#I took adderall for the first time right before this ask appeared. hi.

[tofixtheshadows]

okay, if you're open to discussion, here's my view on why i think your mithrun take is somewhat reductive - prefacing this with yes, i understand you're talking about thematic positioning and not individual character motivations or goodness/badness, and no im not a particular stan of him or a kbms shipper or anything, if that helps you take this as discussion in good faith. (anon because i'll admit all the "ugh everyone who disagrees with me DOESNT KNOW HOW TO READ" does discourage from directly engaging!) yes, the elves are imperialist and yes the canaries are the primary arm we see of that in the story. yes, To A Point the violent manner that they, including mithrun, approach the problem of the dungeon is a reflection of this - it's not a coincidence that kui put this character ON this team. but when the discussion of it comes down to mithrun as the "representative" of this is where you lose me. in certain moments you could say he Acts as that, but it's not really the whole story of what his character is about or how he fits into the overall picture. multiple key moments are when mithrun notably acts AGAINST what the rest of the canaries would do, choosing to put (some amount of) trust in a tallman - we can have different reads on how much trust it is, but the effect definitely is that their approach is given a chance when normally the canaries do not allow that. the moment of asking kabru what he wants to do and following after laios, and Especially the moment of giving laios the go-ahead to try and defeat the demon, very much coming into conflict with flamela over it - in both of these scenes the other canaries represent the normal elven imperialist approach, and mithrun deviates from it. sure he thinks he regrets it a few minutes after the second one (because it did look like it failed, and because he's not exactly completely anti-imperialist either) - but in terms of what his character represents in the story, those moments are crucial to the ultimate "happy ending", and they're important TO the anti-imperialist theme that mithrun, the one with more personal reasons for being in the dungeon rather than simply being a canary & carrying out the empire's will because it's their job like the others, ISN'T acting on its side the whole time.

See this mentality is a little puzzling to me, because it treats my + others' speculation on the threat of imperialism in the story and Mithrun's role in it as if we created some sort of strict binary? As if he represents only this one singular thing, and doesn't share that role with anyone else, or that he needs to be condemned for it, etc. I don't think they're all passing around a "who represents imperialism and who subverts it" stick.

I mean, the story isn't very interested in that, is it? I believe in meeting a piece of media where it's at, which is why I'm not trying to hashtag cancel anyone over liking the elves or whatever. Dungeon Meshi is a story about ecosystems and food and hunger. It is very aware of the forces that create the situations around hunger, but ultimately it is mostly interested in food as the great leveler. We all need to eat and we all deserve to do so, even the people we might have considered enemies an hour ago.

The Canaries all get a seat at the literal and metaphorical table, even though, textually, they represent a world power whose monarch says, on page, that they are going to continue to monitor Melini and the people involved (this is a threat). Another story might not be forgiving of this. But Dungeon Meshi is not trying to be a political thriller, though as I've said, it is very aware of these things.

I, personally, am interested in the way Mithrun's story arc functions. If I talk about Mithrun, it's because he is a main character. Fleki, for example, is not a main character. Neither is Flamela. The Canaries are an antagonistic force (and not in a traditional "evil that needs to be defeated way", but antagonistic nonetheless!), but Mithrun is literally the representative of this force as the only one among them given a focus. And also because he is the captain of their squad. Even Flamela is only vice captain. Mithrun's motivations drive the Canaries as an entity in the story the same way his orders as their superior officer drive them as people.

So I am mostly interested in talking about violence, and to do that, I would be remiss to not touch on the circumstances that empower that violence. I cannot pretend like Mithrun does not arrive in the dungeon as the military officer of a first world power whose squad has the ability to arrest (and potentially execute) anyone they want, or that their success won't spell a de facto takeover of the region.

Does Mithrun care about that? No. I mean, I don't even think the other elves really care about that. It's kind of a moot point. They have a genuinely good reason for being in the dungeon and doing what they do, but they are still dangerous.

So when I touch on imperialism, which, again, is textually a part of the background of Dungeon Meshi, what I mean is: Mithrun's actions serve imperial interests regardless of his personal feelings, and they align with the threat of imperialism because oppression is inherently violent. That is where the comparison comes in.

If I were writing some sort of thesis on colonialism in Dunmeshi, I would say that the way Mithrun literally objectifies people- grabbing Kabru, ignoring his consent, using him as a projectile, brutalizing Thistle and Marcille- are physical manifestations of that inherent violence. The complacency of the other elves- their very punch clock villain natures- also serve the interests of imperialism. They're all in it together, they just disagree sometimes on the method. If Mithrun had gotten his way, the elves would have taken over the dungeon.

You are right that Mithrun comes into conflict with the other Canaries, and this is because Mithrun barely cares about sealing the dungeon. His one desire is his quest against the demon. This superficially aligns with the Canary's overall mission, but he will jeopardize that mission, the way he jeopardizes lives, for his personal goal. I don't really consider this an anti-imperialist metaphor even if it does eventually lead him to go against the Canaries' interests in trusting Laios. It's good he does that. It fits with the overall theme of disparate peoples uniting for the great leveler of hunger. Because, crucially, Mithrun agrees to it when Laios insists that he can defeat the demon. He isn't swayed by anything else. I do also think it's important that the one time he doesn't escalate to violence represents a moment of cooperation among these groups of people. We can say that Mithrun's self interest is better served by community than by state-sanctioned violence (and I do) but it doesn't cancel the rest of it out.

I'm also going to have to disagree with how much he trusts or respects Kabru. I would love if Mithrun did either, but the more I re-read the manga the less I'm sure of that. I think he sees Kabru as a useful tool. Again, I do not say this as a condemnation. I think Mithrun is nearly incapable of caring about anything else before the end of the story: I think his desire for the demon, his helpless hatred and self-immolating revenge, is so big that it blots out everything else for him. It's a tragedy. Mithrun is not entirely a rational actor, the way that someone in the grips of a debilitating addiction isn't.

You are free to disagree with me on this. I think I have an accurate reading on it, but I realize there is a lot of wiggle room.

My personal conclusion is that this

is a very long joke.

It sets you up to think that Kabru got through to him, that they are united against Laios, that they might have even achieved some level of camaraderie after their bottle episode.

Then Kabru and the Canaries show back up, and Kabru is ... handcuffed.

I didn't notice this the first time I read the manga! Kui does not draw any attention to the tiny magical cuffs, and the deliberately awkward way he holds his wrists for the next ten chapters didn't really hit for me until I had gone back over it. At this point I think it's supposed to tease how much Kabru is cooperating with the Canaries and how much of a threat he'll still poses to Laios.

It did not hit me until a second read that the punchline to this little arc is that Mithrun agreed to Kabru's idea because he had decided to use Kabru as bait. This is the equivalent of staking Kabru out to lure Laios and the others so that they'd let their guards down. Kabru looks very put out by it, he's still handcuffed, and he's got the surveillance state bird keeping him in line. This is not the situation of a guy who is trusted and respected by the person who put him in this situation. In hindsight, it almost makes Mithrun's agreement a joke in itself. "Oh, you wanna talk to Laios? Sure. Let's go do that. Hold still."

It recontextualized their time together for me. Made me notice how interested Mithrun was specifically in what Kabru had to say about this Laios guy.

You can kind of see the gears turning in his head. He correctly deduces that Laios is closest to the dungeon's heart. Therefore, reaching Laios will take him right to the demon. I don't think he actually cares about what Kabru wants. After all, Kabru says he wants to talk to Laios, and Mithrun doesn't let Kabru do that. He doesn't want to try Kabru's methods. He barely seems to think about Kabru at all.

We are treated to a three-chapter sequence of Mithrun and the other Canaries cornering a group of people they intend to arrest, interrogating them, intimidating them, and then Mithrun, especially, escalating the situation to near-lethal violence. Marcille releases the Winged Lion because she is menaced, talked down to, terrified, and injured. Even the other elves are appalled by how brutal and erratic Mithrun acts.

And that's what Mithrun's story is to me, actually. It's the very dark spiral that pain can send you down. It's about how his obsession is killing him. How it's keeping him from forming meaningful relationships. How it hurts the people around him and causes him to act cruelly. He cannot be reasoned with before he crashes and burns. If he had grown or changed as a person at all before the climax, his character arc would be less impactful. He has to tear through everything to get to the demon, look the demon in the face and be told point blank that he doesn't matter to it. He has to put all his energy into this path of violence to show how utterly impotent and self-destructive it is.

Dungeon Meshi understands the violence we all must do as living creatures. The inherent selfishness of killing and eating in order to survive, or fighting to protect yourself. It doesn't condemn that. It doesn't condemn the violence you do when you feel backed up against a wall either. But it does not reward this. Mithrun's all-consuming desire for revenge- and it is revenge, this is functionally a flailing quest for revenge even if he also wants to be finished off as a result- is as poisonous to him as the demon's bottomless appetite was to it.

Mithrun does not once stop to help anyone else during the climax. All the other characters converge to work together, even to put aside their enmity (like the elves and the orcs) to try and stop the threat. He doesn't turn away from his single-minded pursuit to help anyone, protect anyone, or heal anyone, though it's obvious that he could have done more good fighting by the others' sides rather than throwing himself at the demon over and over. Even the idea that he might help someone- the moment where he slaps Kabru out of a panic attack, but only because he genuinely wants to punish him- is treated as a joke.

It's only after all of this has occurred, and left him utterly empty, that Mithrun can stand up again as a new person. After he's looked into that yawning void straight on and realized what it meant to pursue it, where it was leading him. He gets up again because he agrees to share a meal. And because he agrees to help feed others.

Rage doesn't serve you. Community does. That's where his happy ending comes from. And maybe this is not the most thorough exploration of even this single topic, but I don't think I'm being reductive.

If I seem frustrated, it's because people have turned me into a ridiculous strawman because of these ideas, and then spent months shadowboxing that strawman while calling me a dumb pretentious cunt over it. This is often very funny, but even I have a tipping point. Good night.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! If you're comfortable, I would definitely be interested in hearing about your upcoming experience with Adderall as an adult taking it for the first time. I'm 30 and will be inquiring about an ADHD diagnosis later this month, but Adderall scares me a little (probably unfounded, I've just never taken any kind of psych med or non-allergy daily med, and if I forget my allergy meds I just get a nasty headache and nothing more) and everyone I asked about their experience is under 25 and has been taking it for many years. I'm really interested to see how you feel while taking it, if you're willing to share 💙

I've had quite a few requests like this so I'm definitely going to keep talking about it when there's anything to talk about, under the Sam Has ADHD tag. :)

FWIW, this is my first experience with a drug like this, which affects brain chemistry -- the only other comparable experience I’ve had is weed, and I’ve never been an especially heavy user of that either. Never took antidepressants, mood stabilizers, sedatives, anything like that, so I’m in much the same position you are, although I have taken daily medication for other health issues before. 

10mg of Adderall, which is a pretty low dose, clearly had an effect, which is good; the recommendation was twice daily, five or six hours apart depending on how I feel, on an empty stomach, so I took it at 5am before breakfast and again at noon before lunch. I had...a real weird evening, because while I wasn't doing a ton more than usual I did end up somehow staying up until around 10pm, which for me is very late, without really noticing. So today I thought I'd try just a single dose that would see me through the majority of the workday, and took 10mg at 6:30am after having eaten breakfast at 4am.

It kicked in yesterday right at the half-hour mark after taking, but this morning after half an hour I thought perhaps not taking it on a totally empty stomach had fucked with my ability to absorb the dose.

But then around 7:15 I cleaned out my front hall closet.

That wasn't something I'd been planning on and did give me a very "opening sequence of The Salton Sea" moment (the movie opens, after a brief history of meth, in a party house where among other things two women on speed are frantically organizing a sock drawer). Still, it did need doing, and now there's space to install some boxes to keep my winter sweaters. Which means my reward this evening is a trip to Container Store. And also a puzzle I get to do which I found while cleaning out the closet.

I am clearly going to have to learn to aim my new ability to focus, since unless I make a deliberate decision I just appear to pick Something To Do and do it, but that's a calibration issue and I’m pretty sure I can master it as long as I remember it exists.

The sensation is a little odd because after about an hour I can definitely tell my brain is working differently. It's kind of like being high, there's that same sense of calm, but my thoughts feel clear instead of clouded the way THC affects them. And things just get easier, like I'll think "Oh, I need to throw out that empty shampoo bottle" and instead of pretending I'll remember to do it after the shower, I just reach into the shower and pick it up and throw it out. I have done so many dishes in the last 24 hours, you guys. And right on the dot, at five and a half hours after taking it, I could feel my brain whirr to a stop. 

Anyway it is rather validating to be reacting to a drug in the way I'm meant to, because I did get the distinct impression from the evaluation clinic that they felt my ADHD was too mild to require treatment. I don't actually feel high, or manic, or even really very different. I just do more stuff. Like someone tightened two or three screws in my brain and the gears no longer misalign as often. At least for five hours or so. :D

[writingsbychlo]

let me down slow (02)

word count; 9652

summary; stiles once again ditches you, and mitch ditches his own plans to cheer you up.

notes; y’all had such amazing reactions to the first part, you picked up one every tiny little detail about their relationship that I put in, so I really hope you enjoy this part, and all the little things that make them up, too!

warnings; smut, thigh-riding, dry humping, slight spit play, that’s about it. 

In a bid to make up for the failed movie night last Friday, Stiles had absolutely promised to be there for this week’s. In a bid to ensure you believed him, he’d offered to buy the pizza himself this time, and was even letting you choose what it was that you both had. He’d loaded up movies and set up drinks and even dragged down the spare blankets and cushions from the upstairs cupboard to make the couch look more like a pit of pure comfort than a couch. 

It was impressive, actually, and he had sent you a series of pictures as he constructed it, promising that he was here to stay with you, his pyjama pants already on, and a raggy old shirt that he wouldn't dare go out in, and so you were making your way up the front-drive eagerly once again, the door flying open before you’d even had to knock. 

He was beaming at you, flannel flapping around him as he reached out to pull you into him, arms around your shoulders to squeeze you into his body and crush the air right out of your lungs in a breathless laugh as you hugged him back. Your arms circled his waist, hugging him just as tightly, before poking lightly at his sides in the spots that you knew he was ticklish in, making him yelp and try and jerk away from you, glaring falsely as you finally released him. Kicking the door shut behind yourself, you hung up the light coat you’d wrapped yourself in up in on the hooks fastened to the wall, kicking off your shoes and following him through into the rest of the house. 

He was practically bouncing with each step, spilling over with information about the movies he'd chosen, and speaking even faster than usual as he guided you through to the kitchen to hand you his phone, the pizza ordering app already pulled up on the screen, and Mitch was lurking around behind the counter, the fridge door open as he shuffled through the contents, leaning around the door and offering you a smile as he saw you. Stepping out and bringing the butter with him, he dropped it down onto the counter beside whatever it was he was going to make, pulling his phone from his back pocket and bringing up a recipe. 

The room looked even better in person, the lights had all been flicked off to give the large flatscreen a cinema-style appearance, drinking glasses and bottles of pop sitting out in preparation, condensation forming on the bottles from the coolness within, and a stack of movies beside the TV that the pair of you had spent all week choosing for this event.

The boy at your side was talking your ear off, and you slowly constructed an online shopping basket full of food that you could share between the two of you; stuffing yourselves full of the greasy fast food while hanging out with your best friend was exactly how everyone should spend their Friday nights, in your opinion.

You had even worn your comfiest clothes, an old pair of black legging and the biggest jumper you had, your face clear of makeup and a scrunchie on your wrist in case you decided to tie it up later, most likely when the food arrived. You handed the device back to Stiles so that he could make his own food choices, the boy following you through to the living room as you poured yourself a drink, his fingers tapping against his thigh and his teeth biting at his lower lip, and you watched him with a raised brow, but he was either ignoring your stare or he didn’t notice it, because he purposefully avoided your gaze.

“Why are you so jittery, Sti? Did you take your Adderall today?”

“Yes, I took my Adderall today, thank you very much.” He stuck his tongue out at you playfully, the scowl on his face having no heat to it as he moved past you to make his own drink, and he was twitching so much he could barely hold the bottle still. “I’m just excited.”

“For movie night?”

“Yes, for movie night.” He confirmed, but avoided your eye, and you let out a sigh, glancing up through the open doorway to try and catch Mitch’s eye, but he was also ensuring he wasn’t looking at you, busing himself with cutting overly precise cubes of butter and dropping them into the pan over the hob.

“No, you’re never this weird about movie night. You’re all anxious, I can practically smell it.” You took a seat beside him, his body facing the TV as yours faced him, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, lips flicking up in a small smile. “Just tell me what’s up, we can figure it out together.”

“Nothing! I promise nothing is up. Nothing that needs figuring out, or anything like that. Y’know, just got a call before but it’s totally fine now, nothing bad! I can turn my phone off and we can watch movies and we will have an awesome night! Promise!” His words spilt out from his mouth so quickly that you didn’t even have a chance to properly process them, but you caught a few keywords, enough to make your heart sink in your chest as you leaned back into the cushions, and the roles were reversed. 

Now, you were avoiding his eye, and he was trying his best to reassure you that it was okay, but everything about his twitchy behaviour and erratically strung together sentences let you know that it was not okay. “Who called, Stiles?”

“Nobody important.”

“Who?”

He sighed, and you finally met his gaze, a slightly saddened look on his face as he shrugged a little. “Lyds.”

You felt your heart clench a little in your chest, but offered him a little smile instead, shrugging your shoulders. “What did she need?”

“She had an argument with Jackson, and wanted some company and someone to talk to, but I told her I was busy tonight, and that I’d call her back later, or tomorrow morning, so don’t even worry about it, w-”

“You should go.” With a sigh, you cut him off, placing your hand over the top of his and squeezing in comfort, both for him and yourself.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she needs you more than I do. We’ll do a movie night another night, or whatever.” You waved your hand, dismissing it like it wasn’t crushing you to say the words to him, and like it didn’t break you a little more at the way his face lit up like he’d felt trapped being here with you, like he was gaining freedom. “You should totally go, it’s fine.”

He jumped up to his feet, a wide smile on his face as he looked at you, mumbling his ‘thank-yous’ under his breath as he wiped sweaty palms on his pyjama bottoms, before looking down at himself and racing away upstairs to get changed. Your body slumped down into the couch, and the shuffling behind you caught your attention, your head turning so that you could look at the man who was leaning against the post in the doorway, a look on his face that you couldn't decipher. 

“Why did you do that?” He nodded his head towards the stairs his brother had disappeared up only seconds prior, the familiar crashes and thumps of his presence sounding out as you shrugged.

“I want him to want to be here with me. You should have seen how much happier he looked when I told him he could go. I didn’t want him to have to stay when he’d rather be somewhere else.” You stood up yourself, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself as he came back down the stairs. He had a more presentable outfit on, the usual khakis and flannel shirt buttoned up, running a hand through his hair as the other jingled his car keys.

“You’re the best, thank you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, before making his way to the front door in a dizzying flurry of movement. “We will have a movie night, I promise!”

With that, the door was slamming shut, the jeep starting up only seconds later, and you gaped at the spot he’d been in, leaving you in a tense silence with Mitch, who shuffled from one foot to the other, before his eyes finally met yours. You gave him a watery smile, feeling the tears well up in your eyes, and his whole body seemed to deflate, before he was crossing the room and pulling you into his arms before the first cry had even left your mouth, muffling it as he let you press your face into his shoulder.

One of his hands came up to cup the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair to rub the pads over your scalp soothingly, his cheek pressing to the top of your head as the other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you to him as tightly as he possibly could with your hands crushed between your bodies, your fingers gripping at the cotton of his shirt and your eyes squeezing shut, your body shaking with each wracking sob you tried to suppress. He shushed you quietly, rubbing his hand up and down you back carefully and playing with your hair, distracting you enough for you to calm the shaking of your body and the racing of your heart. 

“He didn’t even offer me a ride home!”

“I know, kitten.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, shifting you when your knees buckled a little, letting you lean on him further, his hand slipping down to grip at your hips and take the weight of your body to keep you standing.

“He didn’t care! He was gone so fast, he didn’t even ask me what I was going to do! He didn’t even try and fight it, or insist he should stay! He just.. just left!” It only made you cry harder, pressing into him further and shifting to press your face into his neck, that patch of his shirt damp from your tears, but you smoothed out your fingers until your hands were sitting flat on his chest, using the steady thump of his own heart under your hand to calm yourself. 

“I know, I know.” He mumbled, shushing you lowly on a hum, and holding you without question until you detached yourself from him. 

Your cheeks were stinging and sore, eyes red and throat raw, but he just cupped your face, smoothing his thumbs over the irritated and splotchy patches. You felt weak, your body felt like it was sagging in on itself, and so you stepped away, wiping at your eyes and sitting back down on the couch, laying out along the length of it and letting out a long and slow sigh. He moved across the room, inspecting the DVD stack you’d built with your friend. 

“You know, I for one have never seen-” He picked up the one on the top, his face scrunching up a little as he looked at it, before giving you a deadpan look with a hint of amusement, and dropping it back into the stack. “I have seen Star Wars, it would be impossible not to, being related to Stiles.”

He shuffled through them, grinning up at you when he heard you let out a soft laugh at his words, winking in your direction. “I think Batman is in there, too, and one of the Avenges movies.”

“Well, I’ve seen all of those, but I will happily rewatch them with you.” He came to stand beside you, and you propped yourself up on your hands, hopefulness once again flooding your veins as he spoke. “Or we can just go on Netflix, and find something neither of us has ever seen before.”

“Are you asking me if I want to Netflix and chill with you, Mitch?”

He smirked at your words, leaning in close enough for you to press your foreheads together, a darker chuckle sounding from him. “We can get to that later, kitten.” His lips brushed the tip of your nose as he pulled back. “You were promised a movie night, and you’re gonna’ get one. I made some popcorn, and we can eat all the snacks Stiles bought as revenge. Sound good?”

