#I. don’t know if I spelt that right the first time so just in case
Note
oh my god, i love your MH time travel idea. did you have any other ideas for it??
OH BOY DO I
(Referring to this!)
Warning, this may be… Incomprehensible. I just have a lot of ideas and they aren’t fully fleshed out so I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. Hope you like a wall full of spaghetti, Anon!
- While going back in time reverses the physical effects that Operator Sickness had, they all still carry the trauma of its effects and what happened during it, so while only Tim is experiencing symptoms (though currently managing them with his medication), they aren’t completely off scot-free.
- I imagine it takes them a minute to realize exactly how many people woke up with memories of the previous timeline. I feel like Brian would want to tell someone and that someone would end up being Tim and then they’d both realize they remembered and compare notes
- I HC Seth and Sarah as roommates so they immediately find out as well. Amy and Jessica too. Pretty much the only person that thinks they’re in this alone at first is Jay but fortunately that doesn’t last too long because maybe Brian starts trying to subtly figure out if anyone else has any memories by asking questions only someone who knew would know, and finally Tim, Jay, Brian, Seth, and Sarah all realize they’re on the same page.
- Imagine their shock and suspicion when they realize Alex is not. Further suspicion that only grows when Amy and Jessica show up meaning Alex is the only one who doesn’t remember. Maybe they try and test him to see if he’s faking it and if he’ll slip up.
- He doesn’t. Alex really doesn’t remember anything.
- There are… Lots of things to work out. Not just with where to go next but there’s still some animosity within the group and especially regarding the members of ToTheArk. Influenced by an otherworldly being or not, it’s still something they need to resolve. Not to mention, Amy points out that Alex was influenced too, an argument that keeps being brought up because nobody really knows what to think. Alex killed people, but how much of that was Alex and how much of it was something else entirely?
- Meanwhile, Alex just really wanted to work on his film but while he can location scout and work on the script all he wants, without actors, it’s not really gonna go anywhere, and his actors keep finding excuses to put it off.
- Alex has no idea what’s going on with everyone because Tim and Jay are polite at best and usually tense around him, Jessica keeps looking at him like she doesn’t know what to think, Brian can’t seem to make up his mind, Seth and Sarah flat out refuse to be in a room alone with him, even Amy is acting distant. He feels like he’s missing something but he doesn’t know what and nobody is telling him. All the conversations he catches sound like nonsense too so he’s pretty much completely in the dark too.
- Since Alex is out and about location scouting, he ends up catching the early stages of Operator Sickness. The next time he gets into a coughing fit in front of any of them, they freak out and Alex doesn’t get why.
- The arguments get worse. They can’t tell if Alex is doomed to repeat the cycle and if they need to take him out in order to prevent it, or if they can make sure he doesn’t turn out the same this time
- Being around Alex makes them all conflicted. Because this Alex is the Alex that they became friends with in the first place and they missed this version of him a lot but it’s one thing to miss it and another thing to get it back, especially considering a good chunk of them last remember dying because of him before waking up in the past. They don’t know if they can trust him, or if they’ll just get hurt all over again if they get attached
- Their distance from Alex causes a lot of internal issues for Alex himself. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s the odd man out here, and the problem they have. He just doesn’t understand why and it’s frustrating but whenever he gets frustrated, it just drives them all further away and makes it worse. He doesn’t know what to do.
- Then maybe (still deciding on when), one day, Alex wakes up. And he remembers everything and understands better than ever. He doesn’t blame them. He didn’t help them at all in the end. But maybe he can now.
- In order to stop the sickness, it’s best to cut it off at the source. Alex doesn’t know what he can do against a monster like that but since it no longer has such a tight hold over him, he can do something this time. He has to do something. And if he dies trying? Then at the very least, it can’t use him against them anymore.
- While Alex does try to stand up to the Operator, it goes rather poorly. Fortunately, someone finds him unconscious somewhere (maybe Brian), drags him back to one of their apartments, and they have a talk when he wakes up. They’re still not the most comfortable around him but suffice to say, Alex regaining his memories and immediately choosing to attempt to fight the Operator proves that he’s not gonna repeat the same mistakes twice, solving that matter at the very least.
- Cue a whole lot of healing while attempting to figure out a way to get rid of a creature beyond their understanding
That’s about what I got! Again, just spitballed ideas, definitely needs some more fine tuning but it’s a start. Hope you enjoyed!
Also ty for the Ask, I love rambling about funny little AUs and it gives me all the more reason to :)
#marble hornets#time travel AUs are so interesting to me and ESPECIALLY in an MH context#so I had to give it a go#I wanted both pre-MH and regretful post-MH Alex#so I got the best of both worlds#they all have so many issues but goddamn they are gonna WORK ON THEM#Ask#SB Talks#SB Rambles#gonna tag#Suicide Idealation#JUST in case#because Alex’s thinking kinda veers towards that in regards to fighting the Operator#because canonically that was his whole plan??#he’s kinda fucked up#but they’re gonna be fucked up together so#suicide ideation#I. don’t know if I spelt that right the first time so just in case
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 4: Happy birthday, Sousuke!
Fandom: Free!
Pairing: Yamazaki Sousuke x Tachibana Makoto
Wordcount: 1300
Warning: Mentions of blood and vomit
It's Sousuke's birthday, so I went a little overboard with my day 4 entry 😅
Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3
A/N: Haematemesis is the medical term for vomiting of blood
September 14th fell on a Wednesday this year, and Makoto was surprised to overhear loud noises coming from the GI clinic at five in the afternoon when he left his office. There were no GI consultations on Wednesdays if he remembered correctly.
And Makoto would remember everything correctly. So he rounded the corner out of curiosity and saw the team of GI doctors busy decorating the hallway with grey balloons and black, lettered flags that spelt out ‘Happy birthday, Sousuke!’.
“Makoto,” Rin called to him. It was naturally Haru’s boyfriend who first spotted him standing and staring at the flags. “You have perfect timing! Please, help!”
Dr Kirishima also appeared delighted to see him. “Yes! Makoto-kun, please lend us any of your personnel who are available right now, please?” As if sensing his concern, Dr Kirishima quickly added, “We have gotten approval from Dr Azuma for this celebration already, don’t you worry! He even offered to cover for us in the ward from five to seven, so we’d have time to make it a party. We’re just a little short on manpower right now to properly spruce up the place.”
The head of their division was an incredibly thoughtful superior in that case, Makoto was impressed.
“He covered for you, Natsuya! You’re the one with limited time,” Dr Mikoshiba laughed. “You, and our birthday boy. The rest of us will party hard and are free to drink all the booze we want!”
“Heck yeah,” Rin, too, rejoiced at that. “Please join in on the fun if you’d like, Makoto? You know how rare it is for the entire GI team to gather together other than for work. I even asked Haru to come, he’ll enjoy himself better with you here too.”
“You’re only inviting the nurses as well for extra helping hands,” said Haru flatly as he showed up just then. He probably headed here immediately from his department despite his complaints. “I’m leaving as soon as we finish setting up.”
“That’s not true, we invited our tech guy too for him to help out,” Dr Mikoshiba interrupted with glee, patting his brother’s back a little too hard for it to not be an intentional distraction to his candle-counting.
“Nii-san is the worst!” retorted Momo-kun once he finished counting thirty of them.
“This reminds me,” Dr Kirishima managed to fish out his phone even with the number of confetti poppers he had in hand. “I have a younger brother who is free too now that the pharmacy counters are closed.”
Makoto gave a chuckle. He would like to stay, just to assist with the preparations of the celebration like Haru would if nothing else. The hospital’s policy did detail that alcohol was only prohibited wherever and whenever clinical activity was taking place, anyway. The GI team would be fine.
“On the top of my head,” he finally offered. Nagisa was an obvious choice for how much he loved a good get-together, but he was stationed at the GI ward until seven, leaving him out of the question. “I recall that Nitori-kun would be coming in for the night shift later. I’ll ask him if he’s free to come in earlier for the party then?”
And as expected, Nitori-kun was down for it. They all made quick work of the decorations while they waited. Ikuya later brought in the cake from their delivery driver at the hospital's main entrance and Nitori-kun was promptly put in charge of calling Sousuke in while still panting as he reached.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Dr Mikoshiba instructed. “Make up a fake patient and tell him there’s an emergency, say the rest of us are not available and he’s scheduled to be on an in-hospital call later anyway.”
So Nitori-kun, despite his apprehension, was forced to make the call before his breathing even calmed down. Sousuke picked up on the first ring even when he had an hour left before his on-call duty.
“Dr Yamazaki!” Nitori-kun exclaimed as if taken aback by how fast it was answered, and put the call on loudspeaker. “There has been an emergency, please come to the clinic!”
“The clinic’s closed today. Wouldn’t I be needed at the ED instead?” He first expressed doubts, before quickly proceeding to brush that off and asking for a breakdown of the case.
“It’s a 30-year-old male patient,” Nitori-kun frantically looked around for any ideas, before locking eyes with Makoto. “It’s- it’s Tachibana-senpai!”
The rest of the team could barely hide their snickers while Makoto paled from the imminent embarrassment.
“Makoto?!” Sousuke sounded alarm (as would anyone in his situation, why would the nursing manager be having a gastrointestinal-related emergency out of the left field), concern evident in his tone. Makoto could feel that tiny sliver of hope rising up again at that and at the use of his first name, but he rapidly swallowed it back down. The mortification he’d be feeling in front of Sousuke soon was enough to snuff out any sparks in his chest.
“Nitori, details of the case!” Sousuke demanded after Nitori-kun was quiet for a while, too busy trying to come up with a fake history. Shuffling came from the other end of the phone line, he must have been moving in a rush.
“Uh, erm, senpai presented with- with haematemesis!” Nitori-kun gulped. “He just got off work—that’s right—that’s why he’s at the clinic.”
Someone in the team let out a giggle. It wasn’t caught on by the other end, apparently, as Sousuke continued gravelly, “History of presenting complaint? Any medical conditions? His medication history?”
Nitori-kun couldn’t give any coherent answers to that and only stuttered into the phone. In his defence, Sousuke basically fired the line of questions at him without waiting for a response. He still reprimanded Nitori-kun sternly nonetheless. “What was that report with how many years you’ve been a nurse now, Nitori?”
“To be fair, I’m panicking! It’s my manager we’re talking about here,” Nitori-kun whined. “Please get to the clinic as soon as possible, none of the other GI internists are available.”
“What? How is that possible- just get him to the ED already! I’ll be there in 15.”
“Noooo, come to the clinic!”
“Sousuke,” Makoto interrupted the call, exasperated at Nitori-kun’s helplessness. He wouldn’t want all the efforts of a surprise party going to waste, so he’d have to do it himself. “Bright red vomit, accompanied by pallor and dizziness. No known medical illness and not on any medications.” He tried to sound weak and mumbled some when providing the details, even adding a cough at the end for good measure.
“Please come over to the clinic, I’m too sick to walk all the way to the ED and Nitori-kun is panicking too hard right now to get any sort of meaningful help,” he added at the end.
There was the sound of a car door opening and more shuffling before Sousuke steadied his breath and puffed in reply. “Okay- okay, I’m on my way.”
The team cheered noisily when the call ended, patting Makoto on the back for the good job well done. Although he was apologetic for lying to Sousuke, he hoped the party he’d helped set up would more than make up for the deception and it’d be truly an enjoyable birthday for Sousuke.
A party that Makoto didn’t stay for, because he was a coward who couldn’t deal with pretending to not recognise Sousuke anymore. He left alongside Haru, all the while contemplating whether he should get it off his chest by talking to Haru about it.
In the end, he didn’t. Haru was never the friend who could offer him words of advice when it came to matters of the heart, after all.
Maybe Rin could do that in his stead. If not… well, Makoto was out of ideas.
To be continued on Day 5
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
J Is Just A Letter
Chapter 5 - What Could Have Been
It was several weeks before he heard anything from her. Lady Smallwood had mentioned to him on several occasions that he needed to make more progress, but he reassured her that J would make contact when she had looked over the terms of the deal.
‘You’d better be right.’ Lady Smallwood said, sternly. They stood in the surveillance room watching over an operation taking place in Johannesburg. ‘How long does she usually take to make contact?’
‘Depends.’ Mycroft mused. ‘If she gets her way, no time at all, if not, no time at all, but if she’s considering something… much, much longer.’
‘So, are we to consider this a good thing?’
‘We are.’ He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘The longer she takes, the more she is considering our offer.’
‘And what exactly is it we’ve offered her, Mycroft? You’ve not been very forthcoming about the details.’ Smallwood turned to face him.
‘She’s a woman of taste, a desire for a higher class of lifestyle, if we can satisfy those needs, she may be more inclined to give us what we want.’ Mycroft explained. ‘That is what we have offered her. Satisfaction.’
Before Lady Smallwood could speak, one of the technicians spoke up. ‘Sir, you should see this.’
Mycroft turned his attention back to the screen. The team had made it through the building, found where the hostages were being kept and each of them were holding up a sign with a letter on. It spelt out: “No deal. Try harder. J”
He felt his heart dropping and Lady Smallwood sighed next to him.
‘You heard the woman,’ she said. ‘Try harder. And do it quickly. This is getting out of hand.’
Mycroft just stared at the screen, if she was responsible for this operation being completed then she wasn’t exactly being as destructive as he first thought. She saved the hostages from the gang members, who were tied up in another room. How did she even know about Johannesburg? He decided to send her a text.
MH: Rediscuss terms?
She got back to him almost instantly.
J: Call. Tell me I look pretty.
Mycroft rolled his eyes, she was teasing him, coaxing him into something he wasn’t so keen on getting sucked into.
He told Anthea to clear his next appointment, he’d let her know when he was ready to see anyone. He was a little wary of making this phone call from inside his office, it was soundproof and no cameras were there, other than the ones he planted just in case, but still, one couldn’t be too careful.
Mycroft sat back in his chair and dialled the number he had memorised. Two rings and she picked up.
‘Well?’ She said. He could hear her slight smile, but also the sounds of cars. Possibly she was walking down a street in a city, he couldn’t quite identify whether it was London or not though.
‘You have our thanks for dealing with the situation in Johannesburg.’ Mycroft stated plainly.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘However that operation was top secret. How did you find out about it?’
‘Cheap tricks, Mr Holmes, cheap tricks.’
Mycroft listened to the street growing quieter, a door opened close to her and the echo of a hallway could be heard.
‘Where are you?’ He asked.
‘Out.’
‘Out?’
‘Running errands, we all have them.’
‘Indeed. I suspect your definition of running errands is vastly different to most people.’
‘It is.’ He could hear her smiling. ‘So, are you going to give me what I want?’
‘I thought I had.’
‘Oh, believe me, Mr Holmes, it was very tempting.’ She was ascending some stairs. Concrete stairs, but she wasn’t wearing heels, rubber soles, possibly boots. Why would she be wearing boots? ‘I even thought about calling you.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘This was more fun. And I like to see the shock and surprise on your face when you least expect me.’
Mycroft listened very carefully to what she said and the way she was saying it.
‘I didn’t realise you could see me.’
‘Oh yes,’ she dropped the depth of her voice and it was starting to blur his mind. ‘I’m always watching, always listening.’
‘Then it seems you don’t need all access, if you can hear and see everything, surely your charm is sufficient to grant you access wherever you see fit.’
‘Shall we test that theory?’
Mycroft was silent.
‘I thought you wanted to rediscuss terms.’
‘I do.’ Mycroft took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps we could meet again and you can tell me what you disliked about the last agreement. I’m sure there’s a middle ground we can work from.’
She had stopped walking altogether, he could hear the sounds of typing, muffled voices from her surroundings, wherever she was, he didn’t like it.
‘Tell me I look pretty today.’
‘I haven’t seen you today.’
‘Does that matter?’
‘Yes.’
‘I like it when you say yes to me.’
‘And you dislike when I say no.’
‘Very much.’
Mycroft needed to get back on track. ‘Will you meet with me?’
‘Do you still have my photos?’
He swallowed thickly.
‘Good.’ She said, smiling. ‘Do you still look at them and think of me?’
‘Hard to think of anything else when I’m looking at a photograph of you.’
‘Mmm, I do like a man who can flirt. Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m wearing?’
‘I’d rather ask about what you disliked about my last proposal.’
He heard her take in a deeper breath, before sitting back in whatever chair she was occupying and unfolding a piece of paper.
‘I suppose I can indulge for a moment or two.’
‘Busy, are you?’
‘Very.’
He listened to the sounds of her breath stuttering.
‘If I called you every time I went somewhere, we’d never speak to anyone else.’ She stated, a smile forming once again on her lips. ‘If I were to give you all the information you don’t already have, it would be outdated by the time I was done.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I think it’s enough to be getting on with.’
‘What did you like?’
J paused for a moment. Mycroft could have sworn she held her breath for a moment, as waiting for something. ‘I like that you want to keep an eye on me. I like that you want to watch me… tell me I look pretty today.’
‘Meet with me.’
Another pause.
‘If I’m still alive by the end of the day, I will meet with you.’
‘What do you mean if you’re still alive?’
‘Tell me I look pretty today.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘You know why.’
‘Infinitely complex.’ She breathed and Mycroft had a very bad feeling. ‘Goodbye, Mr Holmes.’
Before Mycroft could say anything else. J hung up.
He stood up and opened his door, ordering Anthea to get J’s location as soon as possible.
‘Sir?’
‘I have a feeling she might be in danger.’ Mycroft said, shutting his door and making every phone call under the sun to find her.
She could literally be anywhere in the world, they couldn’t run facial recognition for some reason, very few people actually knowing what she looked like and narrowing it down to cities was simply not good enough. It was hours of going back and forth and Mycroft felt his heart thumping harder and harder each time someone came up to him to give information that was relatively useless.
There was nothing more Mycroft could do from the office, he went home and settled in his armchair, a glass of scotch poured and the fire blazing in front of him. He stayed up well into the morning hours, waiting for his phone to ring.
J:Still up?
There was no real way to tell if it was her or not, the number was the same, but she rarely made contact this way.
MH: Verification?
His phone began ringing.
‘It’s as if you don’t trust me, Mr Holmes.’ She said, her voice unmistakeable.
‘Well, you can hardly blame me.’ He said, letting a relieved breath go.
‘Are you going to let me in?’
Mycroft froze for a moment. Was she actually outside his house? Or was she bluffing? He stood up and wandered over to his security cameras, bringing up the one directly outside his front door. There she was, staring up at the camera, smiling.
‘Satisfied?’ She lifted her head, accentuating her neck, the neck he wanted to kiss.
Mycroft hung up the phone and watched her for just a second or two. She put her phone back in her clutch and waited. Black and white certainly was a flattering filter on her, no distractions, but more than enough to stimulate his mind.
He went to the door and opened it. She wore a dark red, wrap dress, one that extended down the length of her arms and cradled her curves beautifully. Her soft, dark hair once again over one side and her lips a perfectly neutral colour. She wore just a little make up, but only enough to amplify her features, she wasn’t looking to go over the top, subtlety was her approach tonight. Her heels pushed her back up and therefore created more smooth curves to make his mouth water.
Mycroft stepped to one side, letting her in. He didn’t bother hiding his admiration of her from behind, she clearly had a trying day. She liked it when he looked at her. Mycroft led her into the lounge where he’d been sitting and gestured for her to take the seat opposite him. She did so, slipping off her heels and pulling her knees up.
Her whole body was toned and defined, like she was used to keeping herself in good shape. He poured another scotch and handed it to her, noting the very slight tremor in her hand and the red in her usually clear emerald eyes.
‘What were you doing today?’ Mycroft asked, settling back in his armchair and observing her closely.
‘What do you think I was doing?’ She shot back.
‘Misbehaving.’ Mycroft gave a tired smile, he wasn’t sure how in the mood for games he was, he’d already had three glasses of scotch and the fear he was making that obvious was clouding his better judgement.
She smiled and sipped the brown liquid, never taking her eyes off of him.
‘What were you doing today?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yes.’
‘I like it when you say yes.’
‘I know.’
Mycroft observed her lips, part of him wanting to kiss her, the other part wanting to know why she had a small cut on one side of her mouth. ‘I want to keep saying yes, but you’re making it… difficult.’ He chose the word carefully, not wanting to give her any other reason to become distracted from the current topic. She smiled, gently biting her lip, it made his mouth water a little more.
‘How can I make it easier for you?’
‘Agree to terms.’
‘Set them.’
‘I already have.’
‘Set new ones.’ She was challenging him, he couldn’t deny it, but he also couldn’t get over how much he enjoyed her challenge. He ran his hand over his face and tried to think clearly. ‘I’ll help you.’ Mycroft leaned on his hand, tilting his head to look at her from a new angle. ‘I want something unique, I want something personal, I don’t want a piece of paper that’s been drawn up by some junior clerk in the office, I want you and I to have a personal relationship. I’m sure you can draw up terms that fit with that brief.’
Mycroft observed her for a moment, thinking hard on what his next move would be. ‘Why did you give me those photos?’
‘I wanted you to have a little something to remember me by.’
‘You thought there was a risk I’d forget you?’
‘No.’
She sipped her scotch and Mycroft was hypnotised by the way her throat moved as she swallowed, he wanted to taste the skin on her neck, he wanted to kiss and bite at the flesh. He quickly distracted himself, knowing full well if he continued to dwell he’d only encourage her.
‘I need information,’ he tried a new tactic. ‘I need locations and names. I know that you have a specific skillset and one that is able to acquire such things, so I suppose without giving away every official secret the British Government has, I would like to strike a deal that ensures we both get what we want.’
‘And you think by asking me to check in every time I do something secretive is the way to do it?’
‘It’s just one possible option.’
‘May I suggest another?’
‘Please do.’
She stood up, placing her glass down and stood between his legs, he knew how this was about to go and honestly, what was the point in resisting any longer?
‘I like getting phone calls from you,’ she said, staring down at him, her face half lit by the fire and Mycroft had never seen anything so seductive in his life. ‘I like when you ask me what I’m doing. Maybe we can make that a regular occurrence.’
