled to process his words. Warm fingers came to rest against the back of your hand, guiding it, and the spoon, to your lips. Your skin tingled, but what was more damning was the way he held your gaze as your lips parted, the metal spoon warm against your tongue as you tasted the sweet delicacy.

It felt all the more sweeter, however, because of the little smile dancing across Victor’s lips.

You were rescued from attempting to respond to that by the van slowing to a stop, with Jason and Homer climbing in before they got moving again. Homer would be the one following you around the fair, as they only needed to get a few takes of you indulging in various activities.

“We absolutely need one with the ferris wheel, of course. A little cliched, but still damn cute. Maybe we can fix a camera in the cabin…” Jason trailed off, turning to Homer for his input. “If you think it’ll be better without you there.”

‘How would it be better without Homer there?’ you wanted to protest. ‘I’ll screw it up if left to my own devices! Professional environment aside, that’s a little too romantic!’

Something prickled at the back of your neck, and you realized Victor seemed to be trying to get your attention, albeit in a very silent way you probably wouldn’t have caught on to if you hadn’t spent so much time studying him.

He said nothing even when you met his gaze, but a reassuring warmth calmed you all the same. I’ll be there, he seemed to say. Trust me.

You were worried about the romantic atmosphere getting to your head, but surely Victor, the ultimate voice of reason, wouldn’t let you get carried away?

“Okay, we won’t crowd you guys too much, but remember to avoid turning away from the camera!”

That had been the last thing Jason said to you both before he retreated to his place behind Homer, who was ready with the camera propped over his shoulder. Your mics were affixed to your clothes, and people were already beginning to shoot curious looks your way. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; many vloggers and people working for food channels could often be found in places like these, flitting about with their cameras out as they partook in the activities available.

While being around cameras was nothing new, it was a little strange to be on the other side of them. Nervousness weighing on your chest, you reminded yourself over and over: be natural, don’t act like a lovesick fool, don’t stare at Victor for too long. Turning to the man himself as Homer adjusted the camera settings, hoping to draw inspiration from his steadfast composure, you could only stare in confusion at the intent way in which he was staring at the entrance to the fair.

Following the trajectory of his gaze, you squinted, hoping to see what had caught his attention. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, with people milling about, the welcoming sign high above their heads bright and welcoming.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, and he nodded, almost distracted.

“Are we ready?” he asked Homer, who gave him a thumbs up.

Jason grinned at you, winking in what he seemed to think was a discreet manner. “Have fun, you two.”

You couldn’t quite pretend there were no cameras, not with Homer keeping up with you as you began to walk through the entrance arch. Looking at Victor was easier, just to block out the awareness of your companions, of course.

Catching your nervous glances, he inclined his head towards you and made an abortive movement, hand rising and falling midway. His jaw clenched, and then he offered you his arm, elbow bent.

As your hand curled around his arm, you focused on your vibrant surroundings. A task made more difficult when, after a short pause, you felt him tuck his elbow into his side, the broad span of his shoulders relaxing when you tightened your grip.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for years, but never really got the chance to,” you told Victor, your voice still edged with nervousness. But Victor nodded at you again, the usual stern line of his mouth quirking up, and your mind stuttered, committing itself to memorizing the precious curve of his mouth.

“In that case I’m glad we got to come here together,” he told you, and it took a good deal of effort not to gape at him. “It’s a first for both of us.”

You nodded, stunned by this unforeseen acting prowess. Seemed like you’ve discovered another one of his many talents.

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he added, a smug lilt to his voice, and this time, you did gape.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, face heating up as you turned away for the sake of your dignity. “Hopefully.”

bandanaman @headaccs

are we all seeing this?? he’s such a gentleman!! I was not expecting this man to be smooth. #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

@headaccs HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? He doesn’t even need words, one look and I would be on my knees. #HopefullyYours #VictorLi

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover calm yo thirsty ass down lmao

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raspberrydream @berryberry

“the first of many” omg what does he mean???? #HopefullyYours

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freshasnow @crystalmoon

Yeah, I’m not really feeling this. I thought we were going to get Kai and Hollow this week? #HopefullyYours

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teatime ✓ @spillit

For those of you asking, yes, we knew Victor Li and Y/n were going to be on Hopefully, Yours. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll have some quality tea for you soon! #HopefullyYours

Spotting the first of the food vendors, you both headed over to it, peering at the fresh dumplings. The vendor straightened up at the sight of the camera, a benign smile spreading across his face when you asked him for permission to film, nodding and plating plump, steaming dumplings with the utmost grace.

Gordon, as he introduced himself, was more than happy to talk about his family business, their two restaurants in Loveland, while Homer took close-ups of the dumpling that Victor broke apart for a better look.

“My daughter comes here every year with me, insisting she can handle things by herself, but honestly, I just enjoy coming here,” he chortled, before fixing the two of you with a knowing look. “It’s a completely different atmosphere from the restaurant! And it’s always nice to see sweet young couples such as yourselves. Reminds me of my own fair dates with my wife…”

You couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Victor, who seemed content to chew on his snack. He caught your eyes, before his flickered over your head towards Homer and Jason. Inexplicably, his ears began to tint a deep crimson, as he swallowed with some effort and stepped closer to you.

It began to make sense when he lifted the other half of the dumpling to your lips, Gordon gasping an oh my! in the background, and even as your heart began to race, your eyes widening, you felt…bad. Jason had obviously asked him to do this, and you felt terrible about him having to embarrass himself like this. But he did it, and so you took a small bite of the dumpling, the juicy filling suddenly tasteless on your tongue.

And then there was a soft sensation on your chin, your eyes lifting to see Victor dabbing at your skin with a napkin, the little motion taking all his concentration until he stepped back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, which seemed to linger around your mouth.

When you were unable to do anything more than flush deeply and try to stammer out a thank you, Jason ended the shot.

The glint in Victor’s eyes didn’t fade, and something within you quivered.

raspberrydream @berryberry

he looks like he wants to eat HER #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry I CAN’T BREATHE. I thought he was going to kiss her LOL. And she looked so nervous and then he just wiped her chin THIS IS TOO SOFT I CANT #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

god I wish that were me #HopefullyYours

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only4food @bananabread

Okay I HAVE TO go to this place. I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. Who’s in??

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midnightmachine @musiclover

Gordon knows what’s up. We stan a hard-working man. #HopefullyYours

Things continued in much the same direction. With no signs of reluctance, Victor rolled up his sleeves and dived into the bustle of the fair. And with his hand curled around your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to doubt him. You’ve learned to read the signs of his displeasure, subtle and obvious, and they were nowhere to be found. He looked relaxed, trying out mini doughnuts, accompanying you to any shops you want to browse, frowning when you looked longingly at the ring toss.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding you over to the booth. Well, you were supposed to try out the games too, but you hadn’t thought Victor would agree to play them. It seemed a little too childish for him.

“I haven’t come here in years either,” he told you when you looked at him curiously, the two of you standing in line with Homer right next to you. “I love my job, but I admit it takes up most of my time. I rarely have time to indulge like this.” He paused, as if wanting to say more, but his eyes flicked towards Homer and he ended it there.

While a part of you was startled in by his words, another softened at his truthful admission.

Victor seemed to have thought of something else, giving you a meaningful look. “But, of course, I always make time for the people in my life.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by sudden turn in direction.

“Even if they want to come to places like these, I don’t mind.” Victor seemed to be hinting heavily at something, and you smiled at that, almost excessively fond. Because it’s true that Victor makes time for the people in his life, especially his family. And even for you—he’s there for you, no matter how small the matter might be; huffing and puffing and going out of his way to help you.

Falling for someone like that, someone who effuses such stoic confidence and noble compassion in equal measure, it was all too easy.

“Then we’ll make sure to come again,” you told him, a wide grin blooming across your face at the thought. It was unlikely that it would actually happen, but it was nice to think about. You stepped up to the cashier, greeting him politely.

You finally got your turns after fifteen minutes, with Homer and Jason taking a quick snack break while you waited. You’d run a quick eye over the prizes available, quickly drawn to two pusheen cat plushies, a soft grey and a dark ebony. You didn’t think he’d judge you on camera, but would it really be okay to admit that’s what you want? The hair pin would be a more sophisticated pick, something more to his tastes.

Silently despairing over your proclivity for soft cute things, you turned to Victor for his choice.

Only to realize he seemed to have taken his jacket off while you were preoccupied and handed it over to Jason, his thin black t-shirt fitting him like a glove—and your words died a swift death at the back of your throat, shrivelling in the sudden dryness of your mouth. Silhouetted against the light of the late afternoon sun, his features seemed sharper, his gaze keener as he twirled the ring in his hands carefully.

As Homer began to roll the camera, and Victor prepared to toss the ring, you panicked with the realization that he didn’t ask you which prize you wanted like Jason had asked him to.

The ring landed around a bottle with a loud clink, and you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t clear in your loud cheer. With the look he gave you, you knew he caught it even if others wouldn’t.

And then he handed you the dark pusheen plushy, which you took with trembling fingers and a sheepish smile. “Oh, thank you.” It was exquisitely soft to the touch. “This is the one I wanted.”

“Hm.”

“It looks like you.”

“What-” His head snapped toward you as you laughed, clutching the toy to your chest. Whatever outraged retort he’d been about to spit out was held back as he saw you hugging it contentedly, your eyes twinkling at him. “…I suppose.”

You handed him the toy, rolling your shoulders as you were given the ring. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m fine with anything,” he said, eyes locked on the grey pusheen plushy, the other half of the pair. So it was with a laugh, helpless in the face of his clear yet unspoken demand, that you tossed the ring. You got it on the second try, handing the toy to Victor with a triumphant grin, who took it primly and tucked it into his side.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this too childish by your standards?” you teased, unable to help it, but he only smirked down at you, stealing your breath with devastating ease.

“It is. But childish is…nice, sometimes,” he admitted carefully.

Your mind helpfully supplied you with all the instances of him calling you childish. “Oh?”

He shrugged, elegant, one shoulder lifting as he looked back down at the toy, before looking back up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes. “It’s grown on me.”

Kiro ✓ @kiromusic

Wow! This seems like so much fun, I kinda wish I got to go there too! :D @miracley/n invite me next time!! #HopefullyYours

Savin @agents

@kiromusic You just want to eat junk. And...well, I guess we can make an exception for today.

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bandanaman @headaccs

Before I proceed to scream over the clip, I just wanted to let y’all know I did some digging and apparently, they are friends! They’ve been spotted together in public many times, including the Loveland Gala last year. You know what this means. #HopefullyYours

bandanaman @headaccs

THE PUSHEEN TOYS. They won each other toys!! Y/n’s right, that does look like him with the dark fur lmao. BUT. Look at Victor’s heart eyes!! And she looked so happy omg T_T

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs NO WONDER. It seems like they already like each other but it seemed too soon!! They’re so cute omg please date!! #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry With how they look at each other? I smell pining ;) I’ve compiled a list of all their public appearances. He even took her to Souvenir! How are they not dating????

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs DM ME!!!!

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs I feel like that’s a bit of a reach. They certainly seem comfortable with each other, but that could easily just be friendship, which is nice too. I feel like we should allow people to be friends instead of just shipping them.

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mintmadness @mintsallover

@hotsauce they’re on a dating show, though.

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover yeah but plenty of other ‘couples’ were just friends or went on to be good friends. I just think these two are comfortable with each other, which is probably a good thing because Victor doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who can have fun with just anyone, you know?

You ended up having a lot more fun than you thought you would. Victor was always great company, but you could tell he’d tried his best to relax for the show and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. The warm gratitude bubbled up at the base of your throat, your heart sinking deeper into the ocean of affection you already held for him.

He’s so kind. His aloof demeanour, his nagging, his precise instructions and advice were things you’ve come to appreciate. But beyond those lies a heart so caring, so considerate, it made you yearn so deeply, to find yourself a place in it. But Victor had come to treat you as a friend and you could never ruin that because of your own feelings. It was precious, his friendship, and you wanted to treat it as such.

The line you’d drawn with so much care seemed to be straining, however, ever since you found out you would be riding the ferris wheel together, without Homer.

“The people in charge told us if we could just wait until closing time, they could keep things going until we’re done shooting!” Jason had told you as he briefed everyone. A bunch of the crew had left after packing up, as this would be the last take for the day. “That way Homer can fix the lighting and equipment in the cabin and won’t need to join you two! Give you some privacy, yeah?”

‘For what,’ you’d screamed internally, nodding along with a smile on the outside.

Looking to Victor for his opinion had been futile, because he seemed to have withdrawn into his own head, looking up at the ferris wheel absently. You were supposed to shoot the individual parts, but with how late it had gotten, Jason had asked the two of you to drop by the studio the next day. Only, you had a free slot in the morning while Victor would only be able to make it sometime during the late afternoon.

So you wouldn’t get to see what Victor said about you. That was perfectly fine. Things had gone well, and Victor wasn’t the sort to badmouth someone anyway.

It was supposed to be his day off. And he gave it up to participate in a show that was, for all intents and purposes, pointless for him. You felt terrible, heart aching at the thought that once again you had made him waste his time.

How on earth did Jason even get him to agree to this?

“You’re thinking something ridiculous,” came a low voice, and Victor seemed to have come back from his mental journey.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the guilt getting to you.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely baffled, and it made you feel worse.

“For this entire day. You just came for a visit and now it’s after 8 pm and your day off is gone and you rarely get free time…” your shameful rambling tapered off as the furrow between his brows appeared to grow deeper and deeper.

His response was interrupted by a staff member, who came to let you know the ride was ready for you two. Walking together in complete silence, you wondered what he was about to say.

“Do you regret it?”

You arrived at the ride, and Victor had stopped in front of the open door. “What?”

“Do you regret it?” he repeated patiently, holding his hand out to you. “This entire day. Our date.”

Our date.

It was silly, how him calling it a date, with no cameras in sight, seemed to affect you so deeply. It was ridiculous but it was so real, how your heart fluttered and hope unfurled in the garden where you’ve buried your affection.

“Because I’m not sorry,” he added when you failed to do anything other than flush horribly. There was a question in his gaze, one you didn’t know how to answer, so with a deep breath, you focused on the one he’d asked out loud.

“No,” you said softly, your hand coming to rest over his as he helped you into the cabin. “I don’t regret it.”

How could you, when he was everything you wanted?

You settled on the plastic bench, watching Homer fiddle with the settings and light, making sure the camera’s fixed in place, basking in the heat emanating from Victor.

“Alright, that should work. You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yes.”

Homer stepped back to let Jason poke his head through the door. “We’re all set guys. Just call us if there are any problems. Be yourselves, don’t worry about the take. And remember, make sure to make it as romantic as possible!”

As the door closed behind him, with the camera rolling, silence rose to take the place of the sounds now cut off, the rest of the world falling away as the ride began and you began to ascend.

Outside the window, the stars shone in a twinkling blanket across the night sky, and Victor’s arm pressed into yours. Meeting his eyes was difficult, astoundingly so after the entire day you spent together.

This close, it would be so easy to let the words tumble from your lips. You didn’t know what your eyes could give away right now, and you were just as afraid of the softness in his gaze.

It looked too real.

“I’m glad we finally got some peace,” he muttered, and just like that a bright laugh broke out through your fear.

“This was not your kind of place at all, was it?” you said, snickering at the look he threw your way, because it’s so easy to make him huff like that.

“It was…lively,” he said, glaring at you as you stifle your smile behind your hand. “Exactly the kind of place you enjoy.”

“That’s true.”

“Then that’s that.” He shifted a little, trying to face you, his knee knocking into yours. “As long as you had fun, we’ll come again.”

Despite your warnings, your heart skipped a beat.

You tried to laugh it off, changing the subject to your childhoods, swapping lighter stories and carefully avoiding the heartbreaks. Your hands moved somewhere in between, in the dim lights, and your fingers had found each other’s. Make it romantic, Jason had said. That was the only reason. You talked about work, about Miracle Finder, about his public projects, how your busy lives don’t give you the chance to find love.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Victor cut in, still looking at you in that quietly dangerous away, his gaze a heated cloak over your skin.

You stilled. “You wouldn’t?” There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped went unnoticed.

“I think, regardless of how busy we are, however reluctant…love finds us when it has to,” he said, his voice deep, unwavering, and you forgot how to breathe. Somehow, despite doing your best to avoid it, you had wound up on the proverbial cliff’s edge.

And it was time to take a leap.

“Victor...have you ever been in love?” you asked, part of you ready for his outrage, for him to brush it off with a roll of his eyes, and the other curling up in fear at the thought of the answer he might really give you.

He hummed, tightening his grip on your hand when you tried to tug it back, searching your face. His thumb swept over your knuckles, rubbing gently, and you wondered if he was preparing you for heartbreak.

“Yes. I have.”

Kiki @kikiki

@smilingwillow WHAT THE FUCK

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Anna @miracletv

@kikiki Language.