“Sounds really good, actually.” You watched him for a second, searching his eyes and his face for a sign that he was going to leave you too, like he was going to ditch you just as Stiles had, but he held his hands out to you to pull you back up to your feet. “You don’t have anything else to do on a Friday night?”

“I was going to facetime some friends from college later, but nothing important, no. Besides, a movie night would be fun, it’s been a while since I had time to binge-watch anything, and I have a few series’ in mind that we could try.” He inched the pair of you to the kitchen, nodding his head in the direction of the pan on the stove. “Why don’t you get our popcorn sorted and load up whatever you want to watch, and I’ll go put something more comfortable than jeans on, and we can watch?”

“Cool.”

He shook his head, a fond laugh forming on his lips as he watched you back away from him, before you were spinning on your heel, and listening to him set off up the stairs, searching the cupboards for a bowl big enough to put it all in. Locating the blue patterned one at the very back, you produced it with a proud huff and removed the cover from the pan, salty and buttery steam filling up into the air as you tipped the heated kernels into the dish.

Taking it with you, you set off into the living room, bringing a spare glass for Mitch to use and swapping it with the still full and fizzing drink Stiles had made for himself, rolling your eyes at the waste as it was tipped down the sink and left abandoned in the kitchen. You had barely finished it all up before the man was padding back into the room, heat crawling at your cheeks as you looked at him, scoffing a little under your breath.

“You don’t have a shirt on.”

“Is that a problem?” He was offering you a smirk like he already knew the answer to your question, and so you didn’t bother replying. Mitch collapsed back on the couch, stretched out along the entire length as you grabbed the remotes, turning on the TV, and perching yourself on the edge of the cushion mound that Stiles had built for the night as you waited for the device to power up so you could log into the app. “Are you going to sit down there all night? ‘Cause you’re blocking half the screen.” 

He had the bowl of popcorn tucked under his arm when you turned to glare at him, and he was half laying down, half sitting up, but smirking widely and pushing a handful of the salty treat into his mouth, and you made your way over to him, settling comfortably into his warmth, and sitting up with your legs crossed, sorting through the accounts to select Mitch’s, and he hummed happily as you did, chewing his food and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

You were adjusted, pulled back into his body as he moved the bowl to sit in front of you, and you scrolled through the things he had added to his list as he moved behind you, pouring himself a drink and moving both yours and his to within reaching distance of your position, pulling the snacks over too and setting them up around you bodies until it was a clear little space that the two of you were inhabiting, everything within arms reach.

“You want to watch That 70’s Show?”

“Yeah, thought it looked pretty funny but Katrina didn’t want to, so we watched some British thing instead.” You hummed clicking it open and snuggling down a little, getting yourself comfortable and reaching for the popcorn. 

“It's fucking hilarious, you’re going to love it.”

It took you two whole episodes for you to finish your snacks, and a third for you to actually start feeling better. Cuddling wasn’t exactly something you were used to. Sure, you had very tactile friends, but cuddling was new to you. Mitch seemed entirely settled with it, he hadn't shifted once, his arm slung over your waist and his chin sitting on your shoulder as he watched the screen, and yet he only ever smirked at your mumbled apologies each time you shifted, or needed to change positions, and he happily obliged, lifting his arm for you to move before settling down.

The popcorn bowl was empty, and so were all the snack wrappers, and the bottles of pop were on their way out too, and by the end of the fourth little episode, you were beginning to feel better. There was just something about Michael Kelso’s innate and adorable stupidity that lifted your mood no matter what.

You were actually comfortable now, and feeling more settled, your back pressed up to his chest and the warmth of his body washing over you, his fingers resting on your stomach, drawing patterns absentmindedly, and you were certain that if you were allowed to cuddle with your fuck buddy, then you could hold his hand. Settling your hand over the top of his, his motions paused for a second, before he was lifting his hand out from under your own and you panicked for a moment, stiffening only slightly, before his hand closed over the top of yours and laced your fingers together, thumb rubbing at your hand as he snorted at yet another joke on-screen.

“Have you ever got high?”

He twisted to look at you, letting you roll onto your back to peer up at him, your connected hands now sitting up above you as your fingers played together, and his brows raised a little, your attention on the screen gone as you focused on one another instead, leaving the gang to smoke in Eric Foreman's basement. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

His neutral expression pulled up into a sly grin, his teeth flashed to you as he nodded, licking over his lips. “Yeah, kind of like a college rite of passage, I guess. I’m not really a fan, I don’t like how it makes me feel afterwards.”

“What’s it like?”

He shrugged, moving to lean over you a little, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as he tried to work out how to answer you. “It’s different for everyone, I think, but for me I didn’t really feel all that different when I smoked, just more relaxed, I guess? But when I came down, I always really hit rock bottom. Just got depressed, and started overthinking and feeling shitty, so I’d throw myself into my studies and workout for a couple of hours to try and make that feeling go away, which meant I had a headache and I was all sore in the morning, and tired as fuck, and I still felt like shit.”

“That sounds like it fucking sucks.”

“Eh, everyone is different.” He lay down a little more, taking his hand from your own when you rolled over to face him, and he settled it back over your waist, his hand sitting on your lower back now. “I think it would work for some people, like Stiles, for example. He'd probably do great from it, but there’s no way anyone around here is going to sell weed to the Sheriff’s kid, so he would have to wait to get to college.”

You snorted, thinking about your best friend being stoned out of his head, and still being the same clumsy mess he was now.

“What makes you ask?”

“Nothing really, I was just thinking about it because it was on the screen.” You glanced back to the screen, watching for a second as a few of the characters moved around, and you tried to pick back up on the plot you’d missed, your lips flicking up at the sides with one of the jokes, but you inevitably felt your gaze going back to Mitch. His eyes were glued on the screen once again, the reflections in the dark making the honey brown colour look as though it was speckled with red, blues, and greens, all the colours that came up.

He was similar in his looks to his brother, the moles and the cute nose and the eyes, but he was also entirely different in a way that made them seem like opposites. Mitch had longer hair, in a style that you knew would look wrong on Stiles but just looked so right on him, and he had a jaw covered in dark smatterings of stubble that were fully formed, not patchy and childlike but thick and grown, and his features were sharper.

The stress of being the eldest son of the sheriff, and watching his mother die, and trying to care for a hyperactive nuisance like Stiles during his teenage years had taken a toll on him, but he was only twenty and already seemed like he’d seen and experienced everything there was in the world, and he wore that knowledge and wisdom like a crown.

“Stop staring at me, you weirdo.”

You scoffed out a little laugh under your breath, and he glanced down at you as you rested a hand on his cheek, pulling his attention away from the screen and down to you as his mouth slotted against your own with perfect accuracy. His fingers tightened on your waist as he sighed into your mouth, pressing his lips to yours in slow movements that were just as relaxed as you were finally feeling.

There was no rush, or tension, and you certainly didn’t feel the need to speed anything along. Stiles would be out for hours yet with Lydia, and the sheriff was on yet another night shift, and so you didn’t have to feel anything but pure bliss as Mitch rolled you both onto your sides, pulling one of your legs up onto his hips as you settled one hand on his shoulder and the other into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp the same soothing way he’d done for you only a couple of hours prior.

You could feel the press of his stubble into your skin, and the slight roughness of his lips against your smooth ones, and the way your skin tingled each time he tipped his head and moved his mouth in a different direction, the drag of his lips against yours in an entirely new way sending sparks along your body. Wrapping a foot around his leg, you pulled your body in a little closer to him, the arm that had been sitting on your waist was slipping down further and further, until he was taking a handful of your ass and squeezing so roughly you let out a sound between a squeak and a moan into his mouth.

You felt the way he reacted to the sound, the way he pushed in a little closer to you, and took the chance at the parting of your lips to deepen the kisses, your tongues tangling as innocent kisses became a needy makeout, your fingers tightening into fistfuls of his hair instead of soothing through the locks, your hips rolling in time or meet his as you ground down onto his thigh when he lifted it to press better between your legs.

Your calm heart rate had shot through the roof, each time you pulled back from desperate breaths before you were diving back into one another's mouths, tongues tangling visibly between your mouths as he growled a little every time you pressed further into him, and you whimpered each time he tilted his leg a little, sending a burst of energy and pleasure along your nerves, until you could feel it all the way in the tips of your fingers and toes.

When the burn for oxygen between gasping breaths became too much, you pulled back, biting on your slightly swollen lower lip as you rocked your body down against his leg, the tent in his pants pressing into your hips each time he moved, and you felt like the heat in the room was getting way too high to be allowed, choosing instead to push him back until he was laying on his back, his eyes wide as he watched you move, peeling your jumper up over your head and throwing it away to the side, taking a seat across his lap instead of thigh. Pressing your core down against his, the layers of fabric did nothing to dull the pleasure either of you felt from the pressure, sounds of bliss let out in unison, harmonising in the air.

“Fuck, kitten.”

You grinned, thriving on the fact that you could make the man below you feel so good, and you reached behind yourself to unclip the loose bra you’d put on, tossing that away too. You felt yourself shake, a tremor running along your spine from the look he gave you as your breasts fell free before his eyes, and the thought flashed across your mind that this was the first time he’d ever actually seen your tits, without a shirt or bra in the way.

Propping himself up on his hands, he dipped his head to take one of your nipples between his lips, holding himself firm as you rocked your bodies together, grinding yourself down onto his cock as he grew to be solid beneath you. Your own hands were on his shoulders, one coming up to cup the back of his head as you sobbed out at the way his mouth felt as he lapped at your tits, sucking darkening marks into the plump flesh and teasing the taut buds with his tongue and teeth.

The electricity coursing through your body was delectable, and when he was satisfied that he’d left your chest in enough of a state, for now, he tipped his head up to find your lips once again.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Letting his body collapse back onto the couch, you followed after him, propping yourself up above him with hands on the cushions either side of his head, his legs coming up to bend behind you to give him the ability to raise his hips up to meet you with each thrust, and you whimpered as his covered cock collided with your clit perfectly each time. “Oh, fucking hell, Mitch!”

He grinned, his hands coming up to find your waist and guide you in rotating your hips each time he pushed up into you, the drag of material over you sodden core making a cry leave you as you shot over into a climax just from the stimulation, and he continued to ride you through it, until you were spent and trembling above him, and his legs dropped down as he allowed you to fall into his lap, hands bunched up in the blankets beside his body as you came down from your high.

“You know, it occurs to me, you’re too old to be dry humping on a couch like a highschooler. I can get away with it for another few weeks, at least until graduation.”

You were breathless and your voice was unsteady, but he caught your words and let out a laugh upon processing them, his eyes sparkling as you looked up to him, and he shook his head fondly, leaning up to press a kiss to your lips. You returned it, pressing a few pecks to his lips, before pushing yourself up on shaky arms, and letting out a yelp when you accidentally dragged you overstimulated clit across his still prominent erection, which earned you a cheeky smirk from the man below you as he folded his arms under his head, making his arms and chest flex as a by-product.

Your mouth went dry at the sight, and you ran your fingers lightly over the prominent veins in his forearms, all the way up to where they disappeared at his biceps, before you were travelling along to his chest, digging your nails in a little, and he hissed at the contact, biting down on his lip, the honey colour switching to a darker whiskey shade, pupils widening, and the background noise around you both faded away leaving just the two of you there, in your own little world. “I want to try something.”

“Oh, you do?” He teased, and you rolled your eyes a little, his hands smoothing along your arms to sit on your wrist, wrapping around them gently as he urged you on. “What might that be?”

“I want to suck your cock.”

The breath was forced from his lungs as he stared up at you, wide eyes and parted lips, before he was letting out a string of curses under his breath. “You’ve never done that before?”

“My experiences before you are limited to pretty much how our first time went.”

“Sloppy, drunk sex that was pretty subpar, all things considered?” You nodded in response, and he hummed under his breath. He seemed to be thinking about it for a minute, his brows furrowing, before he was bringing up a hand to cup your jaw and running his thumb over your lips, slipping it into your mouth carefully and letting you suck on the digit as he mulled it over. “I got off the other night just thinking about fucking your pretty little mouth, you know.”

“You did?”

Your words were muffled around the finger in your mouth, and he pressed the pad of his thumb into you tongue a little, you lips sealing around the digits once again, sucking it lightly and swirling the wet article to soak his skin, lapping and teasing as his eyes glossed over and went half-lidded. “Yeah, I did. You want me to tell you about it?”

You nodded around the digit, and he grinned up at you lazily, pulling out his thumb, and replacing it with two long fingers instead, letting out a deep sound of satisfaction when you took them both without complaint.

“I was thinking about your lips, and your eyes. You have this cute little innocent look in your eyes but I get to know that you have a dirty mouth. I thought about you licking at my cock, before taking it all.” You squeezed your legs a little around him on an instinctual wish to clamp your thighs together, and his other hand came to sit on your thigh, squeezing it roughly as he acknowledged the effect his words had on you. “Thought about letting you choke on my cock, until there were tears in your eyes, and you were swallowing everything I gave you, like the good girl I know you can be. You’d be good for me, wouldn't you, kitten?”

He pulled out wet fingers from your mouth, and you took a raspy breath, strings of saliva snapping as he pulled the digits away from your mouth, and you nodded at him, leaning down closer to him, pressing kisses to his lips and cheeks, along his jaw until you were sucking at the base of his neck, and he was stretching his head back for you. “I’d be so good for you, I promise.”

“I know you would.” He stretched the skin out a little further, and you licked at the patch you’d been working on, the salty taste of his skin much like that of the popcorn taste that had lingered in his mouth during your kisses, and you sealed your lips around that particular spot, teasing it with your lips and teeth. “You can leave a mark, I don’t mind. Mark me as yours, kitten, that’s okay.”

You let out a muffled sound against his skin as he gave you permission for the action you’d been so wanting to complete, and he let out a shaky breath as you worked until the skin was flourishing with angry red and splotching with hints of a darker colour already.

“Gonna’ suck my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.. yeah I am.” You whispered, pressing wet kisses along his skin as you lower yourself down along his body, the same way he had done when he’d gone down on you a few days before, and he shuffled his hips up when you tapped at his hips, the pants already sitting low were tugged down to his thighs swiftly, taking his boxers too, and his cock sprang up before your face, dribbling precum in shiny trails along his throbbing flesh, a breathy noise leaving him as he was freed from the confines of his underwear.

One hand came down to lace into your hair, quickly followed by the second as he pulled the strands up and into a makeshift ponytail, trying to let you take it at your own pace, despite the way his thighs and fingers were twitching to take control. You pulled back, just enough to reach your wrist to try and find your scrunchie, but found both arms bare, and the feel of fabric weaving into your hair, Mitch navigating the bundle easily into the elastic, and you gaped at his dark smirk, never even having known when he’d taken the item from you.

“Damn, Mitch..”

“I’m smooth like that.” He replied on a mumble, voice shaking just a little, before his eyes were fluttering shut, his head resting back in the pillows of the couch behind him. Leaning in, you dragged your tongue along his length, lapping at the head and clearing the arousal that had already gathered at the tip, and he gripped at the bundle of hair he had created, letting out a deep and throaty sound that vaguely resembled your name as you sealed your lips around his tip.

His thighs clenched, body shaking a little as you shifted, giving yourself a moment to grow accustomed to the heavy weight of his cock sitting on your tongue, before you were once again moving. He was holding himself back surprisingly well, fingers pulling at your hair as he began to guide your head in gentle bobs, praises falling from his lips under his breath, confirming you in your movements and giving you confidence in what you were doing.

Hollowing your cheeks a little, he released one hand from your head, throwing it up to grip the cushion beside his face with a cry, his entire body shaking as you sunk as far down as you could, before you were gagging, pulling back a little bit, not missing the high-pitched noise he made. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you found his head tipped back into the pillows, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin. He looked incredible, red and swollen lips parted as he panted for breath, letting you take him apart with your mouth - even if you didn’t know what you were doing all that well - and his hips bucking occasionally to chase you when you pulled back to focus on his tip in a way that made his core clench so tight you could see the firmness of the rigid muscles underneath.

Pulling away from his cock, you use the slick mixture of spit and precum that was covering his skin to pump him quickly, and he fucked up into your hand, grunting each time you swiped your thumb under or across the head, finding all the sensitive patches that drove him wild. You were pressing kisses to him, sucking another hickie into the skin of his hip when he pulled you up, uncaring of the wet marks left on his skin as he used his tight grip on a handful of your hair to navigate you up until he could press his mouth to your own in a frenzied kiss.

It was a clash of tongues and teeth, and you were gasping into his mouth for air every time, it felt like every hot kiss he gave you was sucking the air straight from your lungs, you head spinning with the urgency of it as you pressed back into him, kissing him with everything you had until the two of you were forced apart, panting and pressing your foreheads together.

“What’s wrong? No good?”

“No, you were fucking incredible, sweetheart. If you didn’t stop, I definitely would have cum, and I would very much like to be inside of you when I cum tonight.” He nudged the tip of his nose against your own, smiling happily when you let out a sweet whisper of his name, before you were nodding, and pecking his lips a couple of times quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Mm, me too.” He pushed you up a little, the cool air sweeping in between you as your bodies separated momentarily like a refreshing wake up, your mind clearing a little, and you caught sight of yourself in the reflection of the TV that had turned itself off due to inactivity a while ago, and you looked as thoroughly fucked up as he did, your lips twisting in a subtle grin at the sight of you both. “Condom. We need a condom.”

“Shit, right, want me to get it?”

“You remember where they are?” You nodded, hopping up from the couch as he grinned, placing a loud slap to your ass as you went, and you glowered over your shoulder.

“Stop slapping my ass every time I walk away from you!”

“Fine, I’ll start slapping your ass when you’re here.” He retorted, and you stuck your tongue out at him, rubbing lightly at the stinging patch as you made your way up the stairs, his laugh fading into the background. Reaching his room, you noted the way it was still clean and tidy, the same way it had been, the covers a little messy where he’d been sitting on them earlier, but still entirely neater and more coordinated than Stiles’. Opening the drawer, you tipped one out, swiping up the blue foil packet, before making you way back down to the man waiting for you.

He was pumping his cock slowly when you reached the room, pants discarded to leave him entirely naked. His head was tilted back to lay along the back of the couch, and he smirked at you, eyes locked with yours as he picked up the pace of his hand moving along his shaft, dragging his gaze along your body as you moved towards him, before fixing his sights on the way your tits bounced with each step.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Shut up, you sweet talker.” He simply flashed white teeth at you in a smile, reaching out for the packet in your hand and tearing the top off with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his length in a way that should not have been as attractive as it was, but maybe it wasn’t the action, but simply the man that had done it. Each time he moved his fist up or down his cock, his fingers would flex, his wrist moving and the veins in his arm standing out as his muscles flexed with the simple moves, and yet it had your mouth dry and mind empty just watching him.

“On your knees, hands on the back of the couch. You better hold on, kitten, because I want to hear you screaming my name, tonight.”

“Do you even hear yourself sometimes? Do you know how fucking hot you are, or does that just happen?” You muttered, shaking your head at him despite his smile, and you wiggled your leggings and panties down your legs, dropping them to the floor before passing him by to climb onto the couch.

“It just happens when I’m around pretty girls who are ready to fuck.” You didn’t bother responding, but leaned over a little more, shaking your ass at him in order to tempt him forwards after you’d parted your knees, and he ran two fingers through your folds teasingly, letting out a satisfied and aroused noise as he felt the wetness that had accumulated there. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me.”

“Yeah, well, it just happens when I’m around hot guys who are ready to fuck.”

Your retort was met with a loud slap to your ass, the skin flaming up with a delicious burn, a large hand soothing the mark as he dragged his teeth over your shoulder in a light bite, his hair tickling your cheek as you turned to look back at him. “I like it when you get a little bit sassy with me, kitten. Makes it so much more fun.”

“It would be even more fun if you were fucking me. Like, now.” You pleaded, being met with an equal spank on the other side, and you pushed back into the touch happily as the slight pain fuelled on your pleasure, feeling the head of his cock swirl through your wetness, gathering it up before he could line up at your core.

Taking your ponytail back in his hand, he pulled your head back, setting his other hand on your hip and slamming into you without hesitation, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cried out his name, shuddering all over at the feeling of suddenly being so full and stretched out once again.

“Fucking you was one of the best decisions I ever made, I swear to God..” You were barely even aware of the ramblings you were letting out as he laughed into your ear, beginning to set a steady and quick pace, each thrust seeming to hit deeper than the last. Within only minutes, you were reduced to a sobbing mess of curse words and his name, your entire body flushed with heat and your eyes flashing with colour as you tried to stay even somewhat sentient with the way he was sending you into the clouds.

His hips were colliding with you each time, your thighs up to your ass burning with each powerful collision, the sound of skin slapping again skin filling the room, and you parted your legs even further, allowing him to sink even deeper within you, making both of you shake and falter at the way it felt to entirely wrapped up in each other, everything else becoming irrelevant. Slipping his hands around to your front, he took your tits in each of a large palm, the rub of calloused hands against your nipples making every sound you made become illegible, a mess of mumbles and begs for only him to hear as he took you to places you never thought you’d get to experience.

You were squeezing him each time, clenching around his cock and drawing him back in, and despite the rubber between you, you could feel every throb he made within your walls, and every time he twitched when you rolled certain muscles focusing on the movements you could make that made his pace falter or a pornographic noise fall from him that drove you wild. You were pushing back to meet his thrusts, tears welling up in your eyes as he pushed against your g-spot with every movement, pressing the patch solidly, the head of his cock sliding over it on repeat each time and the stimulation was building up to be more than you could handle, but you were in far too deep to be able to back up, you didn’t want to, you just wanted to lose yourself in the way it felt to be with him.

“Can feel you, so tight and wet ‘round me. You’re perfect, fucking incredible. I need you to cum for me, okay? Need to feel you cum.”