‘At least once a week.’
‘Fine.’ She smirked, stepping closer. ‘But once you’ve got what you want and are satisfied I’m behaving well enough, I want to pick the topic of conversation.’
Mycroft swallowed nervously, he had a feeling that this was about to go further than he really wanted it to, but he was powerless to resist.
‘I don’t mind sharing information, if you ask, I will tell you the truth.’ She slowly lifted herself to straddle him, hovering over his lap. Mycroft placed his glass down and prayed she had a little mercy on him. ‘But I have other things I’d like to do.’
‘Such as?’
‘That would be telling.’
‘Yes.’ He watched the dark flash in her eyes, she really did enjoy him saying yes.
‘Are you going to take my pulse again, Mr Holmes?’
‘I might.’ Her hands were resting below his arms on the end of the armrests, still hovering above his lap, but he could feel the heat of her body against him and it was beginning to drive him mad. It was everything to keep his composure. ‘What other things would you like to do?’
‘Now you’re asking.’
‘You know what I’m asking.’ He could feel his own breathing slipping away from him, it was no longer steady, it was shallow and he was warm, very warm. He wished he’d loosened his tie before she was on top of him.
‘May I sit, Mr Holmes?’ She whispered, her breath hitting him and making him suck in harshly, completely giving himself away. He composed enough of himself to take the opportunity as he saw it.
‘Only if you tell me which door you really want to open.’
She grinned, he just about caught it, she liked that he was playing the game with her. Maybe this was how he needed to work it for the time being, play the game, take what he could.
‘I’d settle for the one that leads to your bedroom.’
Mycroft chuckled, darkly. ‘Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.’ Her breath stuttered and the shake in her body was unmistakeable. ‘For now, tell me which door you want to open and I’ll let you sit down.’ His head lifted just barely, just enough to feel her incredibly quick shallow breath against his mouth. ‘Tell me.’ He coaxed, gently.
‘There is a secret door that only a select few have access to,’ she was almost panting and Mycroft’s mind was flying to what her properly panting would sound like, preferably with him inside her making it happen. ‘If I told you which one it was, you would know everything there was to know about me… I’m not ready for that yet.’
Mycroft swallowed. He debated with himself, whatever it was she really wanted, what she was saying with her body, he wanted it too.
Mycroft brought his hands slowly up to her hips, never breaking eye contact with her dark green eyes, he wrapped his fingers gently around her, feeling her lips part just slightly against his. He paused, making her wait, before guiding her down to feel exactly what the proximity of her body had done to his. She let out the most beautiful sigh he’d ever heard and he was verging on doing the same. Her eyes fluttered closed, absorbing the feel of him pushing against the fabric of his trousers. Mycroft could have stayed there all night, she was finally in his hands, compliant, willing.
‘Is it just one?’ Mycroft tried to focus. She didn’t move on top of him which was an absolute godsend for his focus, if she had moved or starting grinding, then he was a goner. ‘Just the one door you’d like to open?’ He repeated.
‘Yes.’ She sighed and Mycroft couldn’t help his head falling back and sucking in a sharp breath. He suddenly felt her hips properly and much to his agony, felt no trace of underwear. ‘I never wear anything more than you can see when I visit.’ She said, smiling. He almost let a groan go, but just held on.
‘Is this door one I can access?’ He was desperate to hold on.
‘Let me loosen your tie.’
‘Fine.’ He swallowed, needing the release from somewhere, his tie seemed the less threatening of the two options.
Her fingers came up and slowly traced his jaw, down his neck, making his eyes shut and absorb the touch. Mycroft couldn’t recall the last time he’d been explored in such detail, in fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been touched properly. Far too long. He was slowly becoming addicted to her soft fingertips tracing every inch of his jaw and neck, he didn’t want her to stop, he couldn’t let her stop, ever.
Mycroft became aware very quickly that his breathing had turned into panting the same way hers had and somehow, he didn’t mind. She gently pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, taking full advantage of the hair poking out, something that made her sigh. He managed to open his eyes enough to see her biting her lip.
‘You can access the door.’ She said, looking up at him through her long lashes.
Mycroft took a breath to help him steady himself, noting the slight movement of his hips pushing up into her, it didn’t go unnoticed by her and she smiled. ‘Then why don’t you allow me to open it for you?’
‘I told you,’ she said, shaking her head and smiling. ‘You’d know everything there was to know about me if I let you do that.’
‘I thought you wanted me to know you.’ Mycroft frowned, watching the slight panic return.
‘No longer an option.’ She said, cryptically. He couldn’t let that be the answer, she wanted him to know her, that was what she admitted to in his office, he wanted to know her, he’d never made a secret of it. So, why was it no longer an option? ‘Ask me something else.’ Her hands remained on his chest, fingertips gently pressing into him, massaging the muscle beneath.
‘I will phone you once a week,’ Mycroft let his eyes drift to where his hands were still holding her hips, his thumbs idly running over the bone. ‘Check in. You will give me any information I ask for-‘
‘Just the one piece. One per phone call, use it wisely.’
‘Fine,’ Mycroft nodded. ‘And when you can prove the information is worthwhile, I will give you what you ask for.’
‘You’re going to make me earn it.’ Her smile was suddenly back, playful and testing.
‘I am.’ Mycroft looked her dead in the eye and held her gaze, hoping she could see he was serious.
‘Well, thank God for that.’
Mycroft was desperate to have more than this woman simply sitting on top of him, he wanted to touch her and worship her and listen to her make the beautiful sounds her knew she was capable of.
‘What happens once you get what you want?’ Mycroft asked, trying so very hard to get what information he could.
‘In what regard?’
‘I expect these visits won’t be a necessity for you anymore.’ Why did he suddenly feel like he was the one being interrogated?
She leaned closer, her soft lips once again brushing his. ‘This is my pleasure, Mr Holmes. Just pleasure.’ He let a small groan escape, just enough to make her smile.
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘How’s my pulse?’
Mycroft had had enough of the game. He sat up, wrapping his arm gently around her lower back, pulling her closer into his hips, making her feel him and groan into the feeling. His other hand traced up to her neck, brushing the stray hair out of the way, he suddenly had an idea. He dipped his head to trace his lips up her slender neck, finding the spot where her pulse was pounding hard against his mouth.
‘Racing.’ He breathed, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, vanilla extract, but he could also smell her and that was just warmth in itself.
‘Mycroft.’ She moaned, her fingers diving into his hair, wanting him closer, craving more of his body. The sound was maddening, he wanted to hear it again and again, he wanted her to be unable to say anything else.
‘Do you accept the terms?’
‘Yes.’ She sighed.
‘I like it when you say yes to me.’ He smiled just below her ear. He could feel her smooth thigh in his hand, squeezing it gently, running his thumb just beneath the hem of her dress. ‘I like it when you say my name.’
‘I know.’ She panted a laugh, her heart still thumping against his chest as she pressed into him. He liked the shape of her, the curve of her breasts, collarbone, her neck, everything just fit against him, but he needed more. He needed to feel her skin pressing against his.
‘Would you like me to say yours?’
‘I didn’t think you were paying attention.’ She was mocking him, teasing him and he didn’t appreciate her lack of faith in his skill.
Mycroft traced his lips across her soft, smooth jaw until he was right next to her ear. ‘Don’t tease me, Jade.’ He whispered so quietly he may as well have made no noise at all. But she heard him loud and clear, because she froze. Her breathing halted for a split second and her once compliant body went rigid for just a tiny fraction of time.
Jade placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, indicating for him to loosen his grip. ‘You’re an impressive man, Mycroft. I mean that in every way, but until I open that door, I’m not safe. Do not utter that name to a single other person.’ She moved his arm and gently pushed him back in his armchair.
Mycroft really didn’t want to let go, he didn’t want her to leave, he just wanted to kiss her. He held her forearm gently, just enough to keep her in position a little longer, no real grip.
‘Don’t leave.’ He said.
Jade tilted her head and smiled. ‘This could have been a beautiful night.’
Mycroft didn’t try to stop her, he knew he couldn’t. He just watched her slide off him, put her heels back on and down the rest of her scotch. She turned back to see him observing her.
‘Don’t take your eyes off me, Mr Holmes?’
‘How could I?’
She smiled, almost sweetly, but he could see the frustration in her expression. Jade left Mycroft sitting in his armchair, staring into the fire, his body ignited, but no flames in sight. She was right, it could have been such a beautiful night.
If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!
Main Story
Mycroft Holmes Masterlist
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Flower that Could Never Bloom(2/3)
“Not only you are the youngest boss to date to own your unit but you also use your spare time to solve old cases. You are truly an overachiever Crowa Miller".
“Are you insinuating that I need to touch grass and find a better hobby Mr. Hills Johannes?"
That earns a chuckle from him.
She smiles.
It was fun bantering with him.
“That would have been hypocrisy from my part to make such a claim as I don't like going out either”.
“What about chess? You seem the type to enjoy this kind of thing"
“How so?”
“According to the knowledge I acquired from watching movies and reading books it seems that Chess is a game for smart people" she jokes.
“Yes, I do enjoy it" Johannes admits, amused. “What about you? Do you like it Miller?”
“I know the rules" she nods, thanking Johannes for picking the box for her. “But I wouldn't say that I know how to properly play it”.
“Would you like me to teach you?”
“You mean thoroughly kicking my ass right?”
“Just as much as the literal asskicking you give me in our combat training”.
“You are so petty Johannes".
They laugh together.
Clap clap
“I saw it many times already and yet it never fails to amaze me.” Johannes smiles, giving her a towel to wipe her sweat. “How you are able to solve missing cases that no one else could"
When Johannes had asked her to bring him along on her “extra cases" she had been hesitant at first.
‘Give me some time to think’
It hadn’t been an easy decision for her. She had so many things to think about and several factors to consider.
First of all how he would take it.
People usually found her “skills” disturbing.
The ability to find bodies in the most unlikely places, sometimes in the literal middle of nowhere with no landmarks in sight unsettled them. The uncanny way she was able to pick on a tell when no human possibly could was unnverving. Her accuracy at predicting that an unassuming and innocuous random object turning up as an important clue to a case was thought as eerie.
It frightened her peers. They found no logic, rhyme or reason to her actions. From their point of view she must have looked like a crazy, erratic and nonsensical woman, someone to not be associated with and to be avoided at all cost.
From what she could garther Johannes didn’t seem the type to be fazed by anything but still, she could not be sure. Moreover there was another far more pressing problem that she knew for a fact that he DID take issue with.
Namely, reasoning.
Or, in this case, lack of thereof.
Because how do you explain what she did in a way that appealed to common sensibilites?
She knew where the corpse was because she can see spirits and they tell her where their body is. Being able to pick on tells isn’t due to any visual or auditory clues, it’s because she cheats by reading emotional reactions to things and the zeroing in an seemingly ordinary object was because people leave “emotional imprints” on them and she has the power to perceive it.
Yeah, that wouldn’t fly.
Johannes would think she was either out of her mind or that she was mocking him. Whichever would be the worst option, she didn’t know, but regardless, he would lose respect for her.
This spelt disaster no matter how you looked at it.
...And yet she allowed him in.
“It’s incredible how precise your “intuition” is”. He edges the hole she had dug, leaning closer to take a look. “Of course we have to wait for results from the analysis to determine if it’s the person we were looking for but it wouldn’t surprise me if you were right once again”
“Anything else you want to put to test Johannes?” she sat besides him, looking above the water bottle she was drinking, taking a peek at the neat handwriting of her second-in-command as he took notes about the case.
She had preemptively told him about how she directed her forces by intuition and instinct but it still felt embarrassing and mortifying to show him firsthand what it looked like.
Thankfully he hadn’t been too put off by it. It may have caused him to raise an eyebrow on occasion but he didn’t look disgusted nor freaked out by it. If anything he looked intrigued.
‘I can’t explain to you how it works but I can show you that it works.’
No matter how much she thought about it she couldn’t find a plausible enough explanation to give to him. She could lie and make up an excuse but she knew that Johannes was far too perceptive for that to work.
She could have denied his request but then what would that do? As long as he worked under her she couldn’t hide this side of hers from him, it would come up one way or another to some extent while they worked together on the field.
She could tell him to just accept things as they are and not question it but that didn’t sit well with her either.
So, the only thing she could do was to double down, expose everything and let him be the judge of it.
“That day... When you saved me it was thanks to that “hunch” of yours right?” he suddenly spoke. “Even the guys that left me to die couldn’t possible know my exact whereabouts yet you managed to find me in the nick of time”
“I guess I sensed you calling for help”
“Oh? So does that mean that if I think hard enough about you there’s a likehood of you coming to my aid?” he smirked. “Now that’s something I would like to test”
“Please don’t. You shouldn’t needlessly risk your life like that”.
“Why not? After all, aren’t you trying to show me how reliable you are?” His smirk widened.
“It’s not like you to be reckless Johannes”
“That’s true” he conceded. “But that just shows how much faith I have in you. In fact, maybe moreso than myself”
She was glad that Johannes was taking her demands well.
She was aware of how he was treated before. How his ideas were constantly shot down and snubbed, how he was assigned menial and unimportant tasks to put him in his place and the kind of condescension he had to face before joining her unit.
She had considered the possibility of him taking her criticisms the wrong way due to his bad experiences but soon enough he proved her fears to be unfounded.
He took her words with a level headed consideration. Always up to the challenge, it was a testament of how smart and talented he was as he was quick to learn and adapt to unexpected situations.
It came to a point where she didn’t need to intervene anymore and when she did he didn’t take issue nor ressented her for it. They knew what the other was capable of and held a mutual respect over it. There was no “lesser” between them, only equals that pushed each other to flourish to greater heights.
Johannes was a man of action.
“Miller, we need your help to interrogate this susp-”
“Let me have a look at it”
“Johannes?!”
“Huh, it seems simple enough, I can handle this in her stead” he nods. “Besides, it would be a perfect opportunity to put in practice what she taught me”
She leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling and getting lost in her own thoughts.
She never had this opportunity before, the chance of having time for herself.
Johannes was probably doing all of this for the sake of improvement and perfecting his craft but still.
No one had done that before. To offer to do something for her sake on their own initiative without her needing to ask for it.
It made her happy.
Her peers constantly demanded something from her, pilling more responsabilities, requesting her to do this or that without regards towards whether or not she could take it. They did not care if she was busy, if she was tired, if she was overwhelmed by everything, they kept pushing everything on her back.
But Johannes was different. He was the first person to try and share her burden.
He asked for help but also payed back in kind.
He readied detailed data for her, helped her to fill in reports and troublesome bureaucratic documents, delegated orders while on the field and even took some investigations and interrogations requests dumped on her. He took a massive weight out of her shoulders. She found she could breath again, all thanks to him.
She was truly fortunate to have someone like him by her side.
“Johannes certainly became docile”
“It’s kind ironic. He always made such a big fuss about not bending the knee to someone he considered bellow him and yet he became a tamed mutt to Miller of all people”
“How low he has fallen, he completely lost any sense of pride he had. Unfortunate, really”
She was naive.
She had dropped her guard, thinking it would be safe to take her mask off becase unlike with Andrews Johannes wasn’t related to the “incident”.
She hadn’t accounted for the fact that people would look down on him, subject him to slander just because oh him being associated with her.
She chanced a glance at him.
Johannes stood tall among the gossip, carrying himself with pride just as always, his confidence not shaken in the slighest.
She looked him in admiration.
“Johannes what do you think about the gossip going around?”
“What about it?”
“People calling you “my dog” or something” she elaborates. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not really. In fact, I kind like it”
“What.”
He chuckles at her perplexed reaction.
“I want to make clear to everyone how highly I regard and respect you” he explains. “Nothing makes me prouder than being your most trusted person Miller”
He bows, leaning closer to her ear, voice low as if was sharing a secret only meant for her to hear.
“If anyone else thinks I will bow my head to them they will be in for a rude awakening” he laughs breathly. “My devotion is meant only for you. No one else has the right nor deserve to have this claim over me like you do”
She flusters at his pledge, his warm breath still tingling on her ear as he leans back to look straight into her eyes.
His gaze was intense. She could feel the strength of his conviction, she can tell that he’s being sincere.
She feels her heart beating faster.
Does that means he cares about her?
=_=_=_=_=_=
...It had been a while since she last sensed supernatural activity.
“A rescue mission huh? I have the layout of the place, I think-”
“Johannes” she cuts him off.
“Yes Miller?” He immediately replies.
“I have to go. Alone”
She wasn’t new to this, she had to deal with a fair share of them already.
But this one would be the first time she had one since Johannes joined.
“Why is that?” he asked her.
“…Remember when I once told you about a situation that would require me to use my 'Authority’? This would be it”
She felt her mouth go dry.
Usually she allowed him to execute his plan and then change it accordingly if necessary but that day she couldn’t afford to do that. She had to go in, alone, and couldn’t offer him a plausible explanation, she had to keep him in the dark.
She would have to order him to stay. For the sake of keeping him and everyone else safe.
But... She would rather not do that.
She knows she’s asking too much.
There was no reassurance nor logical reasoning to her actions. From his point of view it probably looked like a suicidal and reckless move.
And she was asking him to put his principles aside, everything he believed in, for the sake of trusting in her.
“…Are those one of your 'hunches’?”
“No.” She denied, face turning serious. “ It’s a certainty”
She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.
She could almost laugh and cry in relief right now.
“Thanks Johannes. Make sure no one enters the perimeter until I get back alright?”
Everything went well on the rescue mission. She got everyone out safely and severed the spiritual connection so everything could go back to normal.
She looked at Johannes at the corner of her eye.
She was that glad that nothing went wrong. That she didn’t betray the trust he had placed on her.
Everything was alright now.
“I’m truly grateful for what you did Johannes”
“I did nothing in special to deserve such compliment, I only did what you told me to do”
“Still, that made me really happy” her eyes lightned up, voice going soft. “…You became someone I grew to cherish so the fact that you did it out of trust really means a lot to me”
It was true.
She truly cherished him.
Directly or Indirectly by the plea of their hearts, people always expected her to “be something” or to “think of their needs”. She always had to think of other’s sake and never hers. She was asked to put herself aside, to never be a priority here.
Johannes had asked what she needed. He didn’t take from her but gifted her instead. His heart... It wasn’t made of only demands, he shared things with her.
Not only requests like others, but contentment, accomplishment and pride- At himself and at her too.
Maybe it was why, despite her previous experiences, despite closing off to the world due to her traumas that she was so willing to open up and trust in him.
He was fair to her. Since the first time they met.
You accept his criticisms so he gives you advice. You share in your knowledge with him and he helps you back. You are honest with him and he will answer with sincerity.
Even if his actions were done for the sake of his job it still touched her in a way no else did before.
It might be foolish of her to think of it like this but...
“I think the same of you”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“I never cared about seeking companionship or comradery with anyone until I met you” He speaks, unchacteristically soft. “The bond I have you, I cherish it, because you are “special” to me”
Thump Thump.
Ah... What should she do?
His words... It made her so happy. She didn’t know how to react. What to say.
‘You are special to me’
She didn’t know why, but the idea of being important to him made her chest warm with an unknown and indescriptible feeling.
Something gentle, kind and soft.
Like the bloom of a flower.
0 notes
Text
Pardon My French
pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)
genre: fluff
warnings: none
words: 3556
note: thank you to @ probably_wizardingworld_artist on instagram for helping me translate things into french. also i got some of the lines that sirius says from this website https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-pick-up-lines/
a/n: if you dont speak french (like me) dont look up a translation! everything will be clear by the end of the fic and its more fun if you find out along with remus. i mean, i cant really stop you if you want to translate the sentences but thats just my advice :)
Remus was sitting in the library, a French to English dictionary open on his lap, sighing in frustration as he flipped through the pages. For the past couple of weeks, Sirius had taken to murmuring things in French under his breath and it drove Remus crazy that he didn’t know what they meant. He had asked Sirius on several occasions but Sirius always refused to tell him. But the fact that he didn’t understand the words wasn’t the only reason it drove him crazy when Sirius spoke French. It’s not Remus’ fault that Sirius sounds really hot when his lips curve around the words in “the language of love”.
Remus tries not to think about it but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult because every time they’re alone together Sirius seems to find something to say in French (if only to piss Remus off).
The last time Sirius had said something in French to him had been last weekend. It was the first sunny weekend since the winter and Marlene had suggested that they all go down to the lake for a swim.
Remus’ brain could barely form a single coherent thought from the moment Sirius took off his shirt; he was too busy trying not to stare. He remembered jumping into the lake and trying to get warm by swimming to the far side, away from all his friends. Sirius had followed him to make sure he was okay.
“I’m fine,” he had said, smiling slightly at Sirius. “Just cold.”
“Oh okay,” Sirius said, looking relieved. He had glanced back at their friends before whispering, “On devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique” and submerging his head in the water and swimming back to James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. Remus had felt a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Then there was the time that Sirius had skipped Quidditch practice to visit Remus in the hospital wing after a particularly bad full moon. James, being the captain, had been able to delay the practice so that he and Peter could come to visit as well but they had to practice for the game the following day. James had to be at the practice because he was the captain and Peter had to be there because they didn’t have another Keeper to fill in. But James had given Sirius permission to stay with Remus (which showed just how terrible he felt that he couldn’t stay as well). They watched a bit of the practice from the hospital wing but Remus was getting frustrated, having to stay in a hospital bed for so long. So, after clearing it with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius helped Remus climb all the way to the Astronomy Tower. They sat up there watching the sunset when Sirius said, “Il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”
“Ugh, do you make it your life goal to patronize me?” Remus had said.
“Of course, Moony, what else would I live for?”
“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Sirius had replied, grinning at him. “It’s too much fun.”
“Why do you even bother?” Remus said. “You know I don’t understand a single word of what you’re saying. Why don’t you go talk to someone who speaks French?”
“Because then they’d know what I was saying,” Sirius replied simply. He had refused to answer any more of his questions.