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Kiki @kikiki

‎@miracletv did you see the episode?? im going to collapse WHERE IS BOSS @miracley/n

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raspberrydream @berryberry

DID HE JUST???? OH MY GOD @headaccs DID YOU SEE THIS? ARE YOU OKAY? #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

THIS MAD LAD ACTUALLY DID IT. @berryberry I will never recover from this #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry He just said he’s been in love before. He didn’t say he’s in love with her lol

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce what will it take for you to finally see the light

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mintmadness @mintsallover

I could listen to this man talk all day. Y/n, you’re one lucky girl <3 #HopefullyYours

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cocoloco @chocolatedelite

I’m late to the party but lmao at everyone freaking out. Uhhh honestly I’m not sure. These things are usually scripted. They could just be faking it. #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@chocolatedelite Thank you!!!!

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victorshoe @mrsli

My heart is broken but their cuteness has mended it. I’ll give them my blessings. #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

oh thank god they just uploaded the individual bits!!! THANK YOU @jtv

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bandanaman @headaccs

...wait

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raspberrydream @berryberry

‎‎omfg

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bandanaman @headaccs

????? IS THAT IT??? COME BACK @jtv that can't be it!!

Thank you for reading!

MC/You: it’s a fake date. chill.

Victor: Goldman I need NINE roses and an outfit that makes me look like a sex god I HAVE A DATE

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love queen's choice #mr love li zeyan #mlqc victor x reader #queue are my sunshine

374 notes · View notes

i-know-my-value-darling · 4 years

Photo

Supernatural stars reflect on the show's undying legacy

Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins discuss 15 years of fantasy, family, and flannel.

"We only get one shot at this." Sam and Dean Winchester are surrounded. The monster-hunting brothers are standing on the edge of a cliff. They look to Castiel, their brother in arms — or is it wings? — but even he can’t help. One move in the wrong direction could ruin everything. After years of fighting demons, going toe-to- toe with Satan himself, and saving the world multiple times, they once again find themselves in a position of having to perform under pressure. But this situation is unlike anything they’ve ever dealt with before. All eyes are on them as they have one shot…at getting the perfect picture.

It’s a dry, hot August day in Malibu — when people were still allowed to gather outside — as Supernatural stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins prepare for the last setup of their final Entertainment Weekly cover shoot. With a bottle of champagne in each of their hands, Ackles once again reminds them they get “one shot” to do this right. But if their characters can shoulder the weight of the world, surely these three can handle a photo. Read the whole story below

The champagne soaking is meant to be a celebration of 15 years, of making television history. Supernatural, the story of two brothers destined to save the world, is the longest-running genre show in the history of American broadcast television. (So old, the first three seasons shot on this thing called film.) What started as an underdog story, living its first few years on the verge of cancellation, has become an institution, a milestone to which other shows aspire. Supernatural not only survived the move from The WB to The CW after its first season — it’s now the final WB show left standing — but became the backbone of the now highly successful CW network. Over the years, the sci-fi series has aired on every weeknight, helping to launch shows including Arrow and The Vampire Diaries. The network moved it one final time, most recently, to Mondays, to help Roswell, New Mexico expand its audience. “Supernatural is a major link to many of the shows that we have successfully built to market,” The CW’s chairman and CEO Mark Pedowitz says. “Almost every one of our shows has had it as a lead-out or a lead-in.”

And to think, it all started as a promise to bring horror to television. After Supernatural creator Eric Kripke had finished working with Warner Bros. on 2003’s Tarzan series, he pitched the idea of a reporter who travels around hunting urban legends. As he puts it, it was a Kolchak: The Night Stalker rip-off. But when he realized the story would benefit from having brothers at its core, he started writing. “At the time, The Ring and The Grudge were huge hits in theaters,” Kripke remembers. “We said, ‘We’re going to take that experience and we’re going to put it on TV,’ and the initial goal was to be scary.” After Warner Bros. passed on his first, what he calls “uptight,” draft, Kripke had to reassess the kind of show he was creating. “I canceled all my Christmas plans and wrote that second draft in three weeks,” he says. “That was when the show got its sense of humor, because I was locked alone, over winter break, in my office. I couldn’t do anything fun, so I started entertaining myself.”

The show was still scary, but it was also funny and, over the years, would continue to evolve. Sure, you could say it’s a little bit X-Files — in its early days, the show often used the line “The X-Files meets Route 66” — and there were definite Star Wars influences (Sam and Dean were originally based on Luke Skywalker and Han Solo). But no combination of pop culture is going to perfectly describe Supernatural because the show has managed to do something remarkably rare in the age of peak TV, where audiences are so overwhelmed with content that an original idea seems foreign: It’s created a truly one-of- a-kind experience.

For starters, it’s a show about two flannel-wearing, beer-loving, blue-collar dudes from Kansas who for a good chunk of their lives traveled from cheap motel to cheap motel, paying for gas and greasy diner food with a mix of fake credit cards and money they earned scamming people at the pool table. “Almost all television is about rich people or, at the very least, middle-class people,” co-showrunner Andrew Dabb says. “The fact that we’ve been able to take this Midwestern blue-collar approach to this genre feels like we’re breaking the mold.”

But the mold-breaking didn’t stop there. Supernatural might’ve started out as a horror show with some snarky one-liners, but it evolved into some of the boldest, most experimental (and certainly strangest) stories on the small screen. “We’re a show of big swings,” co-showrunner Robert Singer says. “I used to say, with every idea, ‘This will be a home run or they’ll cancel us,’ but every year we wanted to do something really nuts." And when he says nuts, we’re not just talking about the episode with the talking teddy bear or the murderer targeting imaginary friends. Those are just some standard monsters of the week. We’re talking about the black-and-white episode shot like a classic Hollywood monster movie, or the episode that introduced Chuck (Rob Benedict), a prophet — who’d later reveal himself to be God — who was famous for writing a book series called Supernatural. That, of course, led to Sam and Dean attending a Supernatural fan convention as the show continued to redefine what it meant to inject a series with meta humor. And the swings never stopped. Season 13 featured a Scooby-Doo crossover as an animated Sam, Dean, and Castiel solved a case alongside the Mystery Inc. gang. And in season 14, after giving God a sister a few years prior, the show made the Big Man Himself its final villain. “I don’t think any idea, barring some production concerns, has been viewed as too crazy,” Dabb says. “Because we know that our fans are smart and that they’ll follow these guys anywhere.”

So long as each episode features Sam and Dean — and the occasional heartfelt talk on the hood of the Impala — the show can do just about anything, which is another reason Kripke had to rewrite his first draft of the pilot. Originally, Dean was the only brother who knew about monsters growing up, bringing Sam up to speed later in life. It wasn’t until Kripke figured out that they needed to be in this together that the series snapped into place. Because at the end of it all, they’re two brothers bonded by the loss of their mother and a life spent on the road with an absentee father. (It just so happens that their mother was killed by a demon and their father hunted them.) The familial dynamic — the irrational codependency, as the angel Zachariah (Kurt Fuller) once called it — is the most important part of the show. “The first inkling I had that we had something special was shooting the pilot,” Kripke says. “It was the scene on the bridge when Sam and Dean talk about their mother. It was the first time that you really saw their chemistry and their connection as brothers on full display. Because I’ve always said this show begins and ends with whether you believe that sibling relationship.” But Sam and Dean weren’t just the center of the show. For many years, they were the show.

Supernatural has never been an ensemble drama. For the first 82 hours of the series, Ackles and Padalecki were the only long-running series regulars — Katie Cassidy and Lauren Cohan briefly joined for season 3, appearing in 12 episodes combined. But Sam and Dean weren’t just in every episode; they anchored every episode. (They skipped table reads because there would’ve been only two actors there.) “I had many moments of not only questioning, ‘Can I keep this up?’ but an answer of ‘I cannot keep this up,’ ” Padalecki, 37, who’s been vocal about his struggle in the early seasons, says. “I borrowed strength from Jensen.” But even Ackles, 42, admits it was a tough job. “The 23-episode seasons were nine and a half months of filming,” he adds. “It was a lot of work, but I always came back to: I still enjoy it, I still like telling the story, I still like these characters and the people I work with.”

Not only did the guys stick around, they built a reputation of having created one of the warmest sets in the business, with a number of crew members staying with the production all 15 seasons. It all dates back to a talk Kripke had with his stars during the filming of the series’ second episode. “I said, ‘The show is about your two characters, and with that comes this responsibility,’ ” Kripke says. Padalecki remembers the exact setting of what he calls their “Good Will Hunting moment,” a bench in Stanley Park in Vancouver, where they film. It was a chat both actors took to heart. “We’d both been on other sets,” Ackles says. “We knew we wanted to enjoy it, to have fun with our crew; we wanted them to like us and us to like them and to have fun doing what we do.” It’s an attitude Pedowitz hopes bleeds into other CW shows, an attitude that launched an annual tradition where the CW chairman/CEO takes his new casts out to dinner with the Supernatural guys, a chance for the vets to share advice. “It’s always the most flattering situation,” Padalecki says, recalling a moment he had a few years back with the late Luke Perry, who was a part of the Riverdale cast. “Luke was sitting next to me and he was like, ‘What y’all have done and what we hear about you guys, it’s really cool to be associated with y’all in some way, shape, or form,’” he recalls. “And I’m sitting there pinching myself.”

It’s a behind-the-scenes legacy that’s perhaps just as impressive, if not more so, than the onscreen legacy. Collins, 45, who started as a guest star and the show’s first angel in season 4, has become the show’s third-longest-running series regular, and he still remembers walking onto set his first day. “When you’re coming onto a show as a guest star, it can be a little bit nerve-racking,” Collins says. “Coming to this set, it was an immediately different vibe. Think- ing about working on other shows in the future, that’s something that I aspire to bring with me.”

A similar reputation extends to the fans as well. Not only is the #SPNFamily one of the most dedicated fandoms out there, it’s also known to be a pretty nice one. (Not many fandoms can say they’ve helped launch a crisis support network for their fellow fans.) But their dedication isn’t just about seeing what crazy twist God throws at Team Free Will next. Thanks to fan conventions and social media, the viewers are just as invested in the lives of the actors. Supernatural’s not just about the words on the page, it’s about the actors saying them. “When you’re dealing with the public taste, there’s an alchemy of great writing, a great idea, and the close-up that’s required,” Peter Roth, chairman of Warner Bros. Television Group, says. “You need stars who you want in your living room.” And you need stars who want to be in your living room, and who, even after 15 years, care so deeply that they get emotional while taking photos in Malibu.

"It's going to be a long eight months," Ackles declares. Standing on that same ledge, an hour before the champagne shot, Ackles, Padalecki, and Collins walk away from a group hug after unexpectedly starting to tear up. It might be the setting — looking out over the ocean — or the occasion: their last-ever photo shoot. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re almost a month into filming their final season.

It had been a question posed to the stars for years: How long will this show continue? How long can it continue? “Even my mom and dad were like, ‘When are you going to be done with this?’” Ackles says with a laugh. It was a decision the network and studio had ultimately put into the actors’ hands, and it was a conversation they’d been having for a while. Back in 2016, Padalecki told EW, “If we don’t make it to [episode] 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed.” But in season 14, they hit 300…and then kept going. While filming episode 307, they announced the upcoming 15th season would be the end, which will bring them to a total of 327 episodes when all is said and done. “[Jared] and I were always married to the fact that we never wanted to go out with a diet version of what we had,” Ackles says. “We wanted to have enough gas left in the tank to get us racing across the finish line. We didn’t want to limp across.” Padalecki remembers the moment it hit him — not the decision to end it, but rather the opposite. “We had that moment where he and I both realized that we didn’t want it to end,” he says. “It finally got to a point, ironically, where it was like, ‘I never want to leave this. I could do this until the day I die, and then if I get the choice when I’m dead, I’ll re-up!’ But you never want to be the last person at a party. We just knew. That’s not to say there haven’t been vacillations, but we all trust the decision that was made.”

Starting in July 2019, the cast and crew returned to Vancouver to begin filming the final season, but in March 2020, with two episodes left to go, they were sent home. For years, fans had wondered what, if anything, could stop the Winchesters, and now it seems we have the answer: a global pandemic. As sets closed amid social-distancing measures due to the spread of COVID-19, it didn’t take long for fans to start connecting the dots, sharing relevant GIFs from episodes that featured viruses, most notably Chuck telling Dean to hoard toilet paper “like it’s made of gold” before the end of the world in season 5’s “The End.” (Did we mention that Supernatural is also kind of psychic? In a season 6 episode, Dean calls Sam “Walker, Texas Ranger,” which just so happens to be the role Padalecki has lined up after this ends.)

When production paused, it all felt a little like we were living in an episode of the show, just waiting for Sam and Dean to drive up in Baby, open those creaky doors, and save us. They might not be able to do quite that, but the thing with the Winchesters is that they never stay down for long. When Supernatural is able to safely resume production, it will. And though there are only two episodes left to film, fans will enjoy a total of seven unseen hours, including the return of Charlie (Felicia Day) and a mystery woman who visits the bunker and, for some reason, gives Sam and Dean all the holidays they never got to celebrate. “She makes Christmas for them and Thanksgiving, birthday parties, and all that. It’s a very good episode,” Singer says, adding, “I don’t know when it’s going to air.”

That’s the thing—no one knows, not even the guys who took out Yellow Eyes, stopped Leviathans, defeated Death himself, and are supposedly destined to be the messengers of God’s destruction. But Sam and Dean do know the value of a good plan B. “Obviously it’s a horribly unfortunate situation we’re in, but the silver lining is that it gives us an opportunity to recharge,” Ackles says. “We had just finished episode 18, we shot one day of episode 19, and I was reading these two monster scripts thinking, ‘It’s like we’re at the end of a marathon and they want us to sprint for the last two miles.’ I feel like this almost gives us an opportunity to refocus and go into the last two episodes and hit them with everything we got.” Because when they do return to set, shave their quarantine beards, and step back into Sam and Dean’s shoes for the last time, they’ll have one shot at ending this thing…and they’re determined not to miss.

Photos: Peggy Sirota for EW

https://ew.com/tv/supernatural-stars-cover-ew-to-reflect-on-the-shows-undying-legacy/

#supernatural #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #last season #season 15 #entertainment weekly #cover story #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #full post #SPN #spn family #new photo #new photos

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thebestofoneshots · 4 years

Text

Price kiss

Paring: Dean x reader

Prompt: In which you nurse Dean after he’s been injured on a fight. But on a fun way rather than a worried manner.

A/N: So this was initially inspired by the kiss scene near the end of Indiana Jones and the temple of doom, but after realising how weird the scene felt without the Indiana context I gave it a few twists. There’s still a kiss and it’s all fun banter, so if you’re in for a light hearted, fun read, you’ll enjoy. Much love!

Warnings: None, it’s on the bunker but there are no spoilers to any of the seasons, so ready away!

You flipped another page of an old journal that belonged to a 1940’s men of letters and absently played around with one of the compasses that always laid on the beautiful map table underneath you.

A hard knock from the door startled you, causing you to drop the compass and grab the gun underneath the table pointing it straight towards it.

“Wow! Put that down!” said Dean, who stood near the railing, using it as support to stand.

“What happened? Though you were getting pizza,” you said when you noticed how beaten up he was.

“Angels,” he sighed “they wanted to know where Jack was, they didn’t take I don’t know for an answer.”

You pouted “poor Dean, someones gonna have to help you come down now,” you made fun of him.

He rolled his eyes and started walking downstairs, but he tripped and almost fell halfway through the staircase.

“Shit,” you whispered and ran up to help him “didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Shouldn’t have been, I was rather distracted when they found me.”

As you moved his arm over your shoulder to help him walk he complained, very loudly. “Goddamit, my ears Winchester!”

He frowned at you and while pointing his finger said “You’re the one that pulled on my dislocated arm!”

“Please, stop complaining like baby, we’ll fix it when I get you to the infirmary, besides you don’t even know if it’s dislocated.”

“Well it feels dislocated.” he bickered back.

As you both walked towards the bunkers infirmary, with Dean’s arm over your shoulders, you started feeling him getting heavier, he was passing out.

“Wow, Dean, Dean!” you spoke worriedly, turning your body towards his and lightly slapping him on the cheek “Dean, there’s absolutely no way I move you if you pass out. Sam and Cas are not here, you know it.”

He half nodded and you continued walking to the infirmary, once there you help him quickly sit on one of the beds and once in one he looked down, very tired, but still trying to keep himself up.

“All right Winchester! Let me see your arm,” you said as you took off his jacket, after it one of his plaid shirts and finally he was only left with a black short sleeve. You sighted and examined his arm. Did you know anything about medicine? No, not professionally at least, but if you’d learn how to inject with youtube, so would you learn how to fix his arm, hopefully.

As you examined his arm you played a video tutorial on how to fix a dislocated shoulder, which you learned was the right term, rather than dislocated arm.

“Wait a second? are you looking at a tutorial?”

You shrugged “If it doesn’t work I’ll take you to the hospital later, or Cas can fix it, he should be just hours away,”

“The man is saying it’s dangerous, shouldn’t be done unless incredibly necessary!” he nodded to your phone.