You nodded, your voice to unreliable to even speak, but he pulled you up until your back was to his chest, the angle changing as you became even tighter around him and he hissed under his breath, hot breaths washing over your cheek with every pant he made, and you gripped at the hand that slipped up to sit around your neck, needing the support as the other went down to flick at the button between your legs in rough strokes that made your entire body jump and quiver at the stimulation, the screams he had wanted tearing from your lips as you crashed into a mindblowing orgasm, eyes lining with tears and voice cracking.

He followed behind you by only seconds, his body going rigid as he came, before he was collapsing over your back, trying to hold himself up with hands on the edge of the couch, before he was pulling out of you and letting the both of you collapse into a heap of sweaty and spent bodies on the couch. “Christ, that was fucking incredible.”

You threw a tired arm up over your face and hummed your agreement on a silent voice, wiping at the wetness that had come onto your cheeks once again, a tired smile on your face as you sniffed a little wiped your face clean, and you heard him shuffling around, pulling off the condom and wrapping it in a pile of tissues from the box, before he was leaning over you, nimble fingers pulling your hand for your eyes.

“Are you crying?”

“Guess you’re just that good.” You joked, and he used his own fingers to wipe away the tears, but you could see the pride that was filling him at the claim, his chest puffing up and his wide smirk widening, eyes sparkling with cheek.

“Well, I would definitely rather have you crying over my dick than over being ditched, so I think tonight was a huge success.”

You slapped an idle hand at his chest, leaving it laying there, too tired to move it as you rolled over and pressed yourself into his side, and he placed his hand on top of yours, letting you cuddle into the side of him and lifting his head so you could tuck your face into his neck. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

“I mean, it was really pretty great for us both, so no thanks neede-”

“No, I meant movie night. Thanks for hanging out with me. I knew it was going to end in sex anyway, but thanks for hanging out with me before that, it made me feel better. A little less lonely, y’know?” He squeezed you in silent acknowledgement, but never said anything in reply, and you weren’t sure whether your walls were down because you’d just had your brains fucked out, or whether it was simply how safe and assured you felt when with him, but you were opening your mouth and letting the words pour out before you even had a chance to stop them; “I feel lonely a lot, lately. It’s hard when all of your friends know about your feelings towards one of the others, and they know it’s never going to work out. I know it’s never going to work out, but it doesn’t stop it hurting, and I try not to hang out with Stiles and Lydia together a lot, but I can’t make them choose between me or them, that’s ridiculous, so I don’t see them as much anymore.”

He twisted to look at you, raising a hand to tuck some loose hair that had fallen from your ponytail away behind your ear, before nodding his head and swallowing thickly. “I came home from college because all my friends became friends with Katrina, and her friends, and it became too painful to see all of them when all they did was remind me of her, but now I feel alone.”

“I’ve never told anyone that before.” You confessed, and he smiled a little, his eyes sliding closed as he nodded, like the secret was kept between just the two of you, and you knew that was where it would stay.

“Neither have I.”

The moment was a little too heavy for you to handle without becoming overwhelmed, so you instead pressed yourself back into him, not having to look at the caring look in his eyes, instead just feeling the tentative way his hands smoothed up and down your body comfortingly, the heat in the room dissipating until you were beginning to feel the chill, despite the furnace of a human being pressed up along the length of you. You were just about to move and grab your clothes again when he spoke again;

“Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“What?” He shrugged as you sat up, stretching yourself out and searching around for your bra, finding it and pulling it on, clipping it behind your back and adjusting it on your chest as you stared at him inquisitively.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I figured I’d drive you home, but we could go to In-N-Out or something on the way.”

“You know what? I would love that.” Your stomach rumbled at the offering of food, and you flushed with embarrassment at the loud sound, but Mitch only laughed, rolling to his feet and swiping up the tissue bundle and condom to take to the kitchen while you continued to dress yourself. You had located his boxers and sweats, and offered them to him when he returned, to which he pulled on both quickly, before making his way upstairs to grab a shirt. He was pulling on shoes as he came down the stairs in awkward footsteps, before lacing them up when he reached the bottom, and grabbing a hoodie for himself from on the coat hooks by the door, shrugging it on over his head.

“Ready?”

“We need to put the blankets away first.”

He shook his head as he looked around, holding his hand out towards the door instead, and swiping up his keys as he went. “Nah, I cleaned up everything that would give away what we did, but Stiles can clean up the rest. That’s what he gets for ditching you, he doesn’t get movie night, but he still gets clean up duty. It’s only fair.”

You gave it one final glance, before deciding you absolutely fucking agreed, and offered him your brightest smile as you headed out towards the older brother’s car, the sleek black calling to you as it reflected the streetlamps dotted along the sidewalk. “Can we put the heated seats on again?”

“If you want to, sure.”

You nodded eagerly, hopping up into the car once it was unlocked and settling yourself into the seat, flicking the button yourself this time once Mitch had started up the vehicle and set off onto the roads, a chuckle on his lips as he watched you play with the large console of buttons, turning on the regular heating and the radio, too.

Instead of the widely broadcasted channels, however, the music system began to blast out the last song that Mitch has been listening too, and you jumped at the sudden and loud bass, the car swerving a little as clearly Mitch was caught off guard too, but you were soon gasping in realisation of the beat that was playing, turning the volume down a little but tapping your fingers in time with the tune.

“I love this song!”

“You do?” You nodded, opening the box on the dashboard and looking for the CD album, but he only offered his phone to you, giving you a pointed look as he tapped the bluetooth symbol showing up on the screen. “Not used to modern-day technology, driving around in that old jeep all the time, huh?”

“That jeep has history!”

“You sound like Stiles.” He muttered, rolling his eyes but grinning at you anyway, and you scrolled through his music selection, the conversation between you both flowing easily as you bonded over your music choices, and your favourite songs, which had quickly devolved into favourite movies and your preference on sports teams, and toppings on pizza.

You had flown through the drive-thru, almost empty in the late hour, and he had insisted on paying, calling it his treat, and telling you that you could pay next time.

Being in Mitch’s company was easy. It wasn’t burdened with the worry of rejection or the loss of friendship, it wasn’t weighed down with unrequited love and the fear of not being accepted. With Mitch, you didn’t have previous commitments and complicated friendships and worries about college. He was fun, and warm, and he made everything that plagued your mind go away when you were with him, even if it was just for a little while.

The ride was filled with jokes and laughter, the two of you driving around the empty roads aimlessly until you were pulled up in front of your house, giggling as you finished your milkshakes, used wrappers and cartons stuffed into the bags you’d been given the food in, sitting long discarded by your feet as you peeled the top off of your plastic cup and tried to use the straw to scrape at the whipped cream that had fallen to the bottom.

You managed to scoop some up, humming happily as the sweet goodness filled your mouth and covered your senses, before you were dropping it back down to add to the rubbish in the bag, and licking at your lips to clear it away.

“You know we’ve been driving around for, like, three hours?”

He glanced down at the clock, the time flashing up, despite the engine being turned off as you sat parked up outside of your house. “Oh, shit. I thought we’d been out for an hour, or so.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” You teased, and he finished up his drink, putting the empty plastic into the cupholder, his gaze finding yours, and he watched as you lifted a hand up to the side of his mouth, wiping above his lip at the froth caught in his stubble, before smearing it away on a napkin, your head tipping to sit on the headrest as you faced him. The music was playing quietly throughout the car, and you covered your yawn, but his eyes crinkled at the sides as he looked at you, catching the sight of tiredness on your features.

“Tired, kitten?” You mumbled your acknowledgement, your eyes sliding closed a little, and you felt his hand coming up to hold yours, lacing your fingers together and sitting them on the console between you both, and you could feel his stare lingering on you. “I did have fun, you know.”

“Me too, it was a really awesome night. Probably better than any other movie night would have been, actually.” You opened your eyes to look at him now, and he nodded, a bashful look covering his features as he pulled you in a little closer to him, and you happily leaned over towards his space.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, but I appreciate the chivalry.” You joked, and he barely let out a laugh this time, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and he let out a content sound when you nuzzled a little further into his palm.

“No, those were different. Those were kisses leading up to sex, and that’s what we’ve been doing, what we are doing.” You studied him carefully now, brows furrowed as you watched him try to get his words out. “There’s no sex after this, nothing else. I just want to kiss you goodnight.”

You stared at him for a moment, before bringing a hand of your own to sit on his other cheek, pulling his face in towards yours, brushing your noses together, before connecting your lips softly.

He tasted like the salt of french fries and the whipped cream on top of his chocolate shake. He pressed into you firmly, his fingers digging in under your jaw, just enough to make sure you wouldn't pull back too soon, so that he could prolong the connection, and the drag of your lips against his.

When he did finally pull back, his lips were still puckered or a moment, brushing your lips together before he was letting out a soft sigh, and pressing a kiss to your nose and your forehead. You let him do so, before you repeated the action on him, earning yourself a shy and intimate smile as you kissed at his forehead and he tipped his head down to let you do so, your lips lingering on his skin before you pulled back, giggling so quietly you weren’t sure if he had even heard it, but it didn’t matter.

“I'll text you, okay?

“I hope so. Don’t want it to be days before I talk to you again.” You mumbled, before grabbing your things and hopping out of the car, walking around to the side of the car, and he rolled his window down, brows raised as he looked at you lingering outside his car. The lights in your house were still on, and you glanced back at the windows, before leaning in through his and pressing your lips to his in a final short kiss, a smile gracing his lips as you spoke your next words; “Thank you for making this night so much better than I thought it would be.”

“Goodnight, kitten.”

“Goodnight, Mitch.”

[thedeathdoctor]

Kinktober Day 5: Blood Play

Blood Play - Halloween: Michael Meyers x Reader

Guardian Demon

Tw for Breaking and Entering, Being held at gunpoint

It was ten past two in the morning when you pulled your 2003 Altima into the driveway. Fucking Steve. Ever since he had started as manager, your store had been pathetically understaffed. He never stuck around past four and never saw how long closing duties took. It was just you and Allison now, because “we don’t really need three people in here when we don’t get that many customers, anyway”. 

You shoved your work apron into your purse laying on the passenger seat before dragging yourself out of the car. Everything felt heavy, and your keys dangled limply in your hand. A thought resurfaced in your weary head: the pothole you had hit on your way to work because the assholes wouldn’t let you merge over to avoid it. It sounded expensive, but you had managed to get home, so you just gave a quick glance at it. You weren’t much of a car person, and it was dark; you’d look at it again in the morning. 

Leaning against the peeling paint of your side door, you fit the key in the lock, and found it unlocked. What? Maybe you had forgotten to lock up when you rushed to work this afternoon. Henry had called out for the third day in a row, and they had called you to come in earlier to cover for him. You didn’t want to, but you had to. The shitty washer that came with the unit had broken, and your landlord had refused to take care of it because clearly you had misused it in order for that to happen. A contractor had come out to fix it yesterday; the work was expensive,  he unsettled you in a way you couldn’t place, and in the middle of it all Steve called to ask where you were. He seemed to forget how you told him, to his face, three times, “I won’t be in on Wednesday, do not schedule me,” and still his chicken nugget sized brain forgot and expected you to come in. 

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of the work fuckery from your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. It took up enough real estate in your head as is. 

Snacks. 

You dropped your purse on the mess of mail that covered your kitchen table. It would be sorted later. For now, you took your phone with you and rummaged through the cabinets, finding the box of Goldfish you had bought Monday. You padded into the living room, settling down into the couch. Though you lived alone, you had slept here for the past few nights on account of clutter spread over your bed. Well, it was mostly organized. Monday you had found the least sketchiest laundromat in your fifteen mile radius for the three weeks of laundry built up while you fought with your landlord. After all, there was a finite amount of times you could handle rewearing your work clothes before the thought of having to pay for laundry became begrudgingly tolerable. 

The waist of your pants cut into your waist, and you stripped them off and threw them towards the stairs with a growl. Your bra was next, and soon you were comfortable in your tank top and underwear. It had also been an embarrassing amount of time since you had vacuumed the floor, so your socks stayed on to keep your feet clean. 

“Honey, if you ever need help, I can always come over and clean with you. It’s really no problem for me.” 

Your mom’s voice reappeared in your head, kind and soothing. Truth was, you needed help, but couldn’t bring yourself to accept her offer. It was out of mercy. You didn’t want her to come over and see for herself how you, her precious daughter was really doing. She worried for you enough as is, and anyway, you were doing just fine, no need for her to see the bottles that frequently piled up in the yellow bin next to the door or the refrigerator that didn’t hold much excluding the condiments on the door, or the condition of your bathroom sink. You spared her the worry she would feel if she knew. Anyway, you could handle it, all you needed was another day off to take care of everything, two at max. 

Turning on the tv, you chose a random episode of Criminal Minds to watch to distract your brain. It had been your comfort show since you started watching it in 2011, and it filled the otherwise quiet space of the house. You apathetically ate a handful of Goldfish before folding the box back up and letting it drop on the ground. That wasn’t it. Occasionally, lights drifted across the interior of your house, headlights drifting in from the living room window as the occasional car passed by. 

A loud crash shocked you awake from the doldrums of half-sleep. Your eyes shot open as your heart revved from 0 -100, realizing that the sound came from upstairs. Fuck. There were footsteps now. Scrambling to find your phone to call 911, your heart sunk as the screen flickered to life for just enough time to blink its “low battery” icon at you before giving up. You did have a .357, but one too many nights with the bottle led you to disassemble it as much as you could and shove the pieces into a shoebox at the back of your closet, if only for your mom’s sake. 

You listened with bated breath as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs and began to descend. Every single muscle in your body did not reply, even as your mind screamed for you to run. You were frozen to the couch. 

A man, partially dressed in a dirty work coverall tied around the waist at the bottom of a grimy undershirt strode aggressively over to you. A black ski mask hid his face, but you could see his eye twitch as he raised the Glock in his hand to your face. His voice was strained and rough as he questioned you.

“WHERE ARE THEY??” 

“Where is what?” 

You didn’t have much of value at all, the most expensive thing that you had to your name was the Altima sitting outside and that was only $6,000 when you bought it a few years ago. 

“PILLS, SMARTASS. DON’T LIE TO ME. I SAW THE EMPTY BOTTLES. WHERE DO YOU KEEP THEM?” 

Oh. Truth be told, you didn’t have any left. All you had ever really taken was your Adderall XR and Zoloft. The empty Adderall bottle sat pathetically on your dresser, reminding you of the last time you had been able to afford the copay the pharmacy demanded. As for the Zoloft, well, your psychiatrist would keep refilling it as long as you kept showing up to her regular appointments, and the spontaneity of work had made it damn near impossible to keep an appointment with her. So it had been at least a few days since you had tried to taper off of them yourself. But you were unmedicated and well beyond tired, so you responded rather dumbly. 

“I don’t have any more. They’re gone. Sorry.” 

He didn’t react well to that, gritting his teeth and kicking over a folding chair that left a rather large hole in the drywall. Your fucking landlord would have a field day haranguing you for those damages. 

The side door that you had taken care to lock swung open violently, knocking over the bottles perched on the top of the pile in the recycling bin. Heavy footsteps strode through the kitchen and another man appeared behind the first intruder.

“HEY WHAT THE FUC-”

He was cut off as he was violently disarmed, gun clattering to the floor as a blade slashed through every tendon in his arm. Then, his body flew across the room and crashed head first into the Walmart bookshelf and the few books you had left with a horrific crunch. He was crumpled in a way that no human should ever be, and still the other man kneeled and plunged his knife between his ribs, ventilating his body as you would a frozen microwavable meal. And then slowly, stood up and turned to face you. 

He was impossibly tall, looming over the man who had tried to rob you; like him, he was also dressed in a coverall, bluish grey and relatively cleaner aside from the blood splashed across the front. His head was covered too, by one of those rubbery Halloween costume masks that people wear and pretend to be a serial killer or something. Matthew, or maybe Michael? You glanced over at the mutilated corpse at his feet, and the real, actual knife in his hand, still dripping with blood. You didn’t think he was pretending.

You cowered in the corner of the couch, your knees pulled up as close to your chin as possible, shaking uncontrollably. He walked closer to you, stretching out his free hand, and for some reason beyond your understanding, you took it. Your legs trembled like those of a newborn fawn, but you stayed up, mostly due to his hidden strength. Together, you both made your way over to the dead body, letting you collapse to your knees next to it. He dipped the tip of the knife into the man’s blood and brought it to your face. A scream died in your throat as he grabbed your jaw and steadied you as the blade traced over your forehead and cheekbones, painting you with the blood of his kill. On your stomach, he marked you with a simple “MM”. Michael Meyers. You were his. 

When he was done, he pressed you to the floor on your back and stripped you of your tank top and panties with a few quick flicks of his knife. His hands worked the jumpsuit zipper down as he shed his clothing and towered over you. He stroked his cock lazily, enjoying the look on your face as you realized that he wanted to put it deep in you. You were his and he was going to consummate your partnership, right here, right now.

He spread your legs and kneeled between them. It had been a while since you last had any kind of sexual encounter, but the patch of curls was of no consequence to him. Blood slicked his fingers, and you were surprised how expertly the pad of his thumb found your clit, kneading you to orgasm in spite of the horror you had just witnessed. Perfect.

He teased you, running his fingertips up and down your vulva until your hands urged him to get on with it. That was a mistake. He snapped your hands together and held you firmly by your wrists with his free hand. Punishment for being too impatient. Two fingers found your entrance before suddenly plunging into you as deep as they could. Your gasp satisfied him and he returned his thumb to your clit as his fingers pistoned into you at a punishing pace. 

The second orgasm crashed through your body, your arms weakly trembling against his fierce grip as you screamed out in pleasure. When your eyes returned to him, the submission he saw drove him mad with desire. He gripped your hips so hard, you were sure that you would see bruises in the morning, and slid you onto his cock, hissing softly as he entered you. God, he spread you apart like no one ever had before. 

You weren’t the most petite person in the world, but to him and his strength, you may as well have been. He slammed you against him, your thighs stinging as they met his hips, fucking you as if you were a filthy toy, a cocksleeve for him to use as he wanted, whenever he wanted. He paused for a moment, sliding his hands up under your back and supporting you with his arms as he stood up, still inside you. Your thighs wrapped around his waist, feeling the muscles in his torso and ass flex against you. His hips thrust up into you as he held you up in the air, gravity working alongside his powerful body as he ravaged you. Moans dribbled from your mouth as most of your upper body went limp. The back of your head crashed against the wall, but you didn’t care, your body was flooded in ecstasy as you came over and over, writhing in his arms and twitching helplessly around his cock. His fingernails dragged long, deep scratches along your back that smeared and stained the wall with blood as he pressed you against it, his breaths deep, panting, heavy with lust. 

Time lost all meaning to you as he broke you down to a sopping, quivering mess in his arms. It seemed he was intent on folding you in half and pressing you against the wall before his breaths hitched and pulled you as close as he physically could to him. His hips bucked involuntarily as he came deep into you, filling you with copious spurts of his cum. It took on a pinkish tone as it mixed with the blood from earlier, dripping from where your hips met. You were spent, falling asleep before he had let the both of you fall ever so gently to the floor, letting you rest on top of his chest. 

[dame-nervy]

Gladers are WCKD - Chapter 8

I started my tests with the blood, taking my time to answer any question Marcus could ask me since he didn’t specify what he wanted me to check. After over an hour I found that everything was normal, besides a slight vitamin C deficiency and traces of both drugs and alcohol in his system but that was to be expected of Marcus.

The sample of Calm was something else entirely though. It seemed the more I learned about it, the more questions I had but the one I wanted the answer to the most was: Where did it come from? “Did you find out anything?” Mary asked as she came in with a plate of lunch, the time having gotten away from me without my noticing. “The blood is fine, but Calm. Calm is something else entirely. Here look.” I told her as I pointed at the microscope before taking the plate out of her hand, taking a few bites. “At first I thought it was just a diluted version of Bliss, but it’s not. It’s something more.” I told her around my food. “I agree. It looks like an additional enzyme was added. Have you figured out what it is?” Mary asked as she kept looking through the microscope. I shook my head at her even though she couldn’t see me as I swallowed down the food I’d been hurriedly scoffing down, not realising how hungry I was until now. “No. The closest thing I recognise it as is one of Wicked’s attempts at a cure.” I tell her, causing her to look at me as her eyes bulged out. “That’s the same reaction I had.” I mumbled as I took another bite of food. “That means whoever’s selling it has access to Immunes.” Mary said, looking distressed as I nodded my head at her. “If I had to make a guess as to how to make it; I’d say it’s a combination of Bliss and some kind of altered Immune blood. Advanced even.” I told her my hypothesis on the Calm, getting an incredulous look from Mary. “That’s not possible. If Wicked has someone like that-” “but we don’t know who’s making this. It might not be Wicked.” I cut her off. It made sense that Mary was so unwilling to believe the possibility of a super Immune, considering how many years this had gone on for and how many people had been lost to the Flare, it seemed unlikely that there ever would be an end to it, much less a cure. “There’s no reason it wouldn’t be Wicked if they have access to Bliss.” Mary pointed out. “If it was Wicked making it then why are they selling it at Marcus’?” I shot back, silencing her completely. “Marcus said it doesn’t make you go all loopy like Bliss does, so why sell it there if it can’t be used as a recreational drug? It’d be like when people with ADHD take Adderall.” I continued looking at her as she had a thoughtful look on her face. “Okay, You might have a point. But Wicked could still be behind this, like you said: we don’t know.” “But Marcus might.” Mary gave me a frightened look as I said that. “No, you can’t. It’s too soon, people already noticed when you left the first time, if you go out again they’ll be a riot in here.” She told me, shaking her head as she turned her back to me. “Mary this could be the best chance we’ve had since the discovery of Immunes, we have to know who’s making this stuff.” I try to argue with her as I come to stand in front of her. “If you haven’t forgotten we have our own problem to deal with. We can’t help anyone if we’re destroyed from the inside out.” Mary said in a low voice as she grabbed my arms. I sighed as I look at her. “You’re right. Somebody is obviously doing something with it already. This can wait.” I tell her, but I don’t believe my own lie for a second. “Good.”