Remus had needed to spend that night in the hospital wing again. All night, Sirius’ voice rang through his head but every time he tried to make something coherent of it, actually words or letters or even sounds, he couldn’t. He could never remember what Sirius had said long enough to actually look it up or ask anyone.
But lately, Remus had noticed that Sirius had been repeating the same sentence in French practically every day. He recognises the sound of the words in Sirius’ mouth.
So today, Remus waited until he was alone with Sirius, waited for Sirius to say what Remus knew he would. And when he did Remus repeated the words in his head a million times until he remembered them. And now Remus was in the library and looking up the words in a dictionary.
He knew that he could’ve gone to Lily and asked her to translate it for him but he didn’t want to. He knows it’s stupid but he feels like this is something that Sirius is saying to him and only to him. Remus had never heard Sirius whisper in French to anyone else. And as much as Remus pretended to be annoyed by it, he actually liked that he had this with Sirius. He liked that they had something that was just their own. And even though it was probably nothing, he didn’t want to share it with Lily right now.
Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi. That was the sentence. Remus looked up each word individually and came to the conclusion that he must have heard wrong or maybe the words were spelt differently to how they were pronounced. Because there was no way in hell that Sirius had said these words to him. It was impossible. Right? Remus didn’t know. And he knew that the only way he could be sure was by asking Lily. He had asked Sirius a million times to no avail. And he needs to know what Sirius has been saying to him, especially now that there’s a chance… No, Remus tells himself, you just translated wrong. Don’t get your hopes up. So Remus gives in. He’d rather ask Lily and find out what Sirius has been saying to him every day for the last month than keep this to himself without even understanding it.
“Hey Lily,” he started, getting her attention. Remus had waited until the two of them were alone, just in case he had translated right. Which he hadn’t. He knows he translated it wrong. But he’d still rather nobody knew about it. “What does ‘chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi’ mean?” He fumbled across the words a bit, hearing how terrible his pronunciation was. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows raised.
“Where on earth did you hear that sentence?” she asked.
“I read it somewhere,” Remus lied easily. “So what does it mean?”
“It means ‘every day, I fall more in love with you.’” Remus’ jaw dropped open. “Remus, who told you they’re in love with you?”
“What? Nobody! What makes you think someone said that to me?”
“You said that you read that sentence somewhere but if you had read it, you would have no idea how to pronounce it. Besides the look on your face when I told you what it means is more than enough. So who was it?”
“None of your business,” he said. “But y–you’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what it means. Right?”
“No, I’m not kidding, Rem. That’s what it means,” she replied, laughing at the look on his face. “Come on, tell me who it was.”
“No fucking way,” Remus said. “Besides, they’re probably joking. I mean… no, they’re definitely joking.” Lily shrugged.
“Just ask them,” she said. “And then you have to tell me who your secret admirer is.” She poked him in the side.
“Stooooop,” he said, jumping away from her and laughing against his will. “I’m going.” He got up and started walking away.
“Have fun with your mystery lover,” she called after him without looking back. Remus rolled his eyes but his mind was racing. So apparently he hadn’t been wrong. That was what Sirius had said to him. What does this even mean? He’s teasing you, said a voice in his head, like always. Sirius doesn’t love you. Not like that. But he said he does. Don’t be stupid. Sirius isn’t in love with you. He’s joking. Like always.
The next time Sirius said it, they were in the Room of Requirement. Sirius had ambushed Remus in the middle of his prefect rounds with Lily levitating a cardboard box in midair. Typical. He had practically given Remus a heart attack by interrupting his conversation with Lily, leaving Remus to wonder just how much of the conversation he had overheard.
“So have you talked to your mystery French lover yet?” Lily had teased. Remus groaned.
“No, I haven’t,” he said. “And I probably won’t.”
“Why not?” Lily demanded. “They’re being very romantic, Remus, you should at least appreciate their effort.”
“I’d appreciate it more if they’d just tell me what the fuck they want instead of sending me coded messages that they know I don’t understand,” Remus grumbled.
“Moonyyyyy,” Sirius said, coming up from behind him. Remus jumped, turning around, heart racing in his chest.
“Sirius? What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know it’s after hours, right?” Sirius snorted.
“Yes, Remus, I am fully aware of the fact that I’m breaking a school rule,” he said, smirking.
“Are you aware that technically Remus and I have to turn you in?” Lily said.
“Ah, but do you really plan on doing that, Evans?” Sirius asked.
“That depends,” she replied. “Why are you here?”
“Right,” Sirius remembered, then he turned to Remus. “James forgot to put this box with the rest of the stuff for tomorrow so I said I’d take it. And you’re coming with me.”
“Remind me why again?” Remus said.
“Moony, come on, don’t make me go alone. I’ll be lonely,” Sirius pouted.
“You are insufferable, did you know that?”
“And yet, you’ve tolerated me for 6 years now.”
“Yeah, the keyword there is ‘tolerated’,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Lils…” he started, turning to her.
“Nope,” she said before he could even ask. “No way. You are not leaving me to do these rounds alone because then I’ll die of boredom. So unless you want me to tell McGonagall that your planning something for tomorrow, you’re going to finish this floor with me and then I’ll go back to the common room and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Evans…” Sirius pouted.
“Nope, that’s non-negotiable, Black. Also, do I want to ask?” She gestured to the hovering box.
“The less you know, the better,” he said. “Although, I would avoid the classrooms near the dungeons tomorrow if I were you.” She nodded and Remus thought he saw her smile slightly for a second.
“You go on, I’ll catch up,” he said to Sirius, knowing that Lily’s mind would not be changed. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have let her leave him to finish this chore alone either. She was right, it was painstakingly boring. Which is why he would much rather be with Sirius. But it was only fair that he finished tonight’s rounds with her; she did cover for him around the full moon, after all.
Sirius pouted but knew better than to argue and turned to go to the Room of Requirement. Remus watched him and he disappeared up a flight of stairs. Only then did he notice Lily was smirking at him.
“What?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.
“So Sirius is your secret French admirer?” she said.
“W–What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one, the look on your face when he showed up right behind us while we were talking about your mystery lover,” Lily said. “It was the look people make when you’ve just been talking about someone and then they show up and you’re worried that they may have overheard you.”
“That… is a very specific look,” Remus said, avoiding the question she was asking.
“Then you smiled at him when you called him insufferable,” she said.
“So?”
“So it was one of those I’m-smiling-at-you-while-I’m-teasing-you-cause-I’m-secretly-in-love-with-you smiles.”
“Again, that's a very specific expression,” he said.
“Look, I know you like him, so will you just admit it already?”
“Why? What good would that information do you? It’s for me to worry about and for Sirius to never discover, ever.”
“Remus, you’re kidding, right?” she said. “Sirius literally told you that he loves you, in French no less.”
“Exactly, Lily. In French. If he actually meant it, why would he say it in a language that he knows I don’t understand? He just knew that I would look it up and he wanted to make some joke.”
“I really don’t think so, Remus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think he really loves you.”
“He doesn’t,” Remus said. “He can’t. Not like that.”
“Remus, do you love him?” she asked. Remus closed his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I love him.”
“So why are you doing this to yourself? Just ask him what he meant when he said it. You don’t even have to tell him anything, just ask him what he meant.”
“But… what if he says it was a joke?”
“First of all, I don’t think he will,” Lily said. “But if he does, that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? It won’t be a surprise or anything.”
“I know, I know, I just…” Remus sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear him say it. To be properly rejected.”
“Oh, Rem,” she said. They had reached the end of the corridor and Lily stopped to hug him. “Obviously I’m not going to make you do anything. You know what I think. Go find Sirius now, he’ll be waiting for you. Do what you think is right.”
“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging her back. “Yeah, okay.” So Lily went in the direction of the common room and Remus went to the Room of Requirement.
He found Sirius sitting with his back against the wall, the box beside him.
“You’re an idiot,” Remus told him, trying to put the conversation with Lily out of his mind. “You’re practically begging to get caught.” Sirius shrugged.
“I was waiting for you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in.” They paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. We need a place to hide our things, Remus thought. A door appeared and Sirius opened it, leading the box in with his wand. They had been here before to hide loads of things. The room was pretty cluttered from years of students dumping their things in it but they knew where exactly to hide the box so that they’d be able to find it tomorrow when they needed it. Remus followed Sirius through aisles upon aisles of junk, looking at all the broken, discarded things people threw in here.
They found the corner where they’d left everything else and Sirius added the box to the rest of the pile.
“Are we done here?” Remus asked.
“Yep, we can leave now,” Sirius said. They had started walking back towards the door when Remus heard Sirius say it from behind him.
“Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi.” Remus turns to him and stops him in his tracks.
“Pads, why do you keep saying that? Who are you talking to?”
“Remus, you are aware that you’re the only one here right? I’m talking to you.”
“Then why… why are you—?”
“I know, I know, you don’t understand French,” Sirius says. “That’s why it's fun. It’s amusing to know something that you don’t, for once.”
“Sirius… I know what that sentence means,” Remus says quietly. Sirius’ neck snaps up.
“What?”
“I know what that sentence means,” Remus repeats.
“No, you don’t,” Sirius says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I do. I asked Lily after the last time you said it. She translated for me.”
“Fuck, I didn’t know Lily could speak French,” Sirius says, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… so this whole time you’ve known what I’m saying? So you know that I… you know that I… oh god, Remus I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to… I was just…” Sirius starts to back away, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Remus. Remus reaches out and grabs his hand.
“Don’t go,” Remus says. “Sirius. Is it a joke? Are you making a joke? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Cause if it’s a joke I’d rather you bury me under all the crap in this room and spare me the pain.”
“What?”
“It’s not a joke, is it?” Remus asked, a pleading look in his eyes.
“No,” Sirius said, softly. “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh,” Remus said, pressing a finger to Sirius’ lips. “Sirius,” Remus tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Remus was vaguely aware of Sirius stepping towards him, towards his touch. “I love you, too.” Sirius gapes at him
“Really?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” Remus says. He’s still holding Sirius’ hand. He pulls Sirius closer and lets his other hand graze Sirius’ cheek.
“Puis-je t'embrasser?” Sirius whispers.
“Pads, I… I don’t know what that means.” Sirius lets out a small laugh and looks down at the floor. Then he looks back up at Remus, his grey eyes glistening in the last sliver of sunlight. He’s biting his lip.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” Remus says, without thinking. He feels the blush blooming on his cheeks but Sirius is already kissing him, rising on his tip-toes to make his lips reach Remus’. Remus feels electric currents dancing around his body, unable to contain the excitement. He’s kissing Sirius. Sirius is kissing him back. Sirius loves him. Sirius loves him in the same way that he loves Sirius. Sirius is snaking his hands around Remus’ waist pulling him closer. Sirius’ hair is soft, tangled between his fingers. Sirius is here, in his arms, and it’s everything Remus has been wanting and more.
“Wait, so now can you tell me everything you’ve been saying in French the whole time?” They’re sitting in the same large armchair, hands still linked together, legs tucked against their chests, knees and thighs and hips pressed together. Remus is very aware of every point where his skin is making contact with Sirius’. He’s counting them.
They found the armchair in the Room of Requirement; it’s unclear to them whether the chair is something that’s been dumped in the room by somebody else or if the room conjured it up because they were looking for it.
Neither one of them wants to go back to the common room yet. Remus doesn’t want to see Lily’s smirk and to have to admit she was right at the moment. He’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, all he wants is to be with Sirius. To press little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips just because he can.
“Oh god,” Sirius says, burying his face in between Remus’ shoulder and the back of the armchair. “It’s like you want me to embarrass myself.”
“This surprises you?” Remus kisses the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then his neck. Just because he can. “Please.”
“Ah fine,” Sirius gives in. “Um, what do you want to know?”
“What did you say that day at the lake?” Remus asks.
“Oh that. I said, ‘on devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique’. It means uh… ugh, you’re going to laugh at me for this. It means ‘you should be arrested for excessive beauty in public’,” Sirius said, blushing. Remus rolled his eyes but he felt his cheeks heat too. He smiles a little.
“What about that day on the Astronomy Tower?” he continues.
“Ugh,” Sirius buries his face in his hands. “You’re trying to kill me. I said, ‘il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes’. Which means, uh… ‘there’s so much sun in your eyes that I get a tan when you look at me.’”
“You’re quite the poet, aren’t you?” Remus smiles. “And what about tonight?”
“I thought you said you knew what that meant,” Sirius says. “Or were you bluffing the whole time?”
“No, I know what it means,” Remus says. “I just want to hear you say it. In English this time, please.”
“So demanding,” Sirius teases. “I’ve said it in French a million times already and you want me to say it in English? What difference does it make?”
“Well, none to you, you speak both languages.”
“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. It’s the first time Remus has seen his face really go red. He decides he likes it. “Every day I fall more in love with you.” Remus can’t hide his smile, nor does he want to, as he leans in to kiss Sirius. He brushes his lips against Sirius’ timidly before connecting them, his hand caressing Sirius’ cheek. Remus loses count of the points of contact between him and Sirius as their bodies melt together and Remus worries that he’s about to wake up from a dream. But when he feels Sirius’ hand gently tracing the scars on his hand he knows that this is real, that Sirius can really love him. Sirius does love him.
People come to the Room of Requirement to throw things away, to hide things that they don’t want anybody else to know about, to leave things they never want to see again. But that night, Remus didn’t just leave something in the Room of Requirement. He found something, too.
#remus lupin#remus lupin fluff#sirius black#sirius black fluff#french sirius#moony#padfoot#wolfstar#WOLFSTAR FLUFF#wolfstar fanfic#Wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar oneshot#remus x sirius#sirius x remus#lily evans#lily evans fluff#Marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders oneshot
307 notes
·
View notes
Note
i do hava an oc whos in the stars, shes the younger one, so maybe a leon x reader au in which leon falls in love with stars member reader? (in case, leon goes to his first day and all there's no apocalypse)
I love love love this cause I love the idea of another younger S.T.A.R.S member, and lowkey its reminding me of my own OC who, while she doesn't join S.T.A.R.S she joins the BSAA later in life. So this was super fun to write.
I kinda got carried away with a like first meeting thing so it's kinda open ended... But I hope this is good-
Length: 1.3k
Request: in the ask
Warnings: nope! Maybe that this is an AUish thing oop
Leon Kennedy x Reader AU: The Rookie
The police station was more abuzz than usual; not that it was ever entirely to exciting in a small town like Raccoon City. But it was really abuzz that day, and everyone knew why. There was supposed to he a new recruit coming in, a new officer, and that hadn't happened in a while apparently, especially not one as young as the guy coming in.
All you knew was he was around the same age as you, was a boy, and that his name was Leon. You couldn't help but also feel a bit excited to have the RPDs little family grow bigger. Though you weren't sure how much of him you would totally see, being part of the S.T.A.R.S unit.
Your hands reached up as high as you could stretch them, holding the letters on cardboard paper up so you could pin them up above the office for the officers. Behind you, you heard Chris Redfield bite into an apple.
"It's crooked," he said amused as he leaned against the wooden railing by one of the doors that led to the main hall of the RPD, watching you, bemused, "and you spelt Welcome wrong."
Your eyes bugged out of your head as you whipped your head back to your fellow S.T.A.R.S member, who also happened to be not just a friend but also a real pain in the ass sometimes.
"No its not," you said half trying to convince yourself, leaning back, almost falling off the table you stood on to look at the sign you had almost fully pinned up.
"You're right," he took another bite from his apple and chewed on it thoughtfully before continuing, "you spelt it right, that was a test."
"A test for what?!"
"To see if you could win a spelling B," he shifted his weight from on leg to the other as he crossed them behind him.
Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a piece of tape off your arm where you had placed a few pre cut pieces before for easy access, you started finishing placing the sign up.
"You're hilarious," you said, "no really. I'm so glad you're here to make jokes instead of helping me put this up."
"I'm eating," he stated, "and I am helping- move that a little to the right, it's not even."
You obliged reluctantly.
"Jill would never do this to me. She'd help," you pouted.
"Jill babies you."
"Jill just likes me more than she likes you," Jill wasn't THAT much older than you and neither was Chris.
Chris didn't bother responding to that last statement as he threw the core of his apple into the trash bin by the door, and held his hand out for you.
"I'll finish," he said, looking between the sign and you, "you keep making it crooked."
As much as you wanted to get down and stomp on his foot for that one, you opted on just rolling your eyes as you took his hand as did a little jump off the table, steadied by Chris' hand.
"Just hurry up," you watched Chris get up onto the table and take the tape you had, "I want one of those donuts Barry brought into our office this morning before they're all gone."
You managed to get your donut, Chris finishing the sign hanging in record time. With a glazed donut in your hand you decided to head back downstairs to the entrance before work caught back up with you in the S.T.A.R.S office, and mainly to see if the new guy had arrived yet.
Hopefully the sign was nice. It wasn't your idea alone; when Wesker had mentioned in the office one day that the main force was getting a new member soon, you had decided to ask them yourself, curious and interested. Rita, one of the female officers, had told you that it was true- not that you hadn't already believed Wesker, and that she thought it would be a nice idea to do something to make him feel a little more welcome in a completely new place with seasoned officers. So came the idea of the sign.
You weren't paying attention when you bumped into a strong body and almost dropped your donut.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry-" you choked a bit on the donut in your mouth as you started to apologize to the person, only to meet eyes with a man you didn't even recognize; but his eyes were so captivating and something about him felt familiar. Like you could trust him already.
"No, no," the young man started, cutting you off. He seemed a bit nervous, and you noted the uniform he had on; RPD officer, "I wasn't paying enough attention, I'm new here and-"
"Leon?" You only realised after you'd said it how weird that must've sounded, knowing the name of a guy who had never even met you till now and vice versa. It was plain as day on his confused face, so you quickly continued, "we all heard a new officer was coming- so your name, that's how I know!"
His face softened a bit but his brows were slightly furrowed like he was a bit worried, no, nervous. A small smile played on his lips, "word travels fast here then?"
"Well," you cleared your throat, "in a small place like this, yeah, kinda."
His eyes scanned the museum turned police station before coming back to meet yours, an eyebrow raised.
"Small?"
"Well," breathing out a laugh you swallowed, "it's a big station, but not a huge force. We're not the biggest city."
"Ah, makes sense," he smiled amused at you, seeming to relax a bit more, "so you're one of the officers?"
"Um, kinda. I'm part of the S.T.A.R.S. unit. Special Tactics and Rescue Services. We're kind of... A branch off of the main force, and smaller. With a different office, upstairs."
"No uniform for you guys then?" He sounded a bit disappointed at the realization you had a different office.
You looked down at your outfit, the only thing really indicating you were even part of the police, and S.T.A.R.S being the badge on your hip, "ya... Not yet. We have some ideas for some but, I'm not a big fan. Between you and me, I'd like to not have to wear a uniform. Uh, no offense."
"None taken," he chuckled and you found you liked that sound, "You know my name but I don't know yours...?"
"Oh, right," you reached your unoccupied, and clean from donut residue, hand out to shake his, "Y/N L/N, member of the S.T.A.R.S unit, and also the best member. Don't let Chris tell you otherwise when you meet him."
"Of course," his hand was much bigger than your own, "wouldn't want anyone to sway my opinion."
"Of course not-" your voice was cut off as you heard the receptionist not too far from the two of you clear her throat and call out to you.
"L/N, Mr. Wesker is asking for you upstairs; something about a report..." she trailed off as your eyebrows lifted considerably.
"Oh... Shit," a report you had neglected in favour of literally anything else, and mainly with that sign you had put up in the office, "I'm sorry to cut this short Leon, but uh... Duty calls! You're gonna fit in here great, don't let any of the others push you around, it's all in good fun but they can be real pieces of work sometimes! I'll see you around?"
"Yeah, of course," he felt his ears turn hot.
You left the new rookie cop to stand in your dust as you raced to get upstairs, preoccupied by a report you had only half finished. But Leon couldn't take his eyes off of you, or where you had been standing. A bit lost in thought.
He didn't wanna admit it, but he might've already been falling for one of his colleagues. And he knew he'd be seeing you a lot. He'd been so nervous, and you had made him feel welcomed from the start. You were something special, something he was definitely going to hold on to if he could.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy#re2#resident evil#resident evil 2#re2 remake#chris redfield#mine#amy writes#i love big bro annoying chris#resident evil imagine#resident evil x reader#resident evil fanfiction#also GUESS WHO LEARNED HOW TO DO A READ MORE ON MOBILE AHA THIS GAL#leon kennedy
169 notes
·
View notes
Text
Baking Pies And Kissing Your Best Friend
This story is very chaotic and messy, I wrote it at 12 AM and it sucks so please withhold your judgement.
Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36733618
"So you're telling me you promised Aelin we would make 5 pies for this party of hers?" Chaol asked, barely disguising his anger.
I winced and smiled nervously. “I was being nice!”
Chaol crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "How can someone so smart be so dumb?" He asked himself incredulously.
"Look, Chaol, please help me. I do not know how to bake and these pies need to be done by tomorrow afternoon! Come on, do it for me?" I looked at Chaol with the best puppy dog eyes I could manage and stuck my bottom lip out.
Chaol squeezed his eyes shut and brought a hand to his face, tiredly rubbing his forehead. He opened his eyes for a moment, catching my gaze, and sighed. "Alright," he conceded, "I'll help you. But you owe me one!"
I grinned, walking to him and grabbing his face in my hands, placing a big kiss on his cheek. "You're the best Chaol, I'll repay you."
His face reddened at my actions, which only made my grin grow. He was always so cute when he blushed.
--------------------
3 hours of mixing, measuring and whatever else you do while baking later, I sat on the counter in the kitchen. Chaol had long since told me I could touch nothing because apparently I was the worst baker he had ever met.
I had left him to do things how he wanted though, seeing as I still have no clue how to bake. I took up a spot on the other side of the kitchen, where I wouldn't be in his way, and we talked aimlessly.
First about our hectic week, then about the new marvel movie that had just come out and how we should see it together and then, what we are talking about now, the book I am currently reading.
"So basically, the girl, the one this guy had been falling in love with, was actually a ghost all along!"