“Would you rather I call an ambulance, so they come, and you know see the bunker, what if thei’re demons? or other angels?”

He sighed “Fine, but be careful!” he warned.

“No need to worry, all right, lay down please.” He did as told. “I’m going to pull in the count of three… One… two…” and you pulled.

“Sone of Bitch!” He complained loudly “You said the count of three.”

“Doctors on TV always say it hurts less when unexpected,” you shrugged.

“On TV, (Y/N), this is real life,” he exclaimed.

“Well does it hurt still?”

“What?”

“Your arm, silly!”

He sat back down and rolled his shoulders “I think it’s a lot better now,” he admitted, you smirked.

“Yeah well, you’re welcome, anyway, why are you cut all over, you were wearing a jacket?”

“They dragged me on the floor a few meters,”

You handed him a few painkillers “here, this should help.”

“Thanks, Dr. (Y/N),” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes but bowed at him in a very exaggerated manner “We need to get those clean,” you nodded towards the harsh cuts on his face and arms.

“Well, let’s do it,” he sighed.

You gabbed a little cotton pad and dipped it on some alcohol, but stopped and let it back on the tray, “You’re gonna have to take that one off too,” you motioned towards his shirt.

He nodded and started taking it off but got stuck near the end and you helped him finish, he complained about it all the way. “Don’t be such a baby,” you mumbled.

He frowned, you took a good look at him. He was gorgeous, but that was not why you were here so you focused and looked for the injuries. There were bruises coloured red, purple and green, harsh cuts, and scraps all around his torso. You grabbed the little cotton with a small plier and started going over the little cuts first. He flinched every time the cotton would touch his skin. His jaw was clenched and he was tense.

As you went to one of the upper scraps on the right side of his chest he held his breath, you could see his chest lowering as you removed the little cotton from the cut. “I think that was the last one on your chest,” you smiled sympathetically.

“Awesome.”

“I need to clean your face cuts now,” he frowned at your words but nodded at you to go ahead. You drew a deep breath and started going over his face. You’d gotten closer to see what you were doing and held your face close to his. You started from the side, cleaned his eyebrow cut first and the harsh scrape on his jaw. You smiled “it’s done! torture’s over.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt to put on.

“Winchester don’t be an idiot. That’s dirty, I just cleaned all your injuries, you can’t put that again!” you told him and then mumbled at yourself “I might have as well just thrown a bottle of alcohol on top of you if you were going to render all my work useless that fast.”

He gave you an apologetic smile and left the shirt on the side. You turned over and handed him a white shirt from one of the drawers. You assumed it was for the men of letters that lived there before. As he moved around to put it on you saw him flinch from the pain.

“Hey! It’s all right I’ll help,” you said quickly grabbing the shirt and gently pulling it over his shoulders to fit it on him, “there you go, brand new,” you smiled giving him a look. And out of the blue gave him a light peck on the cheek.

“Auch,” he complained, “What the hell was that?”

“A price kiss?”

“On my bruised cheek? Clever!”

“Well, where else? You hurt all around,” you motioned his hole body.

He pointed at his forehead. You rolled your eyes but planted a soft kiss on top of it.

“Well then. Better?”

“Not yet I don’t think, maybe you should try here,” he pointed at the tip of his nose.

You frowned but kissed it anyway. He gave you a long look. With his big green eyes and then, the scoundrel he was, he pointed at his lips.

“Do you really believe you can trick me into kissing you like Indiana Jones?”

“He wasn’t tricking her!”

“Fine, coax me into kissing you like Indiana Jones?”

“But don’t I deserve it?” He pouted.

You rolled your eyes but after some considering gave him a fast kiss on the side of his mouth. You saw how his breath hitched, he wasn’t expecting it either, he’d always hit on you but only as playful banter, never seriously. Or so you both thought.

“Are you blushing?” You smirked.

“Shut up!”

“Ha!” You exclaimed, “who would’ve thought, Dean Winchester, playboy, hunter and world saver would blush with a little peck on the side of his lips!”

“I said shut up!” He stood up and grabbed your arm. Not quite menacing, but rather in a desperate way.

You looked at him defiantly “Or... What?”

He smirked and mumbled “I’ll make you,” as he pulled you into a kiss. It was soft and gentle and then you put your hand over his shoulder to bring him closer-

“Aaaaaaaauch,” he complained until you removed your hand.

“Sorry,” You mumbled.

“Meh... if you break it, you’re going to have to fix it again. And I’ll be looking forward to that price kiss.”

You laughed and smirked, “You’re an idiot, Dean Winchester....”

Permanent Dean Winchester taglist: @akshi8278

Find more Dean fluff here

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page-doctor-bekker · 3 years

Text

transfemme!sarah au

thinking about transfemme!sarah

literally coming up with this au on the fly but here you go

this is literally so long but whatever i like it

there are a couple trigger warnings in this (suicide, hate crimes), they’re listed in bold italicized writing before and after the trigger so you can easily skip them. this is in bullet point format.

anyways i love this and i'm obsessed with it so enjoy! first chicago med au. it doesn't really have a name yet but i'm tagging it transfemme!sarah for now

from the minute sarah was born she was definitely different, and her parents actually had her tested for autism

then got her tested again when the first one was negative. and then again when the second one was negative.

her parents were actually so positive that she was autistic that finally one of the psychologists ended up giving her a PDDNOS (pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified) diagnosis until a therapist suggested gender dysphoria

i mean back then kids weren’t trans they were just Troubled(tm)

so up until she was about nine or so they figured she just didn’t have enough care for social cues that she didn’t understand gender enough to act like a boy instead of acting like a girl. she refused to wear “boy’s” clothes which was mistaken for sensory issues, had anger issues and outbursts that were mistaken for meltdowns, they really thought she was autistic

i mean. she pretended to breastfeed baby dolls for christ’s sake.

anyways once her therapist figured this out, she was discharged and transferred to a gender specialist psychologist who revoked the pddnos diagnosis and switched it to a gender dysphoria diagnosis

sarah’s mom was completely on board and had quietly suspected it herself but her dad

hooo boy her dad

her dad hated the idea so much that he basically walked out and never came back

sarah started going by sarah because she loved sarah from hocus pocus

anyways she was 9 when she changed her name and she moved schools because she was getting bullied

when she was 10 all her girl friends at her new school started growing boobs and getting their periods and sarah started getting really depressed

which ultimately lead her mom to take her to an endocrinologist that specialized in gender diverse care

and she started puberty blockers

sudden new issue: sarah is terrified of needles. her childhood vaccines caused full-blown panic attacks and the blockers were no different.

she is horrifically stubborn and determined to make this work though

so she kept going. and every week she had a panic attack and had to skip her injections a couple times because she just couldn’t handle it

but eventually, her panic attacks got less and less overwhelming with the help of being prescribed a benzo to take fifteen minutes before her injection. eventually once she could handle the injections with the help of the benzo, they tapered it off until she could 100% handle needles sober. this took close to two years, but she did it.

(side note - this positive experience with exposure therapy was why she was so keen on trying it during s3 with dr charles)

so at this point she’s about twelve and still feels left out from her peers. she’s going into middle school, her friends are all growing up physically and she just feels left behind

her mom tries to convince her that some girls are just late bloomers, she can still fit in even if she waits to go on estrogen, nobody is going to suspect a thing, etc etc etc

but it gets really bad. her dysphoria gets terrible and she starts having panic attacks so severe that she had to leave school and be homeschooled.

SUICIDE TW UNDER HERE

then sarah attempts suicide

she spends about a month in the psych ward to recover, and ultimately the doctors advised starting low dose hormone replacement to alleviate her dysphoria

SUICIDE TW OVER

sarah cried when she had her first estradiol injection, but this time it was happy tears, not tears of panic

she had injections weekly, and as she started to see changes she got so, so much happier

fat redistributed, her skin got softer, she even started to grow breasts. lots of fun stuff.

they later added progesterone for more effects when she was in highschool

also in highschool she found out she was a lesbian. not important rn but that did happened

her graduation gift from her mom was breast augmentation surgery <3 congratulations sarah ily

after all that, she finally decided she wanted to go into medicine.

so she started college and moved to chicago

the first year of college, she was out and proud and even had an officer position at the gsa on campus

HATE CRIME TW

in her second year she was the victim of a pretty bad hate crime committed by a group of frat boys on campus. she was attacked walking home from a party at night.

HATE CRIME TW OVER

while she recovered from that experience, both mentally and physically, she had to take a gap year from college and move back home with her mother

her mother persuaded her to finish her degree closer to home, so sarah stayed home for the last two and a half years of college, and upon graduating college, she decides to move back to chicago for med school

this time she stays closeted because she has ptsd from college

first three years are uneventful but she does quietly get a bottom surgery consult, but she decides not to move forward for awhile

and that brings us to season one

alrighty season one

as we know there’s a lil mild homophobia and whatnot in the hospital and as a result of that, sarah deals with some lovely compulsive heterosexuality and is still extremely closeted

so she dates joey even though she is most definitely a lesbian in denial but she doesn’t tell him she’s trans out of fear

then things with joey get even more serious and he wants to get intimate with her, so he makes an advance one night when they’re home watching a movie

so she lies her way out of it, says she’s waiting for marriage and not ready and blah blah blah

total lies

she’s a lesbian and she knows this

so anyways she breaks up with him right after she graduates med school, quits pathology to avoid him, and mourns the loss for a bit before she realizes

she wants to move forward with bottom surgery

so she schedules an orchiectomy and has that done during the time before she was hired by dr. charles

for laymen, an orchiectomy is the removal of the the testicles :) typically the first step in multi-stage bottom surgery, which is where you do each stage of bottom surgery at different times

anyways it fits into the timeline because recovery from that procedure takes less than a week

then dr charles hires her for s2, events of s2 go as written

then the sexy ava bekker moves to chicago med from south africa and sarah is SMITTEN

anyways i should probably stop here and avoid spoilers

well whatever i'm open to asks abt this <3

#chicago med world #special interest world #chicago med au #reesker #sarah reese #ava bekker #transfemme!sarah #what do y'all tag your writing as #chicago med #sarah reese x ava bekker #ava bekker x sarah reese #crockettstiddies #i hope you don't mind i tag that #i feel like you'd maybe be into this though? idk #or at least i love your work and would love for you to see mine :)

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Four Times Nathan Proposed and One Time He Meant it

Hi! This is my humble contribution to @nolypats and @hockeyboysiguess campaign for Nathan MacKinnon for Hockey Boy of the Month. Please see their blogs for more info, also just because they’re amazing writers. This is my first time trying a 4+1, I thought it would be nice to put something out before the next chapter of Flatbush & Atlantic. It was genuinely so much fun writing this, so please let me know what you think!

Wine pairing: Rotari rosé. @hockeyboysiguess and I have started to pair all of our writings with their own wine, bearing in mind that neither of us knows anything about wine. It’s all about the VIBES.

4 times Nathan proposed and 1 time he meant it

The first time (February)

Jordan knocked on the door, a glass dish balanced precariously on her hip. She and Nathan tried to have a standing date night every week, something that wasn’t grabbing lunch when they were both free or meeting for coffee before she had to head to work and he went to practice. That was, unless there was a game. Or a roadie. Or a team event. So needless to say, the two had been a little strapped for “couple time” recently, and they were both feeling it. She had an article due the next day, a co-write about the use of illegal dark money in a recently-elected congressman’s campaign. Nathan had a long practice that morning and wasn’t feeling too up to anything that would require him to move too far from his couch.

He opened the door, giving her a quick kiss. “I pulled up a few movies I thought you might be into, but didn’t want to pick anything until you got here.”

“You’re so considerate, I think I’m going to swoon,” Jordan said.

Nathan shrugged. “I’ll catch you if you fall.” Deep down, he really was a romantic, though the boys would chirp him endlessly if they knew.

Jordan padded into the kitchen, setting the dish onto the counter and opening up the cabinet right above the toaster oven, grabbing two plates. Even apart from date night, it wasn’t uncommon for them to eat in; partly due to the fact that there were few things in this world Nathan loved more than being able to fly under the radar, something that was a little bit difficult to do when you wore the A for the Colorado Avalanche, but partly because in his own way, it was letting Jordan into his life. “What movies were you looking at?”

“Depends what you’re feeling,” Nathan replied. “We’ve got...Star Wars, Captain Marvel, and 10 Things I Hate About You.”

Her ears perked up. “The one with Heath Ledger?”

“That’s the one. Sound good to you?”

Jordan had always had a penchant for movies of the late-90s and early 2000s, especially if they were romcoms, and especially if said romcoms starred Julia Stiles. As a little girl, there was definitely more than once where she had herself entirely convinced that her life would turn out exactly like The Prince and Me. Minus, of course, the fact that the beginning of Paige and Edvard’s entire relationship was built on lies. Mainly, she was just really into crowns and big poofy dresses as a little girl. “Sounds good to me!” She said brightly. “You want a brownie?”

Nate craned his neck to look at her in the kitchen, looking expectantly at him with one hand holding a spatula. “You made brownies?”

Jordan giggled. “I did. I take it that’s a yes?”

“That’s a definitely, please, my God give me one right this second or I might combust.” She slid the plate onto the side table a minute later, grabbing two napkins. “Are these normal brownies?” Nathan asked, picking one up and inspecting it with a semi-confused look on his face.

“They’re triple-layer, it’s an old recipe for slutty brownies from when I was in college. Bottom’s cookie dough, then Oreos, then fudge brownie on top of that.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Slutty brownies?”

Jordan swatted at his shoulder. “I know it’s a weird name, just give them a chance. I know you’ve been feeling a little down with the losing streak, and thought you could use a pick-me-up. They were my go-to for breakups, always seemed to help the girls feel better, so I thought it might work for you too.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but Nathan’s heart skipped a beat with Jordan’s words. “Guess I’ll have to see,” he said, taking a bite out the corner. His face melted. “This is...literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Seriously, it’s so good. So good. Oh my God, marry me.”

Jordan flushed, turning to take a sip of water so he wouldn’t see. “I’m glad you like them.”

The second time (May)

It was 11:38 on a Friday night, and Jordan and Nathan were at a bar. To be precise, Jordan, Nathan, and pretty much the whole team were at a bar, plus what seemed like the entire population of Denver. Springtime meant playoff season for the NHL, and winning a series meant going out. Jordan normally had to pass whenever the team decided to hit up a bar or club after a win; as much as she would have liked to go, she was a journalist who kept a 9-5 job, which meant that she had to at least get some modicum of sleep if she was going to be able to function in the newsroom without an injection of caffeine straight into her veins. But it was the weekend, and she’d be damned if she was going to miss out on this.

For the most part, the fans weren’t making a fuss; there was the occasional picture taken or pat on the back for winning the conference semifinals for the first time in twenty years, but nothing out of hand. Sipping her Dark & Stormy, she looked fondly over at Nate, who was having what looked to be a very animated conversation with Burky. Already two and a half drinks in, Nathan was starting to act a little tipsy; while he was normally more reserved about public displays of affection, he kissed Jordan more than one as the night went on. Not like she was complaining. Picking up a refill from the bar, she scooted back into the booth next to Nate. He planted a messy kiss on her cheek. “Where’d you go, Jo?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Unlike some of us, I can’t just snap my fingers and have alcohol appear at will. I had to actually go to the bar for another drink,” she teased.

Nathan threw his head back laughing. “‘S’pose you’ve got a point there, babe.” He slung one arm over her shoulders. Jordan unconsciously leaned into his touch. “What’d you think of the game?” She wasn’t able to make it to every game, but was lucky that she could get down to the Pepsi Center more often than not. The Avalanche had beaten the Flames in 6, after dropping the first two games in Calgary and being pegged as another likely sweep, they had come back to win the next four and the series.

“Just trying to stroke your own ego, eh, MacKinnon?”

“Picking up some Canadian slang, eh, Murphy?”

She tilted her head. “Maybe, maybe not. But the game was amazing. You know that. You did amazing, Nate.” In the 3-1 win, Nathan had scored two points, an assist and an absolute beauty of a power-play goal that just barely squeaked into the top left corner above Rittich’s shoulder.

“Sure, maybe I do know,” Nathan admitted, “but it’s one thing hearing it from fans and the media and even my teammates. It’s another hearing it from you.” Jordan loved Nathan, but he wasn’t always the best at expressing his feelings out loud. She was the first one to say “I love you, to introduce him to her parents, to take just about any step forward in their relationship. It was something he was getting better at, slowly but surely, and it meant the world to Jordan that he was trying so hard. Maybe it was the liquor, or the atmosphere, or the excitement of the night, but it meant just as much to her to hear it as it probably did for him to say it.

Half an hour and several drinks later, the last few people left were trickling out. Most had carpooled to the bar, leaving their cars back at the arena to get the next day. Jordan would have ordered Nate an Uber and then just hitched a ride with someone else back towards her apartment west of downtown, but Nate was pretty far gone. And he was a cute drunk, all things considered, but she was on her way to sobering up and felt an obligation to at least get him in bed safe. Their car pulled up, Nathan clumsily ducking in ahead of her as she shut the door behind him, buckling first his seat belt then her own. They walked through his front door fifteen minutes later, Jordan dropping him off in his bedroom to get undressed before grabbing a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. Nathan was in his boxers when she walked in, struggling to pull a t-shirt over his head. Jordan laughed, walking to his side of the bed before gently tugging it, handing him the water and two Advil. “If you take it now, it’ll help with the hangover later.” Kissing his forehead gently, she turned to leave.

