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marvelhero-fics · 3 years

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Snowman

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip.

A/N: I haven’t posted in like 300 years, but I hope you guys enjoy this new series! This follows parts of TFATWS so expect spoilers! (Also I’m sure all the Russian is absolutely wrong, if you’d like to correct it please send me a message!)

Word Count: 1,815 (future chapters will be wayyy longer)

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist

New York

2023

“So tell me about this-” the therapist looked down at her notes briefly, “(Y/N).” She finished.

Bucky paused momentarily, “No.”

“James, for these therapy sessions to be effective, you need to open up to me. I can’t help you if I don't know what’s wrong.” His therapist responded, laying her pen carefully on her small notebook.

Bucky thought for a moment, taking in the ambience of the room. What would he even say about (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen her in years. Bucky was kicking himself for accidentally bringing her up in his session last week. “I- uh-” he stammered, shifting his weight on the couch, “I met her in 2011. At least I think it was 2011. Date’s get kinda fuzzy sometimes, with all the cryo.” Bucky’s hand pressed against his head, feeling dazed as he tried to think back. “It was at the big HYDRA base outside of Moscow. We had to go on a mission together-” he was cut off,

“Did she work for HYDRA?” Dr Raynor interjected.

“Yea. She was an assassin too. She went by the alias the Viper.” Bucky pretended not to notice his therapist tense up. Anyone who knew anything about HYDRA knew who the Viper was. She was one of the most prolific assassins after the Winter Soldier.

“Tell me more about when you met her.”

“We were instructed to take out a terrorist organisation forming against SHIELD. Which was ironic because we were working for a terrorist organisation. But at this point SHIELD was being run by HYDRA and they couldn’t risk any slip ups, so they put 6 assassins on the job. HYDRA usually didn’t have their assassins working together, we were all too volatile. But we had to take out over 70 people in one night. It was (Y/N), a few assassins from the Red Room, and a few agents that HYDRA had trained personally, and me.” Bucky stopped.

“Where was (Y/N) trained?”

“At a secondary facility run by HYDRA. She was trained from a really young age. It’s all she’s known.” Bucky seemed somber. But his therapist continued,

“What happened on the mission?”

“Nothing. It went exactly to plan. The targets were taken out and we all left without a trace. But (Y/N), she- she kept trying to talk to me, or get to know me. I was the Winter Soldier. No one in their right mind ever tried to ‘get to know me’.”

“Why do you think (Y/N) did that?”

“She told me she was bored.” He replied bluntly.

Moscow

2011

The poorly lit conference room was filled with a myriad of assassins and officials. The only illumination came from old LED lights hanging from the concrete ceiling. The mossy green paint on the walls looked as if it hadn’t been patched up in years. The only new-ish part of the room was the large, oak conference table, surrounded by black, leather seating. It was difficult not to notice the red HYDRA symbol holding a spot on almost every piece of clothing in the area.

“TITAN terroristicheskaya organizatsiya, formiruyushchayasya protiv nas. (TITAN is a terrorist organisation forming against us.)” Kuznetsov spoke, “Izbrannyye budut otpravleny segodnya vecherom v Ukrainu dlya vypolneniya postavlennoy zadachi. Uberi ikh. (The chosen ones will be sent to Ukraine tonight to complete their given tasks. Take them out.)”

That was all it took. You stared at the file in front of you. You had read through it multiple times, going over every single name, every single skill set your targets had. You were more than certain you could complete this job on your own. But you had no choice on the matter.

Your eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the assassins that were to accompany you on your mission. Two youthful females, dressed in black leather sat next to each other. The older, grimacing woman behind them was Madame B., the head supervisor of the Red Room. You moved your gaze to the two agents in dark green uniforms and red, soviet berets. Neither looked particularly menacing.

You finally landed on the last assassin. His dark hair fell like curtains around his face. Gloomy blue eyes searched their way through the room. His sharp jaw seemed tense through his stubbled cheeks. He was large, extremely built. Covering his frame was an amplitude of black clothing and gear.

“Play nice.” Your mentor spoke softly over your shoulder, breaking you from your train of thought.

“I always do.”

Your padded snow boots ripped through the thick snow covering the ground. The six of you had hiked your way to the set point on your GPS systems, the clouds of snowfall covering your vision held the illusion that there were absolutely no structures nearby. A large helicopter had dropped the group a few miles out from the hideout to ensure nothing was compromised. The trek was in utter silence, fighting against the harsh temperature in mid February.

The waypoint became closer on your map, a tiny building slowly appeared in your vision against the foggy downfall. It was a small, wooden cabin. Everyone hustled their way through the unlocked door. It was barren, it held no furniture, no blankets, no means of any life. There appeared to be a few doors that led to small, empty rooms. The entrance only held a small fireplace, filled with old cut down logs that had been eaten by bugs.

The group quickly dispersed, you headed to one of the rooms alone, throwing down your belongings onto the floor. The bag you carried was mainly filled with weapons and ammunition, along with a very warm sleeping bag. You knew too well you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but you would need the extra heat for now.

There was no chatter anywhere in the house. Your mission would begin in 6 hours. Everyone was likely putting together their artillery. You decided to cozy up in your navy sleeping bag for a moment of comfort.

Someone had lit the fire in the lounge. A warm, orange light crept through the cracks in your door. The ambiance was strangely calming for a shitty cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Snow continued to fall against the tiny glass pane of your room. You weren’t a fan of assassinating in the snow. It was low vision, harsher climates, and it lessened the ability to move. Snakes weren’t creatures of the cold. Conveniently you’d been grouped with someone who called himself ‘The Winter Soldier’. I’m sure he loves the cold, you thought.

You’d heard a lot about him. Everyone had. He was the perfect assassin. He never failed a mission, his body didn’t reject cryo, every form of enhancement HYDRA had used on him had been a success. He was what every assassin had aspired to be.

Without thought, you grabbed the glass bottle laying next to you and walked off to the room the Winter Soldier had claimed for the night.

“Privet (Hello)”. You announced, pushing his door open with a creak. His head didn’t turn towards you. He sat on the floor, the sound coming from him indicated he was sharpening knives.

“Khochesh' vypit'? (Want a drink?)” You asked, motioning the bottle towards him.

He stayed silent for a moment. Finally he turned, looking up at you from his position on the floor. “What is it?” His dark tone asked back. The amber light from the fire crashed against his features. His strong jaw was covered with a dark stubble, his brunette hair tucked behind his ears. His most obvious feature was the hauntingly blue eyes that sat in sunken sockets, he looked drained.

“It’s vodka.” You stated, honestly. You were surprised to hear he wasn’t Russian, he sounded… American?

“You’re drinking before a mission?” He queried.

You shrugged. “Alcohol doesn’t freeze.” You sat down next to him. “Plus it takes the edge off.” A faint clinking noise announced as you placed the bottle on the floor between you two. He stared at you for a moment, before quietly going back to his knives.

“Wanna play 20 questions?” You interrupted the silence.

“No.”

“What about truth or dare?”

“I’m not 14.” the soldier replied, his eyes not leaving his handy work.

“How old are you?” You shot back,

“Why are you trying to get to know me?” He dodged your question.

“I’m bored.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of the vodka. “And by my calculations,” you peered down at your watch, “we still have 3 hours and 27 minutes until the mission starts.”

He gave a shallow sigh, “93.”

“What?”

“I’m 93. How old are you.”

“93?! You were born in 1917?”

“Mhm. How old are you.”

“25. You look great for 93.” You chuckled.

“You look old for 25.” He jabbed back. His knife sharpener still grinding across a 6 inch blade.

“You flatter me.” You replied sarcastically. “So what’s your story? How’d you make it to 93?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

Bucky looked over at you. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“C’mon old man, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You smirked. He once again, went back to his knives. It almost seemed as if he was trying to threaten you, pulling out larger knife after larger knife.

You huffed, opening your mouth to speak, “I was born in Hungary to a drug abusing mother, and an absent father. I was kidnapped and sold to HYDRA when I was 6. I was placed under the care of the Kraken. Not sure if you’ve met him, he’s this large guy-”

“I’ve met him.” Bucky stated, interrupting your spiel.

“Right, well, he trained me for years. Eventually HYDRA got involved again and I was tested on, experimented on, messed with, ya’ know, all that fun stuff.” You explained.

“Are you enhanced?” Bucky asked, almost as if he was actually interested.

“Yea. I have this whole snake venom trick. It’s great for up close combat. The experiments really should’ve killed me though. But maybe that’s what makes us so good-” Bucky looked over at the woman next to him, her bright eyes stared back at him as she spoke “ya’ know, the best assassins are the ones living off borrowed time. Because we’ve met death before, so we’re not afraid to do it again.”

Bucky quickly grabbed the Barrett M82 rifle next to him, his metal arm making faint whirring noises. “I’m going to scope out the base.” He stated bluntly. And with that, his large black boots walked him out the bedroom, and out the door.

You let out a faint sigh, creeping back to your room to sort out your weapons. You were sure it was something you said that scared him off. I guess at 93 you have to be living off too much borrowed time, you speculated. You absentmindedly set up your pistols, your mind not being able to wander from the Winter Soldier. Maybe annoying the Red Room girls would get your mind off it.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky imagine #bucky oneshot #bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky #Bucky barnes #the avengers #tfatws #the winter solider #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfic

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

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Subtitles: Episode 1, Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] has been living in Westview for more almost a month now and yet to properly put down roots. What they hadn’t been expecting was to work so much, have unpacking be so hard, and for a new couple to move in the other house for sale, directly across the street.

Word count: 8,425

Warnings: Sit down and grab a snack because this one’s a bit long! Otherwise nothing, really. Maybe second-hand embarrassment caused by a thirsty Reader.

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Ever since you left both home and family behind some years ago, you’ve always felt a little out of place in the world. It was a hard time for you, leaving everything you knew behind and instead branching out and trying to find your place in the world. Actually, not only was it a difficult time in your life, but a confusing one; when you attempted to reflect on those memories, all you get is a head of foggy feelings, including a particularly sick sensation that leaves you out of commission for the rest of the day if you’re not careful.

When you settled in Westview, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finding a home in a nice neighborhood was easy and the moving was done in a pinch thanks to a local moving company helping you get the boxes to your door, though you couldn’t afford to pay for them to do more. You were even lucky enough to find a street with not one but two open houses to pick from; you chose the smaller, more modest abode, as you had no family in town and no intention of getting married or starting a family any time soon. Despite this lack of them nearby and generally solid memories, though, you knew you had a good relationship with your family because as soon as you found a place, you were receiving housewarming gifts and postcards and letters from not only your family but close and extended relatives alike. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for your new house’s already installed fridge to be covered in pamphlet-worthy pictures of places across the nation and kind words from your mother, grandmother, and cousins.

There was still unpacking, now of both the furniture and gift variety, that needed to be done before anything else. Then there was the question of a proper source of income—while the money you received from your relatives would cover a month or two while you got yourself settled, you suspected there wasn’t going to be anything else for a long while and, either way, you wanted to be able to fend for yourself. Finally, after the necessities were dealt with, there was the matter of making your house and the neighborhood your home and by making some connections; while you were perfectly content living alone, it would be nice to not feel like such an outsider, to have friends to go out on the town with or take the occasional trip with on the weekends. These were normal goals, you figured, and, with as easy everything else has been so far, they should be simple enough to complete.

Right?

Well, at least getting a job was easy enough, you thought as you sat on the stack of boxes that, over the last month, had become a chair by the door that you used to pull on your shoes before work, as you were doing now. It also functioned as a coat and hat rack, as proven by your growing collection of jackets and headwear piled on it, and the occasional bookshelf after a trip to the local library. It used to be a place to hold your keys but you have yet to make that mistake again after sitting down one day and getting a sharp jab to the backside.

You were right that getting a job was easy enough—you received a callback for a secretary job at a computational services company only after a week of job searching—but you had yet to follow through with your other aspirations. It’s not like you haven’t tried, but when it came to unpacking, your job left you with very little energy to do much other than collapse on a couch-shaped collection of boxes when you get home and only a semi-decently decorated bedroom to show for your work. In terms of bonding with the locals and making some friends, let’s just say that Dottie is convinced you purposely spilled red wine on her perfect white parlor gown—who wears white when drinking red wine?—and now all you received from the neighborhood husbands were side-eyes and grumbling after telling them you found their attempts at humor in poor taste. At least you’d managed to charm your boss and his wife when they came over for dinner and now Mr. and Mrs. Hart invited you over for the occasional drink and gossip; Agnes, a woman from across the street and down a house, was also among your few successes, and she was a hoot to be around in a big sister or wine aunt type of way, despite her loudness.

Speaking of which—

“Hey, [Y/N],” Agnes hollered from somewhere outside, “haven’t seen you out of the house yet! Better hurry up, the streets are antsville today! Or, at least, you could come with me to say welcome the other new neighbors!”

Agnes came knocking on your door the same day you moved in and since then, she’s apparently committed your daily schedule to memory because if you’re not heading to work right on time, you get a holler from across the— Wait. New neighbors? You hopped up from your boxy perch after making sure your shoes were secure and peeked out the nearest window. Sure enough, the other house that you had considered moving into, the one immediately across the street from your own, no longer had a FOR SALE sign stuck in its yard and the yard and curtains appeared to have been decorated. Your heart lept into your throat as you wondered when that had happened; you desperately hoped that it hadn’t happened too long ago because you’ve been on a work rampage for the past few days and haven’t noticed much else. Yet another thing you haven’t done correctly.

Agnes was also by the front yard, leaning against the fence and chatting with the mailman as he walked by. After he passed, she looked up and caught your eye, grinned, and waved. “Come on, [Y/N], no time like the present!”

You wanted to join her and introduce yourself to the new neighbors, you really did. Unfortunately, you would definitely get to work late if you didn’t get a move on, especially if the streets were as crowded as Agnes mentioned them to be, and you definitely didn’t want to greet the neighbors without a housewarming gift in hand. Perhaps you could stop by a shop on the way home and pick up a plant or a pie and welcome them this evening.

“Now, don’t flip your lid, Agnes,” you teased back with a smile as you walked outside. This response earned you a mock scowl, then Agnes’s smile again; you walked over to your vehicle and tossed your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I wish I could join you but you caught me; I am in fact looking to wind up late and I’ll be cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if I don’t leave now. I’ll try to stop by after work!”

“Well alright then,” came Agnes’s reply, while you hopped into the driver’s seat and started your chariot up. “I’ll tell them you say hi. Congrats on no longer being the new guy!”

Too bad I still feel like the new guy, you mentally grumbled, rapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You took a breath, checked that your hair was in place and your shirt wasn’t wrinkled in the mirror and headed on your way.

“Oh, hello dear; I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right! My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the neighborhood. My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

Wanda watched the woman on her doorstep, visibly a bit perplexed but smiling either way. She was confused about what special event she and her husband were supposed to be celebrating tonight after seeing a heart on the calendar but now that she had an unknown woman—no, not unknown; one of her neighbors—here, Wanda couldn’t possibly be a bad hostess and turn her away.

Not that the woman, Agnes, would have let her do so anyway. She shoved the plant she was holding into Wanda’s arms and walked inside, talking without giving Wanda any space to chime in. “So, what’s your name, where’re you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Wanda quickly shut the door and trotted after the woman. She was newly stressed over the unknown event but now also giddy; this was the first neighborly welcome of many, she was sure of it! She reached Agnes’s side and stretched out a hand with a big smile. “I’m Wanda.”

“Wanda,” Anges repeated as if to see how the same felt on her tongue, before taking Wanda’s hand in a solid shake, “Charmed.” She paused, glancing around the house—Wanda felt an odd pang of anxiety—then continued, “Gol-ly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

Wanda struggled momentarily for an answer. Of course, she didn’t; she’d used her powers to unpack and decorate quickly, but she couldn’t say that to this stranger. She decided to go with an affirmative answer as it was the easiest route. She went to reply—

“If you did,” Agnes went on, “I should get the name from you. Our other new neighbor across the way still has a house full of boxes!”

Wanda blinked, her head tilting to one side out of curiosity. “Other new neighbor?”

“Why the house directly to your front!” Without waiting, the other woman walked to the front window and yanked back the curtains; she gestured to the house in question. “[Y/N]. They live on their own, you see, and probably could have done well with the help. Actually, they were going to stop by with me but they were running late for work. I told them I’d tell you hi for them—Hi for them!”

The loud car Wanda had heard a few minutes earlier must have been this other neighbor rushing off to work. It was nice to know that even though it hadn’t happened, there had almost been a party of two to welcome her and her husband to the street; it’s too bad that he had left for his own job only a while earlier.

Wanda made her way over to the window as well and took a look. It was more modest in size and build than Wanda’s own home, much more suited to house a single person. Despite Agnes’s claim of them having not unpacked, a few lawn decorations were set up and a pair of [F/C] curtains hung neatly framing the home’s front window. Wanda could make out various boxes leaning up against the window, evidence to Agnes’s statement, but otherwise, the place seemed well-kept. The yard was taken care of, though Wanda wondered if it was because the person had moved in just as recently as she and her husband did or if they just enjoyed garden work.

Apparently, she’d wondered this aloud because Agnes responded, “They’ve been here for about a month, just been too busy making a good impression at work and making a fool out of themselves to the other neighbors to make their house a little more homely. Poor thing’s a darling but struggling in the social department.”

Wanda continued to watch the house as if this other, slightly older newcomer was about to drive back up the street to home. Consider her interest piqued. Wanda wanted to know more about [Y/N], all of her neighbors really, but more importantly, why there had been multiple houses open and if it was common. She hoped this neighborhood was as friendly as it seemed and that it wasn’t danger or unkindness that had made multiple people move out. She opened her mouth to ask—

However, Agnes had moved on to a different subject, as well as a different part of the house. “So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

“Oh no,” Wanda, sighing softly, switched gears with her and replied, “I’m not single.”

You gulped down a gasp of air as you tumbled out of the elevator of Computational Services Inc, which earned you a few odd looks from unknown coworkers passing by. You’d bumped into one of them while skidding to a halt and you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks and ears and you stepped away, apologizing profusely. You tried to reach your desk in a quick but professional manner, only stopping briefly to make sure your clothes and hair were still in order in the reflection of an office window. As you got closer to your desk, a small thing in an area separated from other employees, you heard the comforting sounds of typing and radio music. You got to your desk, pulled out your chair, sat your bag down, and began to sit, only for a voice to catch your attention.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Would you be so good as to tell me what exactly we do here?”

A British accent? Not something you hear every day around here. You pushed your chair back into place to prevent another worker from bumping into it and walked over to peer around the corner. You recognized Norm, a kind and well-mannered employee that filled out computational forms in this section of the building, standing and chatting with a taller, paler, glasses-wearing man that you didn’t know.

The British voice spoke again and now, at least, you could put the voice to a face. “Do we make something?”

The British gentleman was very tall indeed and quite handsome. He had light wavy hair in a side part, with a sliver’s worth that looked like it could fall into his eyes at any moment; you felt the strange urge to push it back before the idea of running your hands through a stranger’s hair made you blush again. His suit fit his lanky body well, though you’d expect nothing less as Mr. Hart was very strict about his workers’ appearance. His tie was interesting, a dark color with a simple, lighter print of four spots, two larger ones encased in a rectangle, and his glasses framed his curiosity-ridden face very well. Above his lovely-looking, light-colored eyes, his brows were furrowed as he looked animatedly around, as though his workplace was a puzzle he was trying to solve. You noticed he talked with his hands quite a bit and you also noticed that his large, long-fingered hands seemed slightly out of place compared to the rest of his body. They seemed like nice hands, though, and they probably did their job well.