Chaol carefully set the next pie in the oven. "How did it take him so long to realize that the signs were right in front of him the entire time?" He wiped his hands on the apron I had gotten for shits and giggles a few years ago.
"You only knew it was coming because I told you everything that was happening in chronological order," I pointed out. "Besides, it is actually very common for people to miss things that are right in front of them." Case in point, you, Chaol.
“I don't know. I think I could've seen it coming,” Chaol responded. Ha, that was hilarious, because I don’t think he would’ve seen it coming if I had spelt it out for him.
"Whatever you say." I pulled out my phone, opening Instagram to see if any of my friends had posted recently.
"Why'd you say it like that?" He asked, turning to face me. His soft honey brown skin dusted with flour, a smear of one filling on his cheek. It all made his normally slightly terrifying appearance much less so.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I had been in a fake relationship with Manon for months and he had yet to notice. He had also yet to notice that I had been in love with him since childhood. It wasn't his fault either, really, but I had believed he would've found out about the whole Manon thing a lot sooner.
I had promised not to tell anyone about it, including him, but if he found out about it himself, everything would've been fine. But no, he had to be so fucking dense.
"Dorian? Is everything alright?" I looked up, surprised to see and hear Chaol so close to me. Up close, I could see the bits of gold in his eyes, and the way he ran his tongue over his lip.
Suddenly, the urge to kiss him overwhelmed me, and unfortunately for me, I've never been all that good at controlling my urges.
So I leant forward and kissed him. It was like the gods had sent me to some sort of heaven. The feeling of his soft lips, of his jaw beneath the hand I had placed on him.
And then I panicked, because what if he didn't have any feelings for me? What if I had just completely ruined our friendship?
But before any of those thoughts could go very far, Chaol began kissing me back. Hesitantly, he reached up and lay his hand over mine. The feeling of his skin against my own sent sparks through me. I opened my legs so he could stand in between them, lightly nipping his bottom lip and slipping my tongue in his mouth.
Gods, it was fucking amazing to me here, with my tongue, my mother fucking TONGUE in CHAOL’s, the man I’ve been in love with forever, mouth. His mouth moved against mine, and his other hand came up to rest on my chest.
I moved my other hand into his silky brown hair that had grown out over the last few months. Abruptly, Chaol pushed me away, stumbling out of my grasp and into the kitchen island.
He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe he had just kissed me. The hand that had been on mine shakily brushed against his lips, which were parted, allowing him to draw in quick pants of air.
I wasn’t doing any better, my eyes dark and panting, trying to catch my breath and my mine, which had apparently decided it had better things to do than help me figure out what the fuck was going on!
A storm of emotions crossed Chaol’s face, too quickly for de to decipher even one of them.
“What the fuck Dorian.” It wasn't a question, but a demand. Confusion overtook me. He had kissed me back, so why was he so mad? My brain was still offline, making figuring anything out 100 times more difficult.
Chaol turned away from me, his hands balling into fists so tight his knuckles turned white on the marble countertop. Not being able to see his face made things even more difficult than they already were.
“Why would you-why would you kiss me? You have a gods damn girlfriend!” his voice came out shaky and broken, and suddenly everything clicked.
“Chaol,” I whispered. I jumped off the counter and ambled over to him. I didn’t dare touch him, as I was too afraid to scare him away before I had the chance to explain.
“Chaol, let me explain.”
Chaol didn’t move, didn’t make a single sound.
“Manon and I are in a fake relationship. And I kissed you because I like you as a lot more than a friend.”
Silence. I held my breath. Deathly slow, Chaol turned around. I met the same beautiful face that had been my rock since childhood. Our eyes locked, and he searched mine, probably for any sign I was lying.
The corners of Chaol’s lips turned upwards. “You know, I don’t think I’d see it coming anymore.”
I let out the breath and smiled. “Does that mean you’d like to do a repeat of before, just without the angry confusion?” I asked.
“I would, but we have a lot to talk about first, I think.” I nodded. He was right, after all.
“Of course. Maybe while we finish these pies?”
Chaol seemed to snap out of our little world and remember what we had been trying to do before. “You mean while I finish these pies?” he teased, his all too attractive lips shifting into a smile.
I chuckled. Hopefully, my stupidity would lead to something I’d never even let myself dream out about.
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hot Date
Pietro Maximoff x Reader
Sum: It shouldn't have to be said that SHIELD researchers aren't allowed to date their wards. But that doesn't stop the romantic tension from forming between you. The real question is, whose feelings will be most affected when the tension finally boils over?
Anomalous weapons supervisor was typed out on your paychecks, but babysitter would be a better description. Diplomas, experience and more resulted in your butt on bleachers. Watching the important people play around with powers few in this world understood.
Whoever designed this area probably didn’t know who exactly would be using it. It had the basics; a track for running, mats for sparring and weights for lifting. With more off the wall items thrown in that might be useful to the superpowered individuals using it. Like the massive metal balls being lifted and lowered by the red magic of your charge. Or one of your charges at least.
‘Wanda seems to have complete control of her powers. Whether these powers are coming from her mind or some sort of muscle in her hands has yet to be known.’ You type out just intime to get a guest sitting to your right.
“Can I get an autograph when your book is finished?” Pietro has been working on his accent, so had Wanda. As much pride as the two had they were still looking to adapt. But there were still hints of it on certain words. Especially when he’s this close not really trying.
“Only if I get to sign those tits.” Obviously, a joke, but you still had to take a quick glance to the camera. Just in case you get dragged into a meeting and this comes back up about your unprofessional comments. Not that it would stop your work.
“I can live without the signature,” Wanda’s voice, although distant, echoed in the wide space. “You’ve spelt many things wrong anyhow.”
Few people could say they were as close to the Maximoff twins as yourself. Even after the discovery of an alien/god, of the defrosting of a super-solider and the destruction from a billionaire people were wary of the twins.
It was through simple respect that Wanda had warmed up to you. You hadn’t talked to her with artificial kindness, didn’t look to the guards when her voiced raised even the slightest. No, you had asked how she was (the room was too hot for her), if she needed anything (just wanted to know how much longer she was going to be questioned), if she liked coffee or tea (tea is preferred), and how she was doing, really doing (she was tired, you all were).
It was another story for Pietro. Only trusting you after Wanda obviously saw you as a friend. Taking his own time to warm up after getting the same genuine experience you offered rather the blunt questions and stupid statements. It was the dinner you invited them to that sealed the deal. Nothing brings people together more than a lot of meat, the warm feeling of alcohol and a quiet afternoon with a food coma.
“What have you written?” Pietro asks, your laptop now in his hands.
There’s no point in trying to stop him when he snatches things. A child who had to move fast for food and safety makes petty theft a hard habit to beat. Not to mention Wanda already knew everything that went into your daily reports with a blink of her eye, it was seemingly only fair that Pietro got to know to.
“Same stuff I was doing yesterday, and the day before and the day before that and the-.”
“Yes, yes, thank you!” Pietro says, used to the child like taunts and knowing to stop you early.
With nothing of interest on said laptop he turned it back over to you. Taking his place leaning against your shoulder as you begin to work once more. Only speaking up to ensure you add in the correct description of his improvement.
These reports were supposed to be done without the twins knowledge. You were supposed to be a spy on the side of the government. Although it was blamed on Wanda’s mindreading in reality you had never tried to hide them. These friendships were genuine, resulting with the man practically putting himself in your lap to try and keep your attention.
"How much longer do we have to do this ‘training’?” Although a grown man Pietro could act like a little boy sometimes. When he’s done, he’s done. Taking whatever actions needed to get through his current situation and move on.
“For as long as the door is closed, Pietro.” Wanda has set the metal down. Taking slow steps to reach her brother and friend. “She would likely go faster without you hanging on her.”
There is no smooth way to say this; Pietro is a big spoon. Any chance he gets a hug or to hold someone results in being overwhelmed in lean muscle. Pietro was the only warmth during those impossible cold nights as newly orphaned children. His legs and arms creating a shelter that protected his chosen from any harm from ever happening. You were one of chosen now, which explained the face made at having to get up.
“Alright kids, let’s head home.” You say, slapping the laptop closed for effect.
You were one of several who kept an eye on the twins throughout the day. Wanda and Pietro pretended not to notice how certain employees just happened to always be in the hallway when walking through. Or the little cameras that were hidden in plain sight among the decorations in their quarters. And that’s not including all the mom aged agents “just checking in” at random times, complete with the sing song voice and overuse of the word “sweetie”.
On any other day you would have followed them into their quarters. Give them a recommendation for the TV and even stay awhile to watch it with them. A chime from your phone changing the day’s proceedings. It’s only a second-long hesitation that announces this change to the twins.
Pietro says your name in a tone different than the one earlier. It’s a tone of concern that snaps your head up at him. Wanda hanging around the quarter’s entryway, staying close enough to be apart of the conversation.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, now with your attention.
“What? Yeah, yes, I just got a…you know, a hot date.” You turn your phone to face him. Not long enough for him to read the entire message but enough to know that you weren’t completely hiding anything “I’ll see you guys later. Brush your teeth before going to bed, I’ll know if you don’t.”
Before Pietro or Wanda could give a retort the door slid shut.
“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asked the only other person in the room.
Wanda didn’t answer. Rather tilting her head towards her brother. Rolling her eyes when he asked “what? Wanda, what?”
-
Although officially a desk agent there were times the field required someone of your talents. When this happened, all other duties had to be dropped in exchange for an outfit change and a fancy car shared with your accompanying field agent. Natasha has been your designated agent since the first field mission and could now be considered a friend.
It would seem the babysitter had become the baby. Including having your clothes laid and being helped into them before reaching the car.
“You’re an heiress looking for some expensive decorations and I am your lovely assistant and translator for the evening.” Natasha says, holding the under-suit’s legs open for you to slip into. “We’ll show up fashionably late. You are incredibly rich and important and better than all of them. So, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and try not to say anything, they’re below you.”
Unlike fulltime field agents you weren’t trained enough to go without serious protection. Not just in the form of an accompanying agent but also in a (jokingly called) bullet proof onesie. So, fitting it was essentially a bullet-proof wetsuit that stopped at the knees and elbows. Making the clothes to wear over it something with long sleeves, past the ankles and covers the neck. Sunday school appropriate for this event.
“Can I fake an accent? Like, German?” It was a dumb question for you to ask, but the ride to the gallery was already taking longer than it should.
“Hmm, Let’s hear it.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her phone but still sounded interested.
“Vell-,”
“Stop.”
Very special pieces were being auctioned off tonight. Invite only without any advertisements to say what’s up for grabs to outsiders. Although the windows were blacked out and authorities were paid off (but obviously not enough) supposedly nothing for sale was illegal. But if that were true you wouldn’t have found a seat in the front row.
The language of the night was deeply European. One or two words you could maybe guess what they meant but there was no way you could name it. Nat knew it though; it kept her ears perked to the room and her mouth right next to your ear for most of the night.
First items up were the typical rich people arty stuff; vases and paintings that probably represented something to someone if you squinted. Those went for a year’s paycheck in minutes. It was after the third portrait of some lady now long dead that Nat placed a hand on your back, just below the neck.
“Next up is ours,” she whispered. “you’re doing good and you’re doing great.”
The entire night was spent with better manners than an office setting could ever be. Back straight, eyes forward, and no one is allowed to make eye-contact. It’s only when the target was wheeled in that your mask was starting to slide.
Genuine HYDRA blueprints for a titanium prosthetic. White ink on blue paper with decades old coffee stains and tiny tears, spread up and out under protective glass like a butterfly. Although Mr. Barnes had a serious upgrade with the Vibranium he now used. But these blueprints showed just how advance the original was for the time.
Sitting forward as it’s wheeled by wasn’t enough to authenticate the prints. Something you easily communicated to Agent Romanoff with just a look.
It was a bad idea, it called why too much attention, but Agent Romanoff whipped her head towards one of the several employees of the auction. Curling her finger at them to get them over and in her speaking line.
She speaks quickly, and with an edge to her voice, to the employee. With only a few words back that same employee returned to his post and spoke to the next man in charge.
“They going to invite a few of us up to inspect the piece,” Agent Romanoff whispers, “You’re going to have to be fast, we’re going on stage.”
Others in the audience made their way onto the stage when invited. Agent Romanoff ensures that you are somewhere in the middle of it. Heels and heavy shoes making creating white noise for your work to be done.
In all HYDRA’s documents, blue-prints and almost everything else their symbol was hidden throughout it. A little game of where’s the octopus in two places. A large, but translucent, icon covering the center. And a smaller one in the bottom right-hand corner, hidden behind the creator’s signature. Reproductions never had the smaller symbol, but the stains and fingerprints ensured you were right.
Later, during the debrief, you would be lectured about the importance of subtlety and espionage. But how was the look you gave Agent Romanoff any different than how others were looking at their people?
After that (completely natural and not at all suspicious) nod Natasha’s arm was around your back. This was part you were suddenly feeling ill. This was the part your assistant/translator/arm-candy would escort you out with just enough urgency and demands for the bathroom that you’d be gone before everyone was in their seats. Apparently this was also the part a sudden security guard fires twice into your chest.
“Watch your head.” Although not yelling Agent Romanoff’s voice was firm.
It's hard to say which was scarier; the bullets aiming firing for your death or how calm and professional Agent Romanoff was about it all. Although, few rounds were actually fired inside the auction hall.
Agent Romanoff shot an arm out to the first security. Pushing his gun up and inward quick enough to catch his jaw and take him out of the game. Agent Romanoff keeping the downed man’s sidearm for herself.
That was really the only bit of action you clearly saw that night. When things go wrong in the field it’s the agents job to remove their ward from the situation with minimal injuries. As the researcher your job was much simpler; don’t die. “Keep your head down, use your arms to protect yourself and trust your agent.” Was hammered in during field training. With this mantra running over and over you weren’t in the position to watch the mess happening all around.
“Someone, call the police!” It takes a second to realize it’s Agent Romanoff yelling this. In a panicked, almost shrill, voice that practically screamed ‘we’re being victimized!’
With all the guests now properly riled up it was easier to exit the building. Allowing the oncoming mod to carry the two of you out of the building without much more fuss from security. Trying to kill an agent was one thing but killing a rich connected person (or worse their spouses) would be on an entirely new issue.
Someone stepped on your foot. Another put an elbow in your rib harder than the bullets. And a third open hand pushed you, and your agent, right out the door and onto the street. It was only through the strength of Agent Romanoff, and your handling of flats, that this mission could be considered successful.
The blueprints were already being tracked and followed by the time you’re stripped down to underwear. The pretty clothes had to be taken removed, the makeup wiped off, hair undone, and the bullet proof onesie had to be taken away. Simple tank-tops, shorts and a coat were worn on the journey home. By the time it’s all off, and you’re finally walking into the apartment, it shouldn’t be surprising how you looked to others.
“Have a good time?” It takes a second to realize it’s just the roommate asking the question.
It’s expected that any roommate a SHIELD employee takes on would also be with SHIELD. The two of you weren’t in the same division or even security level part of why living together worked out so well. She was in the know enough to hear you complain but enough in the dark to keep any secrets from getting out.
“Yep, had a real banger of a night.” Although a friend and technical coworker you couldn’t disclose too much about the missions. At least not until the green light is given by the higher ups. Instead, you can only give the people something to speculate about. “Can’t wait to see what the bruises are going to look like tomorrow.”
-
Spoiler alert: the bruises looked like hickeys. Something noticed by Roommate but keeping quiet about it in exchange to heading out early. Ready with the latest thing to share with the office mates.
Just like any working environment gossip is always somewhere underfoot. After being dragged in by someone who couldn’t leave it at home it’s then latching onto everyone who came close enough to hear it. Most ignore it, others listen then forget and others drag carry it further into the workplace. Until researchers leaning against the wall talk too loudly and Pietro catches a few too many words.
“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asks once the housing area’s door shut. Quickly clearing things up with the use of your name.
“I’ve haven’t seen them yet.” Wanda doesn’t care enough to close her book but does enough to look up.
“No, yesterday. Before they left, someone messaged them. Who was it?”
Wanda shrugs and returns to her book, but there’s a smile there.
“You know who it is,” He says, now on beside her. “Tell me.”
“I can’t say for sure,” She’s smiling again. Only a slight glance at Pietro. “but I think he may be very handsome.”
The siblings argued as siblings do. With Wanda teasing as sisters do. All of this could be heard before you even made it to the door. Standing at its threshold to listen as the two go at it.
“Natasha will tell you the same, Pietro.” Wanda says, probably aware that you were in hearing distance. “And she says he can do more than simply be handsome.”
Although you say nothing Wanda grins at you.
The gossip overheard is just words without evidence. Just enough to get Pietro thinking but not enough to create any serious emotions. But the “evidence” to create those emotions was now standing in the room. Small marks darker than your natural skin was peaking out from the lower neckline.
To you, they were simple bruises, nothing worth trying to hide, even something to brag about to the other desk workers. To Pietro it was marks of another person, something that pursed his lips and marched away from. Doing so slowly, to be sure that both you and Wanda were aware of how upset he was.
“I missed something.” You say, setting everything down on the counter.
Wanda has a habit of sneaking into other people’s minds. The mission, the shots and the everything was slowly being filed through in the back of your head. A pressure at the base of your neck screaming that there was an intruder.
“Stop it.” You snapped, but Wanda only smiles back.
“How was your ‘hot date’?” She finally asks.
“Is that what he’s…sonofabitch. Pietro!” There are only three rooms in this section of the compound. One being Wanda’s, another Vision’s and the third Pietro. Making it easy enough to find the pouting grown man.
“What?” He asks upon your entering.
There isn’t a response on your part for moment or two. Spending that time going to the room’s corner. Standing on tiptoes to find that switch that definitely doesn’t exist on the camera. Shutting it down for the time being before turning to start your explanation.
“You can turn that back on.” He says from his place on the bed. “There’s nothing bad we need to talk about.”
“So, you don’t wanna hear about how I was shot in the tit?”
Manners were out the window at this point. Pietro openly looking towards your chest. Back up to your face, and back down to your chest. “You were shot? They look more like…”
“They’re not hickeys, I was shot a few time through a suit.” Frustration was starting to build up. It was overflowing when you finished with “You really should know about being shot.”
The hurt on his face screamed. He didn’t look away but stayed staring forward right at you. “Pietro, I’m so…I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
“It hurts,” He says. “Being shot, it really hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” Even as you walk around to sit beside him Pietro stares at where you were. Listening to your apology but not saying much else. Until he dares to lean against you. Something more than cuddling with a friend this time around. “I get it, I get you’re scared and all that. And I really like you, Pietro, I like you more than I am allowed to.”
It’s hard to say who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. It was happening, and it was so much more than a something between friends.
“When that camera comes back on this didn’t happen.” You say in a moment of separation for air.
“What happens when the camera goes off again?” He asks, thumb rubbing over the bruise.
#reader insert#pietro maximoff#pietro maximoff x reader#quicksilver x reader#Pietros' alive au#One shot#Fluff kinda#Angst kinda#This is based on that window between 2012-2016 when everything was happy for the Avengers#Requested on my AOW#Not used to writing these kind of stories
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
but I knew you ⋆ draco malfoy
A/N- this is a draco malfoy imagine based off taylor swift’s song ‘cardigan’.
Bold font is flashbacks, bold italic font are the lyrics!
angst and i guess a little fluff here and there:)
Sensual politics
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
Voldemort was back. There was no denying it, everyone knew it. Whether they wanted to believe it or not, he was back. Hogwarts no longer had that gleam of ‘safe and perfect’.
“I saw him, Y/n, I did. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Harry potter mumbled next to you as you sat with the gold trio, your fork slushing around the mashed potatoes on your plate.
“I know harry, I believe you. I just wish Umbridge did, she’s such a git.” You scoffed, causing Ron to chuckle. The turkey leg the Weasley was holding to his lips caused grease and juice to spew onto his chin. You and Hermione shared a disgusted glance as you handed him a napkin.
You were pulled out of your thoughts as you saw shining, blonde platinum hair enter the great hall. “I’ll be right back, I need to have a word with a certain Slytherin.” You excused yourself and shuffled towards Draco.
You flattened your robes as you approached him. “Draco...”You said softly, reaching out to grab the pureblood’s arm. Draco jumped slightly, causing a frown to grow on your features. He had been so different lately, no longer wanting to sit with you at the astronomy tower in the middle of the night, no longer asking you to sit with him during meals. Dark bags had found a home under his normally bright, beautiful blue eyes. His eyes still caused your heart to falter but in a different way. When he looked at you, his expression was no longer soft and warm, it was cold and distant. As if he wasn’t actually there in front of you, his brain elsewhere.
“Draco..” You said again, trying to get him to focus on you.
“I have something to attend to.” Draco said coolly and turned, leaving you standing alone by the Slytherin table. Pansy gave you a sad smile, she was always weirdly nice to you.
You returned a kind, small smile that you could muster. You turned on your heel and walked out of the great hall, your mind spinning and running through what the hell was happening.
Everything felt different. No, everything was different. And you knew it.
-----
But I knew you
Dancin' in your Levi's
Drunk under a streetlight
I, I knew you
Hand under my sweatshirt
Baby, kiss it better, right
You sat on your bed, thankful that your shared room was empty. You lied down and let out a sigh. What was happening with Draco, he’d been so different lately. He was normally so open with you, which was a surprise to everyone at first, especially you. But overtime you stopped wondering why he was so nice to you, you accepted it with grace and became close the Draco. You saw him differently than everyone else, you actually knew Draco. The real him.
You remember your first of many Hogsmeade dates.
It was spring time, the air felt clean and warm, inviting. You and Draco had just left the leaky caldron and had way too many butterbeers.
“Watch your step here.” Draco said from behind you as you walked, stepping over a couple of fallen stones. You giggled softly, his warm breath fanned the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to fall in it’s wake. You don’t remember why but you guys stopped for some reason, your conversation flowing with ease. There were giggles in the air and everything felt right.
“When we get back to my common room, we need to dance.” Draco hummed, leaning against a lamppost.