“Where are you going, Jo?”

She stopped at the door. “Home?”

“I want you to stay.”

She sighed gently, smiling at him. “Okay, I’ll spend the night.”

“No,” Nathan interrupted, grabbing her wrist lightly as she turned to grab one of his old World Cup shirts to sleep in. “Forever. I want you to stay forever.”

The third time (August)

It was the middle of August, and Jordan and Nathan were in Canada. He had invited her earlier in the summer to visit for a few weeks, and as soon as she got the time off approved, she booked her flight. Getting to Springhill wasn’t the easiest — she flew to Toronto, had a layover, flew to Halifax, then got picked up by Nate for the two hour drive to his hometown. He had flown out in June, about a month after the Avs lost to the Kings in the conference finals, so the couple hadn’t seen each other in nearly two months. Jordan wasn’t about to complain about a few more hours. His parents had been so generous letting her stay for two weeks, and hadn’t batted an eye when Nathan had moved her into his old room. “Just don’t wake us up,” his mom had said, causing Nathan’s cheeks to turn scarlet.

Jordan had met them a few times before; they had flown out for the All-Star game the previous January and had gotten together during the team Moms’ and Dads’ trips. And if she was around when Nathan was FaceTiming them, she always popped in for a few minutes to say hi. But she still hadn’t quite expected the ceaseless hospitality she had been offered over the past week. Maybe Canadians really were just that nice.

Halfway through Jordan’s trip, they decided to throw a barbeque. And by they, that meant it was Nate’s idea and he roped them all into helping. Jordan had already been introduced to a few of his old friends, they had gone out for drinks to the one bar in town on her second night, but she was excited to meet everyone else. His dad Graham was keeping an eye on the grill, Nathan had filled the cooler with drinks, and Jordan was helping his mom carry out the fruit bowl and salad to the backyard. Nathan ran up to his room to change right as people started trickling in, and came back to a yard full of family and friends. He craned his neck, trying to figure out where Jordan had wandered off too, before his sister pointed to where she sat with a few of his cousins.

Nathan opened his mouth, about to ask her something, when Jordan quietly brought a finger up to her lips. “She’s sleeping,” she whispered, gesturing to her arms, where a tiny baby was nestled, eyes firmly shut.

He remembered that his cousin Rachel had had a baby not too long ago, but didn’t realize she’d be old enough to travel yet. “Is this Natalie?” he asked quietly, sitting in the chair next to Jordan. Rachel nodded. For a few moments, Nathan was lost in the scene, lost in how damn perfect Jordan looked with a baby in her arms. They had spoken about those sorts of things — future things — enough to know that marriage and kids were something they both wanted, but this was the first time it had hit him, like really hit him, that that could be them down the line. Over by the fire pit, his mom watched, a soft smile on her face.

Nathan stood in the kitchen with his mom a few hours later, drying off dishes from the party. Handing a plate to him, Kathy shot a curious glance at her son, as if a thought had just popped into her mind that hadn’t been there before. Nate looked back at her, confused. “What is it, mom?

Kathy nodded out the window, where Jordan was laughing at a joke his dad had just made, balancing the last round of dirty plates to bring in on her arm. “When are you going to put a ring on it, Nathan?

Nathan wasn’t particularly prone to blushing, but he had been doing a lot of it lately. “I—uh—” His mom rested a hand on his shoulder with a knowing smile. “Okay, I’ll admit that I’ve been thinking about it.”

Kathy was beaming. “I knew it. When?”

“When am I going to propose?” She nodded. He shrugged. “I don’t know when it’s going to happen, Mom, but it’s going to. I’m going to marry that girl.”

The fourth time (November)

Jordan grimaced, breathing in sharply as she braced her elbows on her desk. Elisa, her friend who worked in the cubicle beside her, looked over, a concerned expression on her face. “You good, hun?”

Jordan nodded mechanically, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen, swallowing three with a gulp of water. “Yeah, I should be fine. I should be starting my period in the next day or two, so I’m pretty sure it’s just cramps.”

“Are they usually this bad though?” Elisa had always been a worrier.

She shook her head. “No, not since I went on birth control a few years ago, but who knows. The ibuprofen will help, and it’s probably normal anyways. I’m sure it’ll go away.”

It didn’t go away. Two hours later, when Elisa was finishing up the last paragraph of her analysis of the Broncos’ new coaching hire, Jordan suddenly shot up from her desk, running at breakneck speed towards the women’s bathroom with a queasy look on her face. Elisa followed, bursting through the door to the unmistakable sharpness of vomit. She knelt down next to Jordan, pulling her hair back with the spare scrunchie she kept on her wrist. “Jordan? Are you okay?”

Jordan shook her head. “I feel awful, El.”

Eliss touched the back of her hand to Jordan’s forehead. “You’re warm. Have the cramps gotten better.”

“Worse,” Jordan admitted, wiping at the beads of sweat that had started to accumulate on her forehead.

Elisa pulled out her phone from her back pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance. I don’t think this is cramps, Jo.”

Jordan didn’t have the strength to argue, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to anyways. The ambulance arrived ten minutes later, carting Jordan off to Denver Health Medical Center. “Any chance you could be pregnant?” one EMT asked.

“I could be, but I shouldn’t. I’m on birth control and my boyfriend always uses protection,” Jordan said weakly. The EMT made a scribble on her paper. She barely registered pulling into the hospital, nurses pulling her into the ER, or a doctor wheeling in an ultrasound machine. She was conscious enough to recite her name, date of birth, and insurance number before being taken into the operating room, and then a mask was placed over her nose and her world went dark.

The first thing Jordan did when she woke up was check the clock in her room. It was 3; from what little she remembered, she had been taken to the hospital sometime a little after noon. “Oh, thank God,” she heard from her left side. She recognized that voice. It was Nathan’s voice. He grabbed her hand — the one that didn’t have an IV drip in it — and kissed it quickly, smoothing back the pieces of her hair that had come out of the hair tie. “Elisa called during practice, and she told me what happened, but she didn’t even know what happened, and then I left and drove over here, but then—”

Jordan laughed softly, feeling a dull pain in her lower abdomen. “It’s fine, Nate, I’m fine. What happened, anyways? I don’t remember anything after I went into surgery, I have no idea what it was even for.”

“You had appendicitis, your appendix was about two seconds away from bursting.”

Jordan let out a low whistle. “Glad that didn’t happen. Hey,” she added as an afterthought, “I thought visiting hours here didn’t start until 4?” Jordan had visited a college friend of hers who had had a baby a few weeks prior, and could have sworn that she wasn’t let in until later.

Nate smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, they do. I couldn’t even figure out what room you were in at first. They wouldn’t tell me anything, so I told them I was your fiancé.”

“Oh, did you now?”

Nathan rubbed his thumb over her finger. Her ring finger. “I mean, it’s pretty much true. All I’ve got left to do now is ask you.”

“And get the ring,” Jordan added.

“Nope.”

+1 (January)

Family skates had quickly grown to be one of Jordan’s favorite parts of the season. She had loved the first one, but had felt just a tiny bit out of place; her and Nathan had only been dating for a little over six months, and it seemed like almost everyone else had known each other for years. But she’d forged some amazing friendships with other WAGs over the past year, trading babysitting duties for pies and meeting to watch the game while the boys were on a road trip, sharing new Spotify playlists and learning how to support each other along the way. The team had become her second family, even though her parents only lived an hour and a half away.

Jordan had been a competitive figure skater throughout high school and into college, so she was no stranger to the ice. She obviously couldn’t get out nearly as often as she had before, but her skates still fit and she could still land a triple salchow after warming up. She and Nate had been skating around for an hour or so, taking a break after some “friendly competition” where Josty had made the mistake of challenging Jordan to a race around the rink. She beat him by two seconds.

Jordan unscrewed the top of her water bottle, taking a few grateful sips before putting it back in her bag. “Babe!” Nate called from a few rows away, where some of the younger kids were gathered next to what looked like pastels. “Want to face paint?”

She smiled, raising her eyes playfully as she popped on her blade guards and walked over towards the bench. “You sure about that one, MacKinnon? I’m not much of an artist.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s okay, I bet you’ll be great!” He was so sweet for believing in her.

“Alright,” Jordan said, straddling the bench and picking up the box. “What would his highness like for the design? Bear in mind you’re working with a beginner here.”

“Butterfly!” He chirped excitedly. “There’s been a whole bird and insect theme going on here,” he pointed at the kids’ cheeks, covered in bees, ladybugs, and one demonic-looking...crow? Was it a crow? Did they even get crows at this time of year? “and I wouldn’t want to break the trend.”

“We couldn’t have that,” Jordan agreed. Ten minutes later Nathan had a very blue, barely-acceptable-looking butterfly on his right cheek, but he was beaming like the sun as soon as he pulled up his camera to look at it. “I love it, Jo. Thank you,” Nate said, giving her a quick kiss.

Activities wrapped up not too long after, and Jordan and Nathan walked out of the rink hand-in-hand towards his car. They had moved in together two months earlier, and Jordan had been more than happy to move out of her tiny studio into Nate’s giant apartment, where you could see the Rockies from the rooftop on clear days. Plus, his building allowed dogs. As Nathan drove home, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tangled with hers by the center console, Jordan looked over at him, with the little blue butterfly on his cheek, and she suddenly felt so unbelievably happy. So unbelievably full. It went without saying that she loved Nate. She loved him like she had never loved anyone before, and never would again.

At the same time, Nate’s heart was beating faster than it ever had in his life. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t surprised, but he had just realized something. He already knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jordan. Nathan had realized that months ago. And he hadn’t been lying at the hospital, he had already bought the ring. But Nathan wanted everything to be perfect when he proposed; it couldn’t be rainy outside, because what if she wanted pictures? It couldn’t be too soon after her older brother’s wedding, because then she might think that was the reason why. It couldn’t be in the summer, because then he’d go back to Nova Scotia for the summer and his mom might scalp him for leaving his fiancée in another country. But, Nathan realized as they pulled into the underground lot, there never was going to be a perfect time. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to be Jordan’s husband. There shouldn’t be anything stopping him. There wasn’t anything stopping him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” Nate said as Jordan slipped off her shoes. She nodded. Nathan went up the stairs, but past the bathroom. He walked into their bedroom, into his closet, to the shoebox that had his old atom league medals. He grabbed the velvet box, opening it and taking one last look before taking a deep breath and putting it in his pocket.

“You want to watch SVU reruns?” Jordan asked as he ambled back into the living room.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Uh—can I say something?”

Jordan looked over. “Yeah, go ahead? We can totally watch something else if you’re not feeling Law & Order, I think I saw Chopped on the Food Network, or Jurassic Park is halfway through…” She trailed off.

Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets, turning the ring box over and over. He bit his lip. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” Jordan nodded slowly. “When I met you, I wasn’t looking for anything. I had just had my heart broken by someone who I thought would be my forever, but then you came into my life and suddenly...suddenly, it all made sense. I thought I knew love, I thought I knew what it was to be in love, but I didn’t, really. Not until you. You bring me down to earth, Jordan, when I’m too far in my head. I know you’re on my team even when we’re losing, even when it seems like nothing in my life is going right I know you’ll always be there to pick me up when I fall. And I don’t ever want to take that for granted. You challenge me in the best way, you always push me to be a better partner, a better teammate, and a better man. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you.” Jordan was tearing up, starting to figure out where his whole speech was going and hoping beyond hope that she was right.

“I know I’m not always physically here, but I promise to always be there for you, Jordan. I’ll hold you when you’re crying, I’ll buy your favorite chips when we’re out, I’ll pay the utility bills because I know you’re terrible with remembering dates. It was eight months in when I realized you were the one.” Nathan bent down on one knee. One of Jordan’s hands was over her mouth, the remote having long since been abandoned on the couch. “I can’t wait to see where we go, Jordan. I can’t wait to get a nice house with a big backyard, go down to the animal shelter saying we’re only going to adopt one dog but come back with three. I can’t wait for the day you tell me you’re pregnant, and we get to hold our child for the first time and I get to see you be a mother. I can’t wait for us to start our lives together. I can’t wait for you to be Jordan MacKinnon.” He opened up the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

Jordan fell on her knees, hands on both sides of Nathan’s face. “Yes.”

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nathan mackinnon #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing

231 notes · View notes

lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Divining Rod

spencer reid x reader

Summary: The death of a serial killer rises another and the team must stop it.

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 21

“A row house in Demount Circle wow,” Penelope said, astonished at the news Emily just gave.

“I can’t believe I’m doing it.” Emily shook her head in disbelief at the news also. “I mean, it’s probably not gonna work out anyway, right?”

“That’s what I said before I found out I got my apartment so, you probably will,” Y/N said, laughing at the end of her sentence.

“Well, there are five other sealed bids, and I offered way below what the owners are asking,” Emily spoke, standing up from her chair and began walking. JJ, Y/N, Penelope, and Spencer stood up and followed her.

“Uh-huh, sounds to me like someone’s hoping they don’t get it.” JJ’s voice was filled with sass as she side-eyed Emily.

“Orthophobia, fear of owning personal property,” Spencer said from in front of the four women. He was intently looking over the case file in his hands as they walked to the round table room.

“No- I don’t have a fear of owning stuff, turn me loose in a shoe store, I’ll prove that,” Emily defended herself. “My fear is owning personal property that weighs three hundred tons.”

“Actually, depending on materials used, square footage, and horizontal versus vertical construction, the average house only weighs sixty tons,” Spencer retorted, spewing off his knowledge without even a second thought.

“Well, thanks for that Reid, I feel light as a bird,” Emily said sarcastically.

“It’s okay Em, it took me months before I could even settle into my apartment because I couldn’t feel at home, it just takes time.” Truly Y/N felt uncomfortable because the last place she lived in by herself all her friends were tormented in, but Emily didn’t need to know or worry about that.

“What‘ve we got, baby girl?” Derek asked, breaking up the conversation to bring it to the case at hand.

“We have a killing in Enid, Oklahoma, and not the capital punishment one you are thinking of right now.” Penelope walked over to her chair and took a seat before she continued. “I’m talking about a woman named Cara Smith, who was murdered in her apartment minutes after the execution of Rodney Garret.”

“Neighbors saw her front door open and discovered the body,” Hotch added.

“Look Familiar?” Rossi asked directing everyone’s attention to the victim on the screen. Her appearance is the same as all of Garret’s victims.

“Young, pretty, short blonde hair,” JJ said, examining the photo.

“And stabbed directly through the heart.” Y/N brought her pen up in the air, showing that she realized what Rossi was saying.

“That’s exactly the way Garret killed his victims,” Spencer said as he remembered back to the Garret murders.

“So are we looking at a copycat?” Derek asked looking at those around the table.

“Or someone creating doubt the right person was executed,” JJ countered, looking at Derek next to her.

“In Garret’s case there was no doubt,” Rossi corrected. “His guilt was the slam dunk of all slam dunks. Prints, DNA, a confession…”

“He even led the police to where he buried two of his victims,” Spencer added to the list Rossi was creating.

“Garret killed 25 women before he was caught. If this new unsub is a copycat, the body count’s just getting started,” Emily said.

“Which is why we can’t waste time, wheels up in thirty.”

----------

“Firing squad? That’s new,” Y/N said after hearing Garret’s choice of execution.

“It’s definitely not something you see every day,” JJ agreed.

“Well, Garret had the option of lethal injection, but he chose this instead,” Derek responded.

“Flair for the dramatic,” Rossi stated.

“No kidding.” Y/N let out a breathy laugh with her words.

“Initial reports indicate no forensic evidence at the crime scene,” Hotch said looking at the file in his hand.

“What about the ice pick?” JJ asked.

“It was generic, no serial number or unique metallurgy,” Derek answered looking at the paper that gave more detail on the pick.

“Well, now, it says here-” Emily pointed to a page in her file- “that there were water droplets and a half-filled flower vase on top of the chest drawers, but no flowers. Not in the vase, not in the garbage, nowhere.”

“Maybe the unsub took them,” Y/N posed, looking up from her folder.

A pinging sound came from the laptop as Penelope popped up on the screen.

“Hey, say it like you mean it, baby,” Derek greeted her.

“You know I’m gonna,” she replied before giving what she found. “So if you look in the dictionary, the word ‘normal’-” she held her hands up to show quotation marks- “you will see Cara Smith. College student, well-liked, straight A’s, English lit major- oh speaking of which I just got a transcript of Rodney Garret’s last words, hot off the press and a gold star to the first person who can identify the source of this: ‘She comes like fullest moon on a happy night, taper of waist-”

“‘With shape of magic might,’ it’s from the Thousand and One Nights, not the exact translation I would have used, but it’s got its own merits,” Spencer finished the last of the poem.