-later-

“We are not talking about this Y/n.” Vince said in a harsh whisper. My plan was to ask Vince to let me go see Marcus, unfortunately it wasn’t going so well. “We have to start operating like normal again or the mole’s going to figure out somethings wrong. We can’t just blame fear of the Gladers and stay here forever.” I told him as I stood ground on this. I could feel the creases appearing on my forehead as I noticed his expression matched mine. This was not a fun discussion for either of us. “I’m trying to keep as many people safe as possible. You included.” He stated as he gestured beyond the walls before pointing at me. “But this might be putting us in more danger.” I told him as even I felt the need to question our suspicious behaviour, but that might be because I’m too close not to see it. “I said no!” He shouted at me. Vince has never raised his voice to me, ever. I couldn’t move. Bile was building up in my throat and there was a pain in my palms as my fist shook. “Is there a problem here?” We turned to the voice to see Jorge standing in the doorway. “Everything’s fine. Y/n you’re staying put and that’s final.” Vince uttered the last part loud enough for only I to hear. I tried to argue with him but he was already out the door, Jorge giving him a hard look before his face softened for me. “Are you alright hermana?” I took some deep breaths, releasing my fist and inspecting the red crescent shapes I’d dug into my palms. Looking up at Jorge I saw him making his way over to me, and as he stopped next to me I decided to ask him “Do you trust me Jorge?” “Of course I do hermana.” He answered without hesitation but the slight tilt of his head gave him away. “Good. Remember that.” I told him before I started moving past him, only for him to grab my arm and stop me. “You sound like you’re going to do something stupid.” He gave me a look I’d seen him give Brenda many times before; one of worry and care. “That’s because I am. I’ll tell Marcus you say hi.” I told him as I gently pulled his hand off me, shock over coming his face and voice. “Woah, woah, wait. You’re going to see Marcus? Y/n that is not a good idea.” “You just said you trust me, so trust me to know what I’m doing.” I told him in the calmest voice I could manage. “And what if you don’t come back?” He spoke quickly but hushed, if I wasn’t standing right next to him I don’t think I would have heard it. “Then good thing you’ll know where I went.” Mine didn’t waver as I turned to stand head on in front of him, putting my hands on his shoulders, feeling like his parent as I spoke with a weird sense of authority that I didn’t know I had. “Jorge, this is important.” He looked at me for a long minute before something seemed to click in his eyes. I feel like I’ve seen that look before, maybe from Mary, or Vince, or possibly even Ava, but I don’t know what it means. “Alright, just be careful.” He told me, reverting to his usual self, the look he reserves for Brenda back. I nod my head, giving him a confident “I will” before continuing on with my plan.

-after dinner-

It was quiet, most people nowhere near the sleeping quarters at this time. Nearly everyone would sit around after dinner, playing cards or passing the time some other way that made us forget that we were in the apocalypse. I myself can recall many a night spent playing cards with my friends. Harriet was a natural, Brenda cheated, Aris never seemed to know the rules, Teresa would always want to play something else, and Sonya usually gave up and tried to help someone else win. It felt so normal, so out of place, and yet it was something I could do every night of the week and never grow bored. Tonight though, three of us were not present for cards. “What’s going on?” To find Teresa in our room was only a little odd, to find Brenda there too was a lot odd. “Jorge told me what you were planning to do.” Brenda, ever straight forward and to the point. “And I over heard you and Mary arguing today.” Teresa said in a lower voice, causing my heart to start racing as I closed the door, moving to the far corner of the room and pulling them both with me. “What did you hear exactly?” I asked her in a hushed yet serious tone, staring her down the whole time. ��That you think you’ve found a cure and that we have our own problem that could destroy us from the inside out.” The way Teresa summarised Mary’s words seemed to make them more real, I felt myself doubting my decision to go see Marcus. “Y/n, what is going on?” Brenda asked, seemingly shocked by Teresa’s words. “I wanted to tell you. Both of you, but you have to understand why I didn’t. It was too dangerous.” I tried to soften the blow before I told them, but it seemed I only made them more scared. “We have a mole in the Right Arm.”

I told them everything that had happened over the last week from hearing the Glader’s conversation, to seeing Marcus, to analysing the Calm, they both officially knew everything I did. “It all makes sense now.” Brenda said with a knowing look as she leaned against the wall. We’d all moved to be sitting on my bed, Teresa taking hold of my pillow and held it close to her chest as I sat on the edge of the bed, not looking at them for the most part. “I understand. You didn’t know who you could trust. Talking about it is even too dangerous.” Teresa said in a quietly, nothing louder than a whisper had been spoken the whole time. “Yeah, I get it too.” Brenda said with a nod of her head. “Neither of you can say anything to anyone. Not even Jorge, nor Harriet and the others. The more people that know the more likely whoever He is will find out.” I look at them both as I say this, they both nodding in agreement. “So when are you going to go see Marcus?” Brenda asked as she scooted closer to me, crossing her legs as she now sat in the middle of the single bed. “Tonight. I’ve gotta find out what’s going on with this Calm. And hopefully Marcus has heard something that can help us with our problem.” A feeling of defiance rising up in me as I said so. “Be careful.” Teresa put the pillow back as she came over and gave me a hug. “Cover for me?” I asked her, feeling her head nod against my shoulder before Brenda wrapped her arms around me too. “I’ll be back before breakfast.” I told them as I did my best to put my arms around the two girls that I classified as my best friends. “You better, or I’m taking your share.” Brenda said, causing the three of us to laugh as I pictured Brenda with two bowls of gruel in front of her, not wanting to eat either of them. “Don’t worry, I’d never subject you to such a thing.” I told her as we laughed again. These were the people I was trying to protect, and I will protect them.

- - - - -

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[snarkythewoecrow]

Okay I’m so obsessed with all your writing especially looking for normal! Idk if you’re interested in writing any more ~drug~ related stories but I think it would be really interesting to see Peter starting to abuse Adderall in order to study or finish college applications or something! Like if Peter was super jittery and on edge and Tony discovering the pills and just like all the angst pleaseeeeee

This was such an awesome prompt and came at the perfect time. I wrote this kinda fast and it might have errors, but I hope you like it. 

Trigger Warning for Addiction and Drug Abuse

Read on AO3

“Be right out,” Peter called over his shoulder towards the door of his room. Quicky, he shook out another pill from the bottle and popped it into his mouth, swallowing it down with a grimace. He stuffed the bottle back into his bag, shoving his hoodie on top and zipping the backpack closed.

Using Adderall had started simply enough. It wasn’t like Peter didn’t know where to get them. In a STEM school, a lot of kids used them to study, and it wasn’t like these were real drugs, not like heroin or speed. Okay, maybe they shared some molecular similarities to drugs like meth, but they were still different, and these were prescribed, just not to him. They were totally safe, though.  

That was what he told himself anyway.

Peter charged out the door to his room, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders and nearly tripping over his own feet. He was running late. Happy would be there any minute to pick him up to go upstate for the weekend. Tony had given him his room at the compound, and they planned to spend the next few days working on some projects and going over college choices, though Tony had already made his favorite known. He wanted Peter to attend MIT, just like he had. Peter hadn’t written the option off, but he wanted to stay closer to home if he could.

May peeked out of the kitchen and rolled her eyes as Peter patted at his hair, trying to tame it.

“You should really eat something before you go,” May said, wiping her hands on a towel and throwing it over her shoulder. “It’s a long ride.”

Peter’s brows went up, and he blinked. “Oh, yeah, maybe. I can just grab a granola bar or something.”

She shook her head and went back into the kitchen, appearing again a moment later with a brown paper bag. She held it out to him, and Peter smiled, walking over to her.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a tuna sandwich and a few Powerbars. I’m not going to responsible for you passing out. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how jittery you’ve been lately.”

Peter took the bag, looking inside. He grabbed a Powerbar and tore into it with his teeth. Truth be told, his appetite wasn’t that great since he’d started using Adderall, but he didn’t want to worry May. Taking a bite, he spoke around his mouthful. “Thanks, May.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Holding the Powerbar between his teeth, he dug out his phone. It was a message from Happy saying he was out front. He typed a quick reply, saying he would be right there, then stuffed his phone back into his pocket, took the Powerbar out of his mouth, and said goodbye to May.

The ride to the compound was quiet, and Peter used the time to work on his Physics homework. He had a lot to catch up on after a Spider-Man related injury took him out of school for three days last week. He’d finally been able to get most of his work caught up with the help of the pills. They allowed him to get into the zone and focus in a way he couldn’t otherwise.

It was like time was irrelevant when he was using them. He didn’t feel it pass. Everything around him blurred out, and he could give the project he was working on his full attention. It felt good, even if it made him a little shaky and his heartbeat a bit too fast, but that was only because Peter needed to use more than the average person. He could burn through twenty milligrams in an hour or two, so he had to keep popping them on the days he wanted to get things done.

But that had created even more of a problem, not that he would admit it.

When the drug wore off, he’d crash hard, feeling depressed and tired and like his body was moving through cold molasses. Another pill always made the feeling go away, but he didn’t have an endless supply, and they cost a lot of money.

He didn’t like to think about it, but he’d used some of the money Tony had given for his college fund to buy them. It wasn’t like it made a dent in the account. The saving account had an obscene amount of money in it. Peter had always thought that what he didn’t use for college, he would donate to charity. Using it for drugs made Peter feel a little sick, but he reasoned that buying the Adderall did go towards his future. They ensured he could study and get good grades.

He finished the last of his homework as the car pulled through the gate at the compound. The Adderall Peter had taken at home before he left had already worn off, but that was fine because he’d gotten a bottle of sixty just the other day, so he had plenty.

Peter didn’t stop at this room. Instead, he went straight to the workshop, backpack over his shoulder.

The door to the workshop opened with a whoosh, and Peter winced at the loud music. When he stepped into the room, Friday lowered the volume, and Tony straightened from the workbench he was stooped over, bracing his back with a hand and stretching. He turned to Peter and smiled.

“Hey, kid.” Tony wiped his hands off on his jeans. “Got an engine from one of my babies taken apart, doing a rebuild. I could use your hands if you want to help.”

Peter’s gaze flitted over the tools and parts. His knowledge of engines was all academic, nothing hands-on, but he was willing to learn. “Sure, I just need to, um—” He motioned to the bathroom.

Tony waved toward the shelf. “Grab one of the welding helmets on your way back. You’ll need it.”

Peter nodded, jogging toward the bathroom, but Tony’s voice made him stop.

“You know you can leave your bag here, right? Just saying, might be easier, but what do I know?”

Peter’s mouth twitched, and his grip tightened on the strap over his shoulder. He’d wanted to take another Adderall before they started working, but he couldn’t do that with Tony watching. Forcing a smile, he said, “Right, yeah, what was I thinking?”

He tossed his bag into one of the chairs and walked off to the bathroom.

When he got out, he grabbed a helmet like Tony had asked and went to stand beside him.

“Ever weld before?” Tony asked, his own helmet flipped up.

“No?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

Peter blinked. “I tried it in shop class last year, but it didn’t go well. I may have started a fire.”

Tony’s eyebrows lifted, and Peter rushed to explain.

“A small fire, barely counted as a fire, really, and I may have dropped some molten metal on my shoe, but it was fine.”

“Put your helmet on.” Tony nodded at it. “I’ll explain what I’m doing, and then you can try, and we’ll try to avoid any fires or close calls with death.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Sure, kid.”

Peter watched Tony, trying to listen and focus, but the heavy feeling he didn’t like was seeping into his bones. He was starting to crash, and it made it so hard to focus. After watching for a little while, Tony gave him the tools and guided him on how to start. He didn’t start any fires, but he didn’t do that good of a job. Where Tony had welded what looked like a neat row of stacked dimes, Peter had burned through the metal and left globs all over.

He was just about to try again when the welder turned off. Peter set the tools down and flipped up his mask to look at Tony, who had taken his off.

Running a hand through his hair, Tony shook his head and then leaned his hip against the workbench. ”Is everything all right? Are you getting enough sleep? Enough to eat, all the good things like that?”

Peter took his helmet off and set it on the workbench. He wiped his brow, frowning a little. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

“It just doesn’t seem like you’re fully switched on today. You don’t seem too excited to be here right now.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, no. I’m really happy to be here. I loved learning about welding and stuff, but yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m having an off day. It’s nothing big, though. I guess I didn’t sleep that well.”

Tony nodded a few times, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, well, how about we call it quits and grab some food. We can try again tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

Peter was really feeling the crash by the time they finished dinner, so he retired to his room, skipping their traditional Friday night movie. Tony seemed disappointed, but Peter felt too awful to stay awake any longer. He’d only had two Adderall that day instead of the four he usually took. It seemed the lack of his usual dose was leaving him feeling crappier than usual.

Thankfully, he was able to sleep, and when he woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was take two pills. He didn’t usually do that unless he had to study because it made him jittery, but he was afraid of feeling crappy again. He craved the rush and the way they sharpened his thoughts, adding clarity to his thinking. He wanted to make up for his off day yesterday and show Tony how well he could do.

After showering and getting dressed, he went to the kitchen to find Tony. He was dressed and making breakfast. Peter didn’t feel hungry at all, though, not in the slightest. Whenever he took two pills at once, he almost had an aversion to food.

The smell of the eggs cooking made Peter’s nose wrinkle.

“Morning, Pete,” Tony said, lifting the pan and scrapping some scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Friday said you were up. I made eggs, and not to brag, but I even added cheese without burning them.”

Peter tried to smile even though the last thing he wanted to do was eat. He took a seat at the breakfast bar, and Tony set a plate down in front of him. He tried to hide his grimace, but Tony must have noticed the look when he turned to pass Peter a fork.

“Why do you look like you’d rather gnaw off an arm than eat my masterful creation?” He stepped around the counter and pressed the back of his hand to Peter’s cheek, then his forehead as Peter tried to worm away. “You don’t feel warm.”

Peter’s knee began to bounce as the pills started to really hit his system. He grabbed his fork and stabbed some of the eggs. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Having another off day? Did you sleep okay?”

Peter sucked in a breath, clenching his jaw shut for a second before speaking. His temper was always touchy after he’d taken a double dose. “I’m really fine. I’m not sick or anything. I slept good. Really, everything’s good, Mr. Stark.”

Tony crossed his arms, eyes raking over Peter before he nodded and went to eat his eggs.

After breakfast, Peter followed Tony to the workshop, but today he had planned better. In his pocket were four more pills, enough to keep himself going until bed plus some.

Tony had Peter weld again, and this time he did much better, though his hands were a little shaky. If Tony noticed, he didn’t say anything. When the high started to wear off, Peter excused himself to the bathroom and took two more pills. He normally didn’t take so many in a day, but he really didn’t want to crash around Tony again.

The only problem was that it made Peter jittery and on edge, his temper shorter than usual. The slightest things grated on his nerves, like how Tony kept rocking his coffee cup back and forth on the workbench. It was the only sound Peter seemed to be able to hear, and it was driving him over the edge. The rush he’d gotten from the pills today wasn’t a good one. He shouldn’t have taken so many, and now he was paying the price.

His heart rate was too fast, and Tony wouldn’t stop rocking his cup back and forth, the clock kept ticking on the wall, and before he knew it, the pencil he was holding snapped, making everything in the room come to a halt.

Tony looked over at him, eyes dropping to the broken pencil in his hand. He lifted his gaze to Peter’s eyes, brows raised in question.

“Pete?”

Peter swallowed, setting the broken pencil on the table. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s—”

“Fine,” Tony finished for him. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” The man frowned as he looked at Peter’s hands, which were gripping his thighs so tight the tips of his fingers were white. “Let’s try this again, and this time, why don’t we try the truth.”

Peter bit his lip, rubbing his hands on his jeans, his knees bouncing. He nodded a few times quickly. “Okay.”

Tony studied him for a few seconds, then scratched at his goatee. “You know, if I didn’t know you like I did, I’d say you’d were on something right now.”

Peter tensed. ‘I’m not—I didn’t take anything.”

“Kid, relax. You’re going to vibrate off the stool. I know you wouldn’t.”

Peter immediately felt guilty. He hated lying, and here he was, doing it straight to Tony’s face. He tried to settle himself down, but he was on edge. “It’s nothing, really, Mr. Stark.”

“So you’ve said.” Tony shook his head, looking at the wall behind Peter before fixing his gaze on him. “You didn’t sneak a Red Bull again, did you?”

“Uh, no,” he said too quickly, then corrected with a lie. “I mean, yes. I did. I had two. I know I’m not supposed to, but I didn’t want to be tired.”

The lie tasted like ash on his tongue.

Tony sighed. “Well, let’s finish up what we’re doing, and then we can grab some lunch. Hopefully, that freaky metabolism of yours will burn through it soon.”

After lunch, Peter started to crash hard. His body felt heavy and tired, and everything ached. His thought felt caught in a thick soup. They were supposed to go back to the workshop, and Peter didn’t want to be tired again, so before he left the kitchen, he reached in his pocket and pulled out the pills. His hand hesitated over the pills as he decided how many to take. He was so caught up in his thought that he didn’t hear Tony approach until he cleared his throat, making Peter jump and nearly drop the pills.

Tony’s sharp gaze was cutting through him, his expression unreadable, and Peter knew he was caught, but he still tried to hide his handful of pills behind him.

“Mr. Stark,” he croaked, shaking a little. “I was just coming down to meet you.”

Tony’s mouth twitched downward, and then his eyes fell to Peter’s hand. “Whatcha got there, Pete?”

Peter’s hand tightened around the pills, and he swallowed. “Um, these?” He lifted his hand without opening it. “These are just, um, vitamins. Yeah, they’re, uh, vitamins to help me focus.”

Tony’s shoulders fell, and he seemed to deflate. Closing his eyes for a second, he took a breath and then looked at Peter again. “God, help me. You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not—”

“Ah.” Tony put up his hand. “The adult is talking.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, looking down. His palms were starting to sweat, and he imagined the pills were getting gross clenched in his hand. “I’ll be quiet.”

“What are they, Peter? And don’t lie because you know I will figure it out.”

Peter looked down at his feet and mumbled the answer.

“I didn’t quite catch that. Try again,” Tony said, tone softer than Peter deserved.

“It’s—they’re Adderall.” And Peter chanced a look at Tony, whose expression was tight. Peter couldn’t hold his gaze, so he looked away. The pills in his hand felt heavier than they should. He regretted everything. He wished he could go back in time and punch himself for being so stupid and buying them in the first place.

Tony sighed, then said, “Are they yours? Are they prescribed to you?”

Peter shook his head.

“Yeah, this is—fuck, Peter.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears pricked at his eyes, and he sniffled. “It just happened. They helped with studying, and then—I don’t know. I just—I just lost control. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You mean you didn’t intend to get caught.”

Peter’s head snapped up, his head shaking. “No, I mean, yeah, getting caught sucks, but I really didn’t mean to get—to get … addicted.” The last word was a whisper, but Tony heard him because his eyes softened, and he rubbed his jaw.

“I wanted you to be better than me.” Tony breathed. “I went down this road, maybe not with Adderall, but with other drugs. Addiction is an asshole that will never leave you alone once you’ve met. This is going to be a part of you for the rest of your life, kid. I just wanted better for you.”  

“I really am sorry.”

“I know.” Tony nodded.  “We’re gonna start with you handing over whatever you got there and anything else you brought, then you’re going to sit and watch TV while I figure out the next step. I don’t want this to ruin your life, Peter.”

“Do we have to tell May? She’ll kill me.”

Tony gave him a look, eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Tony held out a hand, wiggling his fingers, and sighing, Peter unclenched his fist and placed the pills in Tony’s hand. It felt terrible and relieving to hand them over. He wouldn’t be able to relieve the crash or get that rush again, but he also didn’t need to worry anymore. He’d gotten in over his head, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like he was drowning.

Tony stuffed the pills into his pocket and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay, kid. It might not feel like it right now, but we’ll figure this out. Let’s get the rest of these pills taken care of. Then we can talk some more.”

Peter nodded and led Tony to his room. He dug the bottle out of his bag and passed them to Tony.

Examining the bottle, Tony said, “This why you wanted to bring the backpack into the bathroom?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Tony hummed. “Do I want to know how you afforded them?”

Tears welled in Peter’s eyes. He knew he had to tell Tony, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face when he said the words. Taking a breath, he said to the floor, “College savings. They didn’t even ask why. They just let me take the money out.”

Tony sighed, putting the bottle in his pocket. “Yeah, I can honestly say I never thought to put restrictions on your account.”

Tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks. He swiped at them with his sleeve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Then Tony was there, pulling him to his chest, and Peter buried his face against his neck.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You made a mistake. It happens to the best of us. I can solidly say to some more than others. Like how I spent most of the nineties making shitty decisions.”

That just made him cry harder for some reason. Everything felt like too much. Sobs wracked his frame, and everything he had held in, all the lies and half-truths, they poured out as tears. Tony pressed his lips to Peter’s hair and murmured nonsense about how it would be all be okay, but how could it be. He screwed up so badly.

When Peter’s tears tapered off, Tony gave him a squeeze and then pulled back to look at him. “Okay, let’s get you settled.” He swiped a tear from Peter’s cheek with his thumb. “I need to do a little research and make a few calls, but you’re gonna be all right, kiddo. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you.”

Peter felt anxious about what the future held. He wasn’t ready to confront May, and he didn’t know if he could survive without feeling that buzz of energy again, but he felt reassured. As long as he had Tony to guide him, all he needed to do was follow. Even if he didn’t know the path, Tony did, so he knew he would make it back from this okay.