“The Draco Malfoy dances?” You teased.
“I do.” Draco said smugly, a playful grin erupted onto his lips, making your heart jump. “And I’m bloody good at it.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see those moves Malfoy.” You laughed loudly as Draco began dancing. It was awful to say the least, his moves were sloppy from his tipsy state but it was the smile on his face and the laughs that fell from his lips that made you smile widely.
You began dancing with him, no music, just the sounds of the two of you laughing and teasing each other.
Draco took your hand, spinning you before pulling you flush against his chest. Your breath hitched, whether it was the alcohol in your system or your underlining feelings, your cheeks darkened.
“I’m gonna kiss you.” Draco said quietly, your eyes widened. “Not now, but soon.” You were content with that answer, despite you wanting his seemingly soft, pink lips against your own at that very moment.
Draco had kept his word, kissing you hundreds of times after that night. Each kiss and touch made you feel like you were on fire, alive. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Tears pulled in the corner of your eyes as you the memories came crashing around you. You just wanted Draco to be okay again, something was definitely wrong. Your thoughts drifted to one specific memory.
You had just gotten out of detention with Umbridge. Her detentions were the worse. You had been laying in Draco’s bed, his arms around you as you cried silently. Draco accidentally brushed his fingers over the red, bleeding words on your hand, making you gasp slightly. “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to.” He cooed in your ear softly.
You offered the boy a sad smile and reassured him it wasn’t his fault. You and Draco sat in comfortable silence before he brought your injured hand to his lips. His breath fanned over the wounds, causing you to shudder. Draco eyed you carefully as he brought his lips to the wounds, kissing each letter that spelt out ‘I will obey authority.’
“Feels better already.” You laughed softly, causing Draco to smile widely.
“In that case I’ll continue.” He grinned evilly before kissing down your neck, your eyes fluttering close as you embraced the warm feeling pulling inside your stomach.
That Draco took care of you, making you feel good in more than one way. At the end of it all, you lied in each other’s arms again, whispering sweet nothings and basking in the scent of his sweater.
“Y/N?” Hermione asked quietly as she looked at you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You weren’t even sure when she had entered your guys’ room.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” You offered a small smile.
----
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite
You sat on the edge of the windowsill, enjoying the night view from the astronomy tower. You snuggled into your sweater. It was one of Draco’s old sweater’s. You breathed in his scent, smoky and comforting. Merlin you missed him.
Suddenly something fell behind you, causing you to jump. You stood to your feet and say Draco standing at the doorway, the moonlight highlighting his features beautifully. “Draco.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you tried to steady your breathing.
“Didn’t know anyone was up here, I’ll let you be.” He turned to leave.
Before you could even think, your feet were moving and you were flying towards him. You wrapped your arms around his backside and whined softly. “Please. Please stay. I miss you.” You feel tears falling down your cheeks, leaking into Draco’s shirt.
Draco turned and pushed you away in one swift motion. You stumbled back, looking up at him with watery eyes.
“Merlin, Y/N.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Draco, I miss you. So much, please. Don’t push me away, I know everything about you and-”
Draco scuffed, cutting you off. “You don’t know anything, Y/N. We went on a couple of dates and snogged a little and suddenly you think you know me?”
Why was he being so cold? “B-But I-I...” Your throat began to sting and burn as you swallowed back tears. “But you said you cared about me? You were so sweet and you made me feel special.” You just wanted Draco to say he was sorry, and for him to tell you what was on his mind as you played with his hair. You wanted to hold him and tell him everything was gonna be okay, that you guys would get through this together.
“Oh, bloody hell. Y/N, you would feel special if any git held open a door for you. You just want attention, affection from anyone who will give it to you. Frankly, I’m rather bored of you. You’re quite boring and needy. You’re so dense to reality it’s rid-”
“Stop!” You screamed, you didn’t care if anyone heard you. You backed up to the window and leaned against it for leverage. “You-You asshole! Why, why are you being such a dick?! I’ve done nothing but be kind and patient with you, yet you’re saying all this...” You shook your head as the tears began to fall more and more. “You don’t mean it. I know you don’t. I know how you feel about me.”
“Oh? And how do I feel about you, Y/L/N?” Draco smirked.
“You love me, I know you do.”
Draco laughed, but it seemed like a tired one. “Oh, that’s rich. Really is. I don’t love you. I never have and I never will, you were merely a new experience for me. And now I’m done.” You looked at him, you could practically feel your heart breaking.
“Fuck you.” You seethed and pushed past him, running out of the room and towards your common room. Your shoes pounded loudly against the stone floor as you rand ran. When you finally reached your common room, you collapsed on one of the couches and began sobbing. The sobs racked through your body, causing you to shake and heave for air. How could someone be so cruel? So heartless? Did you even really know Draco like you thought you did? Of course you did, you told yourself. But maybe you didn’t, because that person you left in the astronomy tower wasn’t the boy you grew to love.
At the beginning, before you had met Draco, you always felt unlovable. Like you weren’t ever good enough for anyone. It seemed that way at least, always being second or third even. Boys would always want to be with you sexually, but none of them ever seemed to want more, want to love you.
That all changed when you met Draco, he had made you feel special. Really special. He had made your heart skip beats and made you smile more than you had ever before. He was caring, kind and warm. he was funny, and sucked at cooking. He loved to read but wouldn’t show anyone that side of him.
Draco had opened his heart to you, and you gladly took it. Draco had made you feel like you were enough for once, you always seemed to be first in his eyes.
But you guessed that wasn’t the truth.
----
'Cause I knew you
Steppin' on the last train
Marked me like a bloodstain
You hadn’t spoken to Draco since everything. You didn’t want to, the thought of him caused your chest to rise and fall in an ungodly manner. You didn’t want to see him smile or laugh, the thought caused bile to rise intro the back of your throat.
“Y/n.” Ron said, you turned to the red head and smiled. “Gonna miss you this summer! You sure you don’t want to join Harry and Hermione coming to the burrow? Mum won’t mind one more mouth to feed.” He cheesed.
“My dad misses me, I promised I’d spend the whole summer with him. But I will see you next year.” You gave your best friend a tight hug. You hated lying to Ron, to any of them. But you wanted to spend this summer alone, wallowing in your heartbreak. Your dad wasn’t even gonna be home for half the summer.
“Alright then, we’ll see you later Y/N! We’ve got to catch the first train.” Hermione said as she hugged you quickly, followed by Harry.
You waved your best friends goodbye, leaving you alone at the train platform. Other classmates waited here and there, some getting on the next train that came. Unfortunately you were the last train of the day.
Leaning against a wall, you read a book to past the time, occasionally glancing up to check your watch. When you looked up from your thick book, you saw him. He looked handsome as always as he stared ahead at the train coming into the station. It was the last train.
“Shit.” You cursed, spilling your book into your carry on bag and standing to your feet. You watched as Malfoy checked his luggage, making sure he had evrything he need. He stood straight again, eyes sweeping his surrounding before you two made eye contact. You felt frozen in place, watching as Draco took his eyes off of you and walked straight onto the train.
He had looked at you, genuinely looked at you. Your heart sank as you thought about his face, his expression. He had no sign of remorse, his eyes had nothing in them that hinted that he missed you as much as you missed him. He looked more annoyed than anything. That’s what hurt the most, he seemed to hate you now. You blinded back tears before grabbing your luggage and climbing onto the last train.
----
I, I knew you
Leavin' like a father
Runnin' like water, I
And when you are young, they assume you know nothing
You lied on your living room couch, flicking through the channels. You don’t know why you were so picky with what show too put on, it was just gonna be background noise anyways. That’s what it seemed like, everything was background noise now. Your thoughts were always filled with Draco’s eyes and his smile.
Your friends all wrote you letters when you first arrived home for the summer, but you just never replied. You didn’t have the energy to. You didn’t have the energy for anything it seemed like. Your father was still away on business matters, thankfully. You knew if he saw you right now he would be worried, very worried. You looked tired, thinner than usual. You had the same bags under your eyes as Draco did.
Merlin. Why did your stupid brain always go back to him. You sighed, rubbing your hand aimlessly over your eye lids. You were tired, but you hadn’t been able to sleep since Merlin knows when. Your dreams were plagued with happy memories and you hated it. You’d give an arm and a leg to have bloody nightmares instead.
Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. You looked over at the entry way, towards the front door. Your cat, Milo, sat on the headrest of the couch and stared at you curiously as you rose to your feet. You slowly made your way over to the door as the banging continued, now more loudly. You took a deep breath before opening the door, you genuinely didn’t know who it would be.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood at your front door, a smiling Dobby at their feet. Unlike the house elf, your friends did not have a smile on their faces. “Bloody hell, Y/N!” Hermione yelled as she shoved you aside, storming into your house. She turned towards you as the boys followed silently. “Are you kidding me? Where have you been? What have you been doing this whole bloody summer!” You’d never seen her so angry, she’d never gone off this bad with Ron. Dobby tugged on the sleeves of your sweater, making you tear your eyes off of your friends.
“Dobby is sorry, Dobby only wished to help his friends find Y/N. Dobby was worried for his friend.” Your body began to shake as you heard him speak. They cared about you, all of them And you had lied to them for your own selfish reasons. You felt guilt eating away at you slowly.
The frizzy haired girl looked down at the kitchen table, picking up a stack of unopened letters. Their unopen letters. “What the hell. You couldn’t even bother to open them.” Ron chimed in. He looked more hurt than anything. His frowned deepened as he met your eye. Harry remained silent, staring sadly at you.
“I-I..” You began to speak but the words could barely make it past your dry, chapped lips. You licked then quickly and looked down at your feet. You could feel the tears beginning to well up at the ends of your eyes. Merlin you were tired of crying.
“Is your dad home?” Hermione asked, her voice was less harsh but still firm. You shook your head as your bottom lip quivered slightly.
“When will he be returning?” Ron asked. You looked past him and at the wall behind him. You had to tell the truth, you’d already upset them.
“Another 3 weeks.” You said flatly. “I haven’t seen him since the start of summer. I’ve been here alone.” You looked at Harry, watching his eyebrows raise in shock.
“You lied to us.” Harry said, his tone dripping with disappointment.
That. That look they were all wearing on their faces, the silent words they weren’t speaking. The tension in the air. That was it. You felt something crack inside you and you gasped. Tears poured down your cheeks as you began breathing heavily. It was as if you’d had felt every possible emotion ever, but all of the negative ones. You felt loss, anger, betrayal, guilt, anxious, hungry, tired and numb. You couldn’t handle the way legs trembled as you collapsed the ground.
Harry was the first to act, scooping into his arms. Hermione came to your side and rubbed you. Ron crouched in front of you, tears in his own eyes as he watched one of his best friends break in front of him. “Y/N. What’s going on? What is happening to you?” Ron said softly.
“Just breathe, it’s okay we can talk about this after you calm down. You’re okay, we’re not cross with you. I’m sorry I yelled.” Hermione sniffled, hugging you while your in Harry’s arms.
“Yeah, we aren’t mad at you. We’ve been worried, extremely worried. That's why we’re here. We care about you.” Harry’s voice boomed behind you. Hermione and Ron nodded quickly, agreeing with the Boy Who Lived.
After you had calmed down and were able to make coherent sentences, you told them everything. You told them why you lied, you explained what happened with Draco. You apologized over and over, begging for your friends to forgive you for being so dumb. You were so dumb for not telling them, what were you thinking? You were so caught up in your head that you completely forgot you had amazing friends who meant the world to you.
“It’s okay, I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserve nothing but the best. Draco is far from that.” Hermione whispered softly next to you. You and the golden trio were now in your room. Hermione lied next to you, Ron on your other side as Harry sat on your floor, rubbing a purring Milo.
“I swear I’ll bash his stupid face in when I see him. No one deserves to hear those things he said to you, especially you.” Ron said as he rubbed your arm comfortingly.
“I..I just didn’t expect him to just leave like that. So abrupt and sudden.” You sighed. Draco had left your life just as fast as he entered it. Changing everything just the same. The pain you had felt when he left was the same pain you felt whenever your father would leave for his business trips. You remembered how you wrapped yourself around his tall frame, throwing a temper tantrum because you didn’t want him to leave you. But now it was Draco who had left, and you couldn’t wrap yourself around him to make him stay.
The rest of the night was spent cuddling and talking with your friends, and drinking pumpkin juice. You were happy that they came, truly. You didn’t want wallow in your sorrow anymore. You wanted to be free from Draco and the memories. But that was easier said than done.
----
But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss
I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
The smell of smoke would hang around this long
'Cause I knew everything when I was young
I knew I'd curse you for the longest time
Chasing shadows in the grocery line
Returning back to Hogwarts wasn’t as hard as you anticipated. You’d spent the rest of your summer with the Weasley’s at the burrow. Molly was exhilarated when you showed up at her door with Ron, Hermione and Harry. The mother never failed to make you feel like you were apart of their big family.
You’d just finished unpacking your trunks when Hermione waltzed into the room. “You’re lucky I’m letting you have the bed next to the window. I always claim it.” She hummed as she plopped down onto your bed. You laughed loudly.
“Well thank you, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” You giggled, sitting next to your best friend.
She wore a wide grin as she grabbed your hands in her down. “I know how you can repay your debt.” She began as she watched you slowly. “Please tell me if you need anything, I’m serious. If you need to cry, let me know. If you need space, let me know. Just don’t push me away again. Any of us. We all love you, Y/N. You’re our best friend and we want to help you, that’s all.”
You smiled and threw your arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I love you, Mimi. What would I do without you.” You whipped the few stray tears that had escaped your eyes.
“Please don’t call me ‘Mimi’! I hate that childish name.” Hermione groaned before standing up.
You laughed as you followed your friend out of the dorms and through the common room. You made your way through the halls and towards the great hall. Harry and Ron were at your table already, chowing down. Your stomach grumbled loudly as you took in all the food before you. The welcoming feasts were always the best.
You sat down quickly, putting some shrimp and green beans onto your plate. “They have shrimp?” Ron asked, mouth full of bread. He eyed the shrimp on your plate before slowing reaching across the table.
“Ronald! Get your own shrimp, you thief.” You swatted his sticky fingers away from your plate. Ron smiled and scooped some of the seafood onto his own plate. Everything felt right again, you felt happy. You didn’t have to force a smile or a laugh, it was so natural. You’d missed yourself, you missed feeling like yourself.
A smoky, sweet scent wavered passed your nose, causing you to drop your fork onto your plate. You knew that smell all too well, it was him. You turned your head towards the smell and saw his blonde hair walking towards his table. You watched as he sat down with his Slytherin friends, laughing at something one of them had said.
You frowned, turning forward again. The familiar feeling of dread began to fill your chest once more. You didn’t want to cry, you were so tired of crying. “Y/N.” Harry said softly, reaching across the table and touching your hand gently. “You’re gonna be okay, it stops hurting eventually.” You nodded at his words, thanking him.
And you were okay, somewhat. Somedays were harder than others, but you could feel yourself healing minute by minute. The memories didn’t help though. You couldn’t go to the astronomy tower anymore, the memories too strong to ignore. You couldn’t sit under your favorite tree by the black lake anymore, memories of eating stolen pastries and chocolates with the boy who broke your heart. Hogwarts wasn’t the same without Draco by your side. You didn’t want it that way, but for now that was your truth, your reality.
Draco had imbedded a place in your mind, whether it was a present thought or in the back of your head; he was always there.
----
A/N- let me know how you guys like this one:) PART TWO IS UP YAY!!!
part two- What am I now?
#harry potter imagines#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#hp imagine#hp imagines#draco malfoy#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy imagines#draco malfoy x reader#hermione granger#hermione granger imagine#hermione granger imagines#ron weasley#ron weasley imagine#ron weasley imagines#ginny weasley#gonny weasley imagines#ginny weasely imagine#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley imagines#george wealsey x reader#george weasley imagine#george weasley imagines#george weasley#george weasley x reader#sirius black#sirius black imagine#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagines
489 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’m looking for fanfics where Peter is Tony’s biological child and he goes missing/gets kidnapped as a young child. He is raised by someone else and doesn’t know he’s Tony’s son. I’ve already read Lost Boy and Things I Almost Remember on archive of our own and I wanted to find stories with a similar plot.
WHEW! It’s kind of a long list, but we did our best finding several fics that feature both BioDad!Tony and Peter being kidnapped at a very young age. ENJOY!!
PETER IS TONY’S SON BUT THEY WERE SEPARATED WHEN PETER WAS A CHILD REC LIST
Lost Boy by winterda
Isaac Stark disappeared from a crowded park a few months shy of his third birthday. There were never any signs of him, and no arrest were ever made in connection to the case. It was as if the toddler had simply vanished off the face of the earth. Twelve years later, Peter Parker has a really bad day, which only get worse when his prints are put through the system.
Things I Almost Remember by IcedAquarius @icedaquarius31
Peter's past is not as it appears. It all starts one day with a genetics project and slowly spirals into something Peter never could have imagined.
hydra's not a home by tempestaurora @tempestaurora
At 6 years old, the son of Tony and Pepper Stark, Peter, is kidnapped, never to be seen again. Or, so they thought. Ten years later, while raiding a HYDRA base, the Avengers come across a new, enhanced individual, working for the enemy: in black spandex, with a tendency to stick to walls and shoot webs from his wrists, the Black Spider is a pain in the ass in more ways than one.
If They Knew All About You by MsHermia
Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high.
Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.
Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.
------
This is an AU story obvious by some of the tags. I'm starting out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing. Other than that I'm not too concerned about sticking to every canon detail and storyline.
Finding Their Way Home by ElliahRose
Peter Benjamin-Edward Stark went missing on a Tuesday. For months the entirety of the New York police department, as well as anyone else the Starks could convince to join, searched for the tot. He was only three when he was taken and for four months, two weeks, and four days, Tony Stark and Pepper Stark (nee Potts) worried and fretted over their beloved child.
Peter Benjamin-Edward Stark was murdered on a Friday. A ransom call gone wrong spelt the end of the child’s life. The world grieved as the kidnappers gleefully told the devastated parents they’d find his body in the morning.
They never did.
Twelve years passed and the family was still grieving, and Tony Stark worked tirelessly to find his only child’s killer and gain justice for his son.
Meanwhile Peter Parker was having literally the worst day ever. He just wanted to help make the world a better place, but instead he got stabbed. That's just his luck, isn't it?
missing, presumed dead by hailingstars @hailing-stars
They hadn’t had a funeral for Peter.
There hadn’t been a casket or a service inside a church.
There had been, before Tony decided in his heart that Peter was gone, candlelight vigils and pleas on the media for whoever had taken him to bring him home. Neither of those did any good. Neither of those brought Peter home.
OR
Tony Stark's son gets kidnapped when he's two. Twelve years later he comes back.
I told you to be better (and you became the best) by HaruK
Tony was blessed with a healthy baby boy, and for once in his life, was actually happy.
Until everything derailed and he had to send his son away to keep him safe, because those related to the Stark family, one of the worlds biggest and most targeted families in the black market, always end up hurt.
With a new name and identity that Tony himself doesn't know, the young baby was wiped off the map, his existence erased, never to be heard of again.
.
Years later, Anti-hero Iron Man meets a local superhero vigilante and Tony becomes surprisingly close with young Peter Parker.
The Curly-Haired Boy In The Paper by Svn_f1ower @svn-f1ower
When Tony sees the blurry, grey scale photograph of someone he thought he had lost years ago, he follows the trail to a newspaper company, to a hospital, to an adoption agency, to the police station and finally to May Parker's house.
hold him tight & don’t let go by jessicagoddamnjones @farremoved
Peter Stark went missing when he was four years old.
Eleven years later, he’s found.
Only now he’s Peter Parker by day, Spider-Man by night, and he doesn’t like the idea that his entire life is a lie.
Rise from the Ashes; Just to See You Again by Mintstream @iwritedumbshit
Tony Stark didn't expect Mary Fitzpatrick, or the news she delivered. He didn't expect that he would become a father, or that he would actually enjoy it. He didn't expect Penny to love him just as fiercely as he did her.
He didn't expect to lose her so soon.
In the wake of the loss of his daughter he tried--tried to do right by her. He became Iron Man, he was an Avenger, he protected his world because he couldn't protect his daughter, but through it all, he hoped to be reunited with his daughter.
He didn't expect to be alive when he was.
AKA the biological daughter kidnapping AU no one asked for. Hope you read, and hope you enjoy.
Updates on Saturdays.
Coming Home by inkinmyheartandonthepage
AU – Peter Stark was kidnapped when he was just three years old. Tony and Pepper never stopped looking for their boy. Years later, Peter finds his way back home.
A Change In What We Knew by Imissyoutoo
@imissyoutoo
Tony scoured the floor behind Steve as though his one-year-old son had somehow crawled to him, before finally, he looked up. The realisation dawned on him like an eclipse; the decaying darkness hiding the sun. Hiding his son. Because his boy wasn't there.
”Where is he? Steve? Where's my son Rogers?!”
At only a year old, Tony Stark’s son is taken, leaving him shattered. Little does he know, his journey to find what is lost only begins twelve years later. In the most unlikely of places, and all because of two words.
”Hey kid.”
I Found You by honestchick
Tony had a son; he raised him for two years until someone kidnapped him. Tony was devastated and heartbroken. And who would have thought in Starks Expo, he’d be able to see his son once again?
move back home forever by chasingflower @evahmohns
The results say he’s not actually Peter Parker.
They say he’s Peter Stark. You know, the one who’s been missing for 10 years.
Yeah. He knows.
Soon You'll Get Better by lostinmorewaysthan1
Peter Stark was kidnapped. That was all anyone knew. He vanished into thin air, no traces left behind, when he was eight years old.
Six years later, on one of the final raids on the HYDRA bases, they find an enhanced assassin, with super strength and the ability to climb walls. No one imagined that it would be Peter. Least of all Tony.
With no memory and brainwashed by HYDRA, Peter Stark goes home and tries to recover.