“And in a shocking non-upset, we have a winner,” Emily said, hopefully stopping Spencer before he would go on a spew of insight of the story.

“Garret was a sixth-grade dropout, an unlikely guy to be quoting from a Harvard classic,” Rossi said.

“The choice of material does make sense though,” Spencer began. “The book is all about how a Scheherazade forestalled her own death at the hands of the king by regaling him night after night with stories.”

“In the end, he won him over right?” JJ asked.

“Yes, the king found a love for her and decided not to execute her,” Y/N answered, looking at JJ. “Although I wouldn’t say that would be a strategy that would work with the Oklahoma Department of corrections.”

“Another body’s been found half a mile from the first victim, same M.O.” Hotch had stepped away to answer the phone and was now relaying the information he was just given to the team.

“That's six hours later, this guy’s not wasting a lot of time,” Derek said.

“We land in twenty minutes, Reid, you and Y/N go to the latest crime scene, Rossi, you JJ and Prentiss go talk to Garret’s widow. Morgan and I will go to the prison.” Y/N saluted Hotch at his order. “If Garret’s got a disciple, we need to find out who he is and fast.”

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

“Such a beautiful day for such a terrible thing to happen.” Y/N’s eyes looked up to the sky, observing the blue of it and the bright sun. She wasn’t really thinking about the case until she walked up the steps, always trying to fit the last of the good in before she saw the bad.

“I don’t think serial killers stop because of the weather, sweets,” Spencer said, raising an eyebrow at the thought.

“Hey, what did I say about nicknames at crime scenes,” Y/N said turning to Spencer who was slightly behind her.

He laughed lightly. “Not to use them, because you’re afraid they’ll be ruined,” he answered her remark.

“Exactly.” She pulled her credentials out of her back pocket to show the officer at the door. Walking into the house, a tall man turned around to greet the two.

“Hey, I’m detective Childers,” the tall man said walking up to Y/N to shake her hand. “You must be with the FBI.”

“Yes, I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Dr.Reid.” Y/N pointed to her right to the lanky brunette.

“Hi,” Childers said, holding his hand out for Spencer to shake. Spencer offered the man a small wave, as usual, opting out of the handshake.

Y/N offered a smile to the detective in hopes of trying to make the awkward moment go away. “How about you show us the scene.” Y/N changed the subject.

“Yeah, why don’t y’all follow me back here,” Childers said as he led the two over to the bedroom. “It’s unbelievable this is happening all over again.”

“Who is she?” Spencer asked as they entered the bedroom.

“Jodie Armstrong, single, works a cosmetic counter at a department store downtown,” Childers answered.

The body laid in the exact position it was found. Duct tape still on the mouth and wrists, and the ice pick stabbed into her heart.

“Young, pretty, short blond hair,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s appearance. “That’s the same victimology as the others.” She turned her head to look at Spencer, who’s eyes had been wandering the room around them.

“Who discovered the body?” Spencer asked.

“Apartment manager. A neighbor called to complain that a teapot in the kitchen kept on whistling,” Childers explained.

“So he surprised her.” Y/N said, turning as she watched the struggle play out around her. She pictured the unsub pushing her down and tying her onto the bed.

The three separated as Childers went to go handle something out front and Spencer and Y/N stayed to look around the scene more. Y/N gloved her hands and squatted down next to the bed, looking closely at the victim’s head. Pushing her head to the side, she moved her hair to and fro as she examined the hair cut. She noticed it’s unevenness and well, basically, it was a shitty hair cut for such a pretty young girl to have.

“Hey, Spence, come look at this.” Spencer looked over at Y/N who was across the room from him.

“What is it?” He asked, setting down the CD he had been looking at to walk over.

“This girl is young and she obviously cares about her appearance, she’s fit, her nails are done,” she said, laying one finger on top of the other as the listed off the things she’s noticed. “But her hair, look at it, it’s uneven.” She picked up the phone that had headphones plugged into the jack and turned it on.

“Could it maybe be a fashion statement, you know, look bad on purpose?” Spencer asked looking next to him at Y/N.

She shook her head, looking through the phone in her hand. She began to look through some things in her photos before she found a selfie of Jodie and some of her friends. “Look at this,” she leaned over to show Spencer the photo.

With two of her fingers on the screen, she zoomed in on Jodie, who in the photo had very long blonde hair. “It was taken last night,” she said after pointing to the timestamp at the bottom corner of the photo. “The unsub cut her hair.”

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

In the station, the mood was serious. Two bulletin boards stood side by side with large maps placed on the. Spencer, Hotch, Y/N, and Derek sat in swivel chairs from desks in the area they were in. Behind them sat JJ, Emily, and Rossi, who were looking through letters that were sent to Rodney Garret’s home.

“This new guy’s hunting in a different neighborhood,” Childer’s spoke after looking at the map.

“He must be comfortable in the area, he knew the victims’ routines,” Derek stated.

“His method of ingress and egress is quiet and unnoticeable,” JJ said, leaning back in her chair.

“Get a load of this one,” Emily began as she turned in her chair with a letter. “Dear Mr. Garret: It took a lot of courage to do what you did. Most people are cowards and don’t do what they feel inside them. You are an inspiration, and I applaud you.”

When Emily had finished the letter, Y/N barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry for laughing but ‘I applaud you’?” She just shook her head, the letter being very funny to her in a weird way.

“These are supposed to be the non-wacko letters,” Rossi said.

Everyone raised their brows in question. A computer beeping signaling the arrival of Penelope’s on a screen got everyone’s attention.

“Hey guess what, Y/N’s genius has struck again,” Penelope began as she popped up on the screen. “The hunch about the hair was right, I’m sending you an ATM image of Cara Smith. She’s the first victim, this was taken ten hours before her murder check it out.”

At that, everyone’s attention was brought to a screen. The video showing Cara walking up to the machine with very long hair compared to what was left on her body.

“The unsub cut her hair too,” Childers said as he looked at the video.

“You know, there could be a sexual element involved. Trichophilia is a fetish where one becomes aroused by the removal of hair,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, but, either way, this is starting to look less like a copycat,” Y/N said looking next to her at Spencer.

“The unsub’s deviating too much from Garret’s M.O., Garret never took trophies,” Derek said in agreement.

“He’s also choosing low-risk victims, Garret’s stayed with high-risk target- prostitutes, runaways--” Spencer said but was cut off by JJ.

“Garret also got sloppy and left clues that eventually nailed him, this guy’s careful and meticulous,” JJ said.

“He’s not that careful,” Childers corrected. “He leaves doors open, teapots boiling.”

“I think it’s intentional. He wants the bodies found so we know when and where he’s killing,” Hotch said.

The room fell silent again, everyone getting back to their work. Little conversation was made, Emily or Rossi reading off an obscure letter or Y/N saying something about the geographical profile to Spencer. All conversation halted due to Childers getting a call that there was another body.

“Reid and Y/N, come with me to the scene.” Hotch stood up, Y/N and Spencer following his request out of the room and to the scene.

Walking into the house, Y/N took note of how it was kept and lived in by the victim. She did so in hopes of gathering something for victimology. After noticing she fell behind Hotch and Spencer, she quickly caught up to them as they entered the bedroom.

The blonde woman laid on her back, her arms duct-taped to the foot of the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she almost looked peaceful, but the ice pick in her heart told them otherwise.

Hotch squatted down to the bedside and examined the side of her head that was exposed.

“He shaved her head,” Hotch commented. Y/N and Spencer stood on either side of him, looking over the body from behind their unit chief.

“That’s even more humiliation and disrespect,” Y/N said. She turned her head sideways as she looked at the poor and almost frantic shaved spot.

“He didn’t do it to the other victims.” Hotch stood up as he spoke, looking at Childers who was on the other side of the bed.

“Detective when was the body discovered?” Y/N asked.

“Half hour ago, the killer left the front and back doors open,” Childers responded. “And there’s no indication of any contact on the wine glasses swabbed for DNA.” He gestured to the CSI unit that was brushing the wine glass behind him.

“Not even the victims?” Spencer asked. His face doing its normal twist as he thought.

“The unsub probably wiped it clean,” Y/N said. The upper half of her body turned to her left to look at Hotch and Spencer.

“Has anyone found an open or empty wine bottle in the house?” Hotch asked, turning back to the detective after looking at Y/N.

“We haven’t found one yet.” Childers shook his head.

“He probably took it with him, like the flowers of his first victim,” Spencer commented.

“He’s killed at six A.M., noon, and now six P.M.,” Hotch said, looking between Y/N and Spencer.

“That’s not a long cooling-off period.” Y/N spook with a sigh as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not feeling so good about the stroke of midnight.” Spencer’s eyes bounced between the three in front of him. All of them nodding their heads in agreement at the comment.

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

“We believe we’re looking for a white male between the ages of thirty and forty who is strong enough to subdue physically fit young women with minimum resistance,” Hotch said. The team stood in front of a crowd of local officers as they told the profile. Rossi and Emily had found out that the same man that wrote the letter Emily had read to them were some of Garret’s favorites. Taking that, they presumed that the man who wrote the letters was more than likely the unsub.

“He’s forensically sophisticated and evidence-conscious,” Derek added.

“He targets his victims in advance and leaves no trail.” Y/N stepped forward as she spoke, coming into line with Derek.

“This person is also confident.” Emily paused, then continued. “He’s been taunting us by revealing his crime scene quickly.”

“Because of his ability to plan and flawlessly execute his crimes, we’re looking for someone capable of holding down a job. Even though it’s probably menial and unfulfilling,” Rossi said. His hands stuffed into his pockets as his shoulder shrugged when he spoke.

“The victims have all been young, blonde, and pretty. As such, they reflect a certain societal standard of perfection that may actually represent the type of women that are unattainable to this unsub,” Spencer explained.

“He cuts his victims’ hair, and then he takes it with him, this could be another way for him to possess a part of them,” Y/N said, bouncing off of Spencer’s statement.

“Or to degrade these unattainable women, make them uglier,” JJ added on to Y/N’s words.

“The killer has been murdering in six-hour increments. He is, in effect, time-stamping his victims, there’s no reason to believe he will deviate from that now,” Rossi said.

“Which means the next kill will be at midnight.” Y/N emphasized her words as she spoke.

“The public needs to be alerted to stay off the streets for all non-essential activities,” JJ said. “Single women should not be in their homes alone,” she continued, her warning to the people relaying its importance.

“Every available officer will be out in full force tonight, we need to blanket this city,” Emily commanded. The officer’s around the room nodding that they understood.

“We do have one advantage,” Hotch began. “A killer who uses this kind of precise timing and specificity is easy to disrupt. We can use his own M.O. against him,” he explained. The officer’s around the room were then dismissed and went to get ready for the night out.

As the sunset fell over the city of Enid, the officers suited up and began to canvas the town. Emily and Derek joined them while the others stayed back and helped run point. While they waited, they had Penelope do some more digging into Garret to find out who the unsub might be.

“What you got, Garcia?” JJ asked as she answered the call from Penelope.

“I have found a thing of interest regarding these shanking attempts made on Garret in prison,” Penelope began.

“What is it?” Hotch asked, curious as to what she found.

“The timing, see, the first time Garret was attacked was May 25, 2008, the day before that, May 24, for those of you keeping score, Garret’s imminent execution date was postponed, right?” Penelope’s question was rhetorical so everyone stayed quiet as she continued.

“So then if you flash forward to the second shanking attempt of stabby-ness, that would be November 15, 2010. The day before that, his next execution date, also postponed.” When Penelope had finished her explanation everyone was basically one the same page of what was happening.

“Okay, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say someone decided to take matters into their own hands,” Y/N said. She crossed her arms across her chest and popped her hip to the side, the resting position she stood in when she thought.

“Thanks, Garcia,” JJ said, her finger hovering over the hang-up button on the computer.

“Ever welcome, my comrades.” JJ hung up the call and turned back to those behind her.

“Well, that sounds like what you would think of somebody on the outside wanting a little revenge,” Childers said, his head turning to Rossi and Hotch beside him.

“They wouldn’t wait five years, give it two tires, and then toss in the towel,” Rossi stated, his head shaking as he didn’t believe that theory.

“It sounds to me like someone just needed Rod Garret out of the way,” JJ said, adding in her own theory.

“But Garret was on death row, confined to his cell 23 hours a day. How was he in anybody’s way?” Hotch questioned, both theories not making sense now.

“Since we’re on the subject of things that don’t make sense, the unsub left the doors open after the murders,” Y/N said, bringing in a new topic in hopes of coming up with something new.

“Okay, that’s directed at law enforcement-- catch me if you can,” Rossi responded to Y/N’s thought.

“But the cutting of the hair,” Y/N said her voice trailing off in question.

“That’s for Garret,” Hotch finished, knowing what Y/N was thinking now.

Rossi nodded agreeing with Y/N.

“Well, what makes you think that?” Childers asked her.

“Well, Garret chose victims who were easy prey-- drug addicts and prostitutes. But this unsub has chosen more difficult targets but gone to the trouble of making them look like Garret’s victims,” Hotch answered, turning to Childers.

“That’s his way of telling Garret, ‘I can do better than you’,” Rossi elaborated.

“Okay, but why wait until after the execution to start killing? If the unsub really wanted to thumb his nose at Garret, wouldn’t he want him to be alive to see it?” JJ asked, not fully understanding this theory.

“Exactly, that’s the part that doesn’t make sense.” Y/N pointed as she spoke.

“Them we’re missing something,” Hotch said.

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

When the sun rose, the team had been at the station all night. In the early morning hours, another victim was found with a different M.O., stab wounds. Since the unsub could not kill his victim properly, this led them to believe that the killer could go on a spree. The unsub also removed her scalp this time, taking away most of her hair.

The clock on the table flipped to 9:44 A.M., and Y/N’s eyes were heavy. She laid on a bench, her head resting on Spencer’s thigh. His hand rested on his arm that was propped on the railing of the bench. The two sat peacefully, Y/N was not totally asleep, but her mind was in and out of full consciousness from the long night. She wasn’t totally sure if Spencer was asleep either, his body not moving which she was grateful for. His warmth was what kept her so at peace, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay like that for long.

“I never could do that,” Rossi stated as he looked at Y/N and Spencer who had their eyes closed.

“Do what?” Emily asked, her eyes following Rossi’s over to the sleepy couple. She let out a small ‘awe’ as she noticed the two.

“Take a nap, it never felt natural,” Rossi answered, not appreciating the cute moment.

“I’m actually wide awake,” Spencer said, sitting up from his position. His movement stirred Y/N as she moved to get comfortable again, but never opening her eyes.

“But for future reference, polyphasic sleep is completely natural. Quite common in the animal world, and highly beneficial.” His eyes panned to Y/N who was still, he believed, asleep on his lap. “However, I believe Y/N is very much taking a real nap.”

“Shhhh.” Y/N reached one of her hands to her lips sleepily, placing her index finger on her lips. She sighed after a second and sat up, realizing she was now fully awake and there was no going back to whatever state of sleep she was in before. “Okay, I give I’m awake.”

“All right, six o’clock’s way come and gone, if our guys killed again, he’s not leaving the front door open,” JJ said after looking at the clock.

“Or he could just be taking a breather,” Derek posed the counter. “I mean, even the unsub has to realize he can’t keep up this pace indefinitely.”

“Maybe the last murder completed some sort of cycle,” Rossi said, saying his thoughts aloud.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, leaning her forearms on her thighs.

“A day and a night have passed, the sun rises for the first time in a world without Rod Garret,” Rossi answered, his hands moving as he spoke.

“There could also be a more mundane reason, our guys got a job, and yesterday was his day off,” Emily said.

“He killed his first three victims in their homes-” Hotch pointed to the markers on the map where the homes were- “But the last victims, Emily Sisk, he tried to but he couldn’t. SO he abducted her, took her somewhere else, and then brought her all the way back to dump her body in front of her apartment building.” Hotch’s voice got slightly aggressive as he spoke, irritated as to why he didn’t know how that happened.

“That’s incredibly risky considering all the increased police presence,” Y/N said, agreeing with Hotch.

“There’s gotta be a geographic component to the unsub’s design,” Hotch said turning back to the map on the board.

“Let’s connect the dots, literally.” Spencer stood up from his seat next to Y/N and walked to the board. He pulled a red marker out of his pocket and drew lines to connect all four homes.

The lines formed an upside-down arrow almost.

“A tip of a spear,” Emily guessed, turning this into a game of Pictionary.

Y/N walked up to the board to get a closer look at the design. Her head cocked to the side as she thought.

“Maybe it’s an arrow pointing south? Could he be steering us to his next victim?” Derek asked as he pointed to the bottom of the arrow.

“It’s a quadrilateral, but there’s nothing particularly symbolic about a four-sided concave polygon,” Spencer said, pointing out the math of the shape.

“Spence, can I?” Y/N said reaching for the marker in his hand. Spencer nodded, handing her the red marker. “Look what happens when you curve the lines.” She drew curves over the lines the Spencer drew, forming something in the shape of a heart.