Goodness, [Y/N], now you’re just being ridiculous. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your head against the wall you were hiding around. No, not hiding, because that would make your creeping seem even more bizarre. Definitely not creeping. Investigating.

You shook your head to refocus and looked towards the men, listening again. He is a bit of a dreamboat, isn’t he though?

Norm was answering the man. “No and no.”

“Then what is the purpose of this company?” the stranger continued.

“All I know,” Norm replied with a smile, “is since you’ve gotten here, productivity has gone up three hundred percent!”

Three hundred? That was a startling thought, almost enough to give you a headache. So you’re the reason I’ve had more files on my desk.

The stranger picked up one of said files and flipped through it. “Yes, but what is it that we’re producing?”

He’s quite interested in figuring out the answer to that question, isn’t he? You felt another pang in your temple. How strange.

Your brows knitted together as you, curious, leaned into the pain a bit. The pain seemed to follow the British employee’s questioning, so you focused on it.

What did they do here anyway?

The harmless pangs quickly turned into a full-blown migraine, similar to what would happen if you thought too hard about your past. You grimaced in pain and reached for your head, only to lose your balance completely and fall forward, into the room you were observing. You hissed as your knees hit solid ground and you braced yourself with one hand while the other gripped the hair closest to your temple. You tried to look around for something else to focus on but your vision was blurry and you couldn’t tell if you were even moving your head.

Then there was shouting, which didn’t help the throbbing pain at all, and you felt what seemed like a hundred pairs of hands grasping at you. You couldn’t understand the yelling other than recognizing the voices as male; you tried to tell them you were alright, shake the hands off and get yourself some space, but nothing in your body seemed to be working quite right. Because of this, the voices and the various hands—or was there just two hands?—didn’t know what you wanted and instead of space, they crowded you. You felt grips on your shoulders and arms, even on your back— Then you were being lifted. Completely off the ground or only to your feet, you couldn’t tell.

Then the hands—only one on your back and another pair holding your arm now—guided you to a place where you could properly sit.

It was quieter now and you could feel the floor beneath your feet and an office chair holding your weight. You realized your eyes were closed so you opened them and you found your vision beginning to refocus. You looked around.

“Goodness, are you alright?”

You could feel how red your face was—it was probably bright enough to be used as a neon stop sign—when you found yourself staring into a man’s torso. A torso that was quite close. You looked up and directly into the face of the British man, who no longer looked troubled by curiosity but rather quite concerned by you.

Oh, yes, definitely a dreamboat, you thought without really meaning to.

Then Norm came rushing over, a cup in hand. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

“[Y/N],” the stranger repeated. He took the water cup from Norm, who hovered nearby, and squatted down to be at eye level with you.

You wouldn’t mind hearing him say your name again.

Good Lord, stop it, you almost passed out!

“That is my name,” you managed. You even managed a definitely awkward smile, a couple of seconds of definitely awkward eye contact.

“Here, you should drink this.” He offered you the cup and once you took it, he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up!”

I would imagine so, with how I feel. You sipped the water. Maybe you didn’t look as bad as you thought you did.

“Looks like you’re about to throw up too,” Norm very helpfully added.

Thank you for the commentary, Norm.

“[Y/N],” the other employee said, drawing your scowling gaze back from Norm, “do you have someone you could call? You look ill; perhaps it would serve you well to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. He did not look convinced but you pushed on, whipping up a quick white lie to cover up your jarring headache. “I didn’t eat this morning and I rushed to work to escape the antsville. I must have gotten overheated on the way and I’m sure an empty stomach helped that. Sorry for worrying—”

“What is going on out here?”

You both jumped to your feet; you moved too fast for having just recovered and stumbled but luckily both Norm and his colleague caught you and straightened you up before you fell over. No one wanted to be seen out of place by the boss and you were currently both out of place and sorts. Even though you knew Mr. Hart already saw you—hell, he was standing directly in front of you three—you glanced around for a place to hide. Instead, you saw files and papers scattered across the floor, the result of your migraine-induced fumbling. You groaned and dropped your head into your hands.

“Well?”

There was a moment of silence. You felt Norm take a step away from you and you expected the other man to do so as well. He didn’t but you raised your head and squared your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

“Sir—” you started.

“Sir,” the British gentleman interrupted, taking a step forward. “[Y/N] here was walking back to their desk and tripped, and in my haste to help them, I knocked over a pile of files on my desk. I apologize for the racket and the mess I’ve caused; I’ll deal with it right away.”

Mr. Hart looked from him to you to Norm, who was quaking in his nice shoes, then back. There were yet a few more moments of quiet before he spoke again. “Vision.”

Vision?

“Yes, Sir.”

You glanced at the man to your right. Vision. What an interesting name for an interesting person.

“You better hope dinner tonight goes well after this charade,” Mr. Hart barked. “This better be cleaned up by the next time I come out here.”

Rather than looking upset or stressed, Vision looked relieved. He made a heart with his hands and muttered, “Mr. Hart. Of course…”

“And you,” the boss’s glare now settled on your face. “You were late this morning. In my office. Now.”

“Dammit,” you muttered after Mr. Hart had turned his back.

“Sorry, don’t think I can help you that one,” Vision chimed in. He was rubbing the back of his head and squinting at Mr. Hart’s back. “You’ll be alright?”

“Promise, it was just a bit of the spins.” You gave him a friendly pat on the arm and made your way to hopefully not get fired. “Nice meeting you!”

“You as well, despite the unfortunate circumstances. Good luck!”

Mr. Hart was waiting for you by his desk when he entered. He gestured for you to shut the door before he sat and as you did, you saw Vision beginning to clean up your mess before the phone on his desk started ringing.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted.” You were exiting a shop downtown, squinting against the light of the setting sun. You held the door open with a toe of one shoe while you adjusted the bags on your arms, then moved around to properly hold the door for Agnes, who strolled out after you. “Hart was an absolute villain today! Barks at me for coming in late and not getting work done but then does it for an hour! Well now who’s keeping me? Then this British gent—I swear I’ve never seen him before but he’s apparently the cause of my last few busy work days!”

“The looker?”

You blushed a bit; Agnes will never you live it down now that you’ve slipped up and said you’d found the man attractive. “I may have mentioned that earlier—but I digress! As charming as the man was, helping me out even after I knocked over a bunch of his things, he’s still a powerhouse of an employee. Tripled my load of work with his own; now I get what Norm meant when he said productivity has gone up by three times! Imagine, being yelled at by my boss—who was one of the few well-off relationships I’ve had since moving to town—for an hour, and then, when you finally get back to business, your desk is buried in files! I’m barely breathing at this point! Ain’t that just a bite.”

“Who’s flipped their lid now?” Agnes said with a cheeky grin. You responded with a tired glare and she scoffed. She moved her own bags to one arm so she could give your shoulder a good pat. “Just teasing you, dear! We can’t all be superhuman, unfortunately. Although you’re damn near close; thank you for helping me home, by the way. Ralph had a last-minute “meeting” with some “coworkers” tonight and I’m helping out our new neighbor plan a very important date!”

That’s right, you had a new neighbor across the street. You’d almost forgotten. You knew there was a reason you’d felt the urge to pick up a small houseplant on your way through the checkout.

“You have the mouth of a sailor, ‘Nes,” you quipped, cracking a grin.

“And a drinking tolerance that would put any soldier to shame!” Agnes agreed with a short laugh. After a quick pause, she added, “It’s not like I said ‘fuck.’”

That time both of you laughed and for the first time since your disastrous day, you felt yourself relax. After bringing up sailors and soldiers, Agnes lept into one of her half-complaint, half-stories about how, one time, her husband Ralph got drunk and tried to fight an entire bar—“Everything including the stools!” While she talked and you escorted her to your car, your mind wandered, curiosity about your new neighbors piqued again. You reached the sidewalk’s curb and helped Agnes stepped down, then opened the vehicle’s passenger door and took her bags.

Instead of sliding inside, Agnes watched you as you moved around to the other side of the car and put the bags in the backseat. “You’re a bit of a flutter bum yourself, dear. Look at those manners; you’ve been out and about all day and still came to help me with the groceries! And that voice! Absolute apple butter sometimes, when you want it to be. I’m surprised you aren’t already circled with a couple of children along the way!”

You snorted as you opened your door and slid behind the wheel. “Just not in my plan, I suppose.” You gestured for her to join you in the car and started it up when she did so. “You didn’t see me today either. Creeping around corners, then these annoying headaches got to me and I was stumbling around knocking down everything! Not to mention the new guy, sweet as pie, saw me do all this and go absolutely red just from looking at him. Sweating, cottonmouth, everything. I must have seemed bonkers! It was awful.”

Agnes offered, “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

“I’m sure if he ever sees me again, he’s going to turn heel and walk in the opposite direction,” you stated. Then you shifted into gear, pulled away from the sidewalk, and turned towards home.

You were in the one room in your house that wasn’t a part of the United Boxes, your bedroom, standing in front of one of the few pieces of furniture you’d managed to unpack since moving in. You fussed over your reflection in the mirror, pushing your damp hair from one side to the other, adjusting your tie one moment then readjusting it the next, holding up various hats and cardigans.

Your casual wardrobe was much more unique than the business attire you kept for work, which was generally neutral in both color and style. Tonight, you wore a collared button-up in a bright pattern of your favorite color paired with a tie that was darker in shade but equally bright in color, and you were debating between various cardigans in complementary colors. The pants you wore were more muted, a neutral color to go with the shiny black dress shoes and good quality belt that you usually only broke out for special social occasions. For a little more pop, you also wore a few colorful bracelets on each wrist and a ring or two. You even added a little more color to your still tired-looking face, despite you feeling much better after a nap, shower, and change of clothes.

You finally settled on the combination of a brighter colored cardigan a more muted hat to pull your entire look together. Slipping the cardigan on and flattening out any creases, you flashed your mirror self your friendliest smile for practice’s sake. Then you gave yourself a twirl, craning your neck over over your shoulder to make sure everything looked just as nice from the back as the front.

Now we’re cooking with gas, you thought. Hopefully, the neighbors think so too.

Satisfied, you made your way out to the living room where your outfit-appropriate handbag and housewarming gift waited. The young plant, a pachira, sat in a pot whose color accented the color of the house you were going to visit this evening as opposed to the simple white it’d come in. The pot itself wore a big ribbon bow that you’d attached yourself and sticking out of the soil was a card welcoming the neighborhood’s newcomers.

Perhaps you’d finally make some friends tonight.

You picked up the plant-based gift in one hand and placed it securely in the crook of your arm, then picked up your handbag in the other and made your ways outdoors. It was a quick walk across the street and once on the neighboring house’s doorstep, you steeled yourself with a deep breath. You smiled, then frowned, then smiled again and repeated this a couple of times to make sure the first smile your neighbors saw wasn’t a strained one and raised your hand to use the oddly realistic-looking lobster door hanger.

Much to your surprise, however, the door opened before your hand ever reached it.

And there, in front of you, looking just as shocked as you felt, was your boss and his wife.

“Mr— Mr. Hart?” you stammered, stumbling backward and almost dropping the plant under your arm. Remembering the last time you and your boss “conversed,” your friendly face twisted into more of a deer in the headlights look. “Mrs. Hart? What are... What are you doing here? You didn’t just move in, did—?”

“Is there a problem, Mr. and Mrs. Hart?”

Not only did you recognize the Harts but you recognized the British voice that came from behind them and the face that appeared with it.

“Vision?”

“[Y/N]?”

The two of you stared at each other in surprise. That is until Mr. Hart cleared his throat; he and Mrs. Hart still stood directly in front of you, with Vision unintentionally blocking them from stepping back inside. You yelped an apology and stepped to one side, then had to catch yourself on the doorframe as you almost tripped down the front steps.

“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Hart said slowly as he stepped outside, giving you a particularly unpleasant look, “[Y/N] here lives in the neighborhood as well. Say, you live directly across the way, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately with a tilt of your head in the direction of your home. Then you glanced over at Vision and raised the pot you held slightly for him to see. “I was just coming over to introduce myself and offer a housewarming gift.”

Mr. Hart gave a strained nod, clearly still out of sorts about your work performance today. “Well, we were just out the door after the first dinner with the Maximoffs.” He made it sound like having dinner with your boss, while important, was something more of a religious experience.

You hoped Vision did well.

“He did just fine,” Mrs. Hart piped in.

There you go, accidentally wondering things aloud again.

“Congrats!” you chirped in Vision’s direction. You noted that he seemed as uncomfortable being in this situation as Mr. Hart acted and you felt. Perhaps you should have just visited in the morning.

Out of the group, Mrs. Hart seemed to be the only one unphased. She gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze and complimented your outfit—the one that her husband eyed distastefully—then lowered her voice so only you could hear. “I heard about your little brawl at work today. Don’t get bent too out of shape about my husband’s behavior; he has to work the weekend and he’s about excited as a cat that doesn’t get fed on time. We’re still on for bridge this weekend, right?”

You always liked Mrs. Hart. She was a good counterweight to her ever so charming husband and she always made sure to make you feel at home here in Westview, even if you struggled to do so yourself. You gave her a smile and a nod. “Of course, ma’am. You look stunning tonight, by the way.”

“Charmer.”

As you were talking to Mrs. Hart, Vision settled things with the mister, and things finally seemed to be calming down. However, Vision was wishing the Harts a safe way home, and you gave them a “Good night!” and a wave while wondering if you should just go home yourself, when a clatter came from inside the—what was it?—Maximoff household.

A voice followed, “Vis? Is everything alright out there, dear?”

You felt yourself deflate a bit; you already forgot that Mr. Hart had mentioned Maximoffs. Maximoffs, not one Maximoff. You were somewhat disappointed that, from what it sounded like, your new dashing British acquaintance had a partner, not that it was a surprise. He must have had people throwing themselves at him at one point in his life before he settled on The One and they immediately got married and moved into their cozy-looking, bigger than your own, house. Or, perhaps, maybe he was the awkward one falling all over himself to impress the person of his interest and when they finally picked him, he felt like his heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that found their home in his stomach.

Of course you were the only one on the block who was single and living alone.

You wondered if they had kids.

“... come in!”

You zoned back in from being lost in your thoughts to catch only the end of what Vision was saying. He stepped back from the doorway and held the door open for you and looked at you expectantly and, not wanting to make more of a fool of yourself that you already have in front of him today, you made your way inside, just hoping he hadn’t said anything important while you had been wondering about his romantic life. You felt heat on your ears and cheeks.

Vision, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Now that the Harts were gone, he appeared much more relaxed, leaning on the door with one leg crossed over the other and even smiling at you as you walked into his spacious and already unpacked living room.

That was the first time you’ve seen him smile, you noted. He had a very charming smile, one of those that made his eyes smile too and seemed much more in place on his face than any other expression.

Vision closed the door behind you as you looked around the space with mild surprise—how long have they been moved in? How had they gotten unpacked so fast?—then he gave you a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. It was then that you noticed more clattering coming from behind a door that you assumed belonged to the kitchen.

“If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” he said, making his way to said door, “As you know, my wife and I just finished dinner with the Harts, and my darling Wanda is doing all the dishes. I’ll tell her to wait a moment and come join us! Do you drink fluids?” You must have looked at him oddly because then he stumbled on his words a bit before clarifying, “Alcohol? Or would you like water, juice?”

He certainly did talk with his hands a lot. You liked the way he clasped his hands and fiddled with his fingers while trying to untangle his words.

“Water’s fine,” you replied with a friendly smile.

Seeing that you weren’t bothered by his slip-up, he smiled back and made his way into the kitchen. Halfway through the door, he chirped over his shoulder, “Please feel free to take a seat! I’ll return momentarily!”

Being alone again for only a few minutes still had you beginning to feel the weight of the day’s chaos again. You placed your housewarming gift on the coffee table and rubbed where the pot had been digging into your arm, then wriggled your toes; because these were shoes for special social occasions only, something you didn’t go to very often, they weren’t very well broke in and your feet were beginning to hurt.

The clattering in the kitchen had stopped but now the muffled voices of Vision and Wanda, which was somehow comforting. You looked around, taking in the classy but simple room. How on earth they’d managed to get unpacked so fast unless they used a company or stylist or somehow bought the place pre-furnished, you had no idea—well, you had a few, clearly. It was still surprising though. However they managed, you hoped your own living area looked half as nice. When you got around to it.

You perked up again as you heard the kitchen door creak… and then felt like your heart exploded into a billion heart-shaped butterflies that immediately found a home in your stomach.

If Vision was a dreamboat, his wife was a, well, literal vision. Wanda wore a dress that was just as simple and charming as the house she lived in, paired with a pretty necklace and pair of heels. Her curled hair perfectly framed her face and despite appearing as frazzled as Vision had when you first showed up at their doorstep, she wore a smile so gorgeous that your heart, which had apparently recovered from its explosion of butterflies, decided it preferred to do somersaults in your throat.

The pair of them were standing hip to hip with Wanda carrying a set of glasses and Vision a pitcher of water. They were chatting lightly about how well dinner went as they walked into the living room before turning their set of beaming smiles in your direction.

Your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to melt, tie itself in knots, or spontaneously combust. You decided to make it stand to properly introduce yourself instead.

Just living in the same neighborhood as these two was going to be cataclysmic.

“Wanda, darling, this is my coworker [Y/N], the one I told you about earlier this evening.” Vision detached himself from his partner’s side and began snagging glasses from her hands to fill and place on the coffee table as she walked closer. “And [Y/N], this is my wife, Wanda.”

You and Wanda watched him hop around from her to the coffee table and back two more times with amusement, then Wanda looked at you and gave an incredulous shake of her head, offering her hand. “Hi, hon. Don’t mind him; he’s not usually this dancy but dinner with the boss was a bit unexpected on both our parts. I had to pull something together last minute and he’s trying to make up for it.”

“You did so much in such a short amount of time,” Vision added, finally settling on the couch beside Wanda after the two of you shook hands and got seated. “You deserve a break. I can handle filling a few glasses and doing up the dishes.”

“Speaking of which, I hope you got a break yourself, [Y/N].” Wanda’s comment and concerned look made your eyebrows raise with confusion. She elaborated, “Vision mentioned covering for you at work today.”

You flushed slightly and rubbed the side of your neck. Vision noticed and gave you an apologetic look.

“Oh, yes,” you replied, “I get these awful migraines sometimes. One just happened to hit me at a particularly bad time today and I fell and knocked over a bunch of files. Your husband was an angel, did something he absolutely didn’t need to do and said it was all his fault.”

“And yet you got punished anyway,” Vision said, still looking apologetic. He wrung his hands a bit as well; you wanted to hold them to make him stop.

Wanda did instead, giving him the sweetest smile in the process.