Let This Road Be Mine by CommunicationFlail
Ten years ago, five year old Peter Stark disappeared. When the trail went cold, the case was closed. Now new evidence has been brought to light and Tony will stop at nothing to get his son back. No matter how many fakes he has to meet. His son is out there, and he will find him.
Return to me, the one I love so endlessly by SuperHeroTiger @superherotiger
James Edwin Stark was born on the 10th of August 2001, and for the first time in his life, Tony Stark cried tears of joy.
All the fears, all the dread that had once consumed his soul washed away with a single look at the baby’s gentle features, so familiar and yet so distinctly unique at the same time. Tony made many promises that day. Promises to love his son, to protect him, to always be there for him.
On the 10th of August 2002, James Edwin Stark was stolen in the middle of the night, and his father’s world came crashing down. Shattered and alone, Tony whispered the same promise he’d made to his son the day that he was born.
‘…My love for you is endless…’
Fourteen years later, hidden away from the world in a forest of pine, Peter Beck would dream of a day he might get to see the towering city of New York. And when a wounded stranger stumbles onto their property a week out from his birthday claiming to be a famous billionaire from New York, his dream might just come true.
Once Lost Now Found by FreckledAvenger11
Peter Parker was just trying to get used to life without his uncle. He wasn't expecting to find a familiar face in an article about Tony Stark's missing son. Follow Peter on his journey to discover just who he is. Is he Peter Parker? Is he Spider-Man? Or is he someone else entirely? Just who is he and what secrets died along with his parents in that plane crash?
So He Walks The World Alone by Miola014
This is a story 'bout a broken boy
With his headphones in just to block out the noise
Of everyone around him telling him the way to go
So he walks the world alone
Wondering if it gets better
Or if he's always gonna feel empty forever
So he gets lost tryna find another way back home
As he walks the world alone
Or
The Kidnapped Peter Stark AU that I promised y'all!
423 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sort of continuation of this, but it also does stand on it’s own!
Title: A small problem
Characters: Ravio, Wind, Minish and Legend
Includes threats of violence
“Tags:” First meetings - No-one is sure what they’re doing but that’s ok - Zelda shows up!
Enjoy!
Ravio was speechless, a little scared, but most powerfully: mesmerized. Two kids, clearly younger than him and both with bright blond locks that rivaled the sun, were engaged in combat.
Although fists were flying, neither had landed a single hit. When the older one, who he had dubbed Mr. Sailor, threw a hit, the younger one, Mr. Small, would live up to his nickname and shrink to a very small size.
He’d then unshrink, throw a hit himself, and miss as the other pulled quite the leap to get away.
Ravio was simply waiting for one of them to land a hit, and for the situation to escalate badly, as he was too afraid to intervene.
Another crack followed then, they were starting to give Ravio a headache.
From it appeared a pink haired boy, tallest of the people present. He blinked in surprise, glancing around.
His appearance seemed to distract the coat wearing boy, who ended up getting decked in the face and fell over shouting “SHIT!” very loudly.
“Oh my.” Signed the newest arrival, looking at the situation before him with wide eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”
“I’m glad you are.” Ravio responded, walking over to the seemingly sane one, although staying from stabbing range just in case. “I’ve been trying to get these two to stop fighting for ages!”
“No you haven’t!” Grumbled the kid slowly getting himself back from the ground, while the smaller one stood smugly nearby.
“Do I look like someone who could stop a fist fight with force?” Ravio pointed out. “Neither of you listened to reason, so I simply was waiting for an opening.”
“An opening for what?”
He hadn’t had a proper plan. “Why would I tell that? You might fight again and I don’t want you to know what to expect.” However they did not have to know about that.
“Why were they fighting?” the pink one asked.
“He started it.” Coat boy complained.
“Ah. Uhm.” Ravio scratched the back of his head: “From what I could tell, I was simply talking to Mr. Sailor here, then the small one appeared from the bushes and kicked him in the back of the knee.”
“But why?”
“I’m not quite sure.” Ravio confessed.
The stranger tilted his head, confused, before turning to look at the small smug one. “Could you tell us now?”
The very small one scoffed, but signaled for them to follow.
They were in the yard of a small house, and near the window was a little patch of what looked more like weeds than anything else. The kid pointed at one of the weeds that had been very slightly stood upon.
The pink haired one understood, his fist meeting his palm in understanding. “It’s not nice to trample on other people’s plants, Mr. Sailor.”
Coat boy crossed his arms. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I just appeared right there! I would’ve moved if I knew I was standing on a plant.”
“It’s just a big misunderstanding then.” The pink one nodded, kneeling down to be the smallest one’s height. “Next time try to tell him to move before kicking him, okay?”
Mr. Small looked unimpressed, but nodded.
Ravio was just confused as to why anyone would care about such an useless patch of plants. The only valuable thing lost here was a possible alliance between the two small ones.
Kids, oh so dumb. Ravio smiled to himself.
“When you said you appeared-” the Pink one spoke again, standing up and turning to the sailor. “Was it like how I did?”
Mr. Sailor nodded. “Yeah. One moment I was just hammering some nails and suddenly I’m here. Being kicked in the back of my knee. By the smallest bokoblin I’ve ever seen.”
The small one raised a fist, but the pink one grabbed it mid air, and held it still. The small one seemed shocked that someone could- Or more likely- Would try and stop him.
“Oh sorry, I meant rat.” Said the sailor, sticking his tongue out.
“Please stop antagonizing the small child with a sword.” Ravio said in a hushed voice.
The small one was too entranced by having been stopped to care, simply staring at the pink one with wide eyes.
“Huh. What a strange situation.” The pink one continued, ignoring the general chaos. “Well, I suppose if we’re all in it, we should get to know one another. My name is Link. Spelt L-I-N-K”
The smallest one pointed at himself, all the while Mr. Sailor gasped: “Wait- That’s my name too.”
Ravio felt himself tense up a bit, what he had been suspecting was indeed going on, wasn’t it?
The house that looked eerily like the one Link lived in, then there was the clear fact he was in Hyrule, and that there were people who looked eerily like Link but weren’t him…
Oh great goddess of lorule, take him back home please. This is not ideal.
“Hm…” The pink one pondered. “This seems like it’d mean something significant.”
You think? Ravio raised a brow, before shaking off the questioning look to smile politely like a good salesman. “Link isn’t the most common name, so I have to agree.”
He walked closer to the pink one, mostly certain he wouldn’t stab him. With a hand on his back, he continued. “The only Link I know of is the legendary hero of hyrule! It’d be ridiculous for him to be here, though, wouldn’t it?”
“I am he.” Mr. Sailor said.
The tall one blinked at that. “But.. So am I?”
The smallest one dug through his pockets, and pulled out a small note, handing it to Ravio.
Ravio read it out loud to everyone: “Link is the hero of Hyrule, and is allowed to do what he sees fit in order to keep the country safe. Signed, Princess Zelda.”
“...We can’t all be heroes of Hyrule.” Mr. Sailor complained. “And I know for one that I’m not lying, so.”
“There isn’t just one, though.” Ravio spoke up. “Legends speak of a hero in green who appeared centuries ago, perhaps he too had someone before him, and there was someone after.”
“Centuries, though.” Mr. Sailor pointed out, “Do I look a hundred years old to you?”
The smallest one nodded, but Ravio shook his head.
“I’ve heard of stranger things than time travel, in these lands.” Ravio stated.
“I suppose it is a plausible theory.” The pink one pondered, hand on chin. “I know I’m not lying either.”
“And the small one has a letter from the princess.”
“It could be forged.” The sailor pointed out.
Ravio wanted to point out he could tell a forgery from the real thing pretty easily, and had seen enough of Hilda’s writing to know how the royal family conducts it’s deeds. However, that’d make him seem kind of suspicious. “We could go and find out?” Ravio decided to ask instead.
“How?”
“This is clearly the small one’s home, if these are his plants. So this is his Hyrule.” Ravio explained. “Let’s go to the castle, and if the kid is allowed in, it means it’s not forged.”
“I suppose that’s a fair plan.” The pink replied. “And since neither of us are apparently lying, if the letter is real, then- Er, what’s your name?”
“I’m Ravio.” He responded, “The greatest merchant around.”
“Okay- It’s nice to meet you.” The pink one smiled. “Then if all of us are Link like we claim, Ravio’s theory was right.”
“Or some form of it.” Ravio specified.
The pink one nodded. “Very well, little one, could you take us to the castle?”
The smallest one pouted, but began leading the way.
“Holy fuck!” The sailor gasped, looking at the castle once it appeared in the horizon, standing tall yet- A little smaller than Ravio had expected.
The smallest one grinned smugly, walking at a pace more akin to jogging to stay in front of the taller people.
“It’s quite small.” The pink one commented.
“I do agree.” Ravio nodded. “The one I’ve seen is certainly larger.”
“It looks funny.” The pink one smiled, maybe even a little smug.
Ravio took note of it, but did not comment on it.
“So.” The pink one continued. “Your name is Ravio?”
“Like I said, yes.” He nodded. “Are you interested in my wares? I don’t have much on me due to the sudden departure but-”
“Not Link.” He stopped Ravio. “Yet you look a tad like us.”
Ravio blinked, breathing hitched. He missed his hood, but he had been in lorule- He doesn’t need that in Lorule! In Lorule he’s one of a kind!
“I suppose destiny can have a bit of a slip up here and there?” Ravio suggested. Sorry Link, he’d have to steal your identity for a bit here. “I assure you, however, just because I cannot wield a blade does not make me completely useless.”
The pink one simply kept smiling. “Very well, then.”
He hadn’t bought it, had he? Ravio yelled internally, but tried to keep the relaxed facade up.
The castle town was very cute, the sailor looking around with wide eyes, looking like he was taking many internal notes.
What caught Ravio’s eye however, happened a bit later. The smallest showed the letter to a guard by the castle gates, the guard simply sighed, said: “Follow me,” and started walking further into the castle grounds.
“That’s a lot to process.” The pink one spoke again. Ravio had to agree.
They were led to a room to wait- A waiting room, you could say- For the princess to get ready for guests. It matched all the Hyrule castles Ravio had seen, that being one. Stone brick all about, a polished but a little cold interior, with the triforce ever present in all decor.
There were paintings present as well. They seemed to capture the curiosity of all visitors, much to the delight of the smallest one’s ego.
Ravio focused at first on one depicting the princess, she looked similar to the Zelda of the Hyrule he knew, but clearly another person entirely.
He then chose to take a look at the others in their impromptu party, and found the pink one standing under a portrait of what was likely another hero of courage, this one standing tall with a flowing white cape, and a small red bird on his shoulder.
The sight awakened a memory in Ravio, and he found himself suddenly plunged into a mystery.
There was a mural in his Link’s hyrule castle, one depicting the hero prior to him. Zelda had joked to him and Hilda about how she had read the hero actually had pink hair, but the artists took creative liberties and made it dark blond instead.
This couldn’t be the man who sealed Ganon away, was it? Certainly there had been more than one pink haired Link.
Then again, they seemed to be in a situation which included traveling through space and time. Guess that might as well be a detail.
A guard soon showed up, expressing that the princess was ready.
They headed to the throne room. It was bold, large and voices echoed within it. The large windows made it feel slightly less like a scary space, but it did still make him grow a bit uneasy.
In Front of the aforementioned throne, stood the princess, with a bright but curious smile.
“Link, I didn’t know you had made friends!”
The small one tried to hide in his cape, but was unsuccessful.
“It’s very nice to meet you all.” Zelda smiled brightly, as the boys bowed. Ravio hadn’t been sure if that was to be expected, but the smallest one did have a blade and seemed to be satisfied with them bowing, so perhaps it was a good choice.
The pink one took charge soon after, explaining the predicament they found themselves in. Or at least, theorized they did.
“Oh my.” Zelda gasped. “The hero’s spirit will reincarnate this much?! That’s quite saddening.”
“Has the legend of the hero not existed for long here?” The pink one asked.
“We only know of one before Link here.” Zelda explained. “The hero who arrived from the skies to seal away the great evil, so that humanity could return to the lands below.” She said, clearly quoting something.
“...I guess the seal didn’t last.” Zelda added sadly.
The small one rushed over to her, and offered his hand to her. She took hold of it, and smiled with thankfulness in her eyes at the kid.
“Well, if any of you are like Link here, Hyrule is in good hands.” She smiled again. “I wish I could help more though. I’m not sure at all what could be going on, or what to do about it.”
“Do you have time travel items, or something? Getting home would be nice.” The sailor asked.
“I can ask for research on the topic to be conducted.” Zelda nodded. “Until then, you may stay at the castle, if you’d like.”
“Thank you very much, your highness.” The pink- Okay, he needed a nickname, Ravio decided. Whether he was the legendary hero or not, calling him Mr. Legend should help butter the guy up for possible sales, anyway.
With that, they were led to a guest room. Ravio was both deeply glad they hadn’t been paired up, as every pairing seemed like a bad idea, but was also absolutely terrified of sharing a room with three swordsmen he barely knew. They were also given instructions on how to get to both the castle library and the town’s library. Information which Ravio decided to make use of the next day.
It was fine really, and the beds were very comfortable! It seemed the spirit of the hero made them all sleepy as hell, as well. So getting stabbed seemed unlikely. However one thing still kept Ravio up that night.
“Bunnies, dark hair…” Mr. Legend had signed to him, when it was just the two of them, the sun having started to settle for the night “It reminds me of a place.”
“Oh, heh. A place, huh?” Ravio chuckled nervously. He didn’t like being put on the spot without a plan.
“It was a dreadful place.” Mr. Legend stated. “I hope you’re not related to it in some way.”
“I sure hope so too?” Ravio stumbled to find the words:“It sounds much worse than Hyrule. Love this place, the grass is very green. Smells great.”
“I hope so too.” Mr. Legend smiled, a strange dead look in his eyes. “I don’t want to take another life.”
Then he just started talking about how he liked apples.
So, it would’ve been stranger if Ravio wasn’t having trouble sleeping!
Oh, goddesses above, help him.
721 notes
·
View notes
Text
F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing
Chapter 1:
When you took the job at the Essex Enquirer, you had hoped to work in your speciality, investigative war journalism. Since every taxi you tried refused to take you to Kong Studios, right now, the only war you're dealing with is the fight you're having with your GPS. The winding road, plus the rain, and the fact that your company car was ten years old caused your GPS to think you were driving in circles. Luckily, you could see your destination already. In fact, most of Essex could see Kong Studios, the haunted building on top of a great hill.
As a sort of hazing, all new employees get assigned to local entertainment news. You cringe when you heard about the guy who had to write about the mysterious appearance and subsequent disappearance of the shit statue in the city centre. Thankfully, your assignment was much tamer: you only had to interview a local band. You bought their EP "Tomorrow Comes Today" and have been blasting it on the way over. They sounded amazing, and with each repeat of the record, you became more and more excited to talk to them.
But with each kilometre you drive closer to Kong, you become more and more nervous about the surroundings. The heavy rain that was coming in was not helping anything either. There were thunderstorm warnings for that weekend, but it wasn't supposed to be for another day, so you hope the rain will let up soon for some outdoor shots of the band. You stop your car in front of the gothic gates that spelt "Kong" out in the metal bars. You push on them and they do not budge. You see a little intercom box and press the button, a loud buzz signalling that the thing still worked.
"Huh? Who's there?" A gruff voice answered your call.
"Hi. Mr Niccals? I'm here for the interview."
He grumbled. "Right, yeah. Forgot about that." Another buzz punctuated his sentence and signalled the opening of the doors.
You were soaked to the bones as you finished the drive up to Kong. You couldn't tell if your shivers were because of the fact that you were cold or because of the fact that you were driving through a cemetery.
You park your car and rush under the cover of the doorway with your camera and notepad. You knock on the double doors, and although you let your host know you were there earlier, it was a couple minutes before he even opened the door, shirtless, which you filed away to be included in your article.
His eyes looked you up and down "So you're the reporter, eh? I figured they'd over some crazy bat for local news, but I guess I'm special, right?" He smirked at you, his eyes hungry.
"I suppose so. May I?" You gesture to the doorway that he was blocking.
He stepped out of the way, closing the door after you. "I could give you a tour and find the rest of the band?"
"Was I unexpected? I'm so sorry." You flush. Your first assignment and your boss forgot to tell your subjects. How professional.
"It's alright, pet. We get so many journalists that we are always prepared." He slung his arm around your shoulders, leading you around the ground floor.
"So, Mr Niccals, how did you come to own Kong?"
He frowned. "Call me Murdoc, babes. Mr Niccals is my father."
"Right, sorry, Murdoc?"
He hummed, "Just like that." He cleared his throat. "I found it online about two years ago. It was supposed to be a short-term thing, but the owners, they just threw me the keys and left. So I figured I was the owner then. The bowling alley is right in here, by the way." You hurriedly scribbled what he said down.
Your interview continued like that, you asking questions ( "Have you been in any other bands?") and Murdoc answering them ( "Loads. None quite matched my skill though.") while you walked from room to room ( "Here's the recording studio. Found that pelt myself, I really think it brings the room together.") and took notes (Murdoc does not wear deodorant and should).
"Here's the best room of the house. Our very own carpark."
"An eighteenth-century mansion has a carpark?" you asked in disbelief.
He led you inside the space. "I think the biker gang put it in. Crazy bastards. At least now I have a spot for my Winnebago! Want to see it?"
"I'm fine, Murdoc. I don't need to see your private quarters for the article."
"Who said anything about it being for the article? I have real Egyptian silk, mmmm." He started to lead you to his Winnebago.
You stopped walking with him, causing him to stop as well. "Interview first, yeah?" You didn't know any other way of turning him down without running the risk of him cancelling the interview altogether. You start to head over to a doorway that you thought led back upstairs.
"Those go to dents-for-eyes' room. This way takes us upstairs, pet." You climbed the stairs with him. "Up here's really only the kitchen, lounge, and Noodle and Russel's rooms."
He was right, the stairs led directly into the kitchen. All of the rest of the band was gathered there, huddled around a stack of pizza boxes. "Oi! Where did the pizza come from?"
"We ordered it when you were playing dress-up." One of the band members said, and judging by his accent, he was from America.
Murdoc stomped. "I was not playing dress-up! I was trying on costumes for the show!"
You got out your notebook and wrote that down. You could feel the attention of the band on you now. "Oh sorry, I'm here to interview you!"
"Oh, cool. I'm Russel," The American said, "that's Noodle," he pointed at a child who was claiming an entire pizza pie for herself, "and the blue one's 2D."
"Konichiwa!"
"Nice to meet yew!"
You smiled back and greeted them both. The blue one, 2D, was certainly blue, or at least his spikey hair was. His eyes, on the other hand, were pitch black, none of the whites of his eyes was visible. It gave him a unique look and you wonder if it was done intentionally.
Noodle picked up a slice and was about to eat it when you said "I hate to interrupt dinner, but if you could pose for some pictures before you eat, I would really appreciate it. None of that pizza sauce on your faces."
Noodle grumbled but complied, putting the pizza down.
"Where'd yew want the photos?" 2D asked.
You look at Murdoc. "Would it be alright if we take them in the studio?" He shrugged his shoulders and led the way downstairs.
The band posed like they were in the middle of performing. The only issue was that 2D was so tall, that, from your angle, he covered Russel. You spent a little bit of time repositioning them until it was perfect. Just as you were about to take the photo, the lights in the studio went out. The lights everywhere went out.
"A bleeding outage? Right now?" Murdoc fumed.
"I'm sure it will turn on again soon, in the meantime, I guess you can get back to dinner." From somewhere in the darkness, Noodle cheered. "But someone is going to have to help me out of here, I can't see anything."
"You and 2D" Russel chuckled.
Only Murdoc had a phone on him, so he used it to light the way. It especially came in handy when everyone grabbed their food and sat at the table. Murdoc sat at the head, of course, with Noodle and Russel on one side, and you and 2D on the other. Everyone started to eat and you watched them all, mentally taking notes on their habits. You were not surprised that Murdoc chewed with his mouth open. What did surprise you was that the other men actually used their napkins properly.
"'ave yew 'ad dinner? Would yew like some?" 2D offered some of his pizza to you, but you declined. You were bound to get home soon anyway and it would just be unprofessional to eat your guest's food.
"She doesn't need your pizza, Face Ache, she will be getting plenty of my sausage tonight." Murdoc snickered, but no one else at the table joined him.
You awkwardly cleared your throat. "Would you guys be okay with answering some questions while you eat?" They all hummed in agreement while they ate. "So how did you all meet?"
The table became a little tense and all of the members looked at Murdoc. He set his pizza down. "I met 2D first, hit him with a car. Then he joined my band."
"Tell the 'ole story." 2D grumpily persisted.
"Fine. My buddies and I were looking for some keyboards. We crashed into where 2D worked and I hit his eye, proper breaking the thing and sent him into a coma. I had to oversee the poor little mutt as my punishment. I took him to a Tesco and was pulling some wicked tricks that the girls loved. Apparently one of my doughnuts was too fast because 2D went flying through the windshield and hit his face on the curb, breaking the other eye. When he stood up, he was so powerful, I knew I had to have him in my band."
"I 'ad no choice in the matter."
"As if you would say no."
As they start arguing over 2D's involvement, you were still processing the story you heard. Murdoc doesn't seem to be the best person. Murdoc doesn't seem to even be a good person. He seems actively dangerous, and you don't want to be around him longer than you need to. You make note of the whole story and add in a personal note to look up his criminal record.
"So, Russel, how did you join Gorillaz?"
"Murdoc kidnapped me."
That's really not helping his case. "Please tell me that Murdoc had nothing to do with Noodle's joining?"
"Nah, she just randomly showed up one day in a FedEx crate. Played the best guitar I've ever heard and only said her name. Everything else is just Japanese." Russel looked over to Noodle, who nodded, understanding exactly what you guys were talking about.
This was certainly some band. You ask a couple more questions, as required by your boss. "Which song on the EP is your favourite?" "Tomorrow Comes Today." "When can we expect a full album?" "Soon." "Are you surprised by the attention you're receiving?" Murdoc, of course, thought he deserved more, but the other members were much more humble.