“A heart,” Emily said, eyes trained on the drawing.

“Well, Garret and the unsub both killed their victims using stab wounds through the heart,” Derek said.

“And Garret was executed by a shot through the heart,” Rossi continued the theory.

Hotch then moved the clear map of all the roads and homes over the heart drawing on the board. In the center of the heart sat the home of Rod Garret’s wife, Helen Garret.

“Helen Garret,” Emily realized as Hotch put the map on top of the other.

“It’s all about her,” Hotch said, confirming the speculation Emily made.

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

After JJ, Rossi, and Hotch established that Helen was probably at the prison since she was not home, the rest of the team made their way there. When the others met up with them, all of them in their kevlar’s ready to take action, they met outside the gates of the prison to talk.

“So nobody saw what happened, but Helen’s car is still in the parking lot,” JJ said walking up to the group with Rossi and the warden.

“He’s got her,” Hotch said.

“The driver’s name is Dylan Kohler, he lives at 4488 Harmony Court,” the Warden said identifying the unsub.

“Did he work yesterday, Warden?” Y/N asked.

“No, he arranged for someone else to take his shift,” the Warden answered.

“I’ll have Garcia check into Kohler, but now that he’s tipped his hand, I doubt if he’s going back home,” Rossi stated, pulling out his phone to call Penelope.

“All right, Morgan, take Reid, Y/N, and Prentiss to the house of Kohler, see if they’re there just in case.” Derek nodded, then gestured for the three to follow him to a car to go to the home.

When they arrived at the home of Dylan Kohler, there was no sign of him or Helen. They headed out of the house to go back to the prison.

“Yeah, Hotch, they’re not here,” Derek said to Hotch when he answered the phone.

“Where the hell could they be?” Y/N asked looking to Spencer next to her as she holstered her gun. He shrugged his shoulders, opening the door for Y/N. She climbed in hoping to the seat on the left and Spencer sitting on the one on the right.

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

After finding Garret’s secret hideout, the team wrapped up the case, saving Helen Garret and were now on their way home. Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer, eyes glancing at him every once and a while as he read. His finger trailing down the page, his steady breathing, and the curve of his nose entranced her as she looked at him.

She was sleepy, there was no doubt about it. Yet, her eyes couldn’t close as she looked at him, too caught up in his domestic feel to let it be intruded on by sleep that she desperately needed.

Tell him, the voice in her head whispered. Tell him how much you love him.

She couldn’t, at least not yet. Not until she knew that Caroline was out of sight, or if he said it first. But something in her told her that he knew she loved him. Simple acts like saying you need sleep or hold my hand was ways she was able to say she loved and cared for him without having to voice it.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted though by the beeping of a computer from behind her in.

“Oh, hey, guys, hey,” Penelope said with a sleepy voice. Y/N turned in her chair to listen to the conversation. “I just wanted to see what was going on.”

“This better be important, Garcia,” Emily said irritated as she was woken from her slumber.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Penelope was playing it off, the excitement in her voice giving it away. “It’s just that a messenger came by the office today with some papers from Escrow!” Her voice was sing-song at the end.

Emily’s face became very surprised. “No!” She said, astonished and not believing the blonde on the screen.

“Oh, yes, the house in Dupont Circle-- you got it! Whoo!” Penelope was throwing confetti at the screen in excitement.

“Oh my God, Em, that’s so exciting!” Y/N said happily as she sat on her knees in her chair to face Emily.

“Congratulations,” Hotch said with a smile.

Then, Emily’s face fell and she looked like she was going to be sick. Y/N and Spencer stood up to sit on the couch so they could be closer to the conversation.

“Six seconds, fastest case of buyers remorse ever,” Rossi said, looking down at his watch then at Emily.

“Well, I say the moment we land, we all head over to Ziggy’s and clear out the champaign inventory,” Derek said sitting next to JJ.

“And talk Prentiss down off the ledge,” JJ chuckled as she looked at Emily’s horrified face.

“Oh, my stomach doesn’t feel so hot.” Emily clutched her stomach.

They all let out a small laugh at Emily’s reaction.

“I was in the middle of the best dream,” JJ said changing the topic. “I dreamt that I was at this exclusive salon getting my hair done.”

The toll from the event of the last two days pressing themselves on her dreams. The thought of having a wig made of human scalp and hair placed on her head made Y/N shudder at the thought when she was told.

“Ah, the psychotherapeutic benefits of dreams-- purging unpleasant images and replacing them with good ones,” Spencer said, giving insight on to why we dream things like that.

“Yeah, ‘unpleasant’ is putting it mildly, bub,” Y/N said looking at Spencer next to her.

“If someone put a bloody wig on my head, I would have ripped that thing off and kept it off.” JJ thought back to how Helen let the wig sit on her head when they found her.

“Well, you’d think instinct would take over,” Derek said agreeing with JJ.

“Oh, hey, Rossi, I meant to ask you, what did Helen mean at the end when she said ‘daddy was right’?” JJ asked turning to look at Rossi across from her.

Rossi let out an annoyed sigh. “He once told her that she was a divining rod for the evil in men. That she could sniff it out when nobody else could.”

“There was definitely something a little strange about her,” Emily said as she recalled the time she and Rossi had to speak with her.

“It’s curious, one woman at the center of two serial killers.” Hotch’s voice was low as he voiced his thought.

“Yeah, what are the odds of that?” Y/N said, her question being rhetorical but she knew Spencer would answer.

“Astronomical.”

Ah, there’s the answer, Y/N thought.

“Removing from the calculations serial killer groupies--” Spencer was cut off by Hotch lightly hitting her arm to have him stop.

“Y/N, why’d you ask?” JJ laughed. Y/N just shrugged, knowing she’d get the answer she kinda wanted to hear later.

“You know, whether she knew it or not, maybe Helen Garret did give Dylan something,” Derek said as he thought more into it. “I mean someone once said that every seed, even malignant ones, they won’t grow unless they get water from someplace.”

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

That night, after going out to celebrate Emily’s new house, Y/N walked into her home. Stumbling as her lips were connected to Spencer's. The impromptu makeout session starting at the door when Spencer started to say goodnight, but Y/N had a little too much champaign and really wanted a good ‘ole fashion junior-high makeout session.

She pushed him back to her couch, the two giggling like thirteen-year-olds as they kissed. She straddled his lap as they continued to kiss. It was childish and full of smiles and teeth as they giggled. Still, the kiss was full of love and tenderness as Spencer would caress the side of her face with his large hands. Or when she would grab the front of his sweater to pull him closer to her.

“I really need to go home,” Spencer said. His lips brushing against Y/N’s as he spoke.

She didn’t listen and kept placing pecks on his lips before she let their lips mold together in bliss.

“No,” she protested quietly as she pulled away, then went back to his lips.

He chuckled, trying to pull back again to speak, but her lips chased his. “I’m not taking advantage of you, sweets,” he said gentlemanly.

She sighed, knowing that she was slightly drunk and he wasn’t going to keep going since she was. “Fine, but you owe me.” She poked his chest with every word. “Always a gentleman, even when I’m horny, but it’s fine.” Her words were a slur of mutters under her breath, but he heard her and laughed.

“Always.” He pecked her lips one more time as she stood up and led him to the door.

Once Spencer had given her one more kiss goodnight, promising her a coffee in the morning at work, she closed the door and turned to the inside of her apartment. A sigh of relief leaving her as she stepped further into her safe environment. She took her boots off and placed them by the door and moved her keys she dropped on the floor in the bowl on the table. She began to walk to her kitchen but stopped when her eyes caught glimpse of a letter.

She hastily pulled the wax seal back to open it, but became confused as she looked at the note.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

She laughed, it was a pathetic line to spook her that wouldn’t work. She put the note back in the envelope and placed it with others.

She thought nothing of it. She didn’t think she would need too, but everything Caroline did had meaning. This too would show it’s meaning soon.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds meme #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal mids fic #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years

Text

Don’t Mind Me I’m Just Putting My Clown Makeup Back On.

So just finished watching episode 8. What was it Evan said before the episode, that it was ‘The Night of the Ships.’ Well actually it was more ‘the Night of the Shipwrecks.’ But more on that in my actual review for the episode which I’ll post later. I want to take time to process the episode and give it a rewatch. Naturally as a Barchie shipper this episode left me feeling alot by the end of it mostly, angry, frustrated and hopeless. But here’s the thing I’ve seen alot of comments saying that Barchie is dead and I am in two minds on it. Sometimes I think, ok maybe it is, but then a part of me thinks it isn’t. I think a big part of that is because we’ve been baited with Barchie so many times by now. I mean this is the third time we have been told that Barchie is over. So now whenever I see the words Barchie is over its like I am preconditioned to go, but is it though? I mean think about it, we were all told it was over between Barchie after they kissed in 2x09 and it became clear in the following episodes that nothing was going to come of it. Then we got told is over between them again in 4x18 when Betty decided not to take things further after their kiss in 4x17. And now once again it looks like the same thing is happening. But what I don’t want to happen but what I feel like they might do is, well if we’re being real here, Barchie causes alot of buzz in the fandom and gets a lot of chatter on social media whether its because people are excited or mad about it, but every time something happens with Barchie the fandom explodes. What I don’t want to happen is for them to go back to the original couples and then anytime the show producers feel like things are a bit too quiet and they want to generate some buzz just pulling Barchie out of storage to create that drama. As a Barchie fan the merry go round, of no their just friends to actually they do have feelings is exhausting. One thing I am mad about it if this is the end of Barchie like some are saying then RAS and the writers were really terrible to the Barchie shippers, even more so than usual because they have never pushed or promoted Barchie this hard before. Even right after the episode Evan was posting on his Instagram to the Barchie shippers saying that Barchie have a lot of history and not to give up hope. But its getting to the point where I don’t trust the writers and I am sick of being baited only for them to not go all the way through with it.

I know some people are saying that this was closure for Barchie that they explored them they figured out that they don’t work and now they can focus on their friendship. And if that's enough for you then great, but for me I didn’t get any sense of closure. Before season 5 aired I made post explaining why I thought they needed to fully explore Barchie and one of the things I said was that in order from them to bring closure to them they needed to first have them in a full blown relationship. That hasn’t happened. To me I find it really baffling how Betty can decide that her and Archie don’t work when they haven’t tried being in a relationship which is very different from FWB. How is she or we suppose to know that they don’t work as a couple when they have never been a couple and we’ve never seen them as a couple? Though I do agree that they don’t work as FWB but then I knew that wasn’t going to be a long term thing. For me, again if this is really the end then the most unforgivable part was how badly written it was. It just happened far too fast, in fact the sudden change almost gave me whiplash. The last few episodes and even the beginning of this episode we’ve seen Barchie enjoying the time they spend together, also I never really saw any indication from Archie that he was having feelings for Veronica, their relationship was very much coming across as friendly. But then that all suddenly changed in the second half of the episode, suddenly Archie was having feelings for Veronica and after one bad booty call Barchie have decided that they don’t work together. It almost felt like this episode should have been much further down in the season like episode 11 or 12. For me it seems like this reuniting of V*rchie is just happening too quickly. And that’s exactly why I don’t think this is going to be a good thing for V*rchie and that it might not be as it seems.

So I am going to try and inject a little bit of hope for Barchie here. Because like I said a part of me still thinks there’s a possibility Barchie might still happen and its not as clear cut as we think. I mean if we look at the Barchie ‘break up’ in the context of the episode I actually think its pretty obvious what’s going on here. It is heartbreakingly similar to what happened in the pilot. At the beginning of the episode we get that really romantic, sweet scene with Archie in his firefighter gear. I am going to be honest I was expecting a heated maybe playful scene here but it was actually a very cute and soft scene which made me love it even more. Which also made this idea that Barchie is over even harder to wrap my head around because why go through all the trouble of having such a soft romantic scene and then just turn around and go nope their just friends? I mean watching that scene I’m calling BS on the whole friend thing right now because that is not how friends look at each other. But anyway we also not long after get the scene where Betty tells Kevin about her and Archie and I think this really is very telling of where Betty is mentally when she decides to call things off between them. She describes Archie as being the lit window in the dark. But she also says that she doesn’t want to get in too deep with him because she doesn’t want that light to go out. She is very clearly afraid that if they take things further and go for a committed relationship and it goes wrong then she will lose him altogether. This in my opinion makes sense for her character as its very similar to what she did in 4x18 with Jughead, She shuts things down with Archie and goes back to Jughead because she is afraid if she doesn’t she will lose Jughead. With Jughead she is afraid not being with him is what will lead to her losing him and in a way she likely feels she was right because they’ve not spoken in the seven years since they broke up. With Archie its the same but the opposite if that makes sense. With Archie she is afraid being with him is what will lead to her losing him. She is clearly afraid of her feelings and very afraid of losing someone who she deeply cares about. Again when you think about what she has gone through this makes sense. She lost her dad, she kind of lost Charles, her brother when he went to jail, she feels like she lost Jughead and now her sister is missing and Betty knows that she might lose her too. It makes sense then that Betty would be deathly afraid of doing something that might make her lose Archie too.

Then fast forward a little and she has a nightmare about TBK. I loved that moment when she looked over and saw the light from his window and how that reinforced the idea of him being the light in the dark. For me this reference was really exciting because a while back when 4x18 had just aired I made a post about Barchie and Light and how I felt like Archie saw Betty as his light, so seeing that Betty also felt the same way made me really happy. She calls Archie over and whilst she admits that she had a nightmare she doesn’t open up to him about it or tell him that she was held captive for two weeks and now has PTSD. I think the other thing to remember about this scene is right before this there is a scene where Archie and Jackson are talking about Veronica and Betty and Jackson makes a joke about how he is juggling two women. At this moment Archie looks really guilty and troubled and I think alot of this is to do with the past and how he hurt both Veronica and Betty before because he had feelings for them both, so obviously he’s probably not feeling great at the idea that he might once again be in the same situation and is likely painfully aware that he could end up hurting them again. Then he shows up at Betty’s expecting it to be a booty call. He is expecting it to be fun and well like it was in the beginning of the episode with the fireman scene. But Betty is trying to escape her trauma and although he doesn’t know why he can probably tell that something feels off. The words he uses to Jackson are that it felt different and not great. I think alot of the reason why it felt different and not great was one like I said Betty was struggling and very shaken by the dream so as much as she was trying to escape I don’t think it worked as well as before, casual sex isn’t enough to help her and I think that is suppose to be the take away from that scene. On top of that I do feel like Archie was feeling guilty about his renewed feelings for Veronica and he might have felt like he wasn’t being honest with Betty and like he was hiding something from her. I think the combination of all this leads to a less than satisfying night and I think this only confuses them more because up until now they have been having a great time but suddenly its different and I think that throws them for a bit of a loop.

Then we get to the key party and again I think some things that happen here a really significant for what happens between Barchie later in the evening. Firstly there’s the fact that Veronica pulls Archie’s keys. This has two effects in my opinion. One Betty is very clearly jealous and not happy about this turn of events. The second is I feel like for Archie this might have seemed like a bit of a sign. Kind of like he might think it was fate that Veronica drew his key which when he is confused about how he feels about Veronica might have felt a little like a confirmation for him. Then of course the stand off with Chad happens and Veronica leaves with her husband. But one of the more significant moments is when Betty says that she is still traumatised by the spin the bottle game from the pilot. I think this is important because it shows that she is clearly thinking about that and the pain of Archie choosing Veronica and how she nearly lost Archie, I mean it nearly brought their friendship to an end. So when you look at it from Betty’s point of view she is remembering all those bad memories from the past and she has this fear of losing Archie and the light he brings to her life, and then he tells her he still has feelings for Veronica. In this situation I think that it makes sense for Betty to slam those brakes on. That bubble she was living in with him before has burst and she’s realising that she’s got to face the things that she had been trying to escape from and distract herself from when she was hooking up with Archie. One part I found interesting, but a little confused by, was the line that at their cores they are different people. At first I thought she meant that her and Archie were different from each other but thinking about it and how it came right after she was talking about how they should make sense because they are the all American boy and the Girl next door I actually think she meant they are different from those personas that are sort of forced on to them. The American boy and the Girl next door. At their core they are not those people which is something we have all been saying since the beginning. The other part that I thought was interesting but was again a little unsure of what it meant was when Betty asked they had a free pass to do whatever they wanted so why weren’t they, and Archie replies because we’re right on the edge. Now I could be reaching here but I wonder if what they are saying here is that what they have always wanted was to be together. Maybe Betty is asking why they aren’t taking that step when its what they’ve always wanted. Archie says that they are on the edge. Now being on the edge of something can be a very scary thing. It makes me think of the danger of falling and I think this is what Barchie are afraid of so instead of taking that leap they take a step back from that edge, back to where they feel safe. To be honest the more I think about it the more I think that at the moment that was the right thing to do. Betty is right in that she is facing some dark times and she is clearly struggling with a lot and I don’t think that right now she is ready for a relationship. I think she is right what she needs right now is a friend to help her through it and who she can rely on. Archie has assured her that's what he’ll be and I really hope that the writers deliver on this and show us them really growing as friends and supporting each other. I think the thing I am worried about is that now that V*rchie are back together and that Jughead and Betty are investigating together that they will fall back into those same patterns of it only being them interacting. I am hoping that the writers have learnt from past mistakes and will still show Barchie as friends, I have some hope that they might as we know that they were filming together for episode 10.