“But if it weren’t for you,” you chirped, “I may have just gotten fired. So I have to thank you for that. And I can’t imagine how that may have affected your dinner tonight, if I had known you were having the big boss dinner tonight, I wouldn’t have let you. I’m so sorry, by the way, for barging in immediately after your dinner, too; you two must be exhausted!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Wanda piped up again. She patted you on the wrist; you kind of wished she’d left her hand there but she went to pick up her water instead. “Dinner went quite well actually, if not a bit ill-planned. We had a bit of a misunderstanding of what the calendar said.” She gave Vision a playful glare and he responded with a bashful smile that he tried to hide by running a hand over his face.

“I drew a heart, for Hart,” he explained. “We forgot and thought we missed an anniversary instead.”

You thought back to when Mr. Hart mentioned the dinner at the office and Vision had made a heart with his hands, then tried to suppress a grin of your own. “That’s an easy misunderstanding. Happy to hear I’m not the only one good with planning, though, no offense.”

“Well, maybe you two should be married.” Wanda glanced between the two of you, the playful look in her dark eyes paired with her suggestion making your throat dry.

“You couldn’t remember it either, darling,” Vision countered, giving her a peck on the forehead, “If that’s the case, maybe all three of us were meant to be.”

You went to swallow and ended up having to suppress a choke. You reached for your glass, only to see it empty—when did you do that?—but Wanda was quick to refill it.

You gave her a sheepish smile and soft “Thanks” in return, took a drink and decided to play along. “That would explain why we ended up living directly across from the street and why I’ve been single almost my entire life.”

You mentally kicked yourself for mentioning that last part and coming off way too desperate. However, when you glanced the couple’s way, Vision was chuckling, and Wanda was giving an understanding nod with a pleased look on her face. Maybe she thought her joke was going to hit wrong? Maybe it hadn’t been a joke?

Don’t get your hopes up, you thought.

Then Wanda spoke again. “You must be joking. You’re living on your own in that house?”

You shrugged and responded, “I have a fish.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful conversation,” Wanda quipped back.

“No romantic interest in sight?” Vision asked.

Well, I wouldn’t say that but I’m certainly not going into that right now. You shook your head and decided to shift the conversation to a topic that was less likely to make you feel, if either or both of them did happen to ask you to marry them at that very moment, as if you would immediately throw yourselves at them. “Speaking of houses and all that, what a coincidence that we happen to find each other living next door the same day we meet. That’s what I originally came over to do, introduce myself to my neighbors and give you a housewarming gift.”

You gestured to the pachira on the coffee table and Wanda reached over to touch its leaves, then used Vision’s still-full water glass to water it. “That’s right. It is a lovely plant, thank you very much. I think it will look nice in the kitchen, or perhaps over by the window.”

“It’s supposed to bring good luck to the house,” you offered, “and red ribbons are often associated with it but I’m not sure why.”

“Well here’s to good luck then,” Wanda said, clinking Vision’s empty cup with your half-full one. She read the card you’d attached, smiled, then picked up the plant and offered it to her husband. “Here, dear. Since you’re taking on the role of house-husband tonight, why not take this and see how it looks over by the window.”

Vision was already standing and taking the plant from her hands before she finished her sentence. “Of course, darling. Tell me where you think it looks nice.” Then he added to you as he walked by, “I may be skilled many things, like filling out computational forms, but the interior decorating is all her. I’m practically color-blind. And furniture-blind. And generally design-blind. Possibly blind-blind, if I’m being honest.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but she still giggled, then pointed out where she thought the plant would look best. It was off to one side of the window and she explained that she thought it would be visible from your window as well, and thus give both houses good luck.

“Maybe it will give me the luck to finally unpack and decorate like you two already have,” you pondered allowed, finishing off your water a second time; Wanda promptly offered to fill your cup again but you politely declined. “The two of you have been here, what? At least a few days now and your home is already made in the shade. I’ve been here in Westview a month if not more and I usually spend my time lounging on a couch made of crates and boxes.”

You noticed Vision glance oddly at his wife as he sat back down but Wanda didn’t seem to catch it. Still, she answered quite quickly, “We used a company.”

“Ah.” You glanced between them but the strained energy that suddenly appeared just as quickly as it came when Wanda gave you another sweet smile and offered to write down the company name for you. “No need, I couldn’t afford it anyway. Thank you, though.”

That response didn’t seem to please Wanda all that much. She pursed her lips in a way that looked partially pondering and partially pouty—it was a very cute pout—before leaning over to Vision and muttering in his ear. His attention was immediately drawn to focus only on her and they chatted quietly among themselves for a few moments.

You suddenly felt awkward again and took to looking around a bit. You first looked at your feet and noticed how close one of Wanda’s own was to yours; in fact, the three of you were sitting so close together that her dress poofed out over your leg. Then you happened to look over at where your arm was resting across the back of the couch. Vision’s was too and you suddenly became keenly aware of how, if he were to start talking with his hands like he does, his would most definitely brush your own. You wondered if it already had while you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, then you wondered if you should move farther to the other side of the couch.

You began shifting to do so when Wanda suddenly leaned back to her normal spot and grabbed your wrist. “Why don’t we come over sometime this weekend and help you unpack?”

You blinked. She seemed closer than she had been earlier, or maybe it was just the fact that hand hadn’t pulled away yet. Her eyes were as bright and welcoming as they had been since you first saw them, eyebrows raised in what you could only place as eagerness, and you officially decided that if you were to look up the word “sweet” in a dictionary, there’d be a picture of her smile.

You were so suddenly flustered that for a moment all you did was stare while you figured out how to talk again. When you did, you were surprised at confident your voice sounded when you replied, “Sure.”

“Great!”

Wanda and Vision looked equally excited when you looked at them both, which confused you before you remembered that you were only the second person from the neighborhood to visit them since they moved in. Thinking of it now, you were also feeling energetic from the conversation and not just because you happened to be sitting next to a very attractive-looking pair. This was the first time you sat down with people from the neighborhood and it did not only go well but you were thoroughly enjoying yourself; you also enjoyed spending time with Agnes but Agnes was just outwardly friendly to everybody and even if you ran out of things to say, she had enough stories to add filler to seven different conversations at the same time. Wanda and Vision seemed to be just as awkward as you, making unusual jokes that might not make it through and fumbling over themselves and on occasion just being awkwardly silent at times, but it was a weird kind of awkwardness that also felt comfortable, comforting. You felt like you were among friends.

Conversation flowed easily for the rest of the night. The three of you made plans to spend the next day at your place, unpacking and decorating and just getting to know each other better, then conversation shifted smoothly from one random topic to another. Wanda had a lot of questions about the neighborhood and the people in it and she and you swapped stories of first meeting Agnes. You were somewhat fascinated with Vision’s almost eidetic memory and couldn’t help quizzing him on random subjects but luckily, he seemed to be just as eager to answer. Wanda mentioned Vision’s ability to play ukulele at one point and he felt is was absolutely necessary to perform and after mentioning Wanda’s breakfast cooking ability—and your stomach grumbling in curiosity—she brought you to the kitchen and made the best breakfast you’d ever had, despite it not being morning, while Vision kept to his word and washed the dishes. Eventually, though, the night caught up to the each of you and you said your goodbyes, hugs included, at the door and you headed back home with a goofy grin on your face.

Upon getting home, you kicked off your shoes that you’d long since forgotten were causing your feet pain and went to your bedroom. You quickly stripped, put on your bedwear, and faceplanted onto your sheets. You laid there for a moment in comfortable bliss before turning your head and catching yourself in the mirror. Though looking utterly exhausted, it was mixed an almost childish happiness. You finally felt content in Westview, like you’d finally found your place.

You scrambled around to get under the covers and curled up. Quickly dozing off and still grinning, you muttered, “I think I’ll like it here.”

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indelibleevidence · 2 years

Text

Token Appearance (tag to 2x08, companion piece to Practical)

Author’s Note: The expansion of the drabble I posted here. It’s more emotionally heavy than the episode, Jeller-wise - probably getting into 2x17-ish territory, or thereabouts - but hey. Canon, what canon? (Except that there’s too much canon, at least re: Kurt/Nas.) It took me a few days longer than I thought to finish, so sorry it’s late.

***

Token Appearance

This was a nightmare.

Last week, Jane had dreamed of being back in this apartment—happy, safe, and loved. She’d been helping in the kitchen while Kurt put the finishing touches on dessert. She’d kissed fruit syrup from his lips and smiled, and then Roman had joined them for dinner, and everything had been perfect—up until Remi had appeared, turning the dream into a full-blown night terror. The darker version of herself had overpowered her, stabbing her to death on the same table she’d just been sitting at, enjoying dinner.

Being here now, for the first time since before Oscar’s betrayal… It felt surreal. Everywhere, people talked and laughed. Jane only recognised a few of them from the NYO—she assumed the remainder were Allie’s friends and family.

She’d gotten a brief hello from Kurt and Allie when she’d walked in, a subdued smile from Nas, and a wave from Patterson. She would have joined Patterson, who’d warmed up to her more than the rest of the team, but Patterson and Borden were together now, and he’d told Jane that therapists weren’t allowed to socialise with their patients. Since they came as a package deal tonight, she guessed that meant no socialising with Patterson, either.

Reade had been frowning down at his phone from the moment she’d arrived, seemingly too engrossed in a personal problem to want to be sociable. Zapata had shown up even later than Jane had, and though Jane had sent a smile her way, she hadn’t noticed—or cared about anything but Reade, it seemed. Whatever Reade had going on, Zapata was in it with him. Jane would have offered to help, back when she’d been in their good graces. She got the impression that her curiosity would be unwelcome, and hanging out with them these days would be out of the question.

Some of the strangers had shot curious looks at her tattoos, but no one had approached her or tried to start a conversation. She was beginning to think that Remi’s words in the dream were true of this equally surreal situation. This doesn’t belong to you. You can’t have it.

That had been clear during her disastrous attempt at a date last week, when she’d run out on Oliver, who’d dared to ask such invasive questions as, ‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’ She hadn’t been able to answer anything he’d asked—such simple things to most people, but so complicated to her. Maybe she was just destined to be alone, and normal relationships were for people who hadn’t grown up in a family of aspiring terrorists.

Even friendships were no longer simple, the shadow of her past looming over her present everywhere she went. Earlier, Kurt had told her, “You’re my friend, Jane. I want you at that party.”

And here she was, at the party, even though she’d known it would be another disaster. She hadn’t been invited originally—she’d only learned about it when Patterson had assumed she was going, and had started talking excitedly about the cake. It had hurt to realise she’d been excluded, but she’d berated herself for her surprise. What had she expected? She’d forfeited her right to be invited to parties when she’d hidden vital information from them all, and though she hadn’t deserved to be black sited and tortured, the team’s lack of desire to rebuild the bridges she’d burned was no shock. She even agreed with them, to an extent. She’d been naive and stupid, and she was lucky they even gave her polite courtesies these days.

A short distance away, Kurt opened a bottle, and its contents fizzed up and over his shirt, making him grin and shake his head at his own carelessness. He finished pouring the drink for the woman he was talking to, then disappeared towards the bedroom, presumably to change his shirt.

Jane was about to look away from his retreating back when she saw Nas heading after him, confirming her suspicions. Her NSA handler had been far too anxious earlier that day, while Kurt had been missing, and when they’d caught up to him, his attitude towards Nas had been softer than Jane had expected. They were in some kind of romantic relationship, despite all the arguments they’d had, the friction between them at work.

Staring down at her drink, Jane tried to regain her equilibrium. It wasn’t that she’d ever expected the dream she’d had—pre-Remi—to become a reality. The ridiculousness of Roman and Kurt being friendly to each other aside, Jane had known that Kurt would never trust her enough to rekindle the spark between them.

But just like when Kurt had been dating Allie, and when she’d realised Allie’s baby was Kurt’s, it made her heart ache to know he was with Nas. She hadn’t even thought they had good chemistry, couldn’t see how their relationship would work—but that must be because of her own jealousy.

At least she could admit to herself that she was jealous—but now she was just looking for silver linings amidst this terrible situation.

Allie brought a champagne flute into Jane’s line of unfocused vision. “Hey. We’re nearly at the cake-cutting point, so we’re bringing out the good stuff.”

Jane forced a smile. “Thanks. Um, any thoughts on boy or girl?”

“Kurt thinks girl. I’m going with boy.” Allie grinned. “Yet another thing we can’t agree on.”

Yet they’d seemed so compatible, when they’d been dating. Not that Jane had seen them together outside of a work situation, with all of its stresses and debates about strategy, but compared to Kurt’s relationship with Nas, things with Allie had been positively harmonious.

What does he see in her? What’s going on in the bedroom right now? Jane resisted the impulse to prematurely down the champagne. Getting drunk would only make a bad situation worse.

“Either way,” Allie said, “we’re only at the stage of finding out because of how you took care of me the other week. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

Jane smiled and shrugged. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Allie’s eyes narrowed a little, as though she was about to ask Jane if she was okay, but then someone called her name, and the moment was lost. “Ah, the perils of hosting a party. We’ll catch up later, Jane.”

Somehow, Jane doubted she’d be sticking around for long enough for that to happen. As Allie hurried away, Patterson called, “Okay, does everyone have their drinks? Because I have cake!”

“Anyone know where Kurt is?” Allie asked the room.

Jane just gazed down at the bubbles in her champagne. If it’s not from the Champagne region of France, then it’s just sparkling pain relief, she thought darkly.

Kurt reappeared, with Nas in tow. Jane studiously avoided looking at them, focusing on Patterson, who carried the candle-lit cake—white icing with pink and blue decoration. Jane had never quite understood the appeal of assigning colours to genders, but this wasn’t her party.

Maybe in some kind of alternate universe, she’d have been the one by Kurt’s side, hugging herself with anticipation as he made the first cut into the cake. Maybe she’d have been the one taking the knife from him and making the second cut, levering out the slice, gasping at the pink, spongy filling as it was revealed.

Jane raised her glass along with everyone else as the room erupted into cheers and applause, managing some semblance of a smile. Kurt and Allie embraced, and Jane didn’t think she’d ever seen him look this happy before tonight.

At least that was something. At least the revelation of Taylor’s death hadn’t destroyed his capacity for joy. He deserved something good in his life, after everything that had gone wrong for him lately.

Jane was beginning to get the sense that happiness would always be a distant memory for her. But that was okay. She wasn’t here to be happy—just to do a job. To stop Sandstorm, and if she survived, to start her new life, somewhere else.

If you’re just here to do your job, why are you at this party?

Because Kurt had invited her—in fact, he’d ordered her to come—right after telling her he’d miss her if she died.

Because if she hadn’t come, she would have seemed as though she was rejecting the olive branch he’d held out, however belated the gesture had been.

Because she was punishing herself. And tonight, she’d endured all she could.

Glancing towards the door, she was surprised to notice Reade slipping out. Whatever was going on with him, he hadn’t wanted to be here any more than she did.

Jane pushed aside her prickle of concern. It was none of her business, unless Reade chose to confide in her. And that had been unlikely before the truth about Mayfair and Oscar came out. Jane just hoped he wasn’t in any serious trouble.

She gave Reade a couple of minutes to get out of the building—as awkward as being here was, making small talk in the elevator would have been worse—then left her half-empty champagne flute on the counter, quietly slipping away without saying goodbye to anyone.

It wasn’t like anyone would really notice, or care that she hadn’t stuck around to eat cake. Kurt and Allie were surrounded by well-wishers, the rest of the team amongst them, and Jane had put in a token appearance.

This wasn’t meant for her, and her torn heart stung too much for her to stay.

***

They were having a baby girl. No matter how many people congratulated him or asked about potential names for his daughter, he could still barely shape his mind around the concept.

The champagne was going to his head, his face ached from smiling so widely, but still, things were almost unreal, dreamlike. Up until now, the baby had just been an abstract concept and a shadowy smudge on an ultrasound screen, but now he was imagining his child as older than a newborn—a toddler, a grade-schooler, a teenager, an adult woman with a life of her own.

It was still going to take some getting used to, and any child of Allie’s was probably going to take a strong dislike to the colour pink, but—

“I think Jane just sneaked out.”

Kurt blinked, dragged back into the present by the unexpected words.

Allie was frowning a little, concern in her eyes. “I cut her a piece of cake—I wanted to thank her again for saving our lives—but I can’t find her, and I saw someone leaving out of the corner of my eye just now.”

“She probably just isn’t used to parties,” Kurt said, shaking off a vague sensation of guilt.

Allie sighed. “You can probably still catch her at the elevator if you go now—that thing takes forever to get up here. She saved our daughter’s life. You should at least check if she’s okay.”

Okay, mom. The borderline resentful thought made him grin a second after he’d registered it. “You practising your guilt trip for when the baby’s a teenager?”

She nudged him, not amused enough to be sidetracked. “I’m serious. She looked kinda queasy.”

The idea that Jane might be unwell didn’t sit right with him, especially if she was planning to walk home alone. Not that she wasn’t fully capable of taking care of herself, queasy or not, but still… “Okay, I’ll see if I can catch her. Hey—I know you’re eating for two, but at least try to save me some cake?”

Allie rolled her eyes. “If I eat all the cake, it’ll be because this baby has your sweet tooth. Stop stalling.”

Kurt headed for the door, his smile fading into concern. He’d invited Jane to the party in the end, wanting to make a gesture of friendship, but everything had been so busy, he hadn’t had time to do more than say hello to her when she’d arrived. Great friend you are.

As Allie had predicted, he found Jane at the elevator. She froze up like a startled rabbit when he opened the door and looked out, then fidgeted as she registered it was him. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time she’d been over here, when she’d panicked and fled from dinner with Sarah and Sawyer. She wasn’t as visibly distressed, but something about her demeanour telegraphed unease.

“Hey,” he said, drawing nearer. “Not staying for cake?”

Jane gave a forced smile, avoiding his eyes, reinforcing his instinct that she was profoundly uncomfortable. “Uh, no. I’m just gonna go. Congratulations, though.”

Kurt frowned down at her. “I know I’ve been busy tonight, but if you wanna talk…”

The elevator arrived, the chime punctuating his offer. Jane stepped inside, reaching for the button for the lobby immediately. “I’m fine. Go back inside. The mother of your child and your girlfriend are both waiting for you.”

The elevator door closed, shutting down the conversation before he could process exactly what she’d said. When the words hit home, he stood in the empty hallway for a long moment, realising for the first time just how badly he’d screwed this up.

Their past, and his future, and her isolation… His spectacularly bad handling of this whole situation, and trying to patch up their friendship on short notice, had crowded them all together in one place. He’d been an insensitive jerk.

Maybe he’d had too much to drink, or maybe he’d been punched in the face too hard earlier today, but either way, he couldn’t allow himself to just let it be. There was still a whole party full of people waiting on his return, but Jane only lived a ten minute walk away, and as Allie had observed, the elevator moved slowly between floors. He could get downstairs as she was arriving, if he moved quickly.

He’d walk her home, and he’d make this right. Somehow.

He took the stairs down to the lobby at a jog, and arrived just in time to see her pushing through the door that led out onto the street. He caught up as she reached the bottom of the short flight of stairs down to the sidewalk.

“Jane, wait.”

She spun to stare at him, startled. Obviously, she’d assumed one of the other residents or party attendees was leaving. The idea it might have been him behind her hadn’t crossed her mind—and that made him ashamed of himself.

“Kurt, go back upstairs.”

“Nope. Gonna walk you home.” He reached her side and indicated the direction of her safehouse.