After you finish that up, you tell them to pretend like you're not there to get a grasp of their dynamics. They eventually went back into their normal rhythm of banter, but that doesn't stop 2D from trying to include you in their conversation.
They finish their food and 2D gets his portable DVD player and puts on some zombie movie. You're surprised that they let Noodle watch it considering how young she is, but she seems the most enthusiastic. You don't join them on the couch, opting for the floor where the light from the player illuminated their faces. Since you didn't get a picture, you may need to have a drawing instead. You're nearly done when Murdoc announces a piss break and gets up, Noodle and Russel, grabbing snacks.
2D stayed behind on the couch. "Yew know, yew make funny faces when yew draw."
"You were watching me? Oh god, that's embarrassing."
"Seen dis movie loads before, so I got bored and 'ave been watchin you the 'ole time. Sorry, I forget about the 'ole no pupils fing. Freaks people out. Nofing up 'ere to remember that wif though." He gestures to his head.
"No, no, no you're good! I was just too busy drawing to pay attention." you laugh and try to play it off. In reality, it did startle you a bit initially to learn he was staring at you, but honestly, you don't mind and just got to get better at guessing where his focus is.
He smiles wide, showing off his missing teeth, and it lits up the room as if the generators were back on. "Soda?" You nod.
2D and the rest of the band return to the couch, having to wait for Murdoc who apparently has a bladder the size of a horse. He hands you your soda, peeps a glance at your drawing, and gives you a thumbs-up of approval.
You drink the soda and start penning what you think your article may look like. However, the sugar high fades quickly and you're exhausted.
Sharp pain in your side wakes you up and you yelp. You hear the band laugh at what's happened, everyone, except for Murdoc who is groaning on the floor beside you. "Bloody 'ell! What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"
You gulp. "Sleeping?"
"You can do that in my Winnebago with me instead of on the ground, love," Murdoc suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.
"I'll settle for the couch over the ground, if you don't mind me staying over that is. So, where are your duvets?" The band members look around and collectively shrug. "No blankets... I'll just suffer the cold."
"My offer still stands." It did sound slightly better now, but the prospect of him also being there upset you.
"I can survive the cold for one night." Famous last words.
It was freezing in Kong Studios. Your teeth were chattering and you couldn't feel your toes. It's been like this since you woke up after only sleeping an hour.
How are you supposed to warm up? You tried exercising, which was good until you sweated a little and that cooled to ice. Now you're even colder than before. Perfect.
You start to walk around, trying to warm up and think. You couldn't start a fire, not only do you not know how to start a fire, but you also do not want to burn the studio down. And they didn't have blankets... but maybe they have big coats?
You retrace your steps from the tour of the place, heading to where you hope was their rooms. You really only remember trying to get Murdoc to stop leading you back to his Winnebago. You inadvertently walked to the carpark since it was really the only place you could remember to navigate in the dark. Kong Studios certainly didn't feel homey before the lights went out and now the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on edge.
It was pitch black in the hallway, so you ran your hand along one of the walls, yelping every time it touched the edge of a picture frame. You feel the wall take a right and you follow it down, seeing a sliver of light emitting from under a door. Light? Such an unfamiliar sight now. You pray that it was not the bathroom with Murdoc and scented candles inside as you gently knock on the door. You would even prefer Noodle, who would be the worst suited to help you, than Murdoc. The light is certainly coming from a scented candle. A heady scent of vanilla has slipped under the door and is extending into the hallway. Your knock received no answer so you tried again, this time louder.
Louder.
Louder.
At this point, any louder and you would have woken up the other members. So, you open the door a creak to peek inside.
What a sight to behold. The light from the candle made 2D's hair shine a bright azure and cast huge shadows on his far wall as he danced to his cassette tape. His dancing was awful but endearing; he looked like a baby dear that was still getting used to using its limbs. Abruptly, he stopped and you thought he finally noticed you, but then he rushed over to the papers by the candle and wrote something down, which you could only assume was a lyric.
Without any warning, he looked up and made eye contact with you. You stared at his black eyes, waiting for him to say something. He hummed and crossed out a part of the writing.
You had watched him for long enough, so you knocked again, which gained his attention. "Noodle? Is that yew?"
You opened the door further, "No, uh sorry to bother you so late..."
He began to tidy up the papers he was working on, tucking them behind him. "Hiya! What can I do for yew? Got more questions?"
You're so glad that he didn't mind your intrusion. His light smile put you at ease. "Yeah, I suppose I have one. You don't have anything to keep warm with? Like a jacket maybe?" You were surprised that he wasn't bothered by the cold, only wearing a T-shirt over a thin long-sleeved shirt.
"Oh. Yew cold? I might 'ave somefin! May swallow you 'ole though." His voice cracked as he spoke as he started digging through the piles of clothes on the floor, looking for something. He pulled out a blue jacket, not unlike the colour of his hair, and held it out. "This is one of me favourites! I fink it looks punk, don't yew?" You nod. It did indeed look wicked. "Go on, put it on! I would like it back when yew're done, if that's alright." He looked so nervous asking for his own property to be returned.
You smiled warmly at him. "Of course 2D, you have my word." You slip it on, and he was right, it was way too big on you! Most noticeably in the arm length, where the edges of the sleeves hung off your arms. It was heavy and warm and smelled like cigarettes and something else, something you could only imagine as 2D. It felt like a safe hug. Maybe 2D should be nervous about you keeping it. "I see why it's your favourite."
He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I 'ope to wear it in a music video! If Murdoc lets me, that is." At this point, he sits back down again. "Wanna stay? I've gots more zombie mofies! Like Dawn of the Dead... or Evil Dead... or Zombie Flesh Ea'ers!"
"Sure, but I'm winded." You yawn and snuggle deeper into the jacket.
"Don worry! I'll pause it if yew fall asleep." He grins and pats the ground next to him, where you join him. "Which ones 'ave you seen before?"
"None of them. Which is your favourite?"
"NONE OF 'EM? Well then, we gotta watch Dawn of the Dead, it's the first Zombi mofie!" He loads the film and puts the tiny player in front of both of you, turning off the candle to make the lighting better. "I'm so excited for yew to watch dis! It's been a couple monfs since I saw it meself."
He lets the movie play, occasionally pausing to explain why a certain scene was so impressive in horror movie history. You barely watch the film, rather you pay attention to 2D, mentally tracing the look of excitement on his face and committing his hand gestures to memory. You never know what may be important for your article.
#2d gorillaz#2d stuart pot#2d x reader#stuart pot x reader#2d fanfiction#gorillaz fanfiction#gorillaz fandom#phase 1#stuart pot
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter Three)
Three
Everyone has a bit of a talk...
The Connecticut Witch Trials were the first large scale witch hunts to occur in the American Colonies. Eat your heart out, Salem.
Now it’s worth pointing out that they were much less intense than the Salem Witch Trials; more people were executed in Salem in fifteen months then were killed in Connecticut in fifteen years. Nevertheless, they certainly had an effect on the people of the young colony; and indeed, on the town of Gravesfield.
The panic started with the trial and execution of Alse Young in Hartford, in May 1647. The following year, also in Hartford, Mary Johnson confessed to ‘familiarity with the devil’ - because of a pregnancy while imprisoned, she wouldn’t be executed until 1650. The tendrils of suspicion seeped out across the land, and before long, an accusation was made in Gravesfield.
The year was 1651. Philip Wittlesbane was already a source of some contention in Gravesfield; he had written a pamphlet denouncing the execution of King Charles I, claiming it to be a ‘miscarriage of justice by a vengeful, prideful victor.’ He’d actually spent a day in the pillory for it, and probably would have suffered worse if he had not clarified that he certainly wasn’t a Royalist.
The Wittelsbanes had started off, like most people in Connecticut, as fairly staunch, if not particularly active, supporters of Parliament. John remained so throughout the Civil War period, but it seems Philip grew more and more concerned about the Roundheads as time went on. It was not the execution of Charles that really seems to have soured Philip, but the establishment of the ‘Rump Parliament’, which was basically a seizure of power by the supporters of Cromwell’s New Model Army.
That’s a gross oversimplification, but we’re not talking about Cromwell today.
By 1650, Philip had become a big supporter of the rights of men - not women, just men, this was the seventeenth century - and by men, we mean Englishmen. All Englishmen, regardless of wealth, status or faith. Well, as long as that faith was Christian, anyway.
This troubled John and the other city fathers, who had something of a stake in keeping power centered on a wealthy, Puritan elite. And as Philip started to get more and more in trouble with the authorities, John started to worry about his writings about witches coming out; because then, of course, the authorities would find out what John had been writing about them too.
On one hand, Philip was his brother. On the other hand, he might doom them both.
On a summers’ day in 1651, John and Philip went for a ‘private discussion’ out in the woods near Gravesfield. John’s friend, Thomas Goodfaith Masterson - fantastic name - waited at John’s house for them to return; ‘John hath told me most firmly that by sundown, the matter of Philip would be solved.’
John returned alone that afternoon. Philip never returned again.
--------
The tension in the air was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.
Luz, Amity and Vee sat on the couch; Luz’ eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as Camila paced in front of them. No-one knew quite how to start this conversation; there was that strange feeling in the air, the feeling when nobody is in trouble, but at the same time everybody is in trouble.
Perhaps it would be more correct to say that nobody was in trouble from Camila, but they were all in a lot of trouble from reality.
Camila inhaled through her nose.
“Okay,” she said. “I want you to start at the beginning. What happened before you got here?”
“Well,” Luz rubbed the back of her head. “It involves Emperor Belos. And, well, I don’t wanna upset Vee…”
Camila turned to Vee.
“Vee, if you need to leave the room at any time…”
“No.” Vee shook her head. “I’ll be okay, I think.”
Luz nodded.
“Okay,” she said, “It all started this morning, at the Owl House…”
-------
“Luz… hey, Luz… Luz. Luz. Hey, Luz.”
Slowly, Luz opened her eyes.
She had been lying face-first on the floor, scribbled notes surrounding her; the Echo Mouse snoozing quietly next to her. King was prodding her gently with a stick, and the rays of the sun were spilling through the window into the lounge room. When she had fallen asleep, she couldn't tell.
“Ugh.” She pushed herself up, turning onto her back. She could see Eda leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, a little smirk on her face.
“Fall asleep on the floor again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey!” replied Luz. “It’s only been… one, two… wow, three nights in a row.”
“Yeah, and I can’t nap on the couch while you’re down there talking in your sleep!” exclaimed King. “What the heck’s a Vee, anyway?”
“It’s, uh, my favourite letter!” replied Luz, sitting up quickly. “Yeah, gotta love that letter V, am I right?!”
Eda and King stared.
“You don’t really think I’m that dumb, do you?” asked King.
“Something’s bugging me about you, Luz,” said Eda, walking over to her. “Is something on your mind?”
“You mean, apart from building the portal home?”
“You’ve been obsessed!” exclaimed Eda. “Normally you’d have been up two hours ago to go to school. I mean, if you wanna play hooky, go right ahead, but…”
“I’m missing school!” exclaimed Luz. “I can’t- I gotta-”
She ran a hand through her hair.
“I… no, I can’t go to Hexside, I’ve gotta focus on this!” she said, turning back to her notes. “I’m almost there, I’m sure of it…”
Eda and King exchanged glances.
“You, uh, you sure everything went okay with that portal?” asked King.
“If there’s a problem, you know you can tell us,” said Eda. “I mean, if you can’t trust family, who can you trust?”
Luz glanced from her notes to Eda and back again, exhaling through her nose.
“I… okay,” she replied. “It… it didn’t go that great.”
Eda sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Luz gave her a small, grateful smile and took her seat.
“Mom… she really kinda freaked out,” she said, her fingers tightening on the edge of the couch. “And she was really upset, and I… I kinda promised when I got home…”
“...you’d stay with her,” said Eda.
Luz looked away, nodding.
“But you don’t want to?” asked King.
“I… I’d give the world to see Mom again!” replied Luz. “But I don’t want to give up you guys, or Amity, or Willow or Gus; heck, I don’t even wanna give up Hooty! I just… I’ve got so much more here in the Boiling Isles than I did in Connecticut.”
“Yeah, Connecticut stinks!” said King.
“You’ve never been,” said Eda.
“Yeah, but you can tell by the name,” replied King, crossing his arms. “It’s spelt Connect-I-Cut, but they drop the T! That doesn’t even make sense!”
Luz chuckled despite herself.
“It’s just… I don’t wanna go back to having no friends,” she said. “And I love mom, but it’s always just been me and her, and…”
“You don’t wanna be lonely.” Eda put a hand on Luz’ shoulder.
“Yeah,” replied Luz. “I don’t.”
“Hey,” Eda smiled. “We’ll sort something out, okay? If you want, I can come with you when you finish the portal, and we’ll talk to her about everything, okay? Maybe when she sees how good the Boiling Isles has been for you, she’ll let us… I dunno, timeshare or something? Is that the word?”
Luz looked up, into Eda’s eyes, and smiled.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Maybe that’ll-”
“SWEET TITAN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO LULU!”
Hooty’s voice echoed through the house, and Eda shot to her feet.
“Lilith?” she exclaimed.
The three ran to the door, throwing it open.
Lilith was on her knees, about twenty five yards from the Owl House, bound by her arms and legs. Two guards stood on each side of her, pointing spears at her abdomen. Behind them were about a dozen more guards, and three hulking Abomatons - atop the middle of which stood a familiar, short figure.
“Kikimora!” exclaimed Luz.
Luz could just about see her cheeks raise - a sign that the little demon might have been smiling, or perhaps smirking was a better word.
“Sorry to barge in like this,” she said, in a tone that indicated she was not sorry at all, “But I’m afraid the Emperor has an outstanding warrant for Edalyn Clawthorne for disturbing his operations.”
“What?” demanded Eda. “You can’t prove I’ve done anything! ...recently.”
“Oh, really? I think you’ll find we can.”
Kikimora clapped her hands together. A limp sack, like a figure secured in a black spider’s web, hovered out from behind the Abomaton. Suddenly it dropped, as if an invisible string had been cut, and the black tendrils fell away. A limp, bespectacled figure crashed down into the dust, coughing and wheezing.
Eda’s eyes widened, her fists clenched and shaking.
“Raine!”
-------
“Raine?”
Luz shrugged as her mother asked about the name.
“I don’t really know them,” she said. “Eda mentioned them a couple of times, but…”
“Raine Whispers,” interrupted Amity. “Head of the Bard Coven. They disappeared a few weeks ago.”
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the couch.
“If Belos could turn on one of his own coven leaders…”
“I’m sorry, what exactly is a coven?” asked Camila.
“They’re like… I dunno, magic classes,” replied Luz. “Once you pick a coven, you’re stuck in it for life, and you can’t do any other magic. There are nine main covens, and then there’s a bunch of smaller covens under them, and… oh, yeah, and there’s the Emperor’s Coven, who can do any magic they want.”
Camila frowned.
“Pretty convenient that the Emperor’s Coven gets to do everything.”
“I don’t get it,” said Vee. “If Luz was with the Owl Lady, how did Amity get mixed up in all this?”
“I can explain that,” replied Amity. “You see…”
-------
Hexside before classes started was always a den of activity. Students bustled too and fro, rushing to get to their first period (or not rushing, in the case of more than a few students), and the corridors were jam-packed with people.
Unfortunately, not the person Amity was waiting for this morning.
“Hey, Amity!”
Amity finished grabbing her books from her locker and turned - Willow and Gus were approaching, both looking more than a little worried.
“Oh, hey Gus,” said Amity. “Hey Willow. Have you seen Luz?”
“We were kinda hoping you had,” replied Gus. “We haven’t heard anything all weekend.”
“We’re hoping she hasn’t spent the whole weekend studying Philip’s diary and forgotten to sleep again,” said Willow, “But…”
“That’s probably what happened,” said Gus bluntly.
“Well, she did keep sending me pictures of echo mouse projections, so…” said Amity.
“Okay,” said Gus, punching his palm. “We’re gonna need to stage an intervention.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s gonna involve cinnamon and formaldehyde again,” sighed Willow.
“It was one time, Willow! One time!”
Amity rubbed her arm.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Luz has been really… distracted since she went through that proto-portal. I think something happened there…”
“Something bad?” replied Willow.
“I don’t know.” Amity looked down at her feet. “I feel like something bad happened with her and her mom, but…”
“Ahem! Hello there, students!”
Amity turned. Principal Bump was leaning against the next locker, one hand on his hip.
“Uh… hello, Principal Bump,” replied Amity.
“So, how’s that, uh, Grudgby scene going?” asked Bump, trying and failing to act casual, “Down with Glandus, am I right? Huh, am I right?”
There was a long, awkward silence.
“Principal Bump,” said Gus, “you’re making me very uncomfortable.”
Bump cleared his throat.
“Yes, quite,” he said. “Anyway, I just wanted to randomly tell you that, say, if I was privy to any information that the Emperor’s Coven was going to act against the Owl House, I wouldn’t be at liberty to tell you.”
“What?” quizzed Willow.
“I’m saying that, if I had somehow been informed that the Emperor’s Coven may or may not be attacking the Owl House, I couldn’t tell you.”
“The Emperor’s Coven is attack-”
Willow covered Gus’ mouth.
Amity narrowed her eyes.
“And who… wouldn’t you be able to tell us gave you this information?” she asked.
“I absolutely couldn’t tell you if it was the Golden Guard,” replied Bump.
“So it must’ve been someone else!” exclaimed Gus.
Willow and Amity shot him meaningful looks.
“Okay,” nodded Willow, “thank you for… not telling us, Principal Bump.”
“You did hear it from me,” nodded Bump.
He blinked.
“Wait, that should have been you didn’t hear it from… well, anyway, I’ll be in my office.”
He walked very briskly away.
“We’ve gotta warn Luz!” exclaimed Gus.
“Come on!” shouted Willow, “We might be able to get there before them if…”
“Wait, they might already be there!” said Amity. “We have to come up with a…”
She trailed off as Willow and Gus darted off down the hall, headed for the exit.
“Okay, forget the plan,” she shrugged. “Wait up!”
-------
“And then what happened?” asked Vee.
Amity shrugged.
“Willow and Gus got there just a little before I did,” she replied. “But we were too late. The Emperor had gotten there first.”
Luz glanced at Amity, a slight frown on her face, but said nothing.
“And the Emperor hurt you?” she demanded, a dangerous ice underlining her voice.
“I… don’t actually remember.”
Luz rubbed her head.
“I remember Kikimora bringing Lilith and Raine to us,” she said. “Then it gets… blurry? I know the Emperor hurt me, but… not how?”
“Dissociative amnesia, maybe?” suggested Camila.
“Hmm?” Luz tilted her head.
“It’s when we block out memories associated with a traumatic event,” replied Camila. “But it could also be a result of head trauma.”
“What did you see, Amity?” asked Vee.
“I…” Amity gripped the couch harder. “I saw… I mean, I think… I remember…”
Her breathing became heavier and uneven, and she seemed to be sweating just a little bit. Gently, Luz put a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”
Amity swallowed.
“I have to…”
“You don’t have to be anything, Amity.”
Camila sighed.
“I think we all need to get some rest,” she said.
“Yeah,” Luz nodded, “Sounds like a plan, Mami.”
“Vee, are you okay to help me set up the airbeds?” asked Camila.
“Oh, I can do it if…” said Luz.
“Not until I know for certain you’re okay, mija,” replied Camila. “You were unconscious a few hours ago! I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“I can handle it, Luz,” said Vee, smiling.
Before Luz could say anything else, Camila and Vee had headed up the stairs, leaving Luz and Amity alone.
“So, how’s about tommorrow we start working on getting you home, huh?” said Luz, grinning weakly at her girlfriend.
Amity mumbled something in reply.
“Amity?” Luz tilted her head, concerned.
Amity looked up - her eyes were somewhat watery.
“I don’t know if I want to go back.”
#the owl house#luz noceda#amity blight#camila noceda#vee#a blight on gravesfield#writing#king owl house#eda clawthorne#willow park#gus porter#principal bump
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
what if I was made for you (and you were made for me)
Luke finally shows Julie his baby photos (and a little truth about himself)
aka Mara's trans!Luke hc
Read it on AO3 here!
Luke and his mom had an unspoken agreement. The baby photos album never left the shelf when other people were around. It had been that way since Luke was about fifteen. Girlfriends, boyfriends and best friends came and went over the next couple of years, but the baby photos stayed up on the shelf and collected dust. Only three people outside Luke’s house had ever seen the album -- but they’d all seen it well before Luke decided it needed to stay hidden.
So when Luke brought Julie home one afternoon, Emily was baffled by the strange looks her son was giving her. While Mitch asked Julie all the questions he wanted, Emily and Luke had a quiet conversation of their own.
Eventually, fed up, Luke pointed to the shelf and mouthed, ‘Photos’.
Emily’s eyebrows shot right up. “Oh!” Julie and Mitch turned to her. She smiled. “Julie, I hear Luke hasn’t shown you any baby photos.”
Julie gasped. “It’s true! My dad keeps mine out around the house and Luke here has laughed at nearly all of them. I’ve been wondering when it would come back to bite him in the ass.”
Emily stood up and walked over to the shelf, preparing herself for all the dust. With Julie distracted by her anticipation, Mitch glanced over at Luke and raised his eyebrows. Luke shrugged. Though he did his best to appear nonchalant, anyone watching him would notice the way his shoulders tensed up as Julie took the album from Emily.
He leaned further back into the two-seater he shared with Julie as she smiled with Emily, the album falling open to a random page. His arm lay limp on the couch behind Julie, afraid that if he moved it to hold her, it would put all her attention on him.
"Watch me laugh at all your weird themed birthdays," Julie said, half-glancing at Luke.
The Pattersons shared several glances over Julie's head as she finally focused on the album.
"Oh."
Luke leaned forward slightly to see what exactly she was looking at.
A nauseating volume of bright pink filled the page, from the tablecloth to the streamers and balloons, to the toddler's grass-stained dress, to the fondant letters that spelt 'Lucy 5'.