Ok so lets say they aren’t really over how could I see Barchie coming back together? Well a few days ago I made a post taking about the FWB to Lovers troupe and how it usually follows a guideline. I think Barchie are still very much following this formula.

I didn’t want to write it all out again so I just took a snapshot of it but as you can see at the beginning of this episode we were very much still in step 3, they were hooking up and having fun. Then I feel like the writers hit the acceleration a bit too hard and raced through the next three steps that I outlined in red above. I feel like they mostly skipped over step 4 but I guess it could be argued that Betty calling Archie after her nightmare might kind of come under that one. But we did see Betty getting jealous of Veronica and Archie in this episode which is step 5 checked off. Then we got step six where one of them realises they are starting to catch deeper feelings and the arrangement gets called off. I know some might say that neither of them started to get deeper feeling but I would argue that there is some evidence that Betty at least was. She was very giddy and happy talking about her and Archie to Kevin and I think the fact that she brought up not wanting to get in too deep with him indicates that she has had some thoughts about things deepening between them. Also during the ‘break up’ scene she says that getting closer to him has made her realise that she doesn’t want her darkness to overtake him. Again to me this makes me think her feelings for Archie were getting deeper and that made her afraid that she would taint him with her darkness somehow. The thing that is so heart breaking about this is its a direct parallel to how Archie felt in the pilot, like he would never be good enough for her.

So if we are following this formula then what should happen next is they go on with their lives but when they see the other interacting with their other love interests, so when Betty sees Archie with Veronica for example they will continue to feel jealous and it’ll make them look at their feelings again. I did wonder about that line Kevin said to Betty about him telling Fangs to bring someone to the key party, he said that a part of him wanted to know if he would actually go through with it. I wonder if some part of Betty also wonders whether Archie will go through with it with Veronica. I am curious to know what her reaction will be and whether she’ll sort of convince herself that she was right when she sees them together but also feel a bit hurt and jealous or disappointed. I feel like this situation is currently lined up to mirror season 1 perfectly. We know that Betty and Jughead are investigating together next episode and I can’t help but wonder if seeing them interacting will cause some kind of jealously with Archie. I could also see a scenario where Glen comes into town and that causes Archie to feel some kind of way. Again this would be a direct parallel to season 1 where Archie rejected Betty, got with Veronica and then started to realise he had feelings when he saw B*ghead together. One thing that has always been consistent with Archie’s character is he is someone who really struggles to understand his own feelings and what he really wants. I’m sure the V*rchie’s will come after me with pitchforks for saying this but I actually don’t think Archie really does still have feelings for Veronica I think with them both they are feeling alot of nostalgia and that is blurring things for them. I think in the next few episodes they will start to realise this and ultimately they will once again come to an end.

Another way I could see this happening is a similar situation to what happened with Hannah and Caleb from PLL at the end of season 5 where Hannah admits she still loves Caleb, they kiss and then she gets taken by AD and this makes Caleb realise that he still has feelings for her. Now to be clear before anyone starts trying to roast me I am not saying I want Betty to get hurt or captured again. But it is a popular theory that Betty will be taken by TBK again and considering the way the story is going its not an unreasonable theory. With episode 10 being the midseason finale and it being right before a three month hiatus I feel like its got to be a big shocking episode and we know that KJ and Lili were doing a lot of stunt work so it wouldn’t be out there to assume that one of their characters might find themselves in a dangerous situation. I could definitely see a situation where they kiss and then something happens to one of them which just confuses the situation more. The only thing with this is if it does happen and Archie is still with Veronica then they would once again be cheating.

Another scenario I could see it going is similar to OTH’s Leyton. I mean to me there are so many parallels between Barchie and Leyton, I do find myself drawing comparisons between them alot. But it could be a similar situation to when she got shot and they were trapped in the library together. She thought she was going to die so she tells him she loves him and kisses him as a kind of goodbye. Again I could see something like this happening with Barchie where one or the other gets shot or hurt in someway but they are trapped somewhere. Thinking they might die they confess how they really feel thinking it’ll be their last chance to be real about their feelings and they kiss. Obviously I think help will arrive in time and they’ll survive but then they have to deal with what they admitted in that moment.

Ok but if Barchie get together then V*rchie would need to break up so how do I think that could happen? Well like I said above I do think alot of what they are feeling is nostalgia and I think as time goes on they will start to realise that but I also think there might be a clue as to how they might come to an end in the title for episode 11. Now just to be crystal clear I am not sure yet if these titles are confirmed or not. So everything I am about to say relies on those titles being official. The title for episode 11 is Strange Bedfellows. Like alot of the Riverdale titles I think this is a reference to a 1965 film of the same name. In a previous post where I was theorising about the titles, I explained that the plot of the movie was about a couple who got married impulsively within 24 hours of meeting each other and then separate but then seven years later on the eve of their divorce being finalised they rekindle the spark before realising they are too different and decide to go ahead with the divorce. But then the male protagonist finds out his promotion relies on him being married so he tries to woo her back. In that theory post I talked about how I thought it could be where Chad and Veronica’s storyline goes. I predicted that they would separate in episode 8 and then in episode 11 Chad would come back to Riverdale to finalise the divorce. I also theorised that he would be offered a job that he could only have if he was married and so he would try to win her back. What else is interesting is in the film the female protagonist during the seven years apart got with someone else. This guy is described as the one she should have married years ago. They fit, they both have the same views on everything, they rarely fight, they seem like they would be the perfect couple. To me this very much sound like V*rchie. It’s the person she always figured she would end up being with. Also in the film the husband goes to great lengths to prove that he has changed. They also have alot of chemistry with each other and part of the problem is they keep ending up in bed together which only confuses things more. I could see a scenario where Chad comes back to settle the divorce but whilst back he tries to convince Veronica to give them another chance. During his time back he seems to have changed and is making alot of efforts with Veronica which reminds her of how things were between them and confuses her. It could also be that things are a bit rocky between her and Archie especially if I am right about something happening between Barchie is the midseason finale. I think come episode end V*rchie will realise that whilst they will always care about each other that they are better as friends. In regards to Chad I could see it going one of two ways either the show does a redemption arc for him and he and Veronica get back together. Or Veronica finds out about how he only gets a promotion if he is still married and realises he’s only done all of this so he could get the job he wanted and so she goes through with the divorce and ends the episode single. Personally I would prefer the second one as I feel like too many of Veronica’s storylines revolve around men. I just want her to be single and a badass for a little while and have a storyline that is all about her.

SO to summarise I think episode 9 will be V*rchie and B*ghead interacting but we will see little signs that despite saying they want to just be friends Barchie are shown to have some jealous feelings to the other. I also think V*rchie will feel like something doesn’t feel quite the same even though they are back together. This will continue over into episode ten until Barchie finds themselves in a dangerous situation which leads to a confession that they have feelings for each other and a kiss. Episode 11 things are strained between V*rchie because they are confused about firstly how they feel about each other but also because Archie is confused about what happened between him and Betty in episode 10. Then as the cherry on top Chad shows up and seems like a changed person and this makes Veronica confused and causes even more tension between V*rchie. Then after finding out Chad was just using her to get a promotion she calls it off but she also realises that Archie isn’t the one for her either and they call things off as well.

I mean I could be totally wrong about all of this, but this is just where I feel like the story is going. To me the V*rchie reunion just happened too fast for it to be a lasting thing. We have to remember that we aren’t even half way through the season yet so alot can still happen and we all know how quickly the Riverdale writers like to turn the tide. Who knows maybe Barchie really is bones as alot of people like to think but I for one am choosing to have a bit of hope.

#barchie #anti v*rchie #anti varchie

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Anchor in the Waves- Chapter 2

I am so sorry its taken so long to get this chapter out...its been one of those weeks. Anyway, here it is! Yay!

Quick reminders: Osbert = Uhtred. Islond=Iceland. Irland=Ireland // all translations are via google and in italics.

This chapter is emotional. Most of the warnings pertain to this chapter. Again, nothing is graphic but implied. Still heavy stuff though. I promise after this it gets better.

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby

"What's it like? Islond?" Halig asked, huddled against Osbert.

"If hell froze over...that is Islond." Finan replied from Osbert's other side, arms tucked inside of his tunic.

Hakka had announced earlier that the trading season was done. Tomorrow they would start the voyage back to Islond. The slaves were to enjoy a few hours rest before back on the oars. They had been tossed stale loaves of bread to share, the thick taste of salt coating the bread from the sea spray.

Finan, Osbert and Halig huddled together, not quite shivering but perpetually cold. The manacle around their ankles seemed to absorb the cold and inject it straight into their bodies.

"We'll be on land though."

Finan did not reply to Halig's comment. Yes, they would be on land, the oars no longer feeling like an unwanted extension of their person; but they would still be barely fed and forced to endure the brutal cold of winter without respite.

Yet with the thought of their return to Islond she came to mind.

Aine.

Was she alive? Would she remember him? Would she care for him once again?

There were many times he found his mind wandering to her over the past several months, worried for her. In his darkest hours, he would conjure up her face, reveling in the brief flash of warmth it brought with it. Her brown hair in a braid over her shoulder, several strands loose around her face. Her slightly pointed chin and the dimple in it. Eyes the color of bronze. The small birthmark on her cheekbone. Those gentle, calloused hands that held his like a lifeline, both providing and seeking comfort.

"A stòr." He whispered into the wind. Was it a call to let her know he was coming? A hope that she had not given up on him? A reminder of what had passed between them? He did not know. In his soul, it just felt right. (My treasure.)

*****

She almost dropped the blankets in her arms when she saw him.

All the ship slaves looked awful, like they had been dragged across the sea floor then pulled ashore and forced to remember how to walk. They were almost indistinguishable with their long, matted hair and beards, bowed backs, threadbare clothes and general air of defeat.

She stood to the side of the main hall, having run from gathering the blankets off the drying line to be able to watch their approach.

To see if he returned.

"Aine!" Master Sverri called, walking towards her. His thumbs were tucked into the band around his waist, his strut like a conquering hero returning home. Yet he was no hero. "Come to greet us?"

"Welcome home, Master." She answered demurely, dropping her gaze to his boots. It startled her that he called her by name. He had always called her ‘girl’ or ‘slave’ before. She tried not to think too hard about the implications of him remembering her name and using it.

He tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. His sharp eyes bore into her, seeking something in her face, before releasing her with a grunt as he walked past. She was unsure what that look meant...but it made her uncomfortable.

As she looked once again at the slaves, one was staring at her. Soft, brown eyes met hers. She would know those eyes anywhere.

Finan.

Unconsciously, her eyes widened and tears threatened to fall. The shock of seeing him again rooted her to where she stood lest she collapse. He was alive...but appeared even more haggard and frail compared to last she saw him. He cradled one of his hands against his chest, staring at her until he was shoved by one of the Danes into the barn. She remained frozen, watching as all the ship slaves were marched to the barns and separated.

The one thought repeated in her mind endlessly- he was alive.

For how much longer though?

The returned Danes would celebrate voraciously tonight, happy to be home. Ale would flow freely and most would be passed out before the moon was at its zenith. She should be able to sneak away without notice. She had too.

Quickly, she turned and headed back inside the main hall, back to her duties before the Master's wife could yell at her for being lazy.

The night could not come soon enough.

*****

"Finan?"

He jerked at his name, the sound just barely slipping through the slats of the barn. It had taken some manipulation to make sure that he ended up back in the same pen he had occupied prior. A small smile crossed his lips when he noticed the hole he had made was still there. "Aine?"

Sticking his hand through the opening, warmth immediately surrounded his hand as she clutched it with both of hers.

“Conaíonn tú.” She murmured. (You live.)

“Mar a dhéanann tú.” (As do you.)

He pressed his forehead to the slats and felt her reciprocate the action. That simple touch, the simple connection brought tears to his eyes. It would never eclipse the beatings, starvation and despair but it helped lessen it. He had missed her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Osbert watching him curiously, everyone else asleep by this point. He trusted Osbert not to say anything to their captors.

They stayed that way for several minutes. Everything Finan could think of to say to her, to acknowledge or ask...once it hit his tongue died. So, he kept his lips closed and just breathed in her gentle presence, a balm to his dispirited soul.

He remembered that last time he had thought she was beautiful. When he saw her after getting off the ship this time, it felt like something had changed. When he looked up and saw her standing by the main hall, a pile of blankets in her arms, he realized he had been wrong. She was radiant.

“Ní féidir liom fanacht.” (I cannot stay.)

“Tuigim. Táim… tá áthas orm go bhfuil tú ceart go leor.” (I understand. I am… I am glad you are alright.)

“Seo.” She pushed something into his hand then released it. (Here.)

“Go raibh maith agat.” (Thank you.)

He heard her footsteps as she walked away quickly. Pulling his hand back, he noticed it was half a loaf of bread. Far more than she had ever given him before. Without a word, he tore it into three parts and tossed two of them to Osbert. The man caught them, having been watching him, and quietly nudged Halig to wake him.

As they ate silently, Finan's thoughts were disturbed by Osbert's whisper.

"Who is she?"

Finan thought about his answer, munching on the fresh bread. Something he had not tasted in almost two years. "Aine." He finally replied. "When I was here last...she saved me."

*****

Over the next couple of weeks, Aine tried to visit Finan every few days. She wished she could go every night, not just to see him with her own eyes and feel his hand in hers; at least then she knew he was getting food when she visited. After the third visit, he had mentioned about two others he had come to know. If it was his intention to mention others to receive more food, she did not mind. She tried to bring a little extra with her, sometimes forgoing her own lunch and dinner to have extra to bring. She was too scared to steal more from the kitchens and get caught.

It was also during this time that Master Sverri's attentions to her became more obvious.

*****

"The deep cold will start tonight." Gunnhild, the Master's wife, said flatly. She sat mending by the fire in the main hall, an interesting sight since her hands were the size of ham hocks. Everyone else had returned to their homes by this point, leaving only the Master, his wife and the house slaves.

"Yes." Master Sverri listlessly said, staring at the flames with a mug of ale in hand.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Unless you want your slaves to freeze to death, they will need blankets. By the gods, you do this every year!"

"They are slaves."

"THEY ARE EXPENSIVE!" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This was not a good year for us. Not enough trade. We need to keep them alive."

He swirled the ale in his mug for a long moment before nodding solely. "You are right."

"Aine," Gunnhild called loudly, "you and Alva take blankets to the ship slaves."

"Yes, Mistress." Aine stood up from further down the main hall, where she had been scrubbing the dried, sticky ale off the tables. It had been another rambunctious night of drinking for the Danes. After everyone left, the Mistress suddenly decided the sticky residue needed to be removed. "Would ya prefer me to finish my task first?"

"No, it'll be here when you return. Go."

Leaving everything behind, she headed to the kitchen to inform Alva, the middle-aged cook, their task. They gathered the spare blankets, kept separate for the ship slaves and headed out to the barns. Aine announced she would take the barn with the pigs. If Alva had any suspicions, it was not noticeable. On the contrary, she thanked Aine since she needed to return to the kitchen quickly to prepare the porridge for the morning and the barn with the horses was closer to the main hall.

Without a word, Aine tossed half of the blankets in the first pen. The sounds of the men scurrying and arguing over the blankets followed her as she moved on. It was the second pen that she cared about more.

There were five slaves in the second pen, including Finan. As she approached, the men watched her warily. It was when she tossed the couple blankets in, did they finally move. It was the one with piercing blue eyes that took charge and passed the blankets out, giving her a brief nod after as he huddled under one with a smaller man on one side and Finan on the other.

"Thank ya."

She directed a small smile at Finan, her eyes meeting his own. This was the first time they were face to face without slats separating them. She opened her mouth to say something but the scraping sound of the barn door opening stopped her. With a backward glance, she froze.

Master Sverri closed the barn door behind him. In the darkness it was hard to decipher his features, but something about the way he was standing there peering at her made her skin crawl.

Subconsciously, she stepped back.

If he noticed her movement, he gave no indication as he slowly approached, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes never drifted away from her body, eyeing her hungrily. "Are the blankets distributed?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." He drew closer until he stood in front of her, hovering over her. Meanwhile he ignored the slaves in the pens as if they were furniture. "Was there another task that required you, Aine?"

It was not until hearing him say her name now, that Danish growl butchering the pronunciation, that she realized how much she desired hearing Finan say her name. When he said it, his Irish accent grew. When he said it, it sounded like home.

"Just finishin' cleanin' the tables."

"Mmm...I have need of you first." It was the way he said it, his hand brushing her hair out of her face, the closeness of his body. She knew what was to come. Alva warned her only a few days ago what his attention would mean.

"Come." He commanded, turning back towards the barn door.