“You really don’t have to do that.” She began to walk, as though realising it was futile to argue.

“I know.”

They took the first few steps in silence, until Jane was frowning across at him. “I assumed you had something you wanted to talk about.”

“I do.” He sighed. Where could he start? “You didn’t have to come tonight, if you didn’t want to be here.”

“I didn’t?” There was a touch of amusement in her tone, but he didn’t get the sense that she truly found the situation funny.

Her words didn’t make sense to him. “Of course you didn’t.”

“First you said, ‘Come to the party.’ And then you said, ‘I want you at that party.’ You didn’t ask. You told me to come, so I did.”

Her logic was ridiculous. Was she being deliberately obtuse? “Come on, Jane. You had to know it wasn’t an order.”

“And if I hadn’t shown up?” Jane asked, refusing to look at him as they walked. “You were trying to mend bridges. If I hadn’t come, it would have looked like I was rejecting that, not just the invitation.”

She was right. Somehow, he just made a bigger mess of this whole thing with every word he said. “I handled it badly. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, but she was still avoiding his attempts to catch her eye, and her posture wasn’t exactly relaxed.

He made himself mentally retreat for a minute or two, offering her the time to elaborate or say anything she wanted to get off her chest. She remained silent, and that silence chafed at him.

Guilty people always want to talk most. His years in the interrogation room had taught him that, and it was true now. The memory of the way she’d looked a few weeks ago—covered in the fading bruises that marked the harsh treatment she’d received under the CIA’s watch—still tore him up inside if he thought about it too long. He’d implied that people couldn’t change to Rich Dotcom last week, knowing full well that Jane would assume he was saying she’d always be Remi. And now that he’d chosen to put the grudge aside, he was still messing up.

He couldn’t bring himself to mention the kisses they’d shared, back before everything had gone to hell. If he brought up their mutual attraction, it would complicate everything so much more than simple friendship. He barely even allowed himself to think about it, let alone acknowledge its existence to Jane. But he could at least talk about the rest of it.

“I meant it, you know. That I’d miss you, if something happened.”

Jane slowed her pace a little, finally glancing over at him. “Thank you.”

“Given how well we haven’t been communicating lately…” He tried to find the right words. “I don’t want to just assume you want to be friends. If you don’t, after everything that’s happened…”

“Of course I do.” Her voice was soft and sad. “I just… What I said on the dock… I was just stating the facts. I wasn’t trying to manipulate you into feeling sorry for me.”

“It’s not a fact if it’s not true,” he pointed out. “And I really would miss you.”

“Thank you,” she said again, seeming a little lost for words.

He didn’t know what else to say, either. Earlier, while he’d been tied to a chair in Marconi’s hideout, he’d asked himself whether Jane even cared about her life anymore. It seemed like she was throwing herself into the line of fire to stop anyone else from getting hurt, and he was worried she was being too reckless. But it seemed too direct to ask her if she was on a suicide mission. Even between friends, that kind of discussion had to be handled carefully.

They reached the safehouse, and Jane turned to face him with another sad smile. “I can take it from here. You should get back to the party. Nas was trying to hide it, but I think you scared her today.”

He could sense the emotional distance between them widening again as she mentioned Nas. “About Nas…”

What could he even say? It’s just a casual thing. It doesn’t mean anything to me. I just needed someone, anyone, because when I think about what we could have had…

“Don’t worry. If you’re trying to keep it quiet, I won’t say anything to anyone. You should be the one to decide when you want to tell people.”

It bothers her.

Honestly, it bothered him, too. Nas had come out of nowhere in Bulgaria, when he was grieving and vulnerable. She was a beautiful woman, and he’d seized the distraction she’d offered, letting his little head do the thinking. After that, he’d discovered Nas was spying on Jane’s therapy sessions—probably not just Jane’s—and that she had been involved with the NSA’s replacement surveillance program, Omaha. Yet he was still allowing her to pull him into bed, despite the fact that sometimes he got the sense that she had her own agenda.

Maybe she just wants to make sure you don’t distract Jane from what she has to do.

The thought made him frown, but before he could chase it, Jane was speaking again. “I tried to go on a date, last week.”

He stared at her, his mind scrambling to catch up. She looked as though she was subtly laughing at herself, as though it was unthinkable that she’d even tried such a thing.

Kurt made himself speak casually, ignoring the sudden, territorial need to ask who he should be punching in the face. “Yeah? How’d it go?”

“It was, uh, that Oliver guy. From the gala last month.” Jane shrugged uncomfortably, as Kurt fought an instant flare of irritation.

That guy? She really thought he was worth the time of day?

“We went out for food, and he started asking me questions, trying to get to know me. But I couldn’t answer any of them, because I’m a walking classified file. I realised I don’t get to have a normal life, so I apologised to him, and I left.” She sighed. “I guess what I wanted to say is, that’s why I got a little bitchy tonight. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”

He blinked at her, confused by her shift from her date to the party. “You’re gonna have to connect the dots for me, there.”

“I was the only one at that party who doesn’t get to think about a future for myself.” Her attempt at a smile fell flat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that. I just…”

“Don’t apologise. It’s okay.” His mind was racing with everything he shouldn’t say, and it made finding a response difficult. He was screwing this whole thing up.

Her face grew warmly affectionate for a moment, stealing his breath. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you were tonight, when you found out you guys are having a baby girl. I really am glad for you, Kurt.” Her expression became shadowed again. “I didn’t mean to bring you down from that, or make you worry. I just needed to leave. I didn’t think that you’d follow me.”

His heart ached for her, and for the first time since he’d realised she’d betrayed him, he didn’t question whether she was trying to manipulate him into sympathy. Suddenly, he could find the right words. “Jane… You’re gonna have a future. This whole case? It’s temporary. We’re gonna stop Sandstorm, and then you get to live the way you want. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, but she didn’t look as though she believed it.

Without stopping to think, he pulled her into an impulsive hug, holding her tightly for the first time in too long. She exhaled a breath that was more like a sob, slow to reciprocate, seeming almost afraid to lean on him.

Of course she is. We’ve been keeping her at a distance since she got back.

“You’re not alone, Jane.”

Finally, she relaxed against him, letting him support her for a few seconds. Relieved, he closed his eyes and enjoyed her closeness, then reminded himself that he shouldn’t. Not anymore.

She loosened her arms around him, signalling her intent to pull away, and he reluctantly did the same. Their gazes locked, and for a couple of quickened heartbeats, he fought the urge to press his lips to hers, to give her something to fight for, something to believe in. To show her what he still wanted, despite his every attempt to stamp out the spark between them.

Jane stepped back, and he sensed her re-establishing the boundaries between them, regaining her composure. It was as though Nas had stepped between them, reminding them both that he was spoken for, at least for the moment.

When she spoke, Jane’s voice was lighter than before, though the levity was a little forced. “Go on. You can bring some cake to work tomorrow, let me try it then. Assuming there’s any left, I mean.”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best.” He hesitated, wanting to make sure he’d really repaired the damage to their friendship. “Friends?”

Her smile was more genuine now, though the sadness still lingered in her eyes. “Friends.”

He nodded, and glanced back down the street, back in the general direction of his place. I should go, before…

Jane was already opening the door to her safehouse. She didn’t look back, and the door closed gently behind her, shutting him out.

Which was how it should be, he reminded himself, beginning the walk back towards his apartment block. Nothing good ever happened when he went through that door.

And he and Jane were just friends.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #episode tag: 2x08 #blindspot rewatch 2021 #jeller #jeller fic

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mypalbuck · 3 years

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HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT.

↳ In which sometimes loving people from afar has dire consequences. (hanahaki au)

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: angst, slight panic attack, mentions of coughing petals and trouble breathing.

word count: 3k

You and Bucky have been friends since you were little. He was your special person and you were his. Your friends always used to joke that the two of you would end up getting married considering how joint at the hip you were, and for a while you truly believed it. No matter what life had thrown at you, your paths always seemed to cross. You were his special person and he was yours, until one day she came into his life.

She was radiant.

The kind of girl you always aspired to be like, long beautiful hair, a smile that could outshine the sun and the worst trait of all... a genuinely nice person. You think it was this quality that made you hate her the most, she was perfect for Bucky and you couldn’t deny it one bit. That's why you shut your mouth and held back your tears when Bucky came to you one day and handed you an envelope.

You are invited to the wedding of Bucky Barnes and…

Your first instinct was to pinch yourself which earned you a strange look from Bucky. Your second instinct was the laugh, how ironic. Your third instinct was to cry, to beg him not to get married. The fourth was the sudden urge to cough, strange but you would soon realise that you would suffer greatly from a love lost. As you looked back up at Bucky who was eagerly waiting for your approval, you decided it was best to smile as genuinely as you could and congratulate him on getting someone as perfect as her to be his wife. Little did Bucky know that you went home that night and began to cough up the petals of a striped carnation.

The day had finally arrived, from today onwards Bucky would officially be yours no longer. You could no longer call him anymore in the middle of the night when you felt anxious and needed someone with you to lull you to sleep. You could no longer ask him to be your date to Tony’s parties where all your colleagues would showcase their happy relationships. You could no longer be even the tiniest bit selfish and just want to be around him. He no longer needed you, so you had to learn to no longer need him.

You decided to quickly grab some more concealer to cover up your puffy eyes, from your room at the Avenger’s Facility or Home as you like to call it. The previous night Wanda and Natasha decided to rent a hotel room for you all to have a girl’s night, a fun night to try and calm your nerves and prepare yourself physically and mentally for the day you would never be ready for. It helped for a bit you had to give it to your best friends, but once the two drifted to sleep, the overwhelming sadness crept back up to you and you spent another lonely night coughing.

Grabbing the handle you swung your bedroom door open only to hear movement already coming from your room. “Nat, did you find the shoes? I think they were in the shoebox up the top…” looking up you expected to see your red-haired friend, but instead met the eyes of the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“Hey…” Bucky spoke sheepishly having been caught getting dressed in a room that isn’t his. You tried to hold your tears back, your chest began to tighten. The fates have such sick and twisted humour. Out of all the rooms he could have chosen to get dressed in, it had to be yours. The room where you two would have secret movie nights. The room that served as Bucky’s oasis when he first moved in with the Avengers, the only room he felt comfortable enough to sleep in because you were there to hold him when he had a nightmare. The room which you would cry yourself to sleep in every night after the blip happened, hoping and praying that one day Bucky would come home to you and he did.

But you waited too long, double guessing if he liked you or not instead of just ripping the bandaid off and confessing.

“Sorry for taking over your room, Doll. I just needed some space from everyone to think.” the nickname sending shivers down your spine, in response you nodded your head and waved your hand afraid of what might come out of your mouth if you spoke. Quickly you moved to your bed and took a seat, your eyes hungrily trying to take a mental note of every little feature of Bucky’s you had grown to love, as after today there would be no more longing gazes. A cough left your mouth as he reached over to put his suit jacket on, of course you always thought he was attractive but there was just something about him today that left you speechless.

Bucky caught you staring at him from the mirror and moved to sit next to you “Y/N, you’re here.” he spoke almost breathlessly, which confused you slightly. “Of course I'm here, I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding.” That was the first lie of the day. You had been pondering all night as to whether or not you went, but you know that by not going Bucky would have a lot of questions.

“Still can’t tie a tie?” you laughed softly, moving over to help the man out. After a moment of silence you decided to distract yourself from the close proximity that you sat to him. “Are you nervous?” Bucky let out a shaky laugh at this as you finished his tie and took a step back.”It’s totally normal to be nervous you know, Buck. You’re getting married!” moving back to your previous spot, you let him keep getting ready as you watched him begin to pace.

“Am I making the right decision, Y/N?” eyes wide, tears begin to brim your eyes as you prepare yourself for the second lie of the day. “Yes, Bucky. You’re making the right decision.” Suddenly the bed dipped next to you and Bucky’s head was on your shoulder, face burrowed into your neck. An action Bucky had grown fond of over time, slowly you began to stroke his hair, trying to calm him down as you felt him starting to panic. His head quickly shot off your shoulder as he turned his body to face you. “I don’t think I can marry her. I-I love you, Doll!”

“W-what?!” you yelped, quickly standing up and beginning to pace around your bedroom, breathing becoming ragged as you could feel more petals coming up your throat. You moved back over to Bucky and whacked the back of his head. “WHAT THE HECK Y/N?” he rubbed the back of his head which had begun to throb. You turned around fuming and pointed angrily at him “WHAT THE HECK? BUCKY, YOU’RE ABOUT TO GET MARRIED!” breaths starting to become short you rushed out of your room and into the bathroom, locking the door. Luckily you had made it into the bathroom coughing into the sink before Bucky could see the petals. “Y/N, let me in…” Bucky spoke from the other side of the door as rinse your mouth under the tap.

“Y/N… You know I can just break the door down.” Bucky spoke softly, you could hear him moving to sit with his back against the other side of the door. “Jarvis, make sure Bucky doesn’t get into this bathroom” You spoke shakily to the AI. “I’m sorry Miss L/N, but protocol will not allow me to do so unless the facility is under attack. “Dammit” you spoke, moving to sit against the door in case Bucky tried to pick the lock. “Do you really love me Bucky?” you spoke wearily, trying not to get your hopes up. You knew it was just his nerves talking but a small part of you was hopeful that he really did return the intense feelings you had for him, it would solve a lot of problems for you. A soft chuckle could be heard before Bucky replied “Why are you questioning it? We’ve been friends since we were kids. You stuck by me even after Hydra turned me into a monster, instead of running you stayed. You always stay. For that I will always love you.” You let out a bitter laugh at this “I’ve seen love in different forms, Bucky. What you feel towards me is familiar love, I’m the safe option…” more tears left your eyes as you began to grasp what was happening.

You sat in the bathroom in silence for a few minutes, silent tears falling as you tried to muffle your sobs. “Do you love me?” Bucky spoke breaking the silence, his voice evidently sad. Here came the third lie you would tell today “I loved you. Loved, past tense.” you only hoped that he wouldn’t pick up on you lying through your teeth, but you knew better than that.

“Maybe if you looked me in the eyes when you said that, I’d actually believe you.” hurt evident in his voice. Moving towards the door, you learnt your ear against it. Bucky at this point had moved away from the door which was your cue to quickly leave the bathroom. Slowly you move your hand towards the handle and open it, but before you could escape Bucky had pulled you into a tight hug which you couldn’t break free of. “B-Bucky, let me go.” you pleaded, trying to push at his chest to separate the two of you. “Do you love me, Y/N?” Bucky asked again, this time he loosened his grip to look at you.

Mustering as much courage as you could, you look at him with a serious expression “I loved you. Loved, past tense.” the fourth lie of the day. A single tear slipped down Bucky’s cheek. Sighing deeply, you pull one of the flowers you had neatly placed in your hair and pinned it to his jacket pocket. “Good luck, I’ll see you out there.” smiling weakly you move out the door. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as Bucky inspects the flower.

A striped carnation.

I’m sorry I can’t be with you, I wish I could. This is what a striped carnation symbolises, the regret that a love cannot be shared.

Quickly walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway, you take a moment to support yourself against the wall, “I do love you, Bucky. So damn much.”

“Y/N! There you are!” a voice spoke from down the hall as the figure rushed towards you. Quickly wiping your eyes, you came face to face with Steve, your other best friend. Noticing your tears, he spoke knowingly “He told you didn’t he?” with the single nod of your head, he pulled you into a tight hug. “I love him, Steve.” you begin to sob into his chest as he pulls you down the hallway to somewhere more private, which ended up being his car. “So he told you, huh…” Steve spoke, before running a hand through his hair and sighing. “You told him you loved him back right?” Steve asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Shaking your head no you begin to cry more, prompting Steve to take his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and hand it to you. “No. Just- just please get me out of here.” nodding his head, Steve put his seatbelt on.

“Y/N!” The front door slammed open as Bucky yelled after you. “Steve, please start the car.” Steve looked between you and Bucky before sighing sadly and starting the car. You slump back into the seat, eyes flickering over to the side mirror of the car, heart shattering as you spot Bucky standing in the driveway, shoulders slumped and eyes staring longingly in your direction.

“I can turn the car around...” Steve spoke softly. You open your mouth about to cave in but were cut off by the buzzing of my phone.

Sarge 💘

I have so much I need to say, please, please come back.

More tears ran down your face as you read the pleading message. “Why’d you do it?” Steve spoke up, eyes never leaving the road. “Why’d I do what?” you responded, locking your phone and putting it in the cupholder. Ignoring the continuous flash of your screen which you assumed to be new messages from Bucky. “Everyone knows you love him back, Why’d you tell him that you don’t?” Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. “I never intended to hurt him... but I will not be a homewrecker. I thought that I’d be alright, that I could handle being around Bucky. But I underestimated how strong my feelings were… Steve, I’m coughing flower petals.”

“I saw it. The carnation, Y/N. I know what it means...” Steve spoke sadly. “What do I do Steve? Am I going to die?” Steve quickly turned the car around and began driving back to the house. “Steve, what are you doing?” You panicked, hoping that Steve wasn’t driving back to Bucky like you thought he was. “You are going to speak to Bucky, I know he loves you back.” Steve spoke firmly, not allowing himself to be swayed as you began to cough again. “I’m not going to watch you die Y/N, especially not when it’s an easy fix. Your love isn’t unrequited!” laughing bitterly you picked up some of the petals from your lap and held them out to the super soldier “Then why all the petals?” Steve grabbed a napkin from the glovebox and took the flowers from you “I will take those to Bruce to look at while you talk to Bucky”.

“I’m not doing this Steve!” you spoke ready to open the door of the moving car, but before you realised it you were parked in front of the facility and your door was being opened by Steve who was dragging you inside and back into your bedroom. The door was slammed shut and you could hear it being locked from the outside. “Jarvis, unlock my door please.” you commanded but there was no response. Sighing, you closed your eyes and slid down onto the floor. “Y/N?...” a soft voice spoke which made you open your eyes again hastily. Bucky was now crouching in front of you with a worried expression on his face. Your chest began to tighten and you could feel petals inching up your throat. “No, no, no, no!” you stood up and began tugging on the door handle as you began to cough excessively. “Y/N, what is going on?” Bucky swiftly picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed as struggled to breathe.

“Y/N! Y/N! Doll! Just look at me okay, look at me and match my breaths.” Looking at Bucky you breathed in and out copying his breathing pattern, allowing you to slowly catch your breath again. Stroking your hair comforting, Bucky physically relaxed for a second before a sad expression formed on his face. Standing up, Bucky examined the petals on the floor before turning back to you “You’re sick.” you opened your mouth to disagree but you couldn’t. “I’m- I…” You let out a defeated sigh and moved to try unlocking the door again but Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you into a hug. You began to cry.

There was no place you would rather be than in the arms of the man you loved but you knew deep in your heart he was meant for another. “I love you, Bucky.” Your sudden words made Bucky’s eyes go wide. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You took a deep breath savouring the moment before pushing yourself from his grasp.

“But I shouldn’t be here…”

Closing his eyes, a single tear slipped down his cheek as he gingerly interlaced his fingers with yours. “I know.” he spoke, taking off his wedding band and twirling it between his fingers. “Our timing was off.” you spoke, looking down at all the flower petals that had scattered the floor. “Yeah.” he replied letting out a bitter chuckle and squeezing your hand.