[alexandrablake]

restless soul, lie down

Prompt: 16. “Do the drugs still get you high?” from this prompt list and 52. “Sometimes, memories are the worst torture.” from this one! Pairing: platonic!Hotch/Reid Word Count: 1,537 Warnings: mentions of drug abuse. references to the events of “revelations” (2x18). A/n: ooh baby, we’re late again. didn’t even start this one until 10 minutes before i was supposed to post it!! nice one, eva!!! (this is my interpretation of how they should have dealt with reid’s drug addiction btw)

     It was a fitting day- dark and dreary, rain pouring down as if to drown the world. The droplets splattered the windows, and the clouds blocked out the stars that would normally dot the night sky. It was quiet, too, the normal sound of people hard at work long gone. Two figures remained in the office, a tall, pale, and wiry one and a dark, serious, and concentrated one.

Hotch looked out his office window and saw Reid still sitting at his desk, hunched over with his head in his hands. Sparing a quick glance at the clock hanging on his wall, he noted the time far too late for even Reid to be there. He abandoned the report he had been working on and walked out into the bullpen. 

His footsteps were heavy as he descended the stairs, but the normally over-observant Reid took no notice. Hotch grabbed Emily’s chair and rolled it over so he sat in front of Spencer. It was only then that the younger man noticed his presence. 

“Hotch,” Spencer breathed, eyes darting wildly, “what are you doing here?”

Hotch leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Filling out reports. Why are you here?”

He received a light shrug as his answer. Hotch took in Reid’s disheveled state. His desk was in complete disorder; pencils were scattered, notes with indecipherable words scribbled onto them were placed haphazardly, and the essence of Reid was just gone. His normally ironed clothes were crumpled. It didn’t escape Hotch that they were the same ones from the day before. 

His physical appearance was almost worse. Reid’s eyes were sunk into his sockets, and dark circles sat beneath him. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and it was evident. His hair was a mess of brown hair, and it was clear that it as well hadn’t been cared for in a long time.

Hotch knew exactly what was happening. 

Rather than stating the obvious, he gave the young profiler a chance to admit it himself. “Are you alright?” “Hm?” Reid had become engrossed with fiddling with the array of pens across his desk. “Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” “Yes, Hotch, I’m sure,” he snapped, completely unlike himself. 

Hotch tilted his head to the side and eyed Reid’s messenger bag. “Do you mind if I look through your bag?” “Yes!” Reid picked the bag up from the ground and clutched it to his chest. “Yes, I mind,” he added in a much softer voice.

“Why?”

“Stop profiling me.”

Sighing, the unit chief moved his chair closer. He pushed away the mess on the edge of the desk, and leaned his elbow onto it. He was done dancing around the issue.

“Do the drugs still get you high?”

Reid dropped the pen he was twirling around his fingers. He began to bounce his leg as he reached down to grab it, hands shaking the whole time. 

“I-I beg your pardon?”

Very calmly, Hotch repeated himself. Spencer seemed just as taken aback by the question the second time. He blinked harshly a few times, and wiped his palms on the top of his pants. 

“What are you-are you talking about?” His voice was shaky, and he stumbled over his words.

He was nervous. Hotch had struck a nerve.

“I mean, it’s very obvious you’re having a drug problem.” He held his hand out and began to tick his fingers as he listed off the reasons. “You’re snappy. You disappear periodically throughout the day. You’ve just undergone a traumatic experience. You very clearly have trouble focusing. You’re jittery.”

Reid pushed his hair behind his ears. 

“Need I go on?” Hotch blinked slowly and gauged the man’s response. 

“Those are all indicators of post-traumatic stress disorder. What makes you think I am doing drugs?” Hotch smiled grimly. That was more like the Reid he knew. “What are you using? Adderall? Something harder?”

The mop of brown hair flew around as he shook his head rapidly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” “Reid…” Aaron trailed off, looking at the man with concerned eyes.

Spencer’s shoulders sagged, seemingly in defeat. “It’s not my fault, I didn’t mean to get addicted!”

“I know it isn’t. It’s never the victim’s fault,” Hotch said softly so as not to deter Reid from telling the story. “How did it start?”

“Back in that barn, Tobias- and it was Tobias- gave me some. Uh, he said it was to help me, that it made the beatings better. And it did. Then, um, when I shot him and I, uh, I asked you to let me stay back, I took the vials he had in his pocket.”

“Dilaudid?”

Reid’s face showed more years than he had lived as he answered quietly, “Yeah.”

“Is it to help the pain?” Hotch asked in an equally hushed voice.

“It was at first, yeah. I mean, it really started as most addictions do. Uh, you start to distract you from the world around you. It makes everything easier, you know? Well, no, you don’t know, but-”

“Reid,” Hotch stopped him, holding his hands up, “breathe.” “Breathe, right. Uh, yeah, it was a distraction at first. But then I had to have it. I think- I think I got used to the high? And then the flashbacks started, and I needed more. I just wanted to forget, Hotch. And it let me forget,” Reid stopped and looked away from the ground to the still droplet-covered windows. “I just wanted to forget.”

They sat in a saddened silence, the only sound being the rain falling from the sky and hitting the roof. Hotch was the first to break from the trance they had fallen into. 

“You’ve seen more horrors in your short years than almost everyone will see in their entire life. I don’t think wanting to forget is something anyone would blame you for. But using isn’t healthy, you know that.” Reid nodded. “We’ve both seen the effects that long-term drug use can do on a person’s mind. I’d hate to see what it would do to a mind as great as yours.”

They fell into silence once again, unspoken words hanging in the air like fog over a harbor.

The youth shined through Spencer as he asked, “Am I in trouble?”

“No, you are not in trouble.”

Reid sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair a little. His leg had stopped bouncing, and he could finally shift his gaze to meet the older profiler’s.

“You know that my office door is always open if you need to talk,” Hotch told him gently.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is now one of those times?”

“Not really.”

Hotch didn’t press the matter. “Okay.” He held his hand out. “Now, let’s work on getting the real Spencer Reid back.”

Hotch could tell that Reid knew what the offered hand meant by the sloop in his shoulders. The younger man reached a shaky hand into the bag he was still clutching but paused before removing it. 

“Hotch, I don’t want the memories.”

A wave of sadness swept through Hotch at the question. “I think sometimes, memories are the worst torture. But I also think sometimes, they are the only cure.”

Reid frowned at the sentiment. “And how do I know which time this is?”

“You won’t until it happens. Is that a chance you are willing to take?”

Reid removed his hand from the bag, clutching three bottles with a clear liquid sloshing in them. “This has to work,” he said, his voice raspy. He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears as he continued. “This has to work because I don’t know what I will do if it doesn’t.”

Hotch pocketed the bottles and stood up from his chair. Spencer followed suit, wiping his hands on his thighs again.

“There’s a group I’m going to sign you up for, alright?” Hotch said, not unkindly.

Reid cleared his throat as he gathered his things. “What- what kind of group?”

“Drug support group. You’ll be surrounded by people who have and are experiencing the same thing you did and are.”

Pausing in his clean up, Reid looked to him inquisitively. “And what about Strauss? What happens when she gets wind of this? She already has me on thin ice because I failed the field exam.”

“I’ll deal with Strauss if it comes to that. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll even go with you to the meetings so you know you aren’t alone, if that’s something you would like.” Reid swallowed harshly and gave Hotch a weak smile. “Yeah, I think- I think I would like that.”

“Okay,” Aaron responded softly and walked away from the desk.

As he grabbed on the railing that supported him on the stairs to his office, he paused. 

“Spencer?” he called.

“Yes?”

“You’re going to be okay. You know that, right?”

Giving him a lopsided smile, Reid told him, “I have never wanted to depend on people because I have always been afraid it will make me seem weak. But I think that I am learning that there is nothing wrong with asking for help sometimes.”

“Good.”

[mercheswan]

He is Mine!

You can also find it in AO3 -> User: MerCevans

“Okay kids! Let’s go, first day of Elementary School, we’re leaving in five!” Peter Hale shouted descending the stairs.

Theodore Raeken-Hale heard his dad’s call and quickly grabbed his shoes and his bag, he stopped in front of the mirror to look at himself, Theo wanted to look good, today was an important day, he was going to meet other kids, human kids, and that made Theo uneasy although he wouldn’t admit it.

Theo was five years old and he was a Werewolf, like the majority of the members of his Pack, his family. Theo didn’t born as a werewolf, though, his parents died when he was a baby, and his father, Peter, saved him and adopted him. He turned into a Werewolf thanks to the bite, that was given to him, by his aunt, the Pack’s Alpha, Talia Hale.

Theo adored his family. He had a step-sister, Malia, she was five years old too and even though, she and Theo fighted a lot, deep inside everyone knew that they really cared for each other. Theo also had three cousins; Cora was also five like Theo and Malia, she was serius and matured for her age’s, but when Theo and Malia planned a prank she was always on board with it. Derek  was eleven, Theo admired him, Derek was strong and very popular, Theo wanted to be like him in the future. And Laura who was fourteen years old, was meant to become the Pack’s Alpha someday.

Theo exited his room and met Malia on the corridor. “Malia wait!” Theo said joining his sister.

“We have to run or Dad is going to leave without us!” Malia exclaimed as she started to run towards the Mansion’s entrance, Theo following behind.

“Are you excited?” Theo asked.

“I guess… I’m worried too… you’re so much better at control than I am, I don’t wanna hurt someone or show my fangs or flahs my eyes accidentally” Malia responded.

Theo, Malia and Cora had been learning to control their powers. People couldn’t find out about them being Werewolves. Despite being kids they were stronger than an average person and they could injure someone unintentionally, so they have to be careful.

“You’ll be fine” Theo assured and Malia smiled.

Theo and Malia met their father at the entrance who was waiting with Cora and Talia.

“Finally! Come on children to the car, we want to make a good impression on your new teacher, right?” Peter said and the kids chanted affirmatively.

“Remember your training, you’ll be fine, have fun, you’re making the Pack really proud” Talia proclaimed saying goodbye to the children.

                           ————————

Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilisnki was on the verge of dying of excitement. Today he started Elementary School, he had been waiting for the day to arrive, Stiles wanted to meet and play with his classmates, and show them his new “super cool Star Wars backpack”.

“Mommy, mommy come on! We don’t want to be late!” Stiles bounced at the entrance of the Stilinski household.

Claudia Stilinski, Stiles’s mother, laughed “Mischief wait! You have to grab a jacket is a little bit chilly outside”. Stiles adorably cocked his head to the side assessing what her mother wa saying, before nodding and running upstairs to grab a jacket.

“You’re full of energy today Siles, Did you take your adderall?” Noah Stilinski questioned his son.

“Yes Dad!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Be good, listen to your teacher and don’t be too noisy” Noah advised.

“Nonsense! Just be yourself Mischief, you’re going to make very good friends this year” Claudia assured his son, hitting his husband on the arm.

“Well I’ll be going, I’ll see you tonight so you can tell me all about your day, okay kiddo?” Noah said kissing his son on the head. Stiles cheerfully nodded.

“Bye Dad! Come on Mom we have to leave too” Stiles excitedly said.

Claudia followed his imperactive child to the car with a fond smile on her face.

————————

Peter Hale parked his car in the Elementary School’s parking lot. There were lost of people already saying goodbye to their kids. Parents and children crying and shouting everywhere. Peter’s and the children’s Werewolf senses were overloaded. Peter sighed, what an exhausting day.

The children exited the vehicle. Malia noticed that Cora smelled nervous and took her hand to calm her down. Peter was proud of her girl, Malia wasn’t a very sentimental kid, she was very connected to her animal side, but gestures like this proved that she had an soft side too.

“Let’s go to the entrance, we can see in which class you’re going to be” Peter claimed and the children followed him.

They walked towards the entrance. Then Peter felt a tug in his trouser, Peter looked down and saw Malia pointing with his finger to the other side of the parking lot. Peter glanced at the direction his daughter was signalizing and saw Theo walking in the opposite direction, apparently lost. What’s he doing? This kid is way too good at sneaking it’s going to be problematic in the future Peter thought.

Since Theo exited the car there had been something, some kind of pull inside him that was calling to his senses, to his inner wolf. Theo could hear many hearbeats, he could hear many voices, there were too many people but if he focused enough there was one heart who beated louder than the rest. There were too many scents in the air but Theo could sniff clearly the sweet scent of someone who smelled like chocolate, cinamon, lavender, enthusiasm, and some chemical substances that usually would bother Theo’s senses ,but for some reason Theo couldn’t understand, they didn’t.

Theo needed to find this person, they were here, so close, and his wolf was ordering him to identify them. So without thinking too much Theo moved away from his father, sister and cousin in walking in the direction his instints were telling him that he would find them.

When Theo saw the boy for the first time he paralyzed. The boy, who had to be his age, was breathtakingly beautiful, with pale skin covered in moles and a bright smile, he was talking with a woman, his mother allegedly. Theo needed to hold him, now.

Theo stood in front of the boy who looked back at Theo with a smile and a questioning expression. Theo smiled back and out of the blue hugged the boy who made a cheerful noise and hugged Theo back. When they separeted theo shocked them even more.

“Mine” Theo claimed with a grin taking the boy’s hand into his.

Peter who was walking towards Theo to collect him heard what his son said thanks to his Werewolf hearing and froze. Wait did he? He can’t possibly have found his… Peter thought.

The Werewolf reached to his son. “Theo you can’t wander around, you can’t leave my side” Peter schooled his son.

“Dad! Look! I found him, he is mine!” Theo excitedly shouted while rounding the boy with his arms. Oh my God he did! Peter’s mind screamed.

“No, no Theo, we don’t own people!” Peter said to his son trying to make him behave like a human.

“But Dad! He is so pretty, look at him he is perfect!” Theo protested not letting go of the boy. Peter could feel his son’s inner wolf’s anger, ready to defend the boy who had caught his eye from whoever tried to harm him. Peter needed to calm Theo down.

“Theo that’s enough! You can be the boy’s friend , I’m sure he would like to make a new friend” Peter reasoned with his son. “I’m so very sorry about his behaviour, he must be nervous because it’s the first day of school” Peter apologised to the boy’s mother.

“Oh no, don’t worry, your son is adorable. See Mischief I knew you were going to make good friends this year. I’m Claudia Stilinski nice to meet you” Claudia said.

“Peter Hale likewise. First day is always stressing, for them… and for us” Peter responded and Claudia laughed agreeing.

“Mischif?” Theo asked.

“Only mommy calls me that! My name it’s from a coutry that’s very far away and it’s very difficult to say. It sounds like Mischief and that’s why mommy calls me that, but you can call me Stiles, people call me Stiles, I like it!” Stiles happily rambled.

“Stiles” Theo repeated the name, and Stiles smiled.

“You are weird” Stiles claimed. Theo’s smile dropped from his face, Peter could feel waves of sadness coming from his son. This is not going well The adult Werewolf thought. “I like it! let’s be friends!” Stiles cheerfully exclaimed. Theo grinned widely and both children laughed. Peter huffed relieved.

“I’m Theo” Theo introduced himself. “You smell so good” Theo said sniffing Stiles’s neck.

“It tickles! Hahaha!” Stiles giggled out loud.

“Theodore!” Peter threated.

“You are pretty too” Stiles said blushing a little bit. Theo’s look at Stiles’s words could only remind Peter of those japanese cartoons the children watched in which the characters had hearts in their eyes. Theo never acted so sweetly with anyone this kid must really be the one Theo’s wolf chose. So young… It’s incredibly uncommon Peter thought.

“Dad… we have to go inside…” Malia intervened with Cora next to her, the two girls were confused about what was happening.

“Oh you’re right! Come on sweetheart, come on” Claudia added.

“Who are they?” Stiles asked looking at Theo.

“My sister and my cousin, Malia and Cora” Theo explained.

“Oh! Nice to meet you! I’m Stiles, I’m Theo’s” Stiles said making Peter jump out of surprise. The boy smelled human to Peter he should not be able to feel the bond between he and Theo.

“You’re cute” Malia said.

Stiles smiled brightly. “Thanks! You’re pretty too, like Theo, and you too!” Stiles said speaking to both Malia and Cora.

Theo growled and grabbed Stiles’s hand. It appeared that his inner wolf was jealous about his boy complementing other wolves. Malia and Cora turned around to look at their relative with widen eyes. Rule number one don’t growl or howl at people. Peter was seriously considering taking Theo home his wolf was out of control.

“Wow! That was so cool! You sound like a dog! No! Like, l-like a wolf! Do it again!” Stiles exclaimed.

“He can’t!” Cora confronted.

“Do you like wolves Stiles?” Malia questioned.

“Malia!” Cora hissed.

“Umm yes, they are strong and like big dogs that sing to the moon” Stiles answered.

Theo smiled. “I love wolves. What’s your favourite animal?”

“The fox! They are very nice and the move their tail when they are happy and they like to play a lot!” Stiles blurted.

“You can be a fox and I can be a wolf” Theo claimed and Stiles squeezed Theo’s hand happily.

“Wolves and foxes don’t like each other” Cora argued.

“The can be friends if they try!” Stiles argued back.

“Oh kids look almost all the children have already enter. Mischief, be good I leave you with your new friends” Claudia kissed her son.

“Let’s go inside” Malia proclaimed

“Theo, maybe you should come with me home, you are a little bit out of control” Peter suggested trying to make his son realize that he wasn’t acting as he was supossed to.

“No!” Both Theo and Stiles chorused. “I’ll be good I promise, I’ll be with Stiles and obey the teacher” Theo pleaded.

“Ok. Behave all of you” Peter conceded.

Theo, Stiles and Malia grinned widely and Cora smiled softly. They entered the building where a lady guided them to their class.

“I like you backpack. Star Wars is so cool!” Theo said. Stiles stopped and looked at Theo with awe before hugging him tight. Theo giggled.

Both Peter and Claudia looked at their sons Exchange with fondness.

“I’m so glad that my son met yours, they are going to be very close, aren’t they?” Claudia said softy to Peter.

“Yes, I think they will” Peter responded. “Your child is very special”

“So is yours, they were bound to meet. I guess we’ll see each other a lot” Claudia smiled, Peter nodded. This family is very interesting is like they are connected somehow to the supernatual, or at least they feel it insome way Peter thought.

Peter drove home and when he entered the house her sister intercepted him.

“How did it go? Were they nervous, everything went all right?” Talia questioned.

“Cora and Malia were nervous and excited at the same time. Theo found his mate” Peter blurted.

Talia froze. “What are you talking about he is five!”

“The mother was nice, there was something mystical about her, and about the boy too. And driving back home I realized that I had heard the last name Stilinski before, I belive the husband is a deputy” Peter explained ignoring his sister.

“Peter! Theo is a child you can’t possibly know for sure that he found his mate!” Talia insisted.

Peter shrugged. “Some people find them before others” Peter concluded sitting on the sofa. An exhausting day indeed.

Theo Raeken-Hale is five years old and a member of the Hale Pack. He, his sister Malia and his cousin Cora are starting Elementary School.

When Peter drove the kids to school the last thing he was expecting was for his son to find his mate.

"Mine" Theo claims hugging Stiles.

"Theo, we don't own people!" Peter hisses

"But he is beautiful! Look at him!" Theo insist.

Stiles giggles. "You're weird! I like you!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—————————

Theo's mate couldn't be an ordinary human. It had to be a bright one.

"Because you're Werewolves!" Stiles exclaimed.

"What makes you say that?" Laura asks covering her panic.

"It's obvious" Stiles says.

Oh well.

Theo, Malia, Cora and Stiles were seven years old. They were doing homework in the Hale Mansion.

Stiles integrated himself nicely in the Pack. Malia loved him and although Cora pretended to be bothered by his attitude sometimes, she really liked him too. The rest of the members got used to the imperactive human’s presence. Even Derek didn’t mind having the little mischievous kid around. Stiles was noisy and loud but he was beloved by the Werewolves. They understood the bond Theo and Stiles had and they knew how sacred it was.

Theo was smitten by Stiles even more than the day they met. Theo had a talk with his aunt about the bond he shared with Stiles. She called them mates, Theo didn’t care he knew that Stiles made him happy and that he wanted to protect him and be with him forever.

Stiles’s parents were happy that their son found loyal friends who treated him right. Noah and Claudia often diner with the Hales. Talia wanted to have a good relationship with them. Talia knew she would have to eventually tell them about the supernatural, them and Stiles, but she wanted to wait a bit more until Stiles was older. That was her plan.

Stiles closed his book roughly “Done!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Already? You’re too smart Stiles!” Malia complained, everytime they made their homeworks together she was always the last one to finish it.

“I finished too” Theo claimed and Stiles smiled at him.

“Don’t lie, you haven’t done the last two questions” Derek said to his cousin lying on the sofa reading a book. He had been entrusted with supervising the kids.

Theo poutted bitterly not liking getting caught.

“Cheater!” Stiles accused with a laugh.

“What’s going on here?” Laura asked entering the living room.

“Homework” Cora answered concetrated in her book.

“Finish already! I want to play baseball! I won’t see you in the next few days” Stiles pouted.

“Why not? Are you leaving with your parents Stiles?” Laura questioned.

“No, but It’s the full moon in two days” Stiles responded making the five Werewolves of the room froze.

Derek closed his book and looked at Laura with a little bit of panic in his eyes.

Laura collected herself. “And what does it matter that is a full moon?” She carefully asked.

Stiles looked seriously at the future Alpha. “You are Werewolves, you get affected by it, don’t you?” Stiles allegued.

Derek’s eyes widened, Cora, Laura and Theo looked at Stiles with an atonished face.

“You told him?” Malia asked Theo, who looked at her sister denying it.

“Malia!” Derek hissed. Stiles looked at the Wolves with a questioning expression. “Mom!” Derek screamed.

“She is not home” Laura muttered. The rest of the Pack were working or dping some chores.