What else could she do? Bowing her head, she started to follow. Not before she snuck a glance at Finan. Even in the darkness, she could read the horror and rage on his face. He hastily shoved the blanket off him, starting to rise. Immediately she shook her head, hoping he could see it in the gloom. They were slaves. Their thoughts and feelings were nothing. Their bodies and pain were nothing. They were nothing.

She thought she heard Finan quietly call out her name but it did not matter. She kept moving.

After Master Sverri finished with her that night, she sat outside and gazed at the stars above, tears slipping down her cheeks undisturbed. Was it worth even wishing for freedom anymore? Was this all fate had planned for her?

*****

"Aine…"

“Níl, ná habair é.” She silenced him by interrupting, clutching his hand just a little tighter. He was unsure if he could hear a tremble in her voice or if it was just the cold. “I ... tá sé rud ar bith. Mhair tú i bhfad níos measa ná mise.” (No, do not say it. // I...it is nothing. You have survived far worse than me.)

“Ní comórtas é.” (It is not a competition.)

A small bark of laughter slipped out of her mouth, but it sounded harsh and cruel. Finan wished there was something, anything he could do to protect her. He would easily accept a beating or whipping to save her from whatever fate was giving her. Yet there was nothing he could do. He was imprisoned, too weak to fight in her stead, he doubted he had the strength to hold up a sword and swing it, let alone fight with it.

He wanted to ask about the other night, when Master Sverri followed her to the barn. He wanted...no, needed to know if that bastard touched her. She must have anticipated his question and shut it down before he even placed the words on his tongue to say. That night he had sat awake the whole time. Fury, vengeance, fear and despair took turns beating at his mind. He wanted nothing more than to escape the pen and throttle Master Sverri before he could lay a hand on her. Save her from whatever cruelty played out in the Dane’s mind as he stood there in the gloom of the barn, leering at her like a predator and she an innocent lamb. As Finan started to rise, flaming anger fueling his movements, Osbert grabbed his arm and forced him to stay still. The rest of the night and the next two were torturous. Rage rose up within him whenever he saw Master Sverri walking around the village, enough to make his veins almost boil with his desire to slowly kill the Dane. What was worse though, was the rage at himself for his inability to do anything.

Finan squeezed her hand, his breath visible from the cold. “Geallaim lá amháin saorfaidh mé thú.” (I promise one day I will free you.)

“Finan, le do thoil ... ná tabhair gealltanais mar sin le do thoil.” (Finan, please do not... please do not make promises like that.)

“Ná tabhair suas, a stór, ná déan! Éalóimid, agus tiocfaidh mé ar ais agus saorfaidh mé thú. Tugaim faoi deara é. An gcreideann tú mé? Abair amach é.” (Do not give up, my treasure, do not! We will escape, and I will come back and free you. I swear it. Do you believe me? Say it.)

“Creidim thú.” (I believe you.) She barely whispered; voice tight with emotion.

He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand, her hand still trembling, much like his own. Her face was turned down, staring at their hands as if ashamed to meet his eyes. He wished he could comfort her further somehow, wrap his arms around her and hide her away from the world.

Suddenly the sound of the dogs barking made them both jump.

"Téigh!" He said, worried someone would find her. It was truly a miracle she had been able to seek him out like she had been without anyone the wiser. (Go!)

Without a word, she dropped his hand and ran, having already given him the hard biscuits.

Once he no longer heard her footsteps or any screams to signal she had been caught, he relaxed against the side of the barn, tucking the blanket closer around his person that he shared with Osbert and Halig.

He turned his head to look at the man sitting next to him. His blue eyes met Finan's brown in the darkness of the barn. Keeping his voice low, he spoke, a determination coursing through his veins. "What is the plan ya mentioned earlier?"

Osbert smiled wickedly.

*****

Finan could see the slavers gaining ground on them. The dogs barked loudly at catching sight of their prey just up ahead. The sand and rocks under his feet made footing treacherous. His legs wobbled beneath him like a newborn foal’s. Osbert already fell once. He was not even sure how Halig was still running, although his strength was obviously failing.

But they had to keep going. Their freedom laid before them just up ahead.

A bastard boat.

He grabbed the end, pulling with what little strength he had left to get it into the water. The weight threatened to be too much for his weakened body...but he kept pulling. This was their one chance. There would not be another. They must make it.

Then Halig collapsed on the rocky shore. Osbert tried to drag him along, crying how he would not leave him behind, but both barely moved.

It was then, before the Danes even seized them, Finan knew they failed.

The small waves slammed against the back of his legs, spraying water across his body. For a second, he wondered if it would be better for him to run into the sea and not turn back. His body was bound to be cast into its depths anyway, either by his choice or the slavers tossing his corpse overboard when his body finally gave out.

He looked over at Osbert, meeting his distraught gaze. A thousand words passed unspoken between them. At that moment, he knew abandoning his friend was not an option.

The Danes returned the three of them, bound and chained, back to the village. Seven others waited, having been captured already. They sat, all bound together in the middle of the village. All day and night they remained, exposed to the elements and the occasional beating from the slavers. During this time they went without food or water as the Danes sought out the other escaped slaves.

By the end of the next day, all but two slaves were found.

Master Sverri glared at them from the front steps of the main hall, arms crossed over his chest. "We leave in one week!" He announced, then looked to his men, standing around the slaves. "Whip them...but not that one." He pointed a stubby finger at Halig, the pain from his wounds evident on the slave’s ashen face. "He watches for now. His punishment will come later."

That night, Finan finally asked the question that had been brewing in his mind like a bad storm. "Who are ya really?" He demanded, his voice low so the others would not overhear, even if they appeared to be asleep.

More than once he overheard Halig call Osbert “lord” and how Osbert made reference to their fighting together. There was an authority that Osbert bore on his shoulders, invisible but when he spoke, it came with the sound of one used to orders listened to.

Osbert sighed, glancing around the pen they were back in. "No one."

"I know that's a filthy lie."

"It's a long story."

"I'm no goin' anywhere." Finan shrugged then winced as the torn muscles on his back from the whipping stretched.

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before groaning and turning to face Finan completely. Even in the gloom of the barn, his blue eyes shone with passion. His voice changed from a quiet resignation to one of determination. "My name is Uhtred son of Uhtred, Lord of Bebbanburg..."

*****

In three days, the ship would set sail. Away from Islond. Away from her. Away into the unknown future and turbulent seas. Aine visited Finan two days before, giving what food she could to him. Normally, she tried not to visit him so soon for fear of being caught. Now though, she wanted to give him what nourishment she could before he was gone. She also brought more cloths for him to wrap around his palms, along with some extra for the others.

He firmly gripped her hand. She was unsure if it was his hand or hers that trembled. Tears formed but she restrained them through sheer will. For some reason, this time, this goodbye felt final. Neither spoke it but both acknowledged it. She should have walked away some time ago, yet her legs refused to move, his hand clasped between hers just as tightly.

“Fan láidir, Aine.” (Stay strong, Aine.)

All she could only nod. Her soul was being chipped away little by little and now with Finan's upcoming departure, she doubted she would survive.

Especially if Master Sverri came back and Finan did not.

There were so many things she wanted to tell him but never did. Due to her own cowardness or time constraint, it mattered little now. It was still left unspoken. There was a bond between them, something she would always be grateful for. He was her strength when she felt unable to rise up again, her joy when he teased her and made her smile as something she never did otherwise, he was her sanctuary where she could hide away from the world. How could she tell him all this though? How could she convey her deep need for him to steady her as the rock he was in her life?

“Aine? Cad é sin?” (Aine? What is it?)

Her fluctuating emotions must have shown on her face enough for him to see it in the moonlight. She sighed, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Something they had never done. His sharp inhale of breath worried her for a brief moment. Then he leaned his forehead against the slats, tugging her hand gently until she reciprocated the action.

“Tá rud éigin le rá agam…” He breathed out. (There is something I need to say…)

Oh, what she would give for these slats to be gone, for them to be free, to embrace him uninhibited like she wanted to. She squeezed his hand to let him know she was listening. Slowly he exhaled, as if that would help align the words on his tongue. The thought made her smile softly.

"Hey! You!"

Aine looked over and saw a figure standing still, having just come around the side of the barn. With a torch in hand, he was unable to distinguish her in the darkness. But she could see who it was. Terror flooded her veins with a vengeance. Her worst nightmare came to pass.

“RITH!” (RUN!)

Aine obeyed Finan's order without a second thought, darting away, hoping to lose her pursuer amidst the buildings as she weaved around them. Hard footfalls from behind crept closer and closer. She put everything she had into getting away and hiding. The figure could not have seen her face. He would not have known what she was doing. She just had to find somewhere to hide and wait him out. She just had to make it there.

Something slammed into her the back, making her stumble and lose her footing. Ungraciously, she fell face first.

She gasped; the impact having chased the air from her lungs. Tears welled in her eyes. Her hands dug into the firm earth beneath her. No…. no... no... please not this.

"What do we have here?" A rough hand flipped her over, forcing her to stare into the face of Hakka. "What were you doing, whore?"

Tears streamed down her face. There was nothing she could do now, nowhere to hide. This was it.

"Let's go ask Master Sverri, mmm?" He grabbed a fistful of her hair and started dragging her towards the main hall.

Minutes later she found herself on her knees before the Master, who had been roused from sleep. His tunic and leggings were rumpled from the bed. Only socks clad his feet, not even sparing the time to put his boots on with Hakka's yelling.

"What were you doing, Aine?" The Master asked softly, an almost begging unbelief in his tone. As if he could not fathom she would disobey him.

Her eyes remained on the floor, hands clasped in her lap. It was no use answering. She suddenly felt exhausted, so much so to not even try and create an excuse for her actions. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide from everything until her body rejoined the ground. She was so tired.

"Look at me." He cupped her chin gently, forcing her eyes to his.

Unable to stop herself, she flinched. Though he never beat her, she loathed his touch. Every time his fingers grazed her skin or hair, every time he had "need" of her, every time his eyes tracked her across the room...she hated everything about him.

"There is a small opening, broken slat towards the back of the pig barn where the slaves stay. She was kneeling in front of there." Hakka explained, hand on the axe head strapped to his side. "It was a good size to pass something through."

Master Sverri stared at her, hand still cupping her chin. “Were you giving the slaves something?"

She bit her bottom lip, tasting her own blood in her mouth.

"ANSWER ME!!" He suddenly roared in her face, his hand on her face now gripped it painfully.

Then the voice of Gunnhild came from the side of the room, wrapped in a cloak and hair messy from being roused unceremoniously. "Alva informed me she has noticed Aine does not always eat her meals but saves them, stuffing the food into a pouch or wrapping and saving it."

"Have you been feeding the slaves?" Master Sverri asked. He stared at her with wide, unbelieving eyes. When she did not answer, that surprise turned to rage. He backhanded her, sending her sprawling to the ground. More blood filled her mouth but she remained silent. He rounded on Hakka. "Take her to the pit."

"What will you do with her?" Gunnhild stared down her nose at the slave girl that had been a gift. "I do not want her anymore."

"I will take care of her." Her husband stated, fists clenched by his sides.

Hakka grabbed one of her arms and dragged her out of the room. The angle he pulled on, she feared he would dislocate or break her arm. She tugged, trying to loosen or change his grip on her. A whimper escaped her as he yanked purposefully with a dark chuckle.

It was when she could see where he was taking her that she began to fight back, albeit weakly. She kicked and swung at him. Anything to stop their advancement. Anything to not be put in there.

He laughed, easily manhandling her. "You'll beg for death soon enough." He whispered into her ear as he immobilized her against his body. "Sverri will not forgive this, nor show mercy. Maybe he will finally let us all take our turn with you."

That thought terrified her. She whipped her head back, feeling it slam against his face with a crack.

"Stupid whore!" He yelled, throwing her to the ground. Before she could move to escape, he stood over her, blood dripping from his nose. A snarl on his face, he pulled his arm back and punched the side of her head.

Darkness surrounded her.

*****

The shackle on his ankle burned. The hard bench under his arse and the high wall of the slave ship made him feel like he was looking out of his own grave. The smell of the ocean nauseated him already.

The Danes were securing the last of the slaves to their posts on the ship and bringing the remaining supplies aboard.

Fresh pain radiated across his back when he moved his shoulders. However foolhardy it was, he fought back against the Danes when they dragged the slaves towards the ship. A strong rod across his back repeatedly forced his submission.

Now he sat here waiting…waiting to row...waiting for his probable death.

Even sitting with his back facing him, Finan could see Uhtred's resolve slowly beginning to slip away after their failed escape attempt. Uhtred tried his best to hide it though, especially in front of Halig. The smaller man had been in visible pain since their escape attempt, his arrow wounds untended. The Danes had not seen fit to provide any medical attention, just threw him in the pen with the others.

A disturbance at the front of the ship caught Finan's attention. Walking up the gangplank was Master Sverri, his hand firmly grasping a handful of Aine's hair and forcing her to walk before him.

A punch to the gut, a whipping, being tossed overboard...anything would have been less expected than this.

Finan had not seen her for three days, not since she had last given him food then run off when someone noticed her. What worried him the most, he had not even seen her around the village doing her daily chores. During the following days, his mind conjured more and more horrific scenarios of what happened to her. He knew whatever it was, he was responsible. Without him, she would have been safe back in the main hall, in her bed, not outside the barn trying to sneak him food. It was his fault. He should have told her to stay away, to not worry about him.

The prospect of food and a gentle touch had been too strong, his weakened mind and body unable to resist.

It was his fault.

Now seeing her, his heart plummeted in his chest. She looked far worse than any other time he had seen her. Her dress was torn and dirty, as if she had been dragged out of a hole in the ground. Dried tear tracks stood out against the grime covering her face, the only spots semi-clean. From this distance he was unsure if it was dirt or dried blood that matted her hair on one side of her head. She stumbled up the gangplank, legs shaking.

What had he done? Finan promised...he promised to set her free. Not this. Never this.

Without a word, Master Sverri shoved her towards the front of the ship. There Finan could no longer see her. He was not sure if that was better or worse.

"IT WOULD APPEAR YOU DOGS NEED A REMINDER OF YOUR PLACE!" Hakka shouted at them, pacing the middle of the ship. He pointed at Halig, a sadistic smile on his face. "Grab him."

Two of the other Danes, forcibly removed Halig from his shackle. Uhtred screamed, trying to fight the Danes but they only beat him back. Finan eventually grabbed Uhtred, holding him firmly while he screamed to let Halig go, begging to take Halig's place. Those screams fell on deaf ears, only increasing the taunts and laughter from the Danes dragging Halig away.

"TIE HIM TO THE BOW, LET THE SEA KILL HIM!" Hakka cried out, watching the two Danes drag the injured slave towards the front of the ship. "LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU ALL!"

"NO!!!" Uhtred wailed. His words and screams almost unintelligible as they weaved together into an almost animalistic cry. His body shook violently, nails digging into Finan's arms, the only things keeping him rooted to his spot.

Glancing up above, Finan could see Master Sverri watching Uhtred with a smirk. He suddenly remembered when him and the other slaves were beaten after their failed escape...all but Halig. Master Sverri had said his punishment would come later...the bastard had been planning this.

Somehow, Finan promised himself, he would kill that devil.

Right now, he just held a trembling Uhtred. He could feel his own anger and horror rising but he suppressed them. The care Uhtred had given his friend was obvious and this...Finan worried it would break him even more than the oars and the beatings. Being forced to listen to his friend's cries as the sea slowly drown him, it was enough to destroy any sane man.

Then the order came to start rowing.

"Uhtred, ya must." Finan whispered, when his friend refused to move. "That bastard is watchin' and I don't think he means to kill ya. He'd have done so."

"Halig…" He whimpered.

"He's a dead man walkin'. There's nothin' we can do for him now."

The Irishman tried to console but noticed his own hands were shaking. How do you prepare yourself to listen to the slow death of a friend? You cannot. He wondered if this moment would haunt the rest of his life.

As if in a daze, Uhtred slowly moved back into his seat and grasped the oar. His silent sobs made his shoulder quiver.

Not even a few minutes later, Master Sverri came over to crouch above Uhtred. "The only reason you are not dead is because I am curious as to who you are."

"PULL!"

"PULL AND GIVE HIM THE PEACE OF DEATH!"

It was once the distant sounds of Halig's cries finally faded that Master Sverri walked away.

Watching everything as he pulled his own oar, Finan wondered if it would be the oar and seas that killed him and Uhtred or their despair. His ears felt as if they were bleeding while hearing Halig slowly die. Yet it was the following silence that was even worse. Tears slipped down his own cheeks, catching in his beard. What life was this to continue living?

A sharp, distinctly feminine cry from the front reminded him that Aine was still aboard.

Rage filled him, overpowering his despair. It strengthened his body, sharpening his mind. He could not give in to death now. Quickly, he wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. The despair and pain he shoved into the furthest recesses of his mind. Somehow, he had a promise to fulfill. To save a life and take another.

"Do not give up yet." He said aloud, both for himself and Uhtred. "Do not give up."

#The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom fanfic #finan the last kingdom #finan x ofc #finan the agile #uhtred ragnarson #slavery #mz writes

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