You knew the answer to the next question would break your heart, but you still asked it anyway. “Do you love her?” there was a moment of silence before Bucky nodded his head yes. You knew deep down that you weren’t fated to be together and there was nothing you could do about it. “Then that’s all that matters.” you spoke calmly before taking the ring out of Bucky’s hand and sliding it back onto his ring finger.

“But I love you too-” Bucky interjected, grabbing your face in his hands. Tears brimming his eyes as he gently caressed your face. Smiling sadly you removed his hands from your face and moved over a bit. “You can’t love us both”. The two of you stood there in silence, hands still interlocked. “I know what you have, Y/N. You’ll die.” Bucky’s voice cracked, making things so much harder for you. Turning to face him, you smile as genuinely as you could “Or maybe I won’t, I’m a healer Buck. Maybe I can heal myself.” Bucky smiled sadly down at you before kissing your head and moving to sit on the bed. He was torn, you could tell and it broke your heart that you were the reason for his internal conflict.

He wanted to save you, because in all truth he did love you. But suddenly a thought crossed his mind. Before he knew of your feelings for him, why was he not coughing petals over the thought of you not returning his feelings. Was it because he moved on with her? Was he really in love with you? Or was it familiar love like you had said? Only time could tell, but time is something you didn’t have.

Deep down you both knew nothing but love could save you.

Oh what luck some must have. To love and to be loved in returned.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes angst #the winter soldier #hanahaki disease #sebastian stan #seb stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastain stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #something great

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tataswish · 3 years

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❝ at the rooftop / myg.

━ ・ paring: aspiring rapper!min yoongi x reader. ━ ・ genre: neighbors au, smut, fluff, with a pinch of angst. ━ ・ word count: 5.0k. ━ ・ contains: mutual pining, dirty talk, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rooftop sex, and a little bit of sadness at the end. ━ ・ summary: in which you look back at the memories you’ve made with yoongi, the neighbor who you once fell in love with. heavily inspired by the song ‘the one that got away.’

author’s note: i had a dream about this so... here it is. LMAO. it’s been i while since i last wrote so excuse my rambling but happy reading! i thought about making a mini series out of this but... we’ll see. <3

The day you first met Min Yoongi was a memory you always looked fondly back at.

It happened one gloomy afternoon. After another tiresome day at work, you decided to find solace on your apartment building’s rooftop—a place that easily became your go-to whenever you wanted to spend time in solitude. No one ever really was up there (with the exception of the parties thrown by residents from time to time), so it was always strange seeing someone else who wasn’t you up there.

There was something about that place that brings you so much comfort. Maybe it was the string lights that hang perfectly across the ledges, the mixture of house plants displayed around the area, or the inviting smell of vanilla greeting your nose from the candles on almost every surface—it was nice. If the chance presented itself, you would be there for hours on end doing nothing and be content with it.

Making your way towards the rattan sofa that sat right beside the ledge, your tracks were suddenly put to a stop upon seeing an unfamiliar face sitting at that very same spot. He was leaning back on one side of the off-white cushion, legs slightly spread apart, chilled bottle of beer in hand as his eyes gaze absentmindedly at the view of the city skyline beside him. He must’ve been so lost in thought, because even with you standing in front of him, he didn’t move.

“Is that seat taken?” you asked amidst the silence while feigning a warm smile.

That was enough for him to finally snap out of his trance, because you could see him jump from his spot and immediately straighten his posture. You couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh. “No—no, yeah, no. It’s not. I was getting ready to leave anyway, so—” he was already beginning to stand from where he was sitting, obviously flustered at the situation he’s been put in.

“I don’t mind sharing!” you interjected before impulsively placing a hand on the stranger’s arm as some sort of reassurance. At the realization, your eyes began to grow two times its size, and you retracted it at an instant with your cheeks flushed.

It was silent for a moment. Between you trying to gage how he felt about the sudden contact and him wondering what the fuck just happened, it clearly triggered some sort of fight of flight response. Your mind was scrambling, trying to find the right thing to say, but before you could even open your mouth—

He laughed. It was a low, yet bubbly laugh—one that you never thought would eventually fall in love with. As the lights above perfectly illuminated his features, that moment was also the first time you saw him smile. There was something stirring up within you, a feeling that gave you so much warmth from merely watching this stranger express happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.

In fact, it was so contagious that you began to laugh too.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy being comfortable with silence until you met Yoongi. Despite the fact that you spent a majority of that evening sitting in silence, it didn’t bother you at all. In most instances with others, you almost always felt obligated to say something, anything after a while but you didn’t feel that pressure with him—this stranger that you’ve only met three hours ago.

Still, you basked in the moment. The two of you sat together on that large couch, sharing the view. You were sitting with your legs criss-crossed, both arms resting over them, while Yoongi relaxed by sinking deeper into the cushion, one arm resting on the couch’s back—which was also right behind yours. You immediately learned that he, unlike yourself, wasn’t much of a talker. In the few hours you’ve spent with him on the rooftop, you’ve only learned: his name, age, and the fact that he moved into this building just today. Why? That was a mystery you’ve yet to discover. You also didn’t want to be that person who practically interrogates the new guy, trying to discover his whole life story in the span of one night. If he was living in the same building, you were confident you’d see him around from time to time anyway. Besides, it was evident that the two of you were already comfortable with each other’s presence.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” The question took you by surprise. From staring at the skyline, he then glanced back at you, eyebrow slightly cocked.

It took you a minute to think of something. If Yoongi was the type of person who took people’s music tastes seriously, you wanted to make sure you’d give a solid response—but then again, you wanted to avoid an obvious copout answer either. Truth be told, your music taste was all over the place. Shuffling any of your Spotify playlists was a dangerous game, because it could jump from contrasting genres that wouldn’t make any sense.

So you kind of… panicked.

“I like anything,” you blurted out, already regretting your choice of words. Deep inside, you were cringing, because it left a bad taste in your mouth.

You knew he was going to be disapproving of that answer, but he surprised you with a different reaction instead. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “Anything, huh? What about rap? I have something I want you to listen to.”

Intrigued, you adjusted your position on the couch, eyes watching him as he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket. The black, chunky headphones that hugged his neck were then offered to you, and you flashed a small grin upon taking it before putting it on yourself. At this point you were curious. So, your prying set of eyes continued to watch his phone’s screen as he scrolled through a list of what seemed to be recordings until selecting a file that was named Trivia 轉: Seesaw.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Initially, you thought this was some random song recommendation that he wanted to share with you, but it was much more than that. The moment you heard the artist of this track begin to sing the first verse, you were left in shock. “Is this you?” you mouthed quietly over to him, who to your surprise, was now sitting incredibly close to you. It took you a minute to notice the way that your knees were pressed against one another, faces inches apart.

He smiled bashfully with a nod. Truth be told, you didn’t expect it. Yet, you were sitting there, head nodding to the beat as the melody graced your ears. Despite only knowing him for only three hours, you knew that there was something about this song that… suited him so well. You weren’t sure if it was the eloquent rapping or the deep lyrics behind it, it all screamed Yoongi.

And you were in love with it. It became one of your favorite things to listen to.

“I can’t believe…” you trailed off once the song finished, gently lifting the headphones off of you to give them back. “I went on with my life without being blessed by this song until now. Yoongi, that was fucking amazing. If I knew you longer, I would’ve started crying but… I spared you the misery tonight.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, flattered—but feeling shy at the same time. “Relax, ____, you don’t have to kiss my ass. I can take criticism. It hasn’t even been released yet; I just wanted to get your opinion on it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked at you expectantly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I swear on my life,” you assured softly, a smile growing across your lips as your hand raises to swear by it. “It’s definitely one of those songs that people are going to play on repeat. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, attempting to hide his widening grin.

At this point your gazes were locked with one another, and you could’ve sworn he could hear the rampant beating of your heart. “Yeah,” you confidently answered back.

Later that night was the time you discovered that Min Yoongi was actually your newfound neighbor. It all happened by accident—the two of you meant to part ways after leaving the rooftop, but ended up taking the same flight of stairs down, walking through the same hallway, and stopping right next to each other after saying “bye” at the same time upon reaching both of your doors.

“Stalking me already? Really?” you quipped playfully, looking back after opening your door.

“How do I know you’re not stalking me first?” he joked in return, suggestively raising an eyebrow. He finished unlocking his own door too.

“I mean, I lived here first, so… pack it up Joe from You.” And your answer was enough for the two of you to fall into a giggling fit after.

Yoongi was the first to say goodbye. He continued to stand before his door, hand on the knob despite not wanting to step inside any time soon. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time today... and for listening to my shitty music. It was nice.”

“Of course,” you replied warmly. “I won’t argue with you, but know that as of today, I’ve become Suga’s #1 fan. Expect me to be in the front row of your shows from now on.”

Even with the roll of his eyes, you could clearly tell that he was amused. “Night, _____. Just don’t fall in love with me, alright? I don’t date fans.”

“Sweet dreams, neighbor. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on falling in love with you any time soon.”

Yet somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love.

He’d been your neighbor for a few months now, and the two of you practically became attached to the hip. You later learned that when he first moved into the city, he didn’t expect to make any sort of friends. Yoongi only planned on making music 24/7—hoping to kickstart his music career after some time. Apparently, before he moved into your building, he was working in some financial firm crunching numbers for eight hours straight. He was engaged too. But, when he revealed to his fiancée (now ex fiancée) that he wanted to quit his job and pursue music… she didn’t take it very well. So, they later separated and Yoongi searched for a new beginning in a city miles away from everything he once knew.

Unlike his ex, you strove to become extremely supportive of his music career. In fact, he was supportive of your teaching career too. On Wednesday mornings, he would always volunteer to come into your classroom and sing a few songs in front of your kindergarten students during circle time. He’d also stay to read a book or two before heading out to get lunch—only to wait for your break so that the two of you could eat together. Then on Friday nights, you would be standing front row in his shows. While his venues were mostly at nightclubs and the city nightlife wasn’t your thing, you were still there—singing along to his music and at times making the best attempt to rap as fast as he could. You’d wait for him by the back after his set, and it became a tradition to head to the nearest convenience store to fill up on ramen, alcohol, and shrimp chips (a staple for every night in).

It was hard not to fall for someone like Yoongi. There was just something about him that you absolutely adored, and even though you were sure he didn’t reciprocate those feelings in that way, you were okay with that. Having him be a part of your life was enough.

The two of you always joked about it though, how you were each other’s soulmates. How one would always complete the other; plus, sharing this sort of mutual understanding that doesn’t need to be talked about. You’ve never felt this strong pull with anyone else, and he’s admitted it too.

“There she is,” you heard the familiar voice coo from afar. Looking up from your phone, you spotted Yoongi leaving through the back door of the nightclub, approaching as if you were the one who just finished performing a show. Still, the grin on your lips couldn’t stop spreading at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, Suga! I’m like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?!” you shrieked, attempting to put on your best impression of the teenage girls who’ve been approaching him often lately. Even with all of his shows taking place in venues that only allowed people over the age of twenty, he still harbored a lot of young fans. While they weren’t allowed to watch his shows, they showed their support in other ways.

He rolled his eyes but attained the beaming smile swept across his lips. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Yoongi was never really one to crack a smile with others. But with you? You were the only exception to that.

His skin was glistening from the beads of sweat that trickled down after performing, and you took it upon yourself to gingerly sweep his coffee-colored bangs off of his face with your fingers. He was staring at you at this point, and you were desperately trying to keep it together without melting into putty in his hands. Because one thing’s for sure—the way he looks at you will always be your weakness. “What?” you challenged, now using a tissue you pulled from your bag to lightly dab his facial features. Your voice was faint, quiet enough to still be heard with your faces only inches apart.

“Nothing,” he replied lowly, stifling a small laugh. “I like looking at you.”

After another successful trip to the convenience store, you and Yoongi went back home to change into more comfortable clothes before meeting back up at the rooftop. It was nearing midnight, so the city was getting ready to turn in. The buildings gradually began to turn their lights off, which only made the stars littered across the night sky shine brighter than before. The rooftop was well-lit thanks to the string lights and candles around you, and even with the cool December breeze sweeping through, you were comfy underneath the plush blanket that wrapped around both of your bodies.

It was nights like this that you held special to your heart.

“Be honest with me,” Yoongi brought up amidst the comfortable silence. He placed the plastic bowl that held his ramen onto the coffee table in front of him before looking back at you. “Do you think I made a mistake? You know… leaving everything in my old life behind to do this? I mean—don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just… feel guilty. There’s always this voice in the back of my head that’s yelling at me for being selfish. My life was fine before, you know? I screwed it all up.”

You blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time he’d shared his doubts with you, but it was always concerning how much it lingered in his head. At the end of the day, what’s done is done. No matter how many times he feels guilty, he shouldn’t look back anymore. This was his life now.

But how could you put it into words that’ll make him understand?

Finishing your food after setting your own bowl down, you took a moment to process everything and think of an answer. You knew very well that you weren’t some licensed therapist capable of giving credited advice, but you were fairly decent at providing comfort to others. “I don’t think so,” you finally replied, keeping your gaze on him steady. “You have to think about it this way, Yoongi. Yeah you were fine before, but… were you happy? Like, actually happy? And are you happy now?”

Those questions left Yoongi speechless. He really took the time to ponder on it, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. You tried to read his expressions, though, it wasn’t any help. It was quiet. Aside from the soft music playing in the background from the small bluetooth speaker that sat on the ledge, the silence that simmered between you two was piercing.

“I guess I wasn’t,” he breathed after a short sigh. “I was miserable.”

You felt his pain at that moment. There was something about the way he said it—how it made your heart wrench and your stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he waved it off, and you could sense the slight frustration in his tone. “If anything, meeting you made everything better.”

Biting back a smile, you instantly began to feel the heat rush through your cheeks. Your chest was pounding and your head was dizzy—shocked at how those little words could make your head go haywire. Still, you did your very best in keeping it collected. “Yeah?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Your glistening eyes met his, shifting your body a bit to fully face his.

“Yeah,” he reassured, unable to keep his smile any longer.

That very night was the night Yoongi decided to be bold. He brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear, only to lessen the distance between both of your faces. Even with your head spinning, you were still able to admire his soft features—the way his eyes literally sparkled when they looked at you, the way his rosy cheeks from the alcohol became more prominent. “You make me so fucking happy, ____. I thought you were just going to be another face I’d see from time to time when we met that night, but… you became more than that. I think I’m in love with you.”

And at that moment, it felt like time had stopped between you two. That nothing else mattered in the world aside from the fact that Min Yoongi—the neighbor you fell in love with—felt the same way.

“Be honest with me,” you decided to match his boldness by using a free hand to gently sweep his bangs off of his face. They were trembling a little, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes kept its focus on you and you only, feigning that same look that always makes you crumble.

He nodded, egging you to continue.

“Would you kiss me right now if I asked?”

Your lips were immediately met by his. It was sweet, and you could taste the hint of ramen broth and beer that lingered. The way his lips felt matched the way that he kissed you—soft, and tender. His hands found their way on your hips beneath the blanket your bodies shared, while yours rested perfectly on both sides of his jaw. With chests pressed against one another, you noticed that his heart was pounding too. And that only made you smile in between kisses.

At this point, neither one of you wanted to pull apart. Instead, your lips were roughly colliding in full-force, the intensity of the kiss amplifying. Yoongi’s hand began to trail down further until his fingers reached the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitched at his touch, desperately wanting him to explore further. But he chose to stop. “Yoongi,” you said his name in an unintentional soft whine after pulling away, practically begging for more friction.

Rational thinking was thrown out of the window tonight. You were riding from the high of Yoongi practically confessing his love for you, and all you wanted to do was have him. All of him.

“Hm?” he let out a quiet hum, fingers dancing closer and closer. His lips continued to wander across your skin, peppering kisses all over your neck and down to your exposed collar bones.

“Touch me,” you whispered into his ear. “Please.”

He didn’t waste another moment. He reached over to slide your pajama pants down in one quick pull and you assisted in kicking them out of the way. It gave him leeway to use the pads of his fingers to gently massage your clothed core, pressing just enough to provide pressure that had your lips leaving quiet moans that were thankfully, still masked by the music in the background. “Take this off and spread your legs for me,” he demanded lowly.

You’ve never seen this side of him before—but god he knew how to turn you on. If the blanket wasn’t over you right now, you would’ve felt exposed from the wetness pooling in between your thighs. But you did as you were told without any hesitation, sliding your panties down until they hugged your ankles, kicking them off entirely, leaving your bottom half bare beneath the warm fabric.

Yoongi took it as a cue to slide his fingers between your legs and prying them apart. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. Even with the blanket hovered securely over your body, the way his gaze was on you was more than enough to make you feel like he owned you tonight. And you were okay with that. Slender fingers dipping into your dripping core, he used it as a way to collect the overflown juices before using it as a lubricant to massage your throbbing clit. His pace was agonizingly slow, but it still made your back arch off of the couch in pleasure.

The sight only made him mumble profanities under his breath.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, ____?” he asked, dark eyes still locked on yours. He was still close, and you could feel his hot breath tickle your skin at each word. Slowly inserting two fingers on the get-go, your eyes impulsively roll back at the way they stretched your walls in the best possible way. His pace soon began to quicken without a fair warning, and you couldn’t help but whimper each time they pump into your g-spot. “Do you think about me fucking you like this?”

Your headspace was such a euphoric state that you couldn’t even find the right words for an answer. Rather than saying anything, you only nodded feverishly to let him know that he was doing everything right. The thought of having Yoongi’s fingers fucking tirelessly inside you was more than enough to rile you up and near your orgasm.

You’ve thought about it multiple times before. Every time you see him on that stage, swiping the sweat off of the back of his neck that left his fingers glistening, your mind begins to wander into dangerous places. It was hot—there’s no denying it.

You were close. But as soon as you were about to finish, the momentum was put to a stop, because you took it upon yourself to remove his fingers out of you on your own. Confused, Yoongi began to look at you as if he’s done something wrong, though, you hoped he’d get the hint the minute your hand found its way to palm his hardening erection through his sweatpants. “I wanna finish inside you,” you breathed, planting kisses that began from his neck and worked its way up to his lips.

“Then do it.”

Using both of your hands to pull both his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, allowing for his length to spring free. After he successfully kicked them both off of him, you stood from your previous position to straddle him, putting both hands on his shoulders to support yourself. His eyes carefully watched you as you slowly unzipped your hoodie, revealing that you wore nothing underneath.

He was mesmerized. And it was all for him—with the blanket still covering both of your bare bodies, he was the only one who could see you like this. No one else.

A devilish grin laced your lips at the sight of him speechless as you helped remove his sweatshirt. Slowly but surely, you lifted yourself up slightly to line Yoongi’s erection up before sinking in.

The two of you both let out a satisfied moan in unison, and Yoongi’s hands began to wander around your warm body—hands stopping at your ass to dig his fingers into your flesh as you rocked your hips at a steady pace. His mouth on the other hand was busy with your breasts, tongue flicking against each hardened nipple even as they bounced.

“Do you think about me fucking you like this?” you mimicked him in a playful yet sultry tone, using both of your hands to lift his face up in order to make full-on eye contact with you while you continued to ride him. He threw his head back in response, all while still keeping his gaze on yours. From his expression alone, you could tell that he was wrapped around your fingers.