“Uncle Peter!” Dered shouted again.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles inocently asked.

“You called?” Peter said entering the living room.

“Stiles says we are Werewolves” Cora blurted making the rest of the Hales look at her with a surprised expression.

Peter blinked “I see…” He said calmly. “Why do you think that Stiles?”

“It’s obvious” Stiles said. “Theo is a Werewolf so you have to be too”.

“Why is Theo a Werewolf?” Malia asked.

“His favourite animal is the wolf, and Theo makes cool wolf noises too. He is also very strong he moved alone the big wardrobe that time when I lost my pencil. Also they found claws of an animal in Jackson’s jacket the day he was really mean to me. Theo is sniffing me all the time and he licks me with his tongue too” Stiles explained. “That only happened once!” Theo protested. Stiles giggled. “Sometimes Malia’s nails are super long, your eyes” Stiles motioned to all the wolves “are very bright” he added. Stiles faced Theo “Your eyes flash yellow, they are beautiful” Theo smiled sweetly at the compliment.

Peter hummed out oud. “Have you tell anyone about this Stiles?

Stiles denied with his head. “It’s a secret, right? Our secret!” Stiles answered.

“Yes is a secret. You can’t tell anyone Stiles, bad people could come after us” Peter explained.

“Ok, I won’t tell. I’ll protect you like Theo protects me” Stiles claimed looking at his mate, Theo grinned widely before kissing Stiles on the cheek making the human blush. “Do you turn into wolves?! Can I see!?” Stiles asked animated.

Laura smiled. “No we don’t we only shift a little,  we can show you other day” Laura said.

“Well mom can turn into a real wolf” Cora added.

Stiles beamed. “Cool!”

“I will be able to turn into real wolf when I’m older” Theo claimed trying to impress Stiles.

“You don’t know that!” Malia argued.

“Kids! You can finish your homework later, Why don’t you go play in the backyard?” Peter sugggested.

Stiles agreed enthusiastically grabbing Theo’s arm and running towards the backyard.

Derek, Laura, Cora and Malia stood there watching at the older wolf. “He was going to find out sooner or later, the kid has a very bright mind, don’t worry, since the begining Stiles has been able to feel somehow the mate bond with Theo, he won’t do anything to harm him, or us” Peter reassured his family. “Go to play” Peter insisted. Malia and Cora stood up and and ran to join the boys.

“Are yo usure it’s gonna be all right?” Derek questioned.

“Yes. I guess we have to invite the Stilinskis to diner after the full moon, and we will have to invite everyone” Peter proclaimed.

It would have been better to wait a little longer, but seeing how happy Stiles made his son, everyhing was worth it.

[captainmarvels]

wicked games [23]

Summary: Tom's past has finally caught up to him; but will it be the be-all and end-all of his life?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment (just the words, but still warning in case)

Word Count: 2734

A/N: today is Dec. 10th which means it’s been 2 whole years since I first started writing wicked games! I want to say thank you so so so so much for reading, enjoying, and loving this story as much as I love writing it - all the excitement and love some of you have given me, chapter after chapter, has made me stick around for the long run! xx caro

masterlist | tag list - add yourself!

You know that sinking feeling - the one that roots itself in the pit of your stomach like a tree, immovable? The feeling that drowns every nerve ending in your body in anxiety? Worry? Fear?

That was all Tom could feel as goosebumps spread along his arms, a cold sheen of sweat appearing across his forehead.

“Toyko? For a whole year?” His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his skull from the building stress.

Dom nodded, a smug grin replacing the eerie smile he donned before.

“You and Harrison used to go on and on about the Asian market this, the Asian market that, and I figured that the fifth year anniversary of your company was as good a time as any to start up a new headquarters abroad,”

“How can you expect me to just up and leave for an entire year?” Tom asked, no longer hiding the shock on his face.

Dom shrugged. “Easy. You just do it, Thomas. You’re the CEO, for God’s sake! How can you expect to run a company of this magnitude well if all you do is sit on your lazy arse!”

Tom rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as Dom continued.

“I’m handing you the chance to expand and grow your company in a new direction, on a silver fuckin’ platter, and all you do is complain. I don’t understand how children can be so ungrateful,”

“I’m not a fucking kid, I am an adult, who is fully capable of making decisions for my company-”

“Is that so, Tom? Are you fully capable of handling the blow back from the media, your partners, the entire fucking world if they knew what you’ve done behind closed doors? Don’t think I’m ignorant enough to not know when my own blood is a drunken coke addict.”

The deafening silence seemed to swallow Dom’s words, yet they still rang clear as day in Tom’s ears.

Taking a deep breath, Dom set down another folder on Tom’s desk, and headed straight for the door before stopping, his hand gripping the handle tightly.

“Your flight leaves the 4th, at 11am. Don’t be late.”

“I’m gonna need you to repeat yourself, mate. Your dad knows?”

Harrison was pacing the floor of his apartment living room, hands fussing with the mess of curls on his head.

Tom sat on the sofa, eyes shut tightly as he replayed the conversation with his father in his mind.

“Oi, if he knows about the coke, then he has to know it was me, right? Why’d I have to be your goddamn drug dealer, Holland?”

“I don’t fucking know, alright? I didn’t think he’d ever find out about the coke, but if he knows about that, he’s got to know about all the other shit I’ve done,”

“You haven’t done meth, have you?”

Tom looked up at Harrison, his glare more than enough to shut up his best friend.

“Look. He knows about the coke; doesn’t mean he knows it was from you,”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “I was practically your only friend at Stanford, you idiot!” He scoffed.

“Fuck off, Haz! Listen to me - Dom’s a fucking prick, but I’m used to the threats. He’s nothing more than talk, alright? If he did anything to me, it’d taint the whole family name, and that’s not what he wants. He’d die before he lets anyone, even me, ruin the family legacy he’s spent years building.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, silently counting his breaths as Harrison resumed his pacing.

“Have you told…” 

Tom shook his head. “I haven’t even gone home yet. I came straight here, I had to sort out my thoughts and everything,”

Harrison dropped down on the couch next to Tom, and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You are gonna tell her, yeah?”

“I promised her no more secrets, mate. Besides… it’s hard to hide the fact that I'll be gone for a year.” Tom leaned back, eyes fluttering shut once again as he tried to steady his racing heart.

“And the drugs? Does she know about all that?”

Tom’s silence was enough of a response for Harrison.

“You said no more secrets, right? This will come back and bite you in the ass, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But I can’t just go dumping every one of my fucking problems on her, Haz. Everything with my dad is already too much for even me to handle - I can’t expect her to handle all this right off the bat. I need to focus on her and what we have - I just got her back.”

“You have a point. You’re really gonna do this, then? Leave for a whole year?” Harrison could feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.

Opening his eyes, Tom glanced over at him. “There’s not much else I can do, can I? He’s already signed the lease for the apartment, and the check for the office space is waiting for my signature. There’s over three dozen resumes sitting on my desk, and I have to interview candidates as soon as I get off the plane.” With every word that rolled off his tongue, Tom could feel his anxiety spiking. He really was trapped.

“Tough shit, mate.” As they locked eyes with one another, neither could stop from breaking out in laughter. Tom shoved Harrison off the couch, only to receive a kick to the shoulder. 

“You’re gonna pay for that!”

“Bring it on!”

When Tom asked you to take a seat, you could feel your heart folding over itself as it began to brave for the worst.

Harrison sat next to you on the sofa, with (what was supposed to be) an encouraging arm wrapped around your shoulders, but it only brought more anxiety and tension.

What was going on?

Tom was pacing back and forth, his hands buried in the pockets of his suit.

“Should I be concerned?” You whispered in Harrison’s ear. He shook his head no, never taking his eyes off of Tom.

“My bastard of a father wants me to go to Tokyo for a year - for the sake of the company, or so he says.” Tom stopped in front of the tv, one hand on his hip, and the other on the back of his neck.

Oh. An all too familiar sinking feeling appeared, replacing the anxiety that had begun to consume you.

“He’s already got an apartment for me, and a deal’s been negotiated for office space in one of the best locations in the city - all that’s left for me to do is sign the check.”

You sat up, resting your chin on your hands as you repeated Tom’s words over. He could see the gears turning in your mind, and he wasn’t too sure if that was a good sign.

“He doesn’t do this sort of thing often, does he?” You aired the question for both of them, but clearly it took them aback.

“What do you mean by that?” Harrison asked, brows furrowed. Tom met your gaze and nodded.

“From what I know and have heard, seen, and whatnot - Dom really doesn’t seem to stick his nose in company affairs most of the time. Only when he needs something, in some sort of capacity. For example - why did he give you the money to start the company in the first place? What motivated him to sign a check for over $4 million to his inexperienced - sorry! - son?” 

Locking eyes with one another, Tom and Harrison seemed to share the same memory at that exact moment.

It was three in the morning when Dom got the call from Tom’s bodyguard.

“You’ll need to be present if you want him out on bail.” He heard over the phone.

“Is that Osterfield boy with him?” He asked, still groggy.

“Yes, but he was not arrested. He tried to stop him and-”

“Enough. Tell him to go home. Tom can sit in jail for a few more hours. Let them know I’ll be there with the cash before 8.”

 The entire car ride back to his apartment, Tom couldn’t stop fidgeting.

He fucked up. Worse than any other time, and he knew this was going to cost him.

Recognizing the iron-wrought gates of the family estate, Tom glanced over at Dom.

“Your mother is in London with the twins. We need to talk, and I’m not setting foot in the dungeon you call an apartment.”

As the SUV came to a rolling stop outside the front door, Tom bit down on his tongue.

Every time he did something wrong - arrested for possession of marijuana, Adderall, coke; quite possibly every drug imaginable- or caused a scene at some fancy nightclub, Dom was there to break his fall. 

That break always came with a price.

Sometimes the price was as simple as losing a percentage of his trust fund money. That didn’t bother him as much, considering $75,000 was mere change in his pocket. Other times, however, the price was a gamble. Like the time his father had to pay off a landlord so he wouldn’t break the lease after Tom and Harrison completely wrecked the vacation house they had been renting.

Tom wasn’t sure what this would cost him this time around.

They had barely entered the mansion foyer when Dom turned on his heel, and locked eyes with his son.

“You’ve been 21 for less than six months, and yet you’ve managed to put yourself through the goddamn ringer almost every week since then. Do you even care about your fucking reputation anymore, Thomas? Or any idea what this could do to the company?”

Fuck. The company.

The night of his 21st birthday, his father had signed him the coveted check for well over four million dollars - a check that wouldn’t be deposited in his account until he proved to Dom that he could get his shit together, put on a suit, and take on the role of CEO. 

As his father had put it - Tom had had his fun, but as his undergraduate career came to an end, he needed to start focusing on making a name for himself; getting a seat at the table that was his birthright. 

A start-up was just what he needed to set himself straight.

The project was well underway - it had made headlines the day Dom purchased the most lavish office space New York City had to offer. The plan was simple - have the company up and running smoothly by the time Tom graduated, so he could slip on the CEO suit and take over.

But nothing was ever simple when it came to Tom.

He had fought for hours with his father before they finally settled on an agreement for the money that night - only for Dom to turn around and slap him with a hold on the funds.

And here he was, rubbing it in once again.

“Are you listening? Graduation is months away, and yet here I am, bailing you out of jail for being a pathetic son of a bitch.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Tom spat, anger flooding every inch of his body. He won’t get away with this.

“I don’t even know anymore, Thomas.” His father sighed. “But this I know for sure; you fuck up like this again, and you can kiss the company and your trust fund goodbye.”

Tom’s jaw dropped, eyes threatening to pop out of his head from the utter disbelief.

“No you- you can’t fucking do that!”

“I can, and I will. I listed the company under the living trust, with the conditions we agreed upon the night of your birthday. If I deem it necessary, everything in the trust will be seized. You will have nothing if you don’t get your act together.”

“Is the company still part of the trust?” Your mind was trying to process everything Harrison and Tom had just laid out for you, but that was the one piece of information that stuck out like a sore thumb.

Harrison looked at Tom. Tom bit his lip.

“If the company is still listed in the trust, mate -”

“That means your father still has control over it-”

“He can just do whatever he wants, can’t he?” Tom fell to his knees, brushing off the agonizing pain in his bones as you came to him, your arms enveloping him completely.

Harrison felt a familiar sting in the corner of his eye as he walked over to his best friend and crouched down by his side.

“We’ve got you, mate.”

Once you were able to finally calm Tom down, you discussed in detail exactly what the plan was going to be. Even if it wasn’t what any of you wanted. 

Tom decided he would agree to Tokyo if, and only if, he was able to bring his two best assets - you and Harrison. He planned to go to the office early Monday morning to call Dom and see if he could convince him.

It was the best you could all come up with.

Sunday morning, you remembered you’d forgotten a stack of letters at the office, which you needed to sign so they could be mailed out first thing Monday morning. With Tom at a conference upstate, you ended up having to head into the office by yourself.

When the elevator bell rang at the top floor, you were surprised to see the lights were already on in the waiting area.

Who else is here?

Making a sharp left turn at the end of the hall, you decided to move as quickly as possible - the motion sensor lights only lasted 10 minutes, so whoever set them off was still in the office, somewhere.

You spotted the stack of letters on your desk, and working diligently, got them all put away nice and neat in your briefcase. 

A soft knock on your door nearly gave you a heart attack.

Dropping the case to the ground, you look up and lock eyes with the last person you ever expected to cross paths with.

“I hope you don’t have the company’s secrets tucked away in there, dear.”

Dom was looming in the doorway, his smile wavering as you just stared at one another.

Why the fuck was he there?

“I seem to have startled you, and I’m quite sorry about that - I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here on such a nice day,” He was a boulder blocking your path of escape, and your growing anxiety was making your skin crawl. 

“I don’t know- I don’t know how I got to be so distracted, but I forgot these- these, um-” You picked up the briefcase, dropping your gaze from Dom as you ran the palm of your hand over the soft leather. “I have to get these letters signed so they can be sent out first thing in the morning.”

“Signing letters? Seems like such a clerical task for a woman in your position,” He took a step forward, and you stepped back, your hip hitting the side of your desk.

“I uh, wouldn’t really say that-” Tripping over your words, Dom could see you were on edge.

“No? Then what exactly does my son have you work on here? When you’re not busy attending to his… other needs.”

You almost choked on your spit as you looked at Tom’s father in disbelief. Does he… know?

“You see, darling,” Dom took another step forward, and you found yourself pressed against the window, struggling to keep your balance. “As a father… well, parents are always fussing over their children, aren’t they? I’m worried about Tom, and I know you probably know him better than I, and, well. I need to ask a favor of you.”

The look on his face was something that would haunt you forever.

His index finger was tracing the photograph frame on your desk, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Without another word, he pulled out a folded up piece of paper, and held it out to you. Encouraging you with a nod of his head, you grabbed the sheet, and unfolded it, your eyes scanning over its entirety while an uncomfortable sense of nausea filled your stomach.

New York Police Department

34th District

Report

Scrawled in blue ink were the words that would leave anyone distressed. 

Sexual Harassment. 

tags - part one:

@cherrynat @anytimebitches  @jobean12-blog @emotchalla @enigma-xlii @illletitgrow @cloverrover @justaveryobsessedfangirl @ssweet-empowerment @killmongerdreams @spideytrxsh @eyestheyseeyou @aussie-mantle @spidergirlwanab @i-think-i-am-adorable @amanda51015-blog​ @princessskylarsblog​ @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx​ @chinalois​ @clairesrainbow @darkerthanspace​ @slighttinsomniac​ @curlytomholland​ @wanderlustomaha​ @hollandazing​ @mendes-marvel​ @wowspideyholland​ @joshuatparker​

[amandaoftherosemire]

IDGAF -- One-Shot

Fandom: Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6539

Format: One-Shot

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

Summary: Standing in line for coffee, cursing the ex-boyfriend who won’t leave you alone, you lay eyes on Bucky Barnes for the first time.

A/N: I started to write this months ago because my darling @hellzzzbelle was having a hard day and I wanted to make her feel better. Unfortunately, once I got half-way through I couldn’t get it out of my brain and onto the page. Once my long fic was out of the way, however, this was one of the first things I finished. I figure this is another opportunity to make “Better Late Than Never” the tagline of my life. I hope y’all like it, especially you, peach.

As you stood in line for coffee, you glared down at your phone in disbelief.

I don’t know why you’re being so childish about this.

“Oh, fuck you and everyone who looks like you, James.” You were muttering under your breath and figured no one in the coffee shop could hear you but to your surprise, the giant in front of you turned around.

“I beg your pardon?”

When you'd gotten in line, the part of your brain that has nothing to do but search for eye candy had noted the man in front of you with approval. Tall and broad, the muscles of his back, shoulders, and arms stretched the long-sleeved t-shirt he wore in all sorts of fascinating ways. A tight ass and thick thighs only added to the allure. You'd been too involved in cursing James six ways to Sunday to pay close attention when you came in, but you couldn't help but think if the face matched the body, he'd be downright lethal. You’d been looking for a new coffee spot since your ex ruined your previous haunt and you were pretty sure you’d found the one if guys this hot hung out there.

As your eyes climbed up from your phone into ice-blue eyes set in a face carved by gods to drive mortals crazy, you realized you were absolutely correct. Lethal.

The man was just plain beautiful. His dark brown hair was pulled back into a stubby ponytail with a few loose locks falling to frame his pretty face. His jawline and cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass, but his lips were plump and full and looked soft enough to sleep on. His eyes, though, were bright and amused as they caught and held yours.

You realized you'd been staring when that gorgeous mouth quirked up at the corner.

"I'm sorry," you stammered out. "Text message pissed me off."

"Ah." He nodded with a smile. "My given name's James, so I thought you were talking to me for a second." His voice was low and warm and sent shivers down your spine.

Desperate to keep him talking, you asked the first thing that came to mind. "Given name?"

He smiled wider and you had to fight the whimper that wanted to escape your mouth. "Most people call me Bucky."

You stuffed your phone in your back pocket and held out your hand to shake. James could go fuck himself. You had much, much bigger, hotter fish to fry. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm y/n."

Bucky took your hand in his and the feel of his callused palm against yours was delicious. You'd never met a man more physically magnetic than this one, so when he held your hand a little longer than necessary, it made your heart beat faster at the thought that he might be as interested in you as you were in him.

"Pleasure's mine," he rumbled. "How'd James piss you off? If you don't mind me asking."

You laughed, a little breathlessly and you hoped he didn't hear it. "Have you ever been dumped and then had the asshole try to come crawling back?"

"Can't say that I have," he replied with grin.

"It's both immensely satisfying and incredibly irritating." You were grinning back at him, neither of you noticing that the man behind the counter was waiting on Bucky.

The 40ish woman behind you, who'd been eavesdropping and was thoroughly enjoying the meet-cute happening right in front of her, leaned around you and said to Bucky, "If it was your turn, handsome, what would you do?"

Bucky blushed and you thought it might be the cutest damn thing you'd ever seen. Seeing a man this big, this muscled, this gorgeous so sweetly embarrassed was devastating. As he turned around to speak to the barista about his order, you turned to the woman behind you and rolled your eyes as you mock swooned. She grinned back at you and murmured almost inaudibly, "Get it, girl. Do it for all of us.”

You stepped forward when Bucky moved down the counter towards the pick-up window, though he appeared to be taking his time. You hoped it was because of you, but you couldn't believe a man this unbelievably attractive would genuinely be interested.

Except when you pulled out your wallet to pay, the barista smiled and jerked his head towards Bucky, who was acting like he wasn’t listening. “Already taken care of.” You shrugged and stuffed a couple ones in the tip jar before moving to stand next to the gorgeous creature that had just bought your coffee.

“Thank you,” you said with a shy and quiet smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Consider it an apology from the Jameses of the world.” Bucky was hunching his shoulders a little and his face was going pink. The sight of this big, beautiful man smiling so shyly made your heart sigh a little and you damned the thing for being so easily wooed.

“I’d rather consider it a present from my new friend Bucky.” You didn’t know who was more surprised at the flirtatious words coming out of your mouth, you or Bucky, but his face flamed just as you felt your own cheeks heat.

Bucky, who was cursing himself for ordering ahead to save time, picked up the three drink carriers on the counter in front of him as he replied, his expression pleased. “I like that better, too.”  You were astonished to see him balance them with an almost uncanny ease, but the way his biceps moved under his shirt distracted you. When at his words you met his gaze, he shot you another blushing smile before ducking his head a little.

“I hope I see you around, Bucky, and not just ‘cause you buy me my favorite coffee.” You winked cheekily at him as you said the last. You were astonished at your own forwardness but unable to stop yourself. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t throw yourself at him just a little bit.

Bucky had opened his mouth to reply as he lifted his eyes to yours when his eyes caught something over your shoulder. His face went sheet white and you glanced behind you. You saw nothing but other patrons and no one looked upsetting enough to disturb a man this well-muscled.

When you looked back, Bucky seemed to be hiding behind his hair as he mumbled, “Yeah, nice to meet ya.” You stared as he turned and fairly bolted from the café.

“Y/N!” You jumped when the barista called out your name, so stunned were you by the sudden change in Bucky’s demeanor. You knew it was foolish to be hurt by the behavior of someone you’d only just met, but that didn’t stop the tears that were pricking at your eyes. You grabbed the hazelnut macchiato and turned to leave when the woman who’d been behind you in line placed a hand on your arm.

“I bet this is what set him off,” she said, her face and voice kind as she placed a newspaper in your hand. On the front of the paper was the man who’d just bought you coffee in handcuffs next to Captain America under the headline The Winter Soldier: Truly Reformed?

Your mouth fell open with a pop. You vaguely remembered hearing about this, but as you'd been buried in graduate school when the trial had been going on, the bearded man with his hair in his face hadn’t made an impression. You looked at the door Bucky had run through and remembered how he’d seemed to hide behind his hair just before he’d run out.

When you looked back down at Bucky, because it was undeniably Bucky, though he was clean shaven now but for a little sexy stubble, the woman who’d handed you the paper murmured, “Didn’t seem that bad to me, but I’ve always been a sucker for a killer smile.” You gaped at her as she tipped you a wink and breezed by you with an airy wave. She was gone before you could find your voice to remind her you still had her paper.

You read the article. Of course you did. Then you spent all of your free time over the next three days searching for any other information you could get your hands on. Now that the man had bought you coffee and you weren’t living off caffeine, nicotine, and occasionally Adderall to make it through your Master’s thesis, the story caught you and you couldn’t get enough.

Also, you needed to understand. Bucky had seemed totally normal, except for being possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever personally laid eyes on. However, the one thing you remembered was that the Winter Soldier was a Russian assassin. It didn’t make any sense.

Once you started reading about James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Captain America's oldest and best friend, prisoner of war and unwilling HYDRA test subject, you couldn’t stop yourself. Using everything you knew, which was considerable, about researching and verifying information, you had learned enough to come to a conclusion of your own.

Based on the testimony at his trial, you thought the verdict to acquit obvious. You simply couldn’t see how he could be held responsible for what he’d been forced to do when what had been done to him had been taken into account. The fact that he’d not been caught but turned himself in once he could no longer be used as a weapon, proved beyond a shadow of a doubt in the courtroom when the trigger words had been read aloud to a stoic, persistent Bucky Barnes, spoke volumes as to the kind of man he was.

You weren’t going to judge before you knew him. Hell, if you saw him again, you were going to buy him coffee.

Bucky slid soundlessly into the elevator with a sigh of relief. He jabbed repeatedly at the door close button; he was almost home free. He could tell by the look in her eye that Natasha had noticed his new habit of haunting the coffee shop. He had no doubt she’d be following him soon.

As the doors slid closed, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, cut painfully short by the slim redhead slipping into the elevator at the last second.

“You want some company today?” Natasha asked, the corner of her mouth lifting in quiet amusement.

Internally, Bucky was cursing viciously, but he answered quietly. “If you want.”

Though Natasha wasn’t looking directly at Bucky, she could see his thunderous expression out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t know why the people in her life insisted on trying to keep things from her. “For future reference,” she remarked casually, “the door close button doesn’t do anything.”

Bucky paused for a fraction of a second before answering, considering how best to NOT confirm that he’d been trying to avoid her. “What?” he asked, infusing as much puzzlement as he could into the word.

Natasha tipped him a long, vaguely insulted look. She would never understand how this man in particular could so often underestimate her. “It’s called a placebo button. It doesn’t do anything but it’s still there because people like to believe they have some control over their lives.”

Bucky stared in disbelief at Natasha’s impassive profile. “Gee whiz, Natasha. If you’re gonna be this much fun, can you come with me every time?”

“Is that a dare?” Her head turned slowly as she spoke, and the look of challenge on her face sent a chill of fear running down Bucky’s spine.

“God, no.” Bucky spoke fervently as they exited the elevator. “I haven’t forgotten.” He didn’t know how exactly, but Steve always managed to find the most dangerous women on the planet. He now had a scar at his temple where he’d cracked his head open in fright thanks to Natasha.

When Bucky had first come to live with Steve, he’d expressed doubt that she was capable of sneaking up on him. Over the next week, she’d scared the shit out of him dozens of times before he’d finally admitted defeat. He’d kind of loved it; it had been nice to be not be treated like he was broken.

Once they were on the street, Natasha slipped her arm through Bucky’s and smiled winningly up at him. “Do I need to interrogate you? Or are you gonna make it easy on yourself and just tell me why you’re always going to the coffee shop?”

Bucky refused to look at her, well aware of how uncannily observant she was and hoping to avoid giving himself away. “I’d cop to an interrogation.”

Natasha smiled fully this time. “They all think that.”

Bucky slanted her a look out of the corner of his eye, then burst out laughing at the sly grin on the little redhead’s pretty face. “I met a girl.” He gave in with a wry laugh. He didn’t know why he bothered to resist. The Black Widow wasn’t dangerous simply because she was deadly; she could have her prey fully wrapped in silken bonds before they even knew they were trapped. “I’m trying to run into her again.”

“May I ask why you do not already have this girl’s number?” Her tone told him she already suspected he’d fucked it up. “If she’s worth this much effort.”

Bucky ducked his head, hiding behind his hair, something Natasha considered a terrible habit. His voice low, knowing she’d disapprove, he confessed. “I met her the day that big article about me came out. I panicked and bolted before I could work up the nerve to ask.”

Natasha’s secret tender heart melted a little, but she kept her expression sardonic. “Story checks out.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re too sensitive about it.”

Natasha’s airy tone had Bucky snarling. “Am I?”

“You should at least pretend it doesn’t bother you.” The spy that always lived under the surface of her skin spoke absently, her attention caught by the scuffle up ahead on the sidewalk between them and the coffee shop they were heading toward.

Bucky couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected a touch of wistfulness behind her words. His voice gentler than it might have been otherwise, he murmured, “Is that what you do?”

“Get fucked, James.”

The sound of your voice, ripe with the same loathing he’d heard the first time he’d heard you speak, had his head snapping up to scan the street in all directions.

Next to him, Natasha was smiling again, having noticed Bucky’s sudden alertness. “Are my thoughts audible now?” she asked, mock concerned. “That’s not good.”

Bucky wasn’t listening, his attention entirely on the drama unfolding in front of the coffee shop where he’d met you. His heart was galloping in his chest, either in terror or anticipation, he wasn’t sure which. He was trying to think of a greeting that didn’t make him feel like an asshole when he realized the slickly handsome man in front of you was blocking your path.

“Come on, Y/N!” The man’s voice was a wheedle, and immediately set Bucky’s teeth on edge. “Give me a chance to explain.” With this he reached out and grabbed your arm as you tried to walk around him.

Your eyes went cold as ice as you looked down at James’ restraining hand. He’d gotten completely out of control lately. It was time to remind him who he was dealing with. Your hand closed around the pen in your jacket pocket. “You’re gonna want to take that hand off me.”

James’ eyes narrowed and you felt his hand tighten on your arm. Typical. Quick as a snake, you struck out with the pen, stabbing him in his pretty artist’s hand with vindictive glee.

James yanked his hand away with a yelp and a plaintive, “Look, I’m sorry.”

A few feet down the sidewalk, Bucky and Nat slowed to watch the tableau. Now that it was abundantly clear you had the situation under control, he was happy to stand back and observe. Natasha murmured out of the corner of her mouth. “Did she just stab him in the hand with a pen? I approve.”

Bucky breathed out, attraction and admiration warring in his chest. “That’s her. I think I’m in love.”

You were so fucking done with this bullshit. James had been bugging you for days about getting together “for closure.” You’d naturally been ignoring him. As far as you were concerned, your James chapter was closed. “For what?” You raised your voice, fully prepared to make a scene. “Touching me without my consent or all the other douchbaggery you’re guilty of?” You snarled, using your hand to punctuate your words and ready to brawl if he didn’t back off. “Get it through your thick skull: I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.”

Though Bucky was enjoying watching you tell this asshole off, he and Natasha had gotten close enough that it felt weird to not speak. Clearing his throat, Bucky said quietly, “Hi, Y/N.”

Bucky’s voice brought you up short. You had started to give up on running into him again. To do so under these circumstances was less than ideal, but you weren’t the type to question Lady Luck.

You spun around and the smile broke on your face like daybreak, lighting you up. Bucky thought you might be the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Bucky! Hi!” You worried you were being too enthusiastic but based on the look on Bucky’s face when he’d fled, he needed the encouragement. To be fair, you tended to wear your heart on your sleeve on a good day. “I’m so glad I ran into you again. You have to let me buy you coffee this time.” You’d recognized the beautiful woman at Bucky’s side immediately and turned to greet her warmly. “Hello!”

Bucky ducked his head and shot you a shyly embarrassed smile before performing quick introductions. “Sorry. Y/N, Natasha. Natasha, Y/N.

Natasha rolled her eyes at Bucky and offered her hand to shake with a quiet smile. “Pleasure to meet you.” If you hadn’t already seen Bucky, you’d consider making a play for the gorgeous woman in front of you. It’d be quite a ride, but you were pretty sure it’d be worth it.

“Excuse me, we’re trying to have a conversation here.” James’ voice made you jump. The moment you’d seen Bucky you’d completely forgotten about the asshole you’d wasted entirely too much time on.

Your head snapped around, your mouth open to blast the bastard when Bucky replied, his voice low and dangerous. “A conversation she seems to want to escape.” His face had fallen into dark and cruel lines and he looked at James like a roach beneath his boot. To you, however, he shot a sweet smile and asked, “Would you like to have coffee with us?”

You weren’t proud of it, couldn’t explain it, but that darkly violent expression had your underwear going damp. You felt like everyone on the damn street could hear your heart pounding. “I would love to,” you replied with a delighted smile, “but would you mind giving me a minute or two? I really should deal with this.”

Bucky sneered with disdain at “this.” James glared back but said nothing. He wasn’t a fool and could tell when he was painfully outclassed. He was a fit and good-looking man, but Bucky Barnes was intimidatingly thick. He didn’t stand a chance.

Next came the cocky smirk and you were starting to get offended at the level of sexy you were required to endure. “Sure. We’ll wait over there.” Bucky and Nat passed by you and James to wait by the door to the coffee shop. They seemed far enough away to give you privacy, but with his heightened super soldier hearing he couldn’t help but overhear. Natasha overheard because Natasha always overhears. No one knows how; it just is.

“Alright.” You turned to James with a sigh. You couldn’t imagine why he was being so persistent; he hadn’t really cared about you at all. You were thoroughly done and couldn’t understand why James wasn’t. “What do you have to say that it’s worth slipping into stalker territory and has me considering a restraining order?”

James reached out, palm up, as though he expected you to put your hand in his. You grimaced at his hand as he spoke, his voice low and throbbing with emotion. You wondered how he turned it on and off like that. “I miss you,” he said, lifting his hand as though he’d touch your face.

You took a step back. “Uh-huh. What happened to what’s-her-face?”

James hand fell away when he realized you weren’t going to give in that easy. “We broke up when I realized what I’d lost with you.”

The rude snort you gave in response had both Bucky and Natasha choking back laughter. “Translation: she dumped you and now you’re bored and lonely.”

James moved closer, crowding you in to make you more aware of his body. It was his signature move as it could be used for both intimidation or seduction depending on the situation. “When did you get so cynical?”

You’d acquired an immunity to James’ signature move. You stood your ground as you replied, refusing to give a single fucking inch. “When you told me you were only with me because I was fun until something better came along.”

At that, Bucky’s eyes narrowed in fury and only Natasha’s restraining hand kept him from returning to deck the other man. Starting brawls was more Steve territory, but he’d make an exception in this case.

“I didn't mean it.” James’ eyes were limpid pools of chocolate brown and had once been your downfall. You’d acquired an immunity to that, too.

You replied with truly astringent sarcasm coating every word. “Of course you didn't.” You shot him a look rich with derision and waved your hand dismissively as you continued, “Look, this is boring and stupid so I'm gonna go have coffee with my ex-Russian assassin friends. You and I are back where we started. Get fucked, James.”

With that parting shot, you turned and walked toward said friends, both of whom were grinning at you, Natasha in approval, Bucky in relief and the first real stirrings of hope. Once the coffee shop door was closed behind you, the glee was bursting out of you like light. “Oh my god thank you! You guys just gave me the best exit line.”

Bucky was grinning like a fool at you, already utterly infatuated. Based on your ex-Russian assassins comment, you knew who he was and apparently didn’t give a fuck. “Absolutely my pleasure.”

Lucky for you, the pleasure turned out to be yours. Coffee with Bucky and Natasha was a riot, the two of them making you laugh until you laid your head on the table, tears of mirth streaming down your face. Natasha had a wicked sense of humor and she used it to tease Bucky without mercy, but with affection. He mostly teased her back, but it was clear she had the upper hand in their interactions.

After she left the two of you to go back to work, Bucky explained that her loyalty was to Steve, first and foremost, but because Bucky’s was, too, she had happily made him one of hers. You wondered at that explanation, because even you could see the infamous Black Widow had a soft spot. It occurred to you that Bucky might not see himself very clearly.

Since both you and Bucky had the day off, neither of you even considered following her lead. Two hours later, time that had flown by as Bucky kept you telling him everything about yourself, he noticed the time when his phone lit up with a text from Steve.

Couldn’t help but notice you went out for coffee three hours ago and haven’t returned. Everything okay?

“It’s Steve,” Bucky said. His pretty face was sweetly nervous as he went on. “Should I tell him I’ll be back soon, or would you like to have lunch with me?”

The next second, Bucky was struck stupid by the smile lighting up your face. You’d been smiling all morning but this one was something special, sparkling and sweet. Though you seemed completely at ease, he had been on edge, terrified that he’d end up frightening you. This smile was too beautiful, too open, too sweet. The likes of him could never inspire such a thing, let alone deserve it. He was starting to worry that he’d misheard you and when you found out who he really was you’d hate him.

“If you keep giving me options like that, you may never see Steve again.” You couldn’t help but flirt. He was too pretty and something about the dumbstruck look he was giving you made you bold. “I’d love to have lunch with you. It’ll give me a chance to hear everything about you.”

Bucky’s face fell along with his stomach and he ducked his head to hide behind his hair. The sight had the smile falling from your face. “You don’t want to hear everything.” He muttered it, but it seemed to you the pain was crystal clear.

Your voice was a gently teasing caress when you answered, and the wounded animal inside the man lifted its head warily. “Maybe not today. After all, lunch would be a first date and horror stories are generally fourth date material.” You tipped him a sly wink. “Considering the horror story, we can play it by ear.”

Bucky lifted his head a little to stare at you through his hair in disbelief. Were you… joking? If the half-smile and kindness in your eyes were any indication, you were. The only other person to make light of his past was Clint, but Clint was fucked up.

You were certain now. Bucky didn’t see himself at all clearly. Not only was he sweet, and funny, and intelligent, and easy to talk to, and you could go on all day, he was also so goddamn dreamy, you’d actually gotten lost in his eyes more than once. You were pretty sure he noticed, because he’d gotten an infuriatingly sexy smirk on his face each time you had to shake yourself out of it.

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m a fact-checker by trade and by inclination. I would never consider my due diligence done if I didn’t spend a little time with the primary source. But I don’t give a fuck about your history right now. I’d rather hear about your todays.”

As you spoke, a soft smile played around your lips. The sight had Bucky lifting his head, a spark of hope lighting in his chest. The sound of his rank and last name told him without doubt that you knew. As a matter of fact, you probably knew everything in the public record. Yet your face lit up every time you looked at him. Bucky couldn’t understand it, but couldn’t resist it, like a stray responding to a soft voice and a gentle hand. “My todays are pretty boring,” he replied, his sweet smile creeping back.

“I’m still interested.” Your expression turned sultry and you hoped he caught the double meaning behind the words. From the wicked grin he flashed, you weren’t disappointed.

“Let me text Steve back and then, how do you feel about pizza?”

You spoke seriously, without the barest hint of amusement but your eyes were twinkling. “I have very warm, deeply sensual feelings about pizza.”

Bucky’s whole face seemed to light up as he laughed out loud, his eyes squinting tight with mirth while his mouth stretched wide. You couldn’t help but laugh with him, this the most carefree you’d seen him yet.

Bucky was still chuckling as he bent over his phone. So far, so perfect, he thought. He hadn’t yet found anything to dislike about you. Somehow, you seemed to feel the same and that made him the luckiest man in New York.

Her name’s y/n and I think she has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.

Steve snorted when Bucky’s response came through. A girl. Typical. His face spread in an absolutely delighted smile. Nothing made Steve happier than when his friend was typical. You say that every time. 🙄

Bucky was helping you on with your jacket when his phone buzzed again. When he saw Steve’s reply, he glanced at you. With a cheeky grin, you offered your arm. Laughing again, Bucky held up a finger before tapping out an answer as quickly as possible. When he was done, he dropped his phone into his pocket and took your arm with an amused half-smile.

I can’t remember any others. And since she just agreed to have lunch with me, I’ll see you whenever she’s done with me.

Of course, it didn’t end at lunch. After a long meal punctuated by a lot of laughter and good-natured flirting, you ended up walking together, first through a nearby park, then through your favorite bookstore. Before you knew it, it was time for dinner and Bucky was asking you to join him again.

You were agreeing before you’d even fully thought about it. At this point, you’d come to a conclusion. Bucky Barnes was a fucking sweetheart. As long as he kept asking you to spend more time with him, you were going to keep saying yes. And if he kept smiling like that whenever you did, you didn’t know how you were ever going to say no.

Much, much later, after dinner, dessert, and more coffee, Bucky walked you to your door. The two of you had done everything you could to stretch the time out longer and longer, neither of you willing to part, too enthralled with the other’s company, but neither of you could think of any further excuses.

Bucky had his hands in his pockets and his head down, hiding again behind his hair as you unlocked your front door. Instead of opening it, you turned back to him, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips when you saw him blushing behind the curtain of his hair.

“Bucky,” you said, and the throaty promise in your voice had him easing forward, “it wouldn’t be too forward to kiss me at the end of our first date.”

Once more the grin broke over his face, this one pure male appreciation. “I was hoping that’s what this was.” He teased gently as his bare hand came up, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You laughed a little breathlessly. That look, desire and humor, had you fluttering coyly at him. “It will be if you kiss me.”

Bucky smiled, but he didn’t touch you except that big warm hand cupping your cheek and tilting your face for his kiss. Your heart was beating like a drum as he eased closer, lust and excitement tangling inside you and leaving you a little dizzy. Your breath caught at the sight of Bucky’s normally arctic eyes burning like the searing blue at the base of a hungry flame as he dipped his head to close his mouth over yours.

The kiss started out soft and sweet, almost chaste, but the feel of the full, pink mouth you’d been fantasizing about for most of the day set your body ablaze. Bucky didn’t move in, however, and it seemed he held you in place with that single hand against your cheek and neck as with lips, teeth, and tongue he coaxed your mouth open. Truthfully, coaxing was not necessary as you were as eager to explore that tempting mouth as he was for yours.

Bucky was close enough you could feel the heat of his body, and between that and his heady scent of leather, tobacco, and spice your head was spinning. The taste of him on your tongue was as seductive as the way he kissed you as though your breath was the only air he needed to survive.

Somehow, that chaste hand in juxtaposition against that blazing hot kiss combined with the other sensory overload to make this the most erotic experience of your life. You weren’t certain you’d live through having sex with him. You were having a hard time convincing yourself to not drag him inside and find out.

“God,” he whispered against your mouth, his breathing ragged, “you really are perfect.” He couldn’t remember another kiss so bright and warm but also dark and hot. He’d found in your mouth the reminder of both happy sighs and wanton moans and the mixture was a dizzying combination of elation and confusion.

Your eyes fluttered open and at your breathless chuckle, his other hand, which he’d kept gloved the entire day, came up to cup your other cheek as he brushed his lips gently over yours once more.

Bucky was nearly shaking with need. He wanted more than anything to yank you against him and feast on the honey and spice he’d discovered inside the sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted. He was determined to be a gentleman, however, because you were entirely too perfect to risk scaring, no matter how fearless you seemed.

“So, first date implies a second,” he murmured. The soft rumble was unbelievably sexy and had you wondering how he sounded first thing in the morning. You didn’t normally move that fast, but lust was clouding your brain.

You knew you had a ridiculous smile on your face. What you didn’t know was its dazzling effect on Bucky, who could hardly believe you were real, the perfect mix of sexy and sweet. He snatched another kiss, unable to resist that sparkling smile.

You laughed a little and reluctantly pulled your face from his gentle hands. You held yours out in front of you palm up. “If you wanna hand me your phone I’ll put my number in it. You can shoot me a text the next time you want to see me.”

Bucky pulled out his phone and unlocked it before handing it over. He toyed with an idea while he grinned at the top of your head where it was bent over his phone. Once you’d handed it back, he stepped back, afraid if he touched you again, he’d end up pushing too far too fast and frightening you.

With a wink and a sultry “Good night,” you slipped into your apartment and leaned against the closed door, your heart pounding in happiness, excitement, and healthy lust. You were so lost in starry-eyed memories of the best first-date of your life, you jumped a little when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw an unfamiliar number.

Is it too soon to ask to see you again?

Laughing, you swung the door open, shot a hand out to grab the edge of Bucky’s jacket and dragged him inside. Maybe it was too soon. You didn’t give a fuck.

The attractive 40ish brunette in the bright red dress caught your eye and winked as you and Bucky walked into the coffee shop. Bucky was stopping to pick up the Avengers coffee order on his way back while you were on your way to work. You grinned back at her, recognizing her as the woman with the paper the first time you met Bucky all those months ago.

Outside on the sidewalk once more, you pulled Bucky off to the side and took advantage of Bucky’s full hands to take his beautiful face in yours for a kiss. Since his arms weren’t free to pull you close, maybe you could escape before you were having to sprint to avoid being late for once.

When you reluctantly pulled away for the third time from that delicious mouth, it occurred to you that you may not be blameless in these long morning goodbyes. “You’re going to be late again,” Bucky murmured against your lips, the warning weak.

You pressed your cheek to his, affection and something that felt a lot like love rising up to become an ache in your throat. In the last few months, the least favorite part of any day had become this one, when you had to kiss him goodbye. “Ask me if I give a fuck.”

Bucky turned his head to nip at your bottom lip with a quiet chuckle. “I will not. I know the answer.” It was one of the things he loved most about, your absolute refusal to care about the little shit. Too busy living on your own terms, you were a master at ignoring opinions you didn’t already value. He found it weirdly inspiring.