The house was silent, save the general hum of electricity, as Julie turned the page. She smiled first at plump little five-year-old Lucy, holding up a monster truck toy with a gleeful expression before turning to her boyfriend, older by twenty years, and smiling at him. She ruffled his hair in the way she knew he loved. "Someone grew out of his chubby cheeks nicely, hm?"
Luke smiled, a laugh escaping on the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Luke's parents shared a smile as Julie turned a page and let out a gleeful cackle.
She glanced at Luke before pointing to the toddler. "You don't get to make fun of my six-year-old self dressing up as Twilight Sparkle when you dressed up as Rainbow Dash for Halloween."
"Rainbow Dash is so much cooler. Change my mind, I dare you."
"Ha! You wish!"
Julie spent the next few minutes paging through the album, cooing at the toddler that slowly transitioned from Lucy to Luke as time went by.
"You were nerdy in high school, huh?"
"I was not. I was in a band. I was cool."
"Yeah, right. You wore a snapback."
"Snapbacks were cool then!"
Emily and Mitch shared another smile as Julie and Luke laughed together over the album. Dinner went as smoothly as Luke had hoped and as he walked down to his car, hand in hand with Julie, he couldn't help his broad grin.
"What's that look for, my love?"
"Nothing. I just . . . Only the guys ever knew that I'm trans. I never told anyone because I don't know how they're gonna react and losing people is scary."
Julie clicked her tongue and stopped walking. She patted Luke's cheek lightly. "The only way you're gonna lose me, mi amor, is if you name our next dog after another eighties rockstar."
"Oh, come on. You know you love Sebastian Bark."
"Maybe."
Julie turned to continue to the car. Luke tugged on her wrist before pulling her into a hug.
"I'm not going anywhere, Luke," Julie murmured, taking her fingers through his hair. "Not in a million years."
"Even if I have more big things to share?"
Julie smiled. "Not a chance."
"Okay good, because Bark Jovi is waiting for us at Alex and Willie's."
Julie stilled for a second before she laughed. "You're lucky I love you," she said, kissing Luke's cheek before turning and heading to the car, pulling Luke behind her.
"What if we get a third dog and we name it--"
"No more dogs! And no kids either if you're gonna behave like this."
Luke's eyes lit up and Julie couldn't help her fond chuckle at the dopey smile Luke wore.
“Get in the car, Luke.”
“You said kids!”
“Maybe. Now get in. We have a dog to pick up, don’t we?”
“Kids!”
“Don’t make me leave you here. If I pick that dog up alone, I’m renaming him.”
Luke got into the car, still looking his happiest yet. Julie shook her head and smiled before getting in herself. Whatever the future held for them, Luke was about to be banned from naming animals and people -- just in case.
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the fat ones#julie and the himbos#jatp#julie molina#luke patterson#juke#jukebox#julie x luke#trans luke patterson#trans luke my beloved#mara writes stuff
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT CUBE SMP AND HOW I CAN WATCH IT! I really want to explore old MCYT more since ive been enjoying the new stuff a lot and i want to see some good old ones! if you also can, can you please point me to some good old channels/series that i can watch aside from cubesmp? if not, thats ok :)
!!! I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!
For Cube SMP, there’s a good few channels still up with their videos. I’d recommend:
Graser. Founder of it, therefore he has. a LOT of videos. I believe his season 1 alone reached 200. I’m currently rewatching him, very slowly.
Stacyplays!!! She only had fifty episodes, and left The Cube. she had no reason, other than feeling she did everything she wanted to. she joined in the middle, left in the middle, but she was VERY FUN despite being in only one season.
Hbomb. founding member!! this man has been in more SMPs than any person can count. seriously. i adore him. He was a founding member of The Cube, in every season, and he was very active. one of the best.
Parkergames. PARKER IS A SWEETHEART AND I LOVE HIM he is very good. in a lot of the plotlines, hosted a lot of fun games. He, H, and Graser- then later Will- all were kinda a group, they were the tightest friends in The Cube. I have so many good memories of them.
Kiingtong. WILL!! Will was the first British youtuber I ever simped. He was an amazing builder, he was in most major plotlines, and was involved since season 2.
Strauberryjam. Straub was GREAT, he’s still doing amazing for himself on Twitch, under a new name, but this man. this man meant a LOT to me back in the day. Admin of the server, involved in.. probably all major plotlines, first shop runner on the server. the man was great.
Tofuu. He’s a roblox channel now, but, he’s doing better than he ever was in Minecraft so props to him. He used to be my FAVORITE Cube SMP member for a period of time. He was involved in some fun plots, in some cool server groups, and at one of the most interesting perspectives in season 3..man was carrying my favorite plot on his back.
I wish I could put two of my favorites on here, but they sadly wiped their channels :(
HeyImBee will always be SUPER special to me, she, alongside Stacyplays, were two of the first female youtubers I looked up to. she meant the world to me. I’m glad she’s finding content she enjoys doing now, but her old videos will always mean...so much to me.
For old MCYTers you wanna get into, Stacyplays is the top one.
She has coutnless iconic old series. Mineclash comes to mind. Dogcraft is a MUST, even if you don’t mak it all the way through. I think i got around the 200 episode mark, i adored that series. it just felt like a modded Stampy’s Lovely World!! it had little plotlines, it had characters and personality, it was so good.
Stampy himself, too, if you haven’t watched him. Seriously, he may be mostly a kids channel, but no. his content is timeless. He’s humble, he doesn’t baby or look down upon his audience, and it’s impossible to not smile at him.
iBalisticSquid. same case as Stampy! I’d recommend his Race To The Moon series, more than anything. it is SO SO SO GOOD. he’s team blue, with Stampy and their friend.. Cache? i never know how his name was spelt. The perspective in each video switched around periodically between the three, and it was SO SO FUN
SkyDoesMinecraft. just, any video from around 2013-2016. Especially his Prison videos. Do Not Laugh is actually SO MUCH FUNNIER than it had any right to be, too.
#is there a tag for old mcyt yet?#oh well#mcyt#old mcyt#mika-posts#cube smp#the cube smp#graser10#hbomb94#kiingtong#stacyplays#Parkergames#heyimbee
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Edvard's Supernatural Rewatch & Review: 1x04 Phantom Traveler
In this week’s analysis, I’ll be discussing the unfortunate introduction of Abrahamic mythology, the lamentable gender politics of Dean in his nightwear, and magic languages.
Supernatural’s fourth offering, 1x04 Phantom Traveler, (not a misspelling, 'traveller' is spelt like that in America) is a solid episode. It’s not fantastic, and Supernatural certainly has better to offer, but it’s still an entertaining watch which introduces demons into the Supernatural universe and continues developing Dean and Sam’s characters, making them more distinct.
It is also the first episode Robert Singer directed for Supernatural. I didn’t see much to particularly comment on in the direction for this episode (my two years of Media Studies were not wasted on me at all), but one interesting choice, however, is the tracking shot of Dean’s sleeping form straight after the title card. EscapingPurgatory podcast had a shrewd postulation: the intended audience was heterosexual educated men between the ages of roughly 15 and 39, but a lot of them would be watching with their girlfriends and wives etc, and Dean is the brother who’s available at the moment.
Returning to the plot of the show, the script does itself a major disservice as early as the cold open. This episode was broadcast in America four years after 9/11 (almost four and a half in Britain) and was right in the middle of the decades-long and still ongoing war on drugs. The atmosphere surrounding airfare has changed fundamentally. The air hostess clearly saw the man’s black eyes and was affected by it, and should have alerted somebody on the plane to her worries, because she would have thought he was on drugs of some variety at the very least, and possibly smuggling drugs on the plane. However, for the purposes of the plot she does not act on her misgivings, but simply gasps and goes about her day.
This raises the question of why the demon revealed its presence like that. Demons are usually incredibly stupid on Supernatural, but this level of dumb is difficult for me to believe. The air hostess could have very easily had the man thrown off the aeroplane, and then its plan would be scuppered. The most likely reason was to show the audience that the man was possessed, but the audience was going to find that out in about a minute’s time anyway, so why reveal it there? It breaks the fourth wall in a bad way.
Whilst on the aeroplane and the demon’s plan, the episode never makes the demon’s motivations explicit. Sure, Sam claims that demons like death and destruction for their own sake, but this doesn’t fit well with how demons behave later in the show. They are, forsooth, as thick as poo, but they usually have higher ups telling them what to do. Was the demon’s repeated downing of aeroplanes part of a higher up’s plan?
Before I go on, it’s worthwhile mentioning that this episode is the first one to introduce the idea of an actual Abrahamic Hell in the Supernatural universe. It’s not the only genre show of its kind to have included something like this, with Charmed having the Underworld where the Source of All Evil resided, and Buffy having various Hell dimensions, but those two examples weren’t Hell as depicted in the Bible.
Joss Whedon specifically avoided the idea of a Hell and employed dimensions ruled by demons and demon gods rather than Archangel Lucifer. Charmed used the Underworld as an equivalent of Hell, but it was not a place of punishment for human souls. While Charmed is definitely my least favourite fantasy/horror/sci-fi genre show (Prue notwithstanding), I appreciated that it took a step away from Abrahamic mythology. Buffy/Angel were even better, having their own mythology that had precious little to do with Middle Eastern religions and more to do with Dunsany, Lovecraft or sometimes even Tolkien.
Kripke, however, took the lazy route with Abrahamic, specifically Christian, mythology, a choice which I believe was to the show’s detriment. It’s supposed to be a show about American folklore and urban legends, but that stuff eventually gets thrown under the bus. Forget Native Americans, screw the Americanised versions of Scandiwegian lore, screw the Old West and the Gold Rush and all the tales revolving around America’s history. And Canada? Pfft. What even is Canada? And don’t even think about Mexico. Let’s just have yet more desert myths from 2-3000 years ago.
My distaste aside, this universe has a Hell (and a Heaven), and demons are made by torturing humans until all humanity is gone from them, or by letting the humans off the torture rack if they agree to become the torturers.
Knowing this, two possibilities come to mind. One is that this demon is repeating its own human death for some reason, and another is that it kills people and drags their souls to Hell to make more demons.
Repeating its own death is entirely speculative, but this episode mixes up demons with traits later associated with ghosts and death echoes. Never again is an EMF reader used to detect demonic activity, and unless I’ve forgotten a certain example, demons aren’t shown to act as specifically as this again.
The second option, that of dragging souls to Hell, doesn’t seem likely as it’s made clear that demon deals or trades are required in order for Hell to get its claws on human souls, at least in usual circumstances. There’s nothing saying that demons can’t just decide to drag certain souls to Hell, and there is an implication at the end of this episode that this might actually be the case, but it’s a stretch. If this were the case, however, it would give the demon a real motive and make the episode less of a stand-alone bit of fun with overt X-Files vibes.
Sticking with Hell events on the aeroplane for now, let’s skip to the end and the exorcism. Whilst trying to exorcise the demon, it tells Sam that Jessica is burning in Hell. Dean tries to reassure Sam by saying that demons read minds and that it was trying to get to him, but demons can only know the minds of people they possess. This then leaves three options: the demon was lying and Jess is in Heaven, it was telling the truth and Jess is in Hell, or the demon was just trying to get to Sam, but unbeknownst to him Jess actually was in Hell.
Technically speaking, Jess shouldn’t be in Hell. She didn’t make a deal (that we know of) and it’s established later in the show that most people go to Heaven anyway. But Kevin didn’t, neither did Eileen or Bobby. Mary did, even though she made a deal with Azazel, and she died under the same circumstances as Jess. As Jess is never mentioned as being in Hell by another demon in the show, and as Dean, Sam and Cas eventually visit Hell and find nothing of her there, we can assume Jessica went to Heaven.
The exorcism in this episode is strange compared to exorcisms in the rest of the show. The Doyle (external to the text) explanation is clearly that the writers didn’t know exactly how they wanted things to work yet, but the Watson (within the text) explanation could be that they used a different exorcism ritual. Later in the show, there is no intermediate stage between being expelled from the host body and being banished to Hell: they just go directly down. This version, though, forces the demon to manifest and thereby makes it much stronger and more dangerous. I personally think the version in this episode makes the demons more of a threat because it’s harder to exorcise them, but I can see why it became streamlined later in the show.
The fact the demon possessed the aeroplane, however, raises the question of why it didn’t do so in the first place. Maybe it’s more fun to possess a human first.
Speaking of the ritual, Jared tells us on the commentary that he had to have a Latin teacher from a local university instruct him in Ecclesiastical Latin because he learnt Classical Latin at school. As a language person, I’m left wondering why. It’s the same language, just pronounced differently. Does the spell need to be pronounced in a certain way in order to work? If so, would the Ancient Romans have been completely incapable of expelling demons with their own language? Would they have had to rely on Greek, Etruscan, Gaulish or Sumerian for the rituals? It’s just completely unnecessary, especially as we later see Rowena casting spells in Scottish Gaelic, Irish witches casting spells in Irish, Celtic ‛demons’ performing rituals in Gaulish…
At least the university teacher got a little bit of extra money, I suppose.
Sticking with the aeroplane a little bit longer, Dean’s fear of flying is a welcome expansion to his character, though it was clearly included with the intent of making fun of him. It could easily have been played as such, but Jensen’s comments on the commentary indicate he saw it as an opportunity to provide more depth to Dean, as his connection with Lucas through their shared childhood trauma did in 1x03 Dead in the Water. In these two episodes, Jensen begins taking Dean away from the writers and making him his own: he was supposed to be the sidekick, but Jensen said nope.
In making Dean afraid of flying, but having him so insistent upon flying in spite of it, The Show perhaps did itself a bit of a disservice in its mission of making Sam The Hero and Dean The Sidekick. Dean was terrified, but flew anyway. That is bravery, and it’s what the audience wants to see in a hero.
Sam, however, does not miss an opportunity to make me dislike him (you knew this was coming at some point, don’t look surprised). Not only is he incredibly unappreciative and derisive of Dean’s talents, such as making his own EMF from an old Walkman, but he was also derisive of Dean’s fear of flying.
Sorry, let me reword that. Derisive of Dean for being scared of flying. It’s perfectly rational to be afraid of being in a giant metal bird suspended miles above the ground, but Dean agreed to it anyway in order to save people. And Sam treats him like a child because he’s scared of take-off and turbulence. Dean’s fear is a rational one, something that a person who hasn’t been sheltered from reality would have. Sam’s greatest fear, however, is…
Clowns.
I get it, they’re brothers, and siblings are supposed to rib on each other like this (the siblings I still talk to aren’t like this with me or each other, so I find it difficult to relate to Dean and Sam’s relationship) but it makes Sam come across as an utter cunny-hole. If somebody is clearly terrified of something and on the edge of a panic attack, you don’t sneer and mock, and then demand he calm down. Sure, Dean needed to calm down and Sam was the only one who could do it, but talking to him like a child just reveals how little Sam knows of taking care of other people. He’s the pampered younger brother, and it really shows.
He also shows a lack of judgement when roughly putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder while he was distracted. Dean’s essentially a war child (and suffers C-PTSD) and you just shouldn’t do things like this to somebody like that. That’s how you trigger panic attacks or flashbacks. Ask a veteran, I’m sure s/he’ll agree.
Aside from that, the middle-aged man on the aeroplane winked at Dean – winked – when Dean was walking down the aisle with his EMF reader. A man winking at a man has sexual overtones nowadays, and has done for a long time. How many men wink at a built guy standing over them like that unless they’re sure they won’t be punched in the face? Dean had his EMF reader out at that moment, but he was simultaneously on somebody else’s radar. Something about Dean set sexual bells ringing in cameo middle-aged man’s head.
Regarding Sam, there’s two important moments for him in this episode (Jess aside): when he discovers John talked about and praised him in his absence, and when he exorcises the demon. It’s made clear in a few episodes’ time that Sam never felt like he fit in with his family, and that he believed John was disappointed in him. Exactly how he came to this conclusion is uncertain, since John doted on Sam and afforded him liberties he never would have allowed Dean, but it’s clear their relationship is difficult. Going away to university was Sam’s attempt to run away from the dysfunctional family he felt an outsider in and to escape John (and Dean): that he apparently didn’t speak to either John or Dean during his time there says a lot.
He finds out, however, that John praised him, undermining somewhat Sam’s belief that John regarded him as a disappointment. Episode 1x05 Bloody Mary provides another moment of character growth for Sam that subtly changes the way he perceives himself, but all in due course.
Praise from parents is important for children, and it really shouldn’t be hard for parents to tell their children they’re proud of them, even if they don’t say it in as many words. In spite of his difficult relationship with John, Sam gets that by proxy in this episode (whilst Dean’s happily checking out all the men in the hangar) and it changes the way he sees himself and John, even if only slightly.
The other moment – discussed above – is his exorcism of the demon. I don’t mince my words about disliking Sam, but even I can see he had potential. He’s the weird kid who wanted a normal life, but because of cursed blood had that hope denied him. Series 4 shows us the beginning of what Sam could have turned into when his blood magic arc truly kicks off, and it could have been a riveting plotline if written and handled well. Think for example of Willow in Buffy and the journey she went on with her magic powers: there was real darkness in there, and a gargantuan struggle to overcome it and become stronger.
This exorcism reminds me of Willow’s first steps at witchcraft in 2x22 when she casts the spell to restore a certain character’s soul and we see the potential for true strength as she performs the spell with ease. This exorcism of Sam’s should have been something similar, and his demonic powers should not have been completely removed and forgotten about in 8x23. He could have been Supernatural’s answer to Willow, and the Dark!Sam arc in series 3-7 could have been the first in his descent into darkness and his fight back out to take control of his own powers and become the opposite of what Azazel wanted him to be.
But – and not for the last time – three words come to mind. Such potential, Supernatural.
You might remember I mentioned the tracking shot of Dean (and neglected to mention the revealing shot of his thighs and underwear). Paula R. Stiles’ suggestion that the fact the writers and director for this episode were men doesn’t cheapen it is one I don’t understand. Jensen is in my 100% objective and unbiased opinion one of the finest men alive, but exploiting that in order to draw in an audience does cheapen the show.
To be fair, Supernatural is hardly high culture and commercial television is about revenue, but things like that break the illusion of artistic integrity, just like not making Dean explicitly bisexual does because that’d scare away too much of the audience. If having scantily-clad women in a show or film is there for the male gaze and drawing in money, then so too are Dean’s thighs and buttocks, similarly cheapening the show. If the male gaze objectifies women, stripping them of their power and subjecting them to male desires, then the female gaze objectifies and strips men of any power they might have and subjects them to female desires.
If it’s bad for the gander, it should also be bad for the goose.
Neither do I think it matters one bit that the writer and director are men, or am I supposed to believe a woman has never encouraged or coerced another woman to flash a bit of boob in order to get men to empty their pockets? Claiming that presenting a person as an object of possible sexual attraction turns him into an ‛object’ is strange, and that claim’s only ever made when women are being presented for men’s enjoyment.
But let’s stick to Supernatural because I have work in the morning. To be honest, I never notice if a woman on screen is being subjected to a ‛male’ gaze because I have no sexual or romantic interest in women whatsoever: if a woman is supposed to be portrayed as appealing to men’s eyes, it’ll usually go straight over my head because it just doesn’t register as having anything to do with sex. Interesting, however, is that this begins the trend of treating Dean in certain ways that women are usually treated, or associating him with ‛feminine’ traits.
Some people go overboard with for example Dean’s association with and likeness to Mary, his taking on the parental (maternal?) role in Sam’s upbringing, his knack with children etc, and use it as evidence to suggest that any traditionally masculine behaviour – or masculine behaviour at all – from Dean is a performance to keep up an act so that he can hide how feminine he really is.
My take on this is quite different than the condescending viewpoint that a man behaving like a man is performing and pretending. Dean’s ‛feminine’ traits are not his ‛true’ self in opposition to his feigned masculine behaviour. There is absolutely no contradiction between Dean exhibiting ‛feminine’ traits such as being good with children, cooking, or trying his hardest to fill the role Mary would have filled, and being a masculine man who identifies very strongly with being male.
I do think it’s fascinating, though, and the complexity and depth of Dean as a male character is one of the reasons he is one of my favourite characters. We rarely get to see men who are very manly and also incredibly loving, loyal and paternal and who exhibit a normal range of human behaviours and interests, including ‛masculine’ and ‛feminine’. That’s what normal men are like, something television and film seem to have forgotten.
Regarding Dean in bed, note that he is a stomach sleeper (sleeping on your stomach keeps your tummy safe), and this is consistent throughout all fifteen years of the show. However, this early in the show he takes his trousers, outer shirts and shoes off, in contrast to sleeping fully dressed as he begins doing sometime rather soon. He’s alert and cautious this early in the show, but not yet quite so worn down that he can’t be bothered to get ready for bed.
Note also that both brothers have sleeping problems here. Dean knew Sam was still up at 3am, meaning Dean likely slept for less than three hours, having been woken up by Sam at 5:45.
The end of the episode presents the brothers with something to be hopeful about. John has a new mobile phone number, the first evidence they’ve had so far that he is very probably still alive. It’s not much to go on, and John does not answer Dean and Sam’s call, but it’s something the boys can latch on to and keep them searching for John. Whether or not they should be searching for John is another question altogether, though, but at least it got the plot going in 1x01.,
Phantom Traveler is a strong but flawed episode which builds on last week’s expansion of Dean’s character and role, as well as introducing demons and Hell into the lore. The cut scene where Dean has to remove all his concealed weapons before going into the airport really should have been kept in because it says a lot about his character, as does his sleeping with a blade under his pillow, but other than that, I’m happy to leave this episode now on a positive note.
#Michael's Supernatural Rewatch#SPN Rewatch#spn 1x04#phantom traveler#sam winchester#john winchester#dean winchester#demons#hell#male gaze#female gaze#christian mythology
9 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
2view333
Untitled
godccmplex
GOD COMPLEX.
fitnessknowledgeblog-blog
Untitled
wisterecig-blog-blog-blog
Eastern Legend Trading
chahalff
Untitled