But instead of giving you any sort of real answer, he rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss, satisfying his craving for your lips once more. Before you knew it, your positions had switched, and you were fully lying down on the couch with Yoongi on top of you. The blanket had been partially discarded since Yoongi couldn’t care less about it, only draping over the bottom half of your bodies. You let out a small shiver as you felt the cold air, but it all seemed to disappear the minute you felt his length fill you up once more.

“You’re my weakness, _____,” you heard him say softly once your foreheads touch, his lips brushing against yours. His thrusts were at a slow pace, but it was still enough to hit your g-spot each time. “After meeting you that night, I knew I was fucked.”

It was unfair—how Min Yoongi knew how to tug your heartstrings in any situation (literally). There was nothing more intimate than this, though. The two of you were left vulnerable, and he found the perfect moment to say it. “I feel the same way,” you whispered, hands lifted up to cup his flushed cheeks. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Yoongi began to pick up the pace upon hearing you confess. With one hand gripping tightly on the couch’s arm rest until his knuckles turn white, another snuck in between your bodies to have his thumb rub your clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts.

“Yoongi, I’m so close—” you whined quietly into his ear while he continued to fuck you senselessly, walls fluttering and tightening around him. There was that familiar feeling building up inside you, and you were so close to coming undone. Yoongi continued to snap his hips into yours while tracing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you felt yourself let go. Your body jolted as you cried in please, and even then, he didn’t stop. He milked every last drop of the wave of pleasure he’d given you that left you out of breath. There was this buzzing that refused to leave your ears, and your eyes were watery from the overwhelming feeling.

Smirking in satisfaction, each thrust became more sloppy and erratic. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, pulling out to finish on you. He groaned as you felt his warmth spill across your frame, panting from the intense session the two of you just shared.

“Damn, I made a mess,” he said playfully after reaching out for a napkin on the table to wipe your body clean, which earned a soft slap on his end. He only laughed once you were able to sit back up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on the lips.

Once the two of you were finished getting dressed and cleaning the area, you both decided to stay on the rooftop for a few more minutes. Both of you were nuzzled against one another for warmth, your back pressed against Yoongi while he had an arm wrapped around you. SUGAR by BROCKHAMPTON was playing in the background, and Yoongi was singing softly to the chorus while you quietly admired his small performance.

“Remember when you said you wouldn’t fall in love with a fan?” the words left your lips with a smile, recalling the memory like it was only yesterday. At this point, you were just there to tease him. “Tsk. Can’t believe I’m into a hypocrite.”

He laughed, nose digging into your hair. “You’re different. I’d do anything for you.”

↳ PRESENT DAY.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You’ve spent the past hour sitting on the rooftop’s sofa in solitude, admiring the blue sky in front of you. You were quietly humming to Suga’s Trivia 轉: Seesaw to yourself as you watched the view, until you were interrupted by the familiar voice entering your ears. The smile on your face widened as he approached you, offering a hand to help you up.

It’d been months since you’ve last heard from Yoongi. He was off doing bigger, better things—and you were proud of him for that. After spending hours and hours of going back and forth with one another one night, the two of you had the realization that the long-term goals you both had didn’t align. He was asked to commit to a world tour for the next year and a half, and you wanted to stay where your life was. Here.

Yoongi was more than willing to drop his entire career to be with you, but you knew it wasn’t right. So, no matter how painful it felt, you had to let go. He’s made so many sacrifices to get to where he was, and you refused to be the reason why he couldn’t live his dreams. No matter how much you both loved each other.

Deep inside, you’ve always hoped that he’d come home. That one night you’d find him sitting in that very same spot on the rooftop, legs sprawled apart, absentmindedly staring at the night sky. But it’s been months. No calls, no texts—only a meek dial tone at the end of the line.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Min Yoongi was simply the right person you’ve met at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” you answered Jungkook softly before taking his hand to lift yourself from the seat. A quiet giggle left your lips once your boyfriend pulled you closer to pepper kisses on your cheek, and the two of you began your walk out of the building. “Let’s get out of here.”

#yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #min yoongi #i had to repost bc i didnt like the title of the old one JGDHFKG

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prfctethereal · 3 years

Text

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.

#James potter #James Potter x reader #harry potter #marauders #marauders era #James Potter smut #jahmfic

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hazeltiberiuslee · 3 years

Text

Is My Life of Value? (Noelle & Zhongli Fanfic)

Noelle paused as she reached out for the cup of water on the counter. Dejected at the thoughts consuming her mind, she gripped the air tightly before lowering her hand.

As she glimpsed at the waters reflection, she saw her distraught expression looking back at her.

This was her eighth time taking the exam to become a knight of Favonius, and again, she had failed it. This time, Jean had come up to her to explain why she had failed.

“Though you have all the traits of a wonderful knight Noelle, you are a tad too reckless when it comes to yourself. A knight must treasure themselves, and value their own lives while aiding others. I wish for you to take this time to truly think about the value of your life, and not just everyone else’s. You’re special too, I only wish you could see that.” Jean said.

Noelle held her head as she kept thinking about it. Was she really that reckless? She only wished to give her all when it came to her aspirations. She didn’t think that was a bad thing.

But that had been exactly what kept her back from becoming a knight.

She sighed before heading outside of the shed to gaze at the sunset dipping lower into Teyvat. Gripping both her hands anxiously, she desperately looked around in vain to see if there was anyone in need of her help. Straining her ears, she tried to hear any horses footsteps, or a cry for help that she can assist with. But no one uttered her name, only the sounds of snoring from a boar who laid near a tree.

Shoulders drooping, she sighed deeply and decided that maybe she needed a walk to clear her head.

As the light from the sun diminished, the stars took its place to guide Noelle in her walk. Dandelions wavered in the air with its luminous blue glow, and Noelle finally stopped at the end of a giant cliff.

“Acting grand master Jean had told me to take some time off to rest and figure things out. I should do as she says since it is her order, however…” Breathing in another heavy sigh, Noelle sat down at the edge and let the wind rustle gently past her cheeks.

Her perfect posture made her sit upright, hands automatically folding itself on top of each other, neatly resting above her lap. The breathtaking view of Mondstadt filled her eyes as her mind wandered.

Did anyone call her name in hopes that she would arrive? Did someone feel an ache of disappointment, as she did, that she was no longer available to help them in their moment of need?

“…It is…quite lonely when I’m not doing my duties within Mondstadt.” she whispered.

She missed the feeling of being needed. Being wanted.

“Am I naive in thinking that chasing after your dreams without stopping is the right way to go?” She wondered out loud.

Keep your eyes on your goal and never stop working to get it. If you slack off, you’re being lazy. Never stop racing towards your dreams. Those had been the messages that came through while growing up as a child.

Is it possible those messages have been always wrong? She thought.

“Sigh…”

Closing her eyes, Noelle let herself go and flopped to the ground. The grass tickled the sides of her face as she listening to the rustling of the trees. All of it had somehow started to calm her raging thoughts.

It had been years since she rested like this. The only time she had done so was before her dreams ignited within her chest, as a child to be a knight. Ever since then, she had read hundreds of books about knights and their moral code.

Every time she read about them, the words had fanned the flames of her passion higher than it did before.

As her consciousness started fading, she felt a tug deep within her guiding her to another direction.

Looking around the dream, Noelle heard a sigh, and a slight whisper. She didn’t understand the context of the words, though the voice sounded oddly familiar.

“That old blockhead sure likes to put me to work even though there’s no wine to be exchanged for it.” It muttered.

‘Huh?’ Noelle voiced.

“Ah well, it’s not much work anyway. Well then, have a good talk Noelle! And next time, drink some wine with your friends! Wouldn’t want you to end up the same as that workaholic.” It sang, before a flash of light appeared and faded.

Out of habit Noelle shielded her eyes and blinked rapidly, only to find her breath escaping her.

‘Wow.’ She exclaimed.

All around her she saw pools of water and a low, wide tree centered on the small patch of land that she was standing on top of. Near her, a stone table stood with ceramic cups filled with herbal tea.

“Come child.” A voice called out.

Gasping in surprise, she snapped her head to look at the source of the voice and saw a tall gentleman with long brown hair and amber eyes. He gave a small smile and gestured her to sit.

For some reason, she found herself easily doing so.

In normal instances, she would have refused and instead asked if he required assistance before serving up some snacks.

He chuckled as if he knew what was going through her mind.

“I heard that the exam didn’t go quite as you wished.” he stated.

A pout began to form as Noelle’s lips puckered out. ‘It didn’t go well at all! Though I got everything right.’ She slumped in her seat.

‘From the physical aspects to the written parts, I’m sure I aced everything! But… I failed because master Jean said I didn’t care for my life well enough. But isn’t knights supposed to be able to put their lives on the line anyway to serve?’ She moped, hanging her head low.

A part of her was dumbfounded that she was suddenly acting like this but she couldn’t stop revealing her true feelings to the stranger. It was quite baffling.

The stranger didn’t seem to mind though as he smiled and gave a hearty chuckle.

“You have a strong sense of duty and loyalty to Mondstadt. That is what I quite liked about you, which is why I gifted you your vision.” he said nonchalantly. Bringing the cup close to his lips, he breathed in the scent of hot green tea.

Under normal circumstances, Noelle would have opened her eyes wide in shock at the revelation that the person in front of her was the Geo Archon. But whether it was the fact that they were meeting in a dream or not, she remained calm, accepting the situation easily.

Picking up her own cup, she followed Morax and breathed in the tea before drinking it. The warm taste of green tea penetrated her being and strangely put her in a calmer mood despite her misgivings.

While staring at the tea’s reflection, she found that the knots holding her complicated emotions tightly in a knot were slowly unwinding itself.

‘I don’t understand… Why is my life important if others may benefit from my actions, especially if Mondstadt finds itself in dire need of my assistance? As long as I am okay with it, is it not fine to continue the way it is?’ She pondered.

There was a moment of silence as Morax stirred his cup. He closed his eyes before lifting his arm. The air behind him shimmered before revealing the knights of Favonius headquarters.

In there, Jean and Kaeya were in a hushed discussion with each other. Jean’s face was furrowed with concern while Kaeya had his arms crossed but tried his best to comfort the acting grand master.

“She’s going to be fine Jean. The doctor said she will live, and that Noelle didn’t suffer from frostbite. Just need a few days rest and she’ll be back up ready to take on the world as always.” Kaeya reassured. He flashed her a charming smile but a corner of it twitched.

That didn’t escape Jean’s eyes and she just sighed with worry. She didn’t want to be acting like this but she had no one else to express her concerns to.

“She took on a reckless mission all by herself. What made her think that it was okay to do this without telling us?! Noelle barely had enough water and food as she went up into the mountains, and continued on even though her armor iced over after discovering the missing man.” She sighed.

Rubbing her face with both hands, Jean felt the stress building back up at the memory of Noelle nearly collapsing in front of Mondstadt gates. Jean had been making her rounds with Lisa when a guard yelled out in shock. Everyone had turned around to look expecting an attack, but found Noelle in the distance pushing herself to carry the man back through Mondstadt walls.

Everyone had ran to help her but it was as if Noelle couldn’t see them. Her eyes hazy and breathing haggard, she kept muttering that she’ll make sure that they both arrive home safe. For the man to hold on for his family. That it will be warm soon. She kept repeating those lines over and over, and those around her found it hard to make Noelle let go of the man on her back.

Kaeya suddenly stepped in and grasped Noelle by the shoulders before leaning in. “Welcome back. You did well Noelle, thank you for your services. Because of you, both you and Nimrod will live to see another day. Now let go of him, we will take care of the rest.” he said.

Transfixed on the voice speaking to her, Noelle lost grip of Nimrod and like a puppet with their strings cut, collapsed into his arms.

Jean felt thankful for Kaeya though she wondered how he knew that’d work.

The scene changed, and an image of Noelle unconscious on a patient bed appeared. Klee was looking concerned at how red Noelle was. Though red was her favorite color, she didn’t like it on Noelle like this.

Rummaging through her bag, Klee happily brought out a slightly crisp fish. She placed it on a plate that she brought out separately and left it on a counter before sitting up on the hospital chair.

“You need to get better so that we can go get some more fish together okay? Don’t tell master Jean, but I have the perfect spot to go to so that we can get a fresh meal! Fish is the just the best!” Klee exclaimed loudly.

There was no response from Noelle as Klee nestled her head onto the bed next to Noelle’s hand. Klee gently grasped the unconscious maid’s hand as she closed her eyes.

“Wake up soon so that we can together. I’ll even stay inside just for you, so that we can go together later. So please, wake up soon.” Klee whispered.

And with that the images from the past ended. Noelle stared stunned in silence. The Geo Archon had brought up a past incident and the reminder that she had worried people stung her conscience.

“You wish to charge in without rest and regard to your own life. As heroic as that may sound, it is not the way a knight should live.”

Morax set down his cup and looked into Noelle’s wavering eyes.

“Were it any of them marching through the dangerous winters of Dragonspine, would you also not fret for their lives?” he questioned. Noelle’s face flushed with guilt as she started understanding.

“Though there will always be situations where one puts their lives at risk for the safety of others, it is not ideal to completely disregard it.”

Bringing the cup to his lips once again, Morax sipped on the remainder of the tea.

“A knight is a citizen of their country. And what good country would want to needlessly throw away the lives of their citizens?”

Refilling his cup, Morax watched as Noelle looked down once again. A kind smile formed on his face.

“It is good to have the spirit of a knight, however, do not forget that you are a individual. Your life isn’t just yours once you build connections as well. There will be those that grieve for you, and those who will happily share their moments in life with you.”

He got up and stopped in front of Noelle. Reaching out, Morax patted her head tenderly like a father would with their daughter.

“Do take care to enjoy those moments yourself, and to share your times of suffering as well. Enjoy life, and you will shine like gold in the memories of both yourself and others.”

Closing his eyes he gave one last smile. “Now awaken and go home.”

Authors note:

Please like and subscribe! This is from my archiveofourown account as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/34323085

You can find more fanfics on my archive account as well, under HazelTiberiusLee. Have a nice one! <3

#genshin impact #zhongli #genshin fanfic #noelle #kaeya #klee #jean #morax #geo archon #daughter #father #lifepurpose #meaning of life #knight #knight of favonius #maid #heartwarming #fluff

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veliseraptor · 3 years

Note

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

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love you goodbye (s.r)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - “it’s inevitable everything that’s good comes to an end”

warnings - angst, fighting

there was something about love that people fantacized about.

finding your perfect partner, living your lives together, maybe having a family - it was something most aspired towards.

it was a natural reaction, companionship was a basic human need after all. it gave people a sense of belonging.

at first, spencer seemed to be your other half. he taught you how to love, how to be youself, and most importantly, helped you become such a better person. your relationship seemed ideal, all key points of what you wanted being checked off.

you were sure you two would end up together in the end, if asked, you would have placed a bet on it.

but over the course of your relationship, your time together slowly dwindled. in the beginning, you could easily tell spencer was fully committed. he actively tried to be home on time, and if he wasn’t, he was making it up in another way.

by the time you were a few months in, you slowly gave him more leeway when it came to work. his job was extremely demanding and you did not want to be the significant other who dragging the other down.

anyone could tell spencer took advantage of that in some way. he would start showing up ten, twenty, thirty minutes, and even an hour after when you expected him.

you always knew where he was, spencer usually got lost in work once he started. besides, he always let you know if he was doing something with the team.

you were really hoping tonight would actually happen. you and spencer actually sat down to plan out a date night. spencer had promised he would be home on time. but unsurprisingly, you were seated on his couch forty-five minutes after the time you were set to leave and just waiting for him to walk through the door.

the keys turned in the lock before the door opened a moment later. you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and keeping your gaze on the coffee table in front of you.

“you’re late again spencer.”

he was quick to formulate an excuse, mind turning as he desperately tried to grasp some words that could help his case. even then he was still nose deep in work. “i know i just had an extra file to write up and then i-”

“i can’t do this anymore,” you cut him off.

spencer stopped dead in his tracks, meeting your downcast eyes in clear suprise. “what are you talking about?”

“us i mean,” you explained. “i can’t be in a relationship with you anymore. i just can’t.”

by now spencer had dropped off his work bag on the table and moved to lean against the kitchen counter. “can i go put my badge and gun away and then we can talk about this?”

you tucked your head down further after that. even during a potential breakup his first thought was work. “sure.”

he returned a moment later, resuming his previous spot almost immediately. a great concern was in his eyes. you could tell he was already formulating multiple theories on what was going on.

“can you please just explain this?” spencer asked.

you took a deep breath first. a lot was going to be revealed in the next few minutes and you wanted to be prepared.

“i can’t be with someone who isn’t here for me half of the time,” you explained calmly. “i’ve tried so hard to make this work with minimal complaints and i’m just done with it. you’re never here spencer. half of our dates get canceled and when you are in this apartment you’re working most of the time. it isn’t fair to me to deal with it anymore.”

spencer already started protesting. “but that’s not true y/n. i’m here as much as i can.”

“how many days nights have gotten canceled because of your work? how many times have i had to wake up to an empty bed because you’ve slipped out during the night? come on spence, you’re a genius. do the math.”

for once, he didn’t have an answer to that.

“do you realize how difficult this could be for me as well? have you taken that into consideration?”

something about the way spencer said that made you cower back. he took note of that immediately, guilt becoming his primary emotion. you quickly regained your stature, already ready for what you would say next.

“go on then spencer. twist that knife and turn this one on me,” you spoke, your tone already raised.

everything finally set in during that moment. you had never fought, never like this anyway. you didn’t want to fight anymore, you just wanted this to be over. the environment in the apartment was already becoming suffocating.

it didn’t feel like home anymore.

somewhere you considered to be your safe place, a place where you spent more time than your own home was no longer somewhere you felt comfortable.

the rooms felt foreign even though you had been the only one occupying. they no longer felt warm with the family like feelings you had filled them with. it lacked something, something you didn’t even know was replaceable at this point.

looking around, you tried to mentally grasp on something, anything that would give you a good reason to stay. but there was nothing, not even one of your gifts for spencer that resided one his shelf.

they felt empty, no emotional ties to them whatsoever. any sense of the love you had always felt had slipped out of the cracks and into the open air, almost as if it was impossible to catch them.

you almost just wanted to go back to the start of it all, when you were still naive enough to not see the faults in your relationship. you were mature now, and faults were the only thing you were seeing.

spencer let out a heavy sigh. “what do you want me to do y/n? there’s nothing i can do to change this.”

that question alone ignited something inside of you.

“maybe you could have started by actually putting some effort into this relationship,” you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “because i’m exhausted of waiting for you and always being the one let down. besides, it’s too late anyway.”

spencer stood quietly across from you, arms crossed and looking at you with sad eyes. it was clear that you had more to say, and the last thing he wanted to do was add more fuel to the fire.

“do you even realize how terrifying it is to be dating you? i don’t know if you’re even alive half of the time and i hope, i truely hope that i get your usual text letting me know you’re on your way home,” you spoke, desperately trying to keep your tears down. “everytime i get a call or text from someone that’s not you i panic. because more times than none it’s about you getting hurt and i have to be there to pick up the pieces. and i know that’s part of a relationship, to be there for each other, but it’s not fair to me to not get the same in return.”

the weight of your words crashed down with an uncertainty to them as they processed in spencer’s brain.

you were shaking, that’s what he took note of first. your fingers dancing across your your arms in a small effort to calm yourself down.