Bucky spotted a vaguely familiar face in his peripheral vision and smirked. You were busy nuzzling into his throat; Bucky had already cursed himself for not kissing you before he’d loaded up with drink carriers. His voice was an amused drawl as he asked, “Speaking of things you don’t give a fuck about, is that James?”

“James who?” You were humming against his skin, struggling with the rush of emotion, like fluttering wings inside your chest. Because you were cuddled against him, your face buried in his throat, you couldn’t see the downright smug grin on Bucky’s face, but James could. The other man simply turned and walked the other way.

“You really are perfect,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your hair, still frustrated by his full hands. You tilted your head back with a laugh. He’d been saying that from the beginning and it always made you melt a little. You didn’t know it was what he’d taken to saying when he wanted to tell you he loved you. He hadn’t yet gotten the courage to say it out loud.

So tenderly you could help but wonder if he was struggling with that same flutter in his chest, Bucky pressed a soft kiss to your lips and stepped back with a teasing grin. “Get goin’, doll. You’re too tempting, and I don’t want you in trouble again.”

“I like being tempting,” you replied with a flirty smile. You glanced at the time and groaned; you were gonna have to haul ass now. “See you tonight!” you called while walking backward a few steps and blowing noisy kisses. Bucky was still laughing as you turned away to start your run to work.

Bucky was still grinning when a couple of blocks away, he came around a corner to find himself face-to-face with the guy you’d dated before him. He didn’t even try to stop himself from saying what he’d wanted to for months.

“Hey buddy! I wanted to tell you: on the one hand I want to punch you in your fucking face for treating my girl like shit, but on the other if you hadn’t, she wouldn’t be my girl. So, thanks. Asshole.”

With a taunting smirk, Bucky walked around the gaping man and kept walking. Behind him he heard James’ outraged shout. Bucky neither stopped nor turned. “I’d give you the finger, but my hands are full,” he shouted back instead.

That had probably been immature and had definitely been unnecessary. Bucky didn’t give a fuck.

The End

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[dantecampanas]

hello all, i’m pepper and i have never been on time for anything, ever, in my life dsjksdkj, but i am literally so much later than usual though, i am so sorry y’all but to make up for my tardiness under the cut is some stuff about this mess, dante. it’s messed up ride so i hope you enjoy? also, like this if you want to plot and i’ll literally come sprinting okay. 

BIO ; tl;dr basically craig kielburger, but make it dark 

to start here is Dante’s pinterest board.

and here is a song that reminds me of him so much it may as well be his anthem but also this other song because i wrote his app to it basically, it reminds me a lot of him, more the vibe than the actual lyrics but still. 

okay so Dante’s family is kind of inspired by the Quinns (from ‘You’ on Netflix), the Castillos (from How to Get Away with Murder) and like Henry Goulding’s family in Crazy Rich Asians. 

Dante Isaac Campana was brought into the world in Madrid, Spain with a silver spoon dangling out of his mouth. You’d never guess from looking at him, what with his hobo chic style and generally unkempt appearance but it’s the truth. He came in this world out of a well paid surrogate as the second child of the famous Sofia and Gabriel Campana, and he wanted for nothing because for it. His parents made sure of that.

Gabriel was a CEO and Sofia was a wildly successful author, and from the moment Dante could breathe his parents had his whole life set up for him. After all they wanted their son to be successful and they planned to make sure of it. A hefty trust fund in his name, to be accessible at the age of eighteen. A place in the family business that he would fill the moment he finished university. They even had an arrangement for who Dante would marry eventually, before he was even old enough to understand what the concept of marriage was. It was all planned out for Dante without the slightest bit of input from Dante himself, and Dante was just supposed to accept that. The funny thing is, at first, he did.

After all he was young, and he had no reason not to. He loved his parents deeply, passionately, but honestly, that was how Dante loved anything. One of his very first memories of his life is of his grandmother. They used to feed the ducks together when he was a child. Dante would throw whole loaves of bread into the water and his grandmother would always laugh and laugh until there were tears building at the corners of her wrinkled eyes. And one day, the day of the memory in question, Dante remembers her sitting him on her knee, smoothing back his wild curls and telling him that he was born with a heart too big for his body. A heart too big for this family. Dante was too young to know what it meant at the time, but it stuck with him. And by the time he was old enough to understand it, he knew she was right. 

The truth is the Campanas were cold. Dante for the most part was an anomaly. Because while his parents probably did love him in return, they had an odd way of showing it. Cold hands pressed to warm cheeks, thin smiles of approval that didn’t quite reach their eyes. Never the words ‘i love you’, or ‘i’m proud of you’, or ‘i believe in you’, but instead the heavy feeling of expectation. If you wanted love, you had to earn it. If you wanted them to be proud of you, you had to do something to make them proud. Not be a person to make them proud, no. You had to do something. 

So when Dante was twelve years old he did. Not on purpose mind you. Dante wasn’t even thinking of his parents in his pursuit, only of others. You see, when Dante was twelve years old he, mostly accidentally, started a non profit. I say accidentally because that wasn’t really what Dante was setting out to do. Honestly, it all started when he met a homeless teenager not much older than him, sat beside them on the little street corner they begged on, and was struck by the overwhelming, gnawing need to help. To make things better. To protect them, because no one else was doing it. It started with Dante rallying up the children at his private school, and later those children’s parents, and later those children’s grandparents. Or maybe it really started when Dante climbed up on the stage one school assembly, took the mic from their principal’s hands and gave an impromptu speech on the cause. No, to be honest, it really started when someone recorded that speech and put it on YouTube. Because the moment that speech went viral, so did Dante and his charity. 

Even today if you look up Dante Campana you will be assaulted by a myriad of articles and photos of young Dante giving impassioned lectures to interviewers, to audiences, to millions of people over livestream. It was just something that Dante was passionate about that became much bigger than he intended, but he didn’t mind. He was helping people. He used the money that the charity brought in to build youth shelters, and food banks, and rehabilitation centers, all for homeless kids. It was everything he wanted.

And for once, his parents were proud. They loved him. They didn’t say it, but Dante knew it from the way they looked at him. Like he was their pride and joy. (Later, he would look back on that look. It would strike him as disturbingly too close to how one might look at a shiny new trophy, and he would never be able to look at his parents the same way again.)

Dante only became aware of how conditional his parents love for them was when his elder sister started to slip under the pressure they put on her shoulders. Anya Campana was about sixteen at the time, and Dante, three years her younger, had to watch as his sister crumbled. Anya had always cared too much about what their parents thought of her, about impressing them and making them proud. It didn’t help that her parents made it clear that they would not accept anything less than excellence from her, their first born. Anya was supposed to be their champion. The head of the family once their father was gone. The pressure of it all drove Anya to the edge. At first the edge was just adderall. Later cocaine, just to take the edge off, just to make things easier. To help her focus. Dante remembers catching her in the act. Remembers her crying. Remembers being shocked still, and just staring and staring as his perfect sister literally fell apart at his feet. 

It wasn’t long until the weight of their parents expectations had drove Anya to a full on addiction, all in the pursuit of their favour. But of course, when Dante’s parents found out about Anya’s problem, they had no sympathy for her. Only disappointment. That ‘slip up’ cost Anya her role. She could no longer be the head of the family if her resolve was that weak; instead the position would fall to Dante, and Anya would be sent quietly, and shamefully, to rehab. it was an eye opening experience for Dante, honestly. To see just how replaceable their parents saw them.  

The Campanas brand of cold was also fake. Plastic. Sure, they smiled in the public eye and the relationship between the siblings at least was genuine, but the truth was Gabriel was cheating on Sofia when he thought no one was looking (Dante was. A story for another time), and Sofia had openly slapped each of her children across the face at least once, usually when she got a bit too much wine in her. The older Dante got the more and more he felt his love for his parents becoming more of an obligation than anything tangible. Something cold and plastic itself. And he despised it. 

When Dante was fifteen, just after Anya’s second stint in rehab, he and his sister were spending the day together to catch up. All they wanted to do was get ice cream together, talk a bit. But those plans were foiled when a black indistinct car rolled up beside them, and before Anya and Dante could even put up much of a fight, they were both blindfolded and tied up in the back of the car. It honestly shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was considering the Campanas were easily the wealthiest family in Spain. But the kidnapping was traumatic and shocking to Dante, especially because of course all these men wanted was money. 

Their kidnappers called his father with every intention to get said money within the day. They asked him for one billion dollars for each child, which was a lot of money, but not an amount that the Campanas didn’t have, or couldn’t get access to if need be. But it was then that Dante got the second big shock of his life. His father refused to pay. Dante remembers his blood running cold at the statement heard over the speaker. He remembers his sister crying. He remembers the kidnapper shoving the phone into his face, demanding he beg his father otherwise. To convince him to love him enough to pay for his life. Dante remembers crying so much it hurt. Before that day he didn’t know that was possible. 

The kidnappers gave their father a deadline. He had a full twenty four hours to get the money, or they would be killing one of his children. Their father agreed, and so Dante and Anya were left in the hands of their kidnappers for a full day. Dante still hasn’t properly talked to anyone about what happened during that time, and he’s not even sure he can. Honestly, looking back, the memories of it all are all a blur. Like even his hindsight is blurred with his tears. 

The hour came and their father was called. He was asked for the money and told that if he didn’t pay it, his daughter would be shot. Once again, he refused. Dante can remember the gut wrenching sound Anya made at the news. It was at the chilling mid point between a sob and a scream. He can remember crying himself, but trying to comfort her as much as he could with his arms tied behind his back. And because he was touching her, he can remember the exact moment Anya flinched from the gunshot fired into her stomach. He can remember the warmth of her blood over his skin. 

Dante can’t remember much after that. It’s like his mind filmed that day with a fish eye lens and half a roll of film. All blur, until it cuts out. More blur, and then it cuts out. The next thing he properly remembers is being in a hospital bed for shock. He remembers seeing his parents there. And he remembers being filled with a hatred more consuming than anything he ever felt before. Apparently he lunged at his father in a moment of rage. He doesn’t remember it, but enough doctors attested to it for Dante to find himself with a semi permanent place in mandated therapy. Well, due to that specific moment and, you know. The circumstances. 

Dante learned that day that to his father, he and his sister were of different value. Dante was worth more than Anya. He didn’t mess up as much, or quite as publicly, and with everything with his charity, the media loved him. He was smart, and charismatic, and maybe he was a bit sensitive, but he could grow out of that. If they lost Anya, so what? They had Dante. He would lead the family to greatness. 

And Dante did. After an abundance of therapy of course, well, during an abundance of therapy. Despite it all, somehow Dante didn’t buckle under the pressure. He took some time off from school, but once he got back to it his grades were the same as ever. He spent some time away from his charity, but once he was ready, he threw himself back into it with a single minded focus. He made a foundation for Anya, his sister. His world. And then he moved on. Came back stronger. At least in the public eye. 

Privately, Dante was furious, and disgusted, and grieving. His sister, his confidante and likely one of the two people in his life to love him unconditionally, was gone. And she was never coming back. And Dante would never, ever be the same. He remembers attending Anya’s funeral. Seeing everyone cloaked in the colour she always hated, crying over her and telling lies about how much they adored her. He remembers his mother saying how proud she was of her daughter. He remembers his father saying how much he loved her. And he remembers feeling nothing. He remembers getting up on stage, drunk, and numb, and he remembers looking hard at them all. He vaguely remembers telling them all to fuck themselves, but after that? The film cuts out. 

Dante spent a lot of time leaning on his friends then. Hiding from the sharks that were the paparazzi. Dante’s pain was like a healing wound, and they were drawn to it like the animals they were. Picked at to see if they could get him to bleed again. How are you coping, Dante? Will you be testifying in the court case, Dante? How much do you miss Anya, Dante? There is footage of Dante ripping a paparazzo's camera straight out of their hands and throwing it at them. Or at least there was. His father got rid of it before it could truly make it to the press, and the paparazzo, well, he walked away with three new stitches in his eyebrow and a significantly heavier wallet. Dante, for his part, walked away empty. 

The truth was, now Dante was plastic. The bleeding heart that he once was now sadly hollow. He played the part though. And he played it well. To the world Dante was the golden boy. Any mistakes or slip ups were covered up neatly by his father, or his mother, or both. And the legend of Dante Campana, child philanthropist, and hero lived on. Y’see, Dante’s mother wrote a book about the whole experience, and took some creative liberties. In the novel, Dante tried to save his sister. Fought his captors. Held her hand as she bled out. As sick as it is, Dante read it, hoping it might jog some of his memories from the whole incident. It didn’t, but it could have been true for all Dante knew. Didn’t make him hate his mother any less for profiting off of the whole thing. 

Eventually, Dante graduated. Accepted a position at Ashcroft University. And then he was handpicked for the Imperium Society. And that’s where he met Lady Macbeth. 

And It was like for the first time in three years, Dante was living his life in colour again. He fell, and he fell hard, almost immediately upon meeting them, which was as much of a surprise to him as it was anyone else. Yes, Dante had dated before, and had crushes but he didn’t necessarily believe in love. Not after his parents lousy display of the whole thing. But he met them and that changed. He was consumed by love. Driven by it. He would do anything for them, absolutely anything. And he made that very clear very quickly, and never wavered. Not once. 

In the time that Dante loved them he was brought back to some semblance of his old self. He found his passion again. He found his happiness again. And he knew it was because of them. They brought him back to himself. They made him better. And the gratitude, and codependency, and love all stirred itself into a poisonous mess that was more adoration, or rather idolization, than love. What he felt for her was something all consuming and probably not entirely healthy, but something that Dante dedicated himself to, like a religion. 

Which is why when they told him about the issue with Octavia Dante was so incensed about it. For the most part, despite previous outbursts, Dante was kind. A peacekeeper. A joker. A lover. But when it came to those he loved, after everything with Anya, Dante was painfully protective. He promised himself long ago that no one coming after those he loved would get away with it. Not again. 

That said, when Dante went to meet with Octavia he did his best to be calm. To be levelheaded, and understanding, and kind. But Dante’s reputation must have preceded him, because Octavia didn’t seem to see any reason why she should listen to him. Dante was the artist. The charity guy. The hippie. He was about as threatening as a puppy, or at least his public image was. Her words were sharp, and her disposition was cold, and Dante wouldn’t have cared, he truly wouldn’t have cared if the words she spat were just directed at him. But the moment Lady Macbeth was brought into things, Dante snapped, Othello’s presence be damned.

The film cut out. 

The next thing Dante remembers is the aftermath. The water bottle he’d bought to reuse, to spare the plastic, to save the environment, to save the world, now ironically covered in blood. His hands slick with it for the second time in his life. Othello’s understandable panic. The shock was thick as fog once again, and the next thing Dante knows he’s at Lady Macbeth’s door, eyes hollow and hands shaking around the water bottle as he fully realizes what he’s done. 

He never meant to. It was an accident. He lost control. All he wanted to do was protect them. 

But somehow instead they ended up protecting him. And leaving him for Othello. A large part of Dante knows that he deserves nothing less. That what he did is a crime that deserves a much larger punishment, one that Lysander unfairly took on for him. But his heart is heavy with guilt, and now heartbreak on top of it all. 

As if watching Lysander go to prison for his misdeeds and witnessing Lady Macbeth and Othello in their honeymoon phase all wasn’t enough torture, well, then there was Octavia’s ghost. Which was truly the most painful torture at all. Every time she visits Dante just ends up with breaking down. Terrified, guilty and asking for her forgiveness. He’s pretty sure it’s not helping in the slightest though, and he can’t blame her for being angry. She has every right to be, and honestly Dante is quickly reaching the breaking point. He’s seriously considering just turning himself in to appease her, and to make things right for Lysander, and he would do so in a heartbeat if there wasn’t the risk of Lady Macbeth going down with him. So Dante is at a stand still. Miserable, and in pain, but doing his best not to show it to keep up appearances. Luckily it’s an act he’s been putting on for a good portion of his life, so he’s good at it. But he’s crumbling at the edges, and he’s not sure how much longer it’ll take for everyone to notice. 

To cope Dante has been indulging in a lot of his sister’s old habits. Drinking. Drugs. The same mechanisms he used to cope with her death, but quit once he met Lady Macbeth. Now, without them, he’s just using leaning on them in an attempt to make things easier.

PERSONALITY ;  god who knows dkjsdjksd dante is very fresh and new so he’s a bit of a mess in my brain and he will definitely develop into something new passed this point but

PASSIONATE! god he’s so passionate, like dante just feels everything on 10 one hundred percent of the time, especially since lady macbeth came into his life. The type to get teary eyed over a dead bird, but also the type to like stay up five days straight working on a project because he can’t get it out of his mind. 

despite this used to think romantic love was a straight up myth lmao because of his parents relationship, so we love a contradictory king. a bleeding heart but also a philophobe, and now a murderer, wow what a resume. lady macbeth changed that a lot for him, so for like a WHILE dante like became the poetry writing, love is the answer, romantic which had to be a drastic change for anyone who knew him before 

nurturing honestly? but only with people he actually cares about like juliet or lady macbeth.

but also impulsive, as we can see, like dante doesn’t tend to really think before he makes any decisions. he just does things man 

thinks he’s funny! sometimes he is tbh. a bit of a good natured goofball generally. willing to do pretty much anything to cheer someone up

a big ol’ flirt just naturally, like he’s honestly very charming, but like so was ted bundy yk. also bi, but like all my muses are, so sdkjsdkj are we surprised at all, i don’t think so. 

very touchy feely tbh because he’s a tactile person.

a live and let live kinda guy like actually,,, so close to a hippie it’s not even funny. 

a bit promiscuous more so before lady macbeth came into his life and he became entirely enamored, and now a bit because he’s heartbroken and just looking for any sort of connection.

the most generous person when it comes to money and kindness. the type to sit down with a homeless person and end up giving them his jacket, five hundred dollars, and a new outlook on life as he leads them to one of his youth centers. Has actually thrown himself into his charity a lot more since Octavia’s death. Is kind of viewing the whole thing as penance. 

the type to hold a grudge until the day he dies, but also the type of person who can’t NOT help someone who needs help you know. like he hates his parents but if his mother called him tomorrow like i want to see you one last time before i die, he would fly out to spain to see her.

very liberal. literally can’t talk to conservatives without wanting to physically fight them. has definitely gone to protests and gotten arrested for punching a nazi, but his father probably covered it up. 

HEADCANNONS ; alright now onto the fun stuff

fun fact, was actually brought into the world via surrogate because his parents had a lot of trouble conceiving, like both of them were pretty much impotent. so he’s not technically blood related to either of his parents, neither was anya. 

deaf in his left ear and has been all his life. it’s kind of difficult for him to hear a specific person talking in a crowd of too many people, especially if you’re standing on his left so he might straight up text you instead. also if you’re standing on his left side in general, he might turn to face you to better hear you. can speak multiple different sign languages including asl, bsl, auslan, and of course catalan. 

has delightful spanish accent but speaks fluent english because of all the networking he grew up doing with his parents, also you know, very expensive private school. also is fluent in french, italian, romanian and portuguese, like just the romance languages honestly. he’s traveled a lot though so he can get by in a few other languages, which basically means he can hold a stilted conversation and ask where the bathroom is. 

Despite his charity being his life and occupation kind of, at heart Dante is an artist. Like his art is everything to him and his is actually quite popular. He gets a lot of offers from people wanting to buy it but he can never part with anything he’s made so he always refuses the offers, no matter how much money the customer is bidding. It’s not like Dante needs the money anyways, so he has refused offers on grounds of menial things such as ‘i didn’t like the vibes he was giving off’ or ‘he looked like a republican’ or even, once ‘pretty sure i saw that guy in a dream once. god, he sucked.’ So most of his art decorates his dorm room instead, and he’ll even give some to friends for free. Dante actually wanted to become a full time artist once he graduated, along with keeping up with his charity but considering how picky he is about who actually buys his art,  he’ll literally make no money, which is okay because again, he’s rich. Now though, he’s considering just pouring himself into his charity and forgetting about his art because, you know, penance dkjdf.

Actually learned to cook from his family chef, and is really, really good at it, like professional level good at it. He hasn’t really had time to get any actual professional training but he really wants to. He has absolutely snuck into culinary school very briefly before just to sit in on a few classes. Just pretended he went there and made a bunch of friends and he learned a lot of stuff, and even taught some culinary students a few things. He was eventually discovered, but then he made friends with the professor, and now he just comes by whenever he wants or has the time. That’s the kind of guy Dante is. 

Honestly pretty good at anything having to do with his hands, like if he had a label it’d probably be the artisan. Dante is the type of person who knows nothing about like mechanics but can like fix something if you put it in front of him. Likes to make furniture as a hobby, so hit your boy up if you want a sexy chair. Also makes sculptures and does a bit of pottery, like he’s a jack of all trades when it comes to tactile things only. 

Intelligent in the way that he just has a lot of pretty well informed opinions like if you want a fun fact don’t go to Dante but if you want a good insightful conversation he’s your man. Not like… clever at all though, like he doesn’t have a manipulative or conniving bone in his body, and it’s really hard for him to tell when he’s being manipulated or taken advantage of. He thinks with his heart rather than his brain honestly. Like if you’ve ever heard the story of the foolish traveler... that’s Dante’s fool ass. If you haven’t here it is. 

A big defender of the environment. He was planning on launching a charity for that too, and honestly he’s probably throwing himself into that project to stop thinking about all this.  

Has a bunch of tattoos, usually of his own art or other art that’s moved him. I imagine him with at least one sleeve that’s beautiful, and he’s probably starting another. Is seriously considering a neck tat. His parents would hate it and that just makes him love it more.

If you watch jenna marbles i want you to know that Dante is Julian in the kitchen and Julian in the kitchen only, but somehow everything he makes end up coming out near perfect anyways. 

surprisingly has a green thumb? can revive almost any plant with relative ease.

never learnt how to ride a bike tbh, but does ride a motorcycle