“i uh, i don’t,” you stuttered. “i need to pack.”

just as you passed spencer, his hand came out to hold your wrist. it didn’t hurt by any means, just took you by suprise. however, you quickly shook out of his grip.

“don’t.”

spencer frowned. “i’m sorry.”

you stayed in place, not quite knowing what he needed you for. you just wanted to pack and bag and go home.

“can you at least stay the night?” spencer asked.

you agreed after a brief thought, that’s the minimum you owed him. you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t going to miss him. it was a prime example of wrong place, wrong time.

there was an almost serene silence between the two of you as you headed down the main hallway and towards spencer’s room.

few words were exchanged in the whole process of getting changed and brushing your teeth other then an occasional ‘excuse me.’ it was almost as if whatever either of you said would make the whole night worse.

when it was finally time for bed, you slid under the covers first. spencer lingered in the room, he would need to leave in a moment to check the apartment anyway.

“can we not talk about all this tonight?” you pleaded.

spencer nodded. “can we just make a deal before?”

“what is it?”

“if you decide that in the morning you want to give us another try, i’ll be here and we can try again. okay?”

the silence returned for a brief moment. spencer waited on, hoping that you would agree to what he asked.

“deal,” you answered quietly.

the lights went off after that, your only source cutting through the darkness being the nightlight in the hallway.

you kept your back to spencer as he too got in bed. to be honest, you really didn’t want him seeing the tears in the corners of your eyes that threatened to fall. were you really so distant that you wouldn’t even let him see you cry?

even in the dark, spencer could already tell something was wrong. he hovered behind you, not quite sure how you would react to him right now. “is this okay?” he questioned. “yeah.”

spencer tentatively reached down to rest his hand on your arm, running it back and forth for pure comfort. a gently kiss to your bare shoulder followed.

you curled into his touch, already shifting back to press your back to his stomach. spencer wrapped an arm around you; neither of you were quite sure if this would be your last night together.

“goodnight y/n.”

“goodnight spencer.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @blakes-dictionxry @hurricanejjareau @ogmilkis @ssa-morgan @gublertoon @ah-blossom @emilyslefteyebrow @holding-on-to-my-youth @agentshortstacc @emilysprentisss @bxbyspxncer @blakeprentiss @goldenxreid

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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dornish-queen · 4 years

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Pedro Pascal: “I already took all my drugs very early. In middle age, a hangover is not an option ”

When he was approaching 40, he resigned himself to having sporadic papers that would allow him to pay the rent. But playing Oberyn Martell in 'Game of Thrones' changed his life and opened the doors of 'Narcos'. Since then it has not stopped. Now he's the villain from the blockbuster 'Wonder Woman 1984'

JUAN SANGUINO

THE ANGELS OCT 2, 2020 - 3:19 PM EDT

The first big opportunity of his career was presented in 2011, when he participated in the pilot episode of Wonder Woman for NBC, but the network discarded the series and Pedro Pascal returned to his main occupation: casting castings to play the criminal of the week in the Law and order of duty. “That cancellation was a disappointment, of course, I wanted to work. I did not care if it was something good or bad, I just wanted to work, "he recalls today from his home in Los Angeles during a virtual conversation with ICON. Now Pascal plays the villain of Wonder Woman 1984 , one of the blockbusters destined to return audiences to movie theaters .

How can you not believe in fate? The boy who broke his arm twice playing Indiana Jones has ended up becoming the favorite hero of the kids (the bounty hunter in The Mandalorian ), his parents (Agent Peña in Narcos ) and, well, everyone's. world (Oberyn Martell, The Red Viper, in Game of Thrones ). When Pedro was little, the good guys were always white and the bad guys were Russian, Arab or Latino. The Wonder Woman 1984 villain , however, is a white billionaire played by a Chilean.

“The film is set in the United States of the eighties, which were marked by capitalist greed. It was a tainted concept of evil. Stripped of humanity, but still absolutely attractive and alluring. People who dreamed of being rich and successful had to be salivated. It is true that at that time villains in the cinema projected a xenophobic image. Now the white man can finally be the bad guy, ”explains Pascal.

Some already compare his character, Maxwell Lord, to Donald Trump because of that muck in this mud: Reagan's glorification of rogue moguls in America turned guys like Trump into aspirational role models and glamorous stars. “Trump was not the core of inspiration for my character, on our costume designer's board were Gordon Gekko [Michael Douglas on Wall Street ], American Psycho's Patrick Bateman and other suckers in expensive eighties suits. All those millionaires who hid despair, unbridled ambition and terrified masculinity ”, he clarifies. If Pedro Pascal sounds like a socialist infiltrated in Hollywood it is because that is exactly what he is.

“When Reagan was elected, many people around me were frustrated that the worst forms of capitalism were winning. In my home, with refugee and socialist parents, conservatism was not demonized but it did go against what was important to my family, ”he says. Pascal's father, José Balmaceda, was an Allende supporter doctor who saved the life of a priest wounded by Pinochet's militia .

The priest was later tortured and ended up confessing the name of his savior. When the police went to look for Balmaceda at the hospital where he worked, he took his wife and the newborn Pedro and jumped over the wall of the Venezuelan embassy in Santiago de Chile to request political asylum. That's why Pedro ended up growing up in San Antonio (Texas), in a socialist home but in Reagan's land. A Chilean with no memories of Chile who was called Peter in high school.

At the age of 20, Pascal was in Madrid working as a go-go and keeps good memories. Here she is wearing a Prada sweater. Photo: Danielle DeGrasse-Alston / Realization: Warren Alfie Baker

The Chilean-born but US-raised actor wears a Paul Smith sweater and suit. Photo: Danielle DeGrasse-Alston / Realization: Warren Alfie Baker

Pascal has never left the immigrant mentality behind. Even his father, who came to open a practice in California, always lived in terror that at any moment everything could vanish. “It doesn't matter who you are, how much you are working or how much you get paid. Deep down you always think that each job is the last one ”, confesses the actor. Maybe that's why he didn't dare move from his Red Hook, Brooklyn, hovel to a house more suitable for a Hollywood star until filming for Kingsman 2 and Narcos was over . Nor is it that he had spent more than an entire week at his house since, in 2014, Game of Thrones made him the guy most people would want to party with.

Pascal knew right away that Oberyn Martell, the Westerosi rockstar who always seemed willing to fight or fornicate with the same bravado, was going to change his life. “I had done a lot of castings for friends' plays, for copier factory ads or for very serious independent films that no one was going to see, while I watched how many characters that I had been about to play changed the lives of others. actors. And thanks to my experience and maturity, I recognized the potential of Oberyn. I understood who he was and who he could be ”, he presumes.

The actor found out about the audition when one of his acting students told him that he had taken the test but had been discarded because of his youth. Pedro snapped up and must have thought, “What would Oberyn do?” So he recorded a video on his phone and sent it to his good friend, actress Sarah Paulson . She passed it on to her good friend actress Amanda Peet and this one to her husband, David Benioff, one of the creators of Game of Thrones . The rest is the history of television and headaches: when he informed the Narcos producer that he was available to play Pablo Escobar's pursuing policeman, he accused him of making a spoiler for Game of Thrones: If Pascal had a free agenda, it is because Oberyn was going to lose his fight against La Montaña . He couldn't imagine, of course, in what way.

Part of that electric, lively and hedonistic energy of Oberyn comes to Pascal from the summer (that of 1996) that he spent in Madrid, where in addition to studying he worked as a go-go in a disco. That stay was transformative because the actor realized that he had had to adapt his identity all his life with each new move, but in Madrid he felt effortlessly at home. “I was 20 years old and I liked it so much that I almost moved. My main language is English, I have an American accent and I can pass for white. But in my house there were many cultural differences with respect to the outside world and I remember that when I was 20 years old, when I came to Madrid, I felt very comfortable in my own skin in a way that I had never felt anywhere else. I guess I was not aware that I had spent my childhood and adolescence learning new ways of adapting, connecting, learning, and pulling. On the contrary, living in Madrid was organic and easy for me. I made friends right away and I felt supported, ”he recalls.

By the time he was 40 Pascal was resigned to being an actor with enough odd jobs to pay the rent. According to him, his aquiline nose was a bad nose by Hollywood standards. Far from being offended or frustrated by this typecasting, he was looking forward to it, if it translated into a new check. “It is very strange to develop a fantasy as a child, to have the opportunity to turn it into a hobby, then some studies and finally transform all that into a career. That is the bet. But my dream of becoming Leonardo DiCapriodied. He died dozens and dozens of times. So to move on he had to accept that, at best, he was going to be an actor with a job. That was already a triumph, "he says. "Also, I accepted that I was not qualified for anything else, I had no more skills: I had put all my time, my energy and my concentration in being an actor and the rest in living life and having fun."

That absence of vanity lives on today, even when he's been involved in large-scale projects for five years without stopping. After Game of ThronesHe has made eight films, of which seven are action blockbusters. The wave of fame came to him when he was no longer expecting it but when he was well prepared to ride it. Still, every workday is a surprise and she acknowledges that what amazes her most about Hollywood is the sheer physical stamina that people have. “Sometimes a project can look like building a city, with all the hours, all the work and all the energy it requires. Some people have better stamina and can get by with little sleep. That is an interesting contradiction: all the people creatively involved in a film have a special sensitivity and at the same time have developed a very tough skin and energy to go through the physical experience of shooting it, ”he admires.

Then Pascal switches to Spanish (the language he uses to confess intimacies) and explains, in a few words, that he is old for this shit. “I thought I had all the energy in the world and now, in my 40s, I see that ... wow! There are times when I don't know if I will be able to reach the goal, because my energy is not at the necessary level. But I always take it forward ”, he guarantees. Maybe that's why people get so high in Hollywood. Pascal responds between laughter and again in Spanish.

“I already took all my drugs very early. It is something that is already too much in the past, and in middle age a hangover is not an option. No, no, no ”, she assures. What if the other hangover, that of the wave of fame, runs over you? “I was a good waiter. Not at first, because they fired me many times, but I ended up getting the hang of it, ”he jokes. If the Hollywood thing doesn't go well, you can always put drinks again. But for now Pedro Pascal is the personification that the American dream , although sometimes it takes a little longer to materialize, really exists. Even Ronald Reagan would be proud.

source

#pedro pascal #el pais icon #whole article

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honesthammie · 3 years

Text

From my prompt list:

4) After reaching your 16th birthday you gain the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate and on your 18th you finally get to see yours, except yours dissappears into the ground/sky.

Fandom:Doctor who

Pairing: 13 x gender neutral reader

This is my first fic on tumblr. I know its hella long and not all of my fics will be like this. This came to me from a dream I had recently. I love Jodie and I decided to write the spider episode from a different perspective. I may have change the episode slightly to fit the reader. I am thinking of doing a part 2 but it may be a while before I do as I have deadlines and stuff to keep up with. The next part may be more fluff between 13 and yourself. I know this didn't have much but it's something. I'm also sorry to any Americans reading this, I love yas but its just the personality I put to go with the readers personality. I'm also sorry for any spelling mistakes as I'm doing this on my phone.

Summary: spider episode with a small change I'm plot to accommodate your beautiful self in this fic

Warnings: slight description of a couple of panic/anxiety attacks, swearing and a bit of angst. Long intro for small fluff. And it's a part 1 do I guess a small cliffhanger is a warning?

Beep beep beep. Your alarm starts blaring in your ears, waking you up with a start. You glare at the interrupting machine before turning it off. After such a crazy night, you did not want your sleep so rudely interrupted. Why did you have a crazy night? It's your 18th birthday today and your friends decided to visit your place for a little house party, last night, to celebrate and now you have a pounding headache.

You groaned as you realised, you would need to take some pain meds before you even think about going back to sleep. Slipping out of your bed, you walk to the bathroom and find the cupboard with all sorts of medicinal and bathroom bits and bobs. You then grab the glass that you placed there in preparation for the definite hangover. The glass was a little cold to the touch but you filled it with some cool water from the sinks tap.

You took two, just so you could have a longer sleep. You waddle back into your bedroom and just as you get comfy, you widen your eyes at the memory. You needed to see your mother today, she said she had a gift for you but she would only be at home until 11. You looked at the machine that you hated for the time. It was currently 10:05. You jumped to your feet and rush to get ready.

As you walked outside, you saw the regular red strings that you saw everyday. Why do you see strings? You honestly didn't know, but you knew their purpose, it helped match 2 soulmates together. But something seemed a little off, there was no one on the street anymore, so why could you still see one line of destiny? You decided to follow the string south, down to your own (s/c) hand which was now slightly shaking at the sight.

"Fuck. Fuck,fucky fucking fuck. Why now? Why me? What the shit is going on with me?" You curse to yourself. You could feel your breath getting rapid and your head started spinning slightly. You quickly unlocked your car and sat down to help calm you down. You took a few deep breaths and focused on your senses.

When you eventually calmed down, you decided to look at where the string led. Oh, how you shouldn't have looked. It didn't go in any way of a compass, it went straight up and past the clouds. How? You had so many questions but you had to focus on the day ahead.

You had been to your mothers house and collected your new (fave game series) and your card. You were incredibly thankful as you have been saving up to buy it for yourself one day. You had played the previous games and loved every one of them and to say you were excited was an understatement. You almost ran back into your place if it wasn't for needing the key to access the gates.

Living in a gated community helped you feel a lot safer but it did also make you a big target for thieves to practise picking locks. No one had figured out where the hidden camera that kept alerting the authorities was though. Even you have tried put of plain curiosity but you got stumped after the 10th day of searching. You were sure you looked in every possible hiding spot, yet the camera always seemed to evade you in the pointless game of hide and seek.

As you unlocked the gate, you felt a twitch on your finger. The string was moving down and at a very fast pace, almost falling speed. You looked up and saw a small black dot heading towards the ground, if thats your soulmate, they would certainly be dead the second they meet their fate. When you could no longer see the dot, you kept your eyes glued to the string, waiting for it to disappear like everyone else's did when a soulmate died.

After five minutes, the string was still there and was still as red as ever, like no harm had come to them. But thats not possible. No creature could survive that especially from that great a height! You were beyond curious and quickly went into your living room and searched on all your social media for anyone else that may have spotted the dot in the sky, yet no one had but you knew (b/f) had another massive fight with their roommate, Stella, over whose turn it was to do the dishes again.

If you didn't know that Stella was in a relationship with another, you would have sworn those two were in a relationship. You giggled at the silly thought, "if Stella ever goes through a break up with her, I'm totally gonna set those two up."

You give up on finding anything out today, maybe it'll be on the news tomorrow and you set off to go on an online shopping spree, you had a few codes and now, thanks to your wonderful mother, had a little cash to spare and you did see that gorgeous top on sale. Once you had spent the day either shopping or gaming you decided to head to bed but you couldn't stop thinking about that dot and what the red string meant for you.

When your alarm had went off, you hit it and got dressed for your new job at some hot shot posh hotel run by an aspiring American with High expectations and little experience with Sheffield. You had been told you wouldn't get to meet him much and you were beyond fine with that, you hated Americans, simply because you hated violence and guns were the big no on your weaponry list of avoidance. You didn't mind weapons in video games, those were harmless to the outside world. You didn't mind verbal violence though, it was all you had to defend yourself with and in Sheffield, that was better than nothing. You were very short tempered when it came to your anger but you found that it was either verbal or physical, you chose to be verbal.

You looked at your phone for any messages from (b/f) and had a good luck message. You replied with a smiley face and a "ill need all the luck I can get. I've heard from a few employees that he can be a real asshole for no reason and fires people just because they made eye contact for too long. It's like he suspects someone is out for his blood."

After 2 minutes you received a reply from from them. "You better be on your best behaviour then, young lady!"

"That's the problem. I wonder what the record is for the quickest a person has got fired? Because I may break that, you know me! I don't exactly do as I'm told, that's why finding a job has been so hard. Anyway, I best get ready, gotta look the part! First impressions and all!" You replied with a nervous face. What you failed to notice was the red string no longer pointing towards the sky and you were making it shorter with every step you took. You did give up on finding out about the strange dot and came to the assumption that it fell in a lake, there were plenty of them around.

You walked into the swanky looking hotel and noticed the cobwebs that definitely were not there two days ago when you had your interview, yet they looked like they had been there for weeks. You would have put it down to Halloween decorations if it wasn't for the fact that it was June. You decided to not ask in case this was some sort of strange new American trend that your boss was following to help bring in the youth. It does help make it fit into Sheffield a lot more with the run down and abandoned look. It would need some rust, water damage, mold and cracks to finish the look but it was a start. If you had to be honest, the spider webs helped bring the place together. It was way too posh for Sheffield but you had to lie and say you love it in order to get hired. Just from that lie alone you knew exactly the personality of your boss, arrogant, vain and ignorant.

"Hello, you must be my new helper! I'm Najia, your second in command here. As you can see, there are loads of spider webs so they should be priority. If you could start cleaning in the south west second floor and continue that floor, that would be amazing. Now here's your cleaning trolley and if you happen to finish the floor early, send me a little message through the walkie talkie and I'll give you another room or floor. Do you have any questions?" Najia spoke softly. She seemed lovely and it was shame that she had to be in a place that would get more damage than its worth.

"Just one question: why so many spider webs?"

"I don't know, they just seemed to have appeared, I thought it was silly string from some teenagers that managed to break in somehow but it is actual spider web. It wasn't here when I left last night. I guess I'll have to ask someone about that."

And with that you separated and got to your floor when you finally noticed a slight burning sensation on your finger, it wasn't hurtful. It was like putting the finger in a really hot bath. You looked down and noticed it now pointed downhill and seemed to be glowing a shade of gold ever so gently that you would miss it if the weird sensation didn't make you look.

You left your trolley outside a toilet to make it seem like you were in there when really you had wondered off to follow the string. You would probably lose yourself in the maze of hallways that all looked the same as the last if the string didn't help lead you to a ballroom. You opened the door and instantly screamed. A giant spider was walking towards you, however you couldn't get out, you had used a staff door which needed a key card to use from this side as the other side still needed to be fitted and you left yours in the trolley, near the toilets. And the massive spider seemed to be blocking the other way out so you were trapped.

You weren't scared of spiders but seeing them at the size of a van did intimidate you. You started shaking from fear of what it would do to you. Out of pure instinct, you put your hand out to protect yourself and the sound of 8 legs against wooden flooring had ceased. The only sound was your laboured breathing. It stayed like this for what seemed like hours but in actuality was only 5 minutes. You opened your eyes slowly to see 8 more stare right back. 8 eyes that showed fear but no intention of harm. Instead the spider gave you space to breathe by walking back a few feet. Then it seemed to be watching you, studying your next move to see if you were a threat and whether or not it should kill you.

You stayed still for a moment, wrapping your head around what had just happened before gently walking towards the creature with both hands forward to show them clean of weapons. You decided to try and speak to the spider to see if it can understand you.

"Hello. I'm new around here, I'm sorry if I'm trespassing on your area, I wasn't aware of you being here to be honest. I mean you no harm, if anything, I want to help you but unfortunately, I'm stuck in here aswell." You spoke carefully as if it was a child that was afraid. You gently put your hand in its head and it seemed to understand your good intentions and your situation as it let you pet it. Now you were close, you started to admire it and realised it wasn't poisonous or venomous, it was just a regular house spider. But you couldn't figure out how or why it got this big but it did explain the cobwebs everywhere.

You had been with the spider for hours and it seemed like Najia either didn't care or has gotten fired as she hasn't asked about you. You had spent the time talking or singing to the spider. She, as you found out after looking it up, seemed to put her body around you to protect you. You had even met a couple of her children as they gave you food from the cafeteria to nibble on when your stomach growled.

Eventually the burning on your fingers turned up massively and was causing you pain. The spider seemed to sense this and wrapped her web around your finger to help cool it down a little. It didn't help but you showed gratitude anyway as she was only trying to help in anyway she could. You gave her a small smile and her eyes seemed to show sympathy in return.

Then the doors opened again and the sound of several feet walked in. "Oh thank god. I thought I was never going to be found in here." You thought to yourself as you heard the voices mumble to each other and probably about Betty and what's the best way to get rid of her. You would have paid more attention if your finger didn't feel like it had caught fire and was tight as if your soulmate was amongst those that had walked in.

Now you were nervous. How would you introduce yourself? What did they look like? Were they male or female, not that you really cared? So many questions made you feel lightheaded so you grabbed onto Betty to keep yourself planted.

Then the door opened again and a familiar voice echoed in the hall and you knew exactly how he'd want to deal with Betty and after your bond today, you would rather die than her. She was obviously innocent here and maybe the others could see it. Then you heard the familiar click of a gun safety being taken off and your body reacted before your mind did and you jumped in front of her to stop him, although you had a feeling it wouldn't, but it was worth a shot for the others to stop him.

"Don't you fucking dare shoot that gun Dickhead! Not without going through me!" You spoke with fire in your eyes and maybe a slight mix if fear aswell. That's when you looked over at the new group of people. They all seemed trustworthy enough.

There was Najia, who welcomed you here earlier and she looked sad, so she had definitely been fired. Then there was another woman who looked a lot like her, you guessed she was a daughter or something and she was pretty and definitely somone with authority with the way she stood and held herself, maybe she is a police officer? A man who looked as though he was in his 50s and definitely did not belong in this weird group. A young man who looked of a similar age to the police woman, maybe they are friends.

Then you laid your eyes on one of the most beautiful woman, no, human, you had ever seen and would probably never see again. She had short blonde hair in a bob. They seemed to be brunette at the root. She had beautiful chocolate honey eyes that glimmers with so much emotion and age well beyond her years, like she had experienced thousands of years before this moment. You also noticed her odd sense of style but you admired her boldness and it did look amazing on her. You decided she could only be described as sunshine and rainbows.

Then you noticed her hand And a familiar red string that was also glowing a beautiful subtle gold. Like millions of tiny golden stars circled around the string in a beautiful dance of love. Your eyes started to follow the string down and back to your own. She was your soulmate. That goddess that stood before you, was to be yours forever some day.

Then you looked into her hypnotic eyes before you remembered where you were and what situation you were in. And you realised everyone was staring at you for your previous action towards a spider.

"If you want to keep your job, I'd suggest you move out of the way silly girl!" Your boss grumbled in a threatening tone.

"Nope. You are about to hurt an innocent creature that is stuck and terrified. You built on top of landfill and didn't bother to check and thought of no consequences. This is your fault. Is this how you would treat a child that was a mistake after a one night stand or something? Would you shoot a child that had no choice?" You spoke with confidence yet more nerves now she was there listening to every word. When he didn't answer you shouted "Answer me! Would you shoot your mistake of a child?"

He glared at you. "This is different. This is an animal. A pest. It needs to be killed so more can't be born! I made my mistake and now I'm fixing it!" He bellowed just seconds before a shot was made from his gun. You had expected pain but instead you heard a horrible shriek from behind you.

You quickly turned around and petted her whilst whispering sweet words as she took her last breath. You stood up and made your way over to the murderer. You couldn't stand him and you were so tempted to take his gun and shoot him with it, but you didn't. With fire in your eyes and pure hatred, you slapped him hard enough to leave a mark and maybe a bruise as a reminder of his shitty choices. "You can't fire me because I fucking quit you arrogant dick! She had caused no harm to you or I and I'm sure if you would have sorted it sooner, so many more lives could have been saved as she only had humans because flies didn't fill her anymore! She was so kind and just so afraid. I hope you lose everything you pathetic sad sack of boiled shit! You are truest one of the lowest excuses for a human I have ever met and if we meet again please be very afraid, because next time, it won't just be a slap you have to worry about! It'll be your balls as I cut them off beacuse men like you shouldn't repopulate the planet! You horrid scum! I hope your empire fucking collapses!" You spoke with venom lacing every word. You were seething and boy did his face look punchable. Instead you walked away with your middle finger proudly being the last thing he sees as you walk out the normal doors.

Once you were outside, you sat in the steps and finally let out all the emotions. You cried so hard, over your loss of yet another job and a newly found friend. You screamed at him with a string of curses that would offend just about anybody. You suddenly felt somone sit at the side of you. You knew who it was when the string was burning more than ever before and yet you couldn't feel it over the pain your heart.

"You did brilliant back there. You chose, not just your job, but your life over a creature you barely even knew! If you wouldn't have jumped in when you did, I don't think her children would've had a chance to escape to my TARDIS because he's going on a hunt right now for the rest of them. Sure, you didn't save her but you saved so many more lives than you think. And I know each one is eternally grateful for what you did. I know I would be." Her words were certain and sympathetic. They seemed to calm you down instantly. Or maybe is was the way she talked that helped with her soft but strong voice and you knew you already couldn't get enough like it was the best drug ever. You could listen to her all day and yet, she had said very little to you. It was a strange effect but you liked it.

She fell into a silence for a while just keeping you company as you came to terms with had happened.

#thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #thirteenth doctor #doctor who

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inhonoredglory · 4 years

Text

I thought this needed to be its own post, since it’s a huge meta and I really loved writing it.

The following is my attempt to analyze the symbolism and staging of @tenyai ‘s impeccable storyboards to Douxie and Merlin’s farewell, in the final episode of Wizards: Tales of Arcadia.

Teny, your boards and the thoughtfulness, heart, and passion you put into them have legit inspired me to take up boarding as a truly narrative, imaginative, and character-driven art. Thank you for these and for all the love. Your skill and craftsmanship and sincerity of emotion come shining through in these arts, and it warms my heart and fills me with absolute joy. I’ve been in awe of your handle of cinematographic symbolism ever since you teased so much meaning out of the final scene in Killahead Part 2, and I’ve changed my entire view on how to analyze scenes and characters on screen because of it. I cannot wait to see your analysis of this scene. It’s rich and powerful in ways I cannot even express.

People, please go check out her boards on her blog and at her professional portfolio on the website in her bio!!

______

Waking up in Merlin’s Study

First up, parallelisms… Merlin’s study is the symbol of everything Douxie is aspiring to in his life. It’s the heart of Merlin’s knowledge, his position as a master and a wizard. It’s full of things Douxie is off-limits to (like the safe or the time map), as we saw in the second episode. He’s always been a student and an inferior in this room; that’s why he considers it an ironic Hell. But unlike in “Dragon’s Den,” when he wakes up in this room on the floor, scared and confused––here instead, he wakes up on the table, surrounded by Merlin’s books, Merlin’s knowledge. And he’s much more comfortable and relaxed. Symbolically, he’s not scrubbing the floor anymore as an inferior.

I almost want to say that Merlin’s tables represent the places where Merlin crafts and makes things––like in “History in the Making” when he is shown making the amulet over one of the tables in his study. But in this case, the person Merlin had a hand in crafting was Douxie. And being a father to Douxie, by saving him from the streets, is Merlin’s greatest accomplishment. He may have saved Douxie, but Douxie took on a life of his own and surpassed Merlin’s wisdom, in a way much like the amulet took on a foresight far more wise than Merlin could have ever predicted (choosing a human to be the Trollhunter, despite Merlin’s belief that a human wasn’t enough).

Walking to the Light

After Douxie wakes up, we get the walk towards the Light, with Merlin starting out in the Light and by the end of this scene, falling into Shadow. Symbolizing Douxie’s growth and perception of Merlin, and symbolizing Merlin’s position as Master Wizard of this realm and his willful relinquishing of that role to Douxie. At first, Douxie wakes up, thinking about his past in this room and all the service he did for his master––who in this shot appears as a hazy halo-ed vision speaking down at him from the unattainable glow: “Hello there, boy,” said with the kind of judgmental snide Douxie’s used to from Merlin.

Then they start walking and then we hit the window at the far end of the room, a kind of apex in the parabolic staging of Douxie and Merlin’s movement through the scene––with the arc going from the back of the room and the table, to the window, and swinging again to the back, this time from the right side of the room. Merlin’s dialogue when we hit the window is important. He’s first talking about how he’s dead and vaporized into soot, etc, and then he opens the time map and asks, “The question really is, Why are you here?” A charged, thematically rich question placed right when we see the mingle of blue and green light from the time map’s lenses––the mingling of these two’s lives through the ages, the summation of all Douxie’s insecurities and all Merlin’s expectations, all Douxie’s greatest mistakes and his greatest triumphs.

Why Are You Here?

Why is he here? At this point, Douxie’s finally let go, he’s accepted Merlin’s death, accepted the title of successor, accepted his gifts and powers and heroism. And he’s accepted that death is part of the job of Master Wizard if it means saving those he’s sworn to protect. So why is he here? Because he’s done everything and more that a true Master Wizard is supposed to do. He’s equalled Merlin, nay––surpassed him in heroism, wisdom, and responsibility. The mingling of the time map’s lights symbolizes that Douxie has achieved everything Merlin represented to him, and more.

And then Douxie touches the Light, looking out into the glow of the hereafter, saying nothing (I love that and makes me crave for his thoughts).

There’s something so fundamentally and chillingly introspective and metaphysical here in this shot for me. It comes on the heels of not only “Why are you here” but also “I am most certainly dead. You saw me vaporize into soot.” Cuz that’s what happens when we all go, isn’t it? You might be the wisest person on this earth, mastered all there is to know about life, become the greatest wizard, lived a thousand years and more, and still in the end, you will die, and to the dust you will return. Maybe Douxie’s thinking, Am I here because I’m dead too? Because my body is gone, because somewhere out there beyond the stained glass is the explanation of the mystery of what happens when we die? Because even if you master life, there is no mastery over death, because none of us will ever feel what it truly is to be on the other side until we get there?

Separate and Equal

Symbolically, with the lighting, it also means Douxie’s touched Wisdom/Maturity in a way. If the hazy glow of Merlin at the start was from this Light, from this Unattainable Essence––then by the time of this staging’s apex, Douxie has achieved what Merlin has. He’s touched the thing that he has sought for so long. He too can be framed by the Light of the person he wanted to be. So now, we see Douxie talking back to Merlin, and not being silent anymore.

Merlin and Douxie are on the same plane now––as equals. We get the vitally important shot of them side by side, Douxie laughing off Merlin’s disapproval, both of them framed by the Light, both of them standing on their own, balanced by the pillars and the light, each of them solid and independent, separate and equal.

Douxie’s Need for Validation

And then we get to the other side of the parabola, the shift in Merlin’s dialogue from disapproval to one of admiration and pride. “I can see you no longer need my validation.”

This line kills me, because you can see in Douxie’s face that yes, he does. Oh how he desperately wants it. But he’s worked so hard to NOT need it, so that he can grow and flourish. And Douxie falls back into that quiet again, waiting on Merlin’s every word, because his rebellious veneer is stripped right now. Merlin’s hitting on the core of his needs, the source of his insecurity. In the film version, he’s even holding his hands together in front of him, and if that body language means anything to me, it’s Douxie feeling small and childlike again, needing and wanting something from his Dad but not having the courage to tell him.

Staging-wise, Douxie’s still very much following Merlin. He’s behind him, chasing after him, looking up to him. The “ancient Draconic” stand-off was the first and most important show of Douxie’s growth, born from Douxie’s own gumption and sass, when Merlin for the first time in this scene walked up to *Douxie* instead of the other way around, even if it was to judge him:

But like any good hero’s journey, after one win, our hero gets a setback, a reminder of his failures, before he wins again. And this time, it’s Douxie feeling like this latest monologue from Merlin is again some kind of judgement, some kind of backhanded lecture. Would his show of strength and independence fall on deaf ears?

“Remember when I told you that magic is mastery over life?” Merlin says, holding up an alchemy bottle and then a book––tools of the trade, spellcraft and tricks. All the things Merlin taught him. In a huge way, Merlin wasn’t there for the real lessons Douxie learned to become truly wise. Douxie became strong and selfless and kind because he had to, because those were the ways he knew in his heart would take him on the path to reaching that wisdom of life Merlin was talking about. I wonder if there’s something to the fact that once Merlin starts saying, “Nine hundred years you’ve guarded this realm…” he puts the book away––putting away his own knowledge and symbolically recognizing that Douxie’s wisdom has taken him far past Merlin’s own teachings, and that in the 900 years that went by, Douxie has guarded this realm with a mastery of life all his own.

In the final version, the moment Merlin says, “You’ve disrupted time, freed ancient beasts,” that’s when Douxie drops his hands, stops walking, and looks down––a brushstroke reminder of his guilt on doing these things, things that Merlin disapproved of, but things Merlin is now seeing as good and right things to do.

And then we get to the shot of the amulet blueprints, and the wonderful crowning statement of Douxie’s morality: “You’ve… fought to save one life at the risk of countless others.” Meaning Jim, meaning the very person who inspired Douxie to take his selflessness that one step further and set aside his own life so that he could save everyone. Because every life is precious. I find it fascinating that on this line in the boards, Douxie silently fist-slams the table, disappointment all over his face. While Merlin, now in Shadow, has a look of wistful regret.

This shot is so pack full of meaning, and I keep adding to this interpretation...

Douxie for so long has been stripped down for everything he’s done, been criticized by Merlin for being different from him. In some ways, he thinks this latest monologue is more of the same, more ways in which he’s disappointed his father. And clearly, despite his growth, it still hurts him.

And it hurts him that while Merlin is talking about saving Jim’s life, Douxie never really was able to save him. Douxie died while Jim was still corrupted. He died only seeing Jim lose himself to the Green Knight. He never saw Claire’s heroism in bringing Jim back. Personally, Douxie failed.

But even more than that, it hurts him that for all his love for Merlin, he could not save him. He might give his life to save the world, but he cannot bring Merlin back from the grave. Every life is precious and he would risk countless to save just one. But he couldn’t save the one that meant the most to him.

Merlin recognizing he’s wronged Douxie

In the end, Merlin here isn’t talking Douxie down, even as he’s pointing out their differences. He’s in awe at this idealism Douxie possesses. He’s not criticizing him, he’s not being wry or ironic. Merlin looks up at the portrait, knowing that it wasn’t him who gave Douxie this outlook on life. It wasn’t his harsh treatment that gave Douxie his beautiful soul. Douxie had it all along, and Merlin was too dense to see it and nourish it.

So what Merlin says next hits even deeper––

“And yet, despite such relentless hardships…” Merlin’s looking up at the portrait. He’s looking at himself. He’s looking at everything he’s done to Douxie that’s burdened his son with that guilt, that insecurity, that fear, that emotional abandonment. He’s acknowledging here his part in the trauma of Douxie’s life, and his regret is that all this time, it was Douxie who was the better man than he was.

And then we get the symbolic shot––“Despite such relentless hardships, you managed to protect those dearest to you”––with Merlin in Shadow and Douxie lit from behind with the Light. A reversal of the opening shot of this scene, when it was Merlin in the Light and Douxie, unsettled, in the Shadow. This is finally Merlin laying down his ego, seeing in Douxie the strength and force of love and protectiveness he never had. The very thing Merlin didn’t do, when he didn’t protect Douxie all those years, when he let his son down, when he left him and ignored him and took him for granted. When he didn’t give the person dearest to him the love he deserved.

Resolution

And finally, it’s Merlin walking *up* to Douxie, Merlin falling in Douxie’s shadow, and Douxie being once and finally again on an equal plane with his master and peer. “My Hisirdoux, what a life you’ve lived. What a wizard you’ve become.” This is the climax of Douxie’s parabolic hero’s journey in this room. Merlin has at long last given to him what he desperately needed to hear––pure, unadulterated pride in his father’s eyes, and an honest and sincere expression of love, kindness, and emotion.

It’s too much for Douxie’s desperate heart, and he collapses into his father’s arms, releasing 900 years of pent-up emotions and need.

(Is that symbolically why Merlin’s always in armor and Douxie never had any––cuz he’s fragile and bare in the face of Merlin’s cold, callous exterior?)

After that hug (waaaah TEARS, every. freaking. time), we once again are treated to the Light symbolism. First again to show how equal these two men are––Merlin importantly a step down from his son, with the light behind Douxie. And then to show the time map, glimmering with a calm, peaceful, happy equality.

Life and Death

And now we’re in scene denouement, as Merlin and Douxie walk to the end of the parabola (past the first table and eventually out the door). Fascinatingly, in the boards, Douxie glances around the room and then his eyes I believe land on the table he woke up in earlier, before the scene cuts and we get a shot of that same table, panning up to reveal Merlin and Douxie facing the doorway to the hereafter.

And in my brain, it’s like we’ve come full circle in Douxie’s life arc. If waking on your back is birth, snarking about your tough childhood, and now after all you’ve gone through, you look back on that time at the end of your days, ready to face what comes after death…. (well, that’s what it means to me anyway).

Douxie’s fully prepared to leave the mortal world. That’s how far he’s come in his maturity. He closes his eyes, accepting the unknown and resting in the confidence of who he is.

The Hero’s Journey

But like any good hero’s journey, the end isn’t to leave the ordinary world with the boon of your new knowledge and wisdom. It is to return to your home and share that knowledge with others, to use what you have gained and become a teacher and protector for your family and community.

Merlin gives him one last lesson, one last parting gift to tell him, Hey, you have more power than you even imagine you possess. Your rebellious spirit made you who you are today, and it’s what will keep you alive and fighting because it’s your gift and how you protect the world. Your way.

Merlin’s parting sign of the horns is the cherry on top of this whole thing, a perfectly subtle way of Merlin acknowledging who Douxie is, accepting it, and celebrating it. Saying goodbye to his son in a language meant for him. Douxie’s tears at the end (wish they got into the final oof!) speaks volumes to his beautifully mingled emotions––amusement at Merlin’s gesture and a poignant love that he did it for him. I tear up just thinking about the look on Douxie’s face and what it all means in his heart.

Anyway, that’s a wrap, folks. I love Douxie with my entire soul. Thank you for sharing these boards, Teny, and for putting your heart and tears into this masterwork of a scene. (I listened to “Moving On” to write this for the Mood and guhh, it’s a tear-jerker gosh.) This fandom is incredibly lucky to be the recipients of your favorite sequence in your career to date. It’s been an absolute pleasure to see your work and feel the heart you poured into them.

#tales of arcadia #toa wizards #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa meta #toa wizards meta #tales of arcadia wizards #douxie meta #merlin #douxie x merlin #*mine #*mymeta #tenyai #toa wizards storyboards #long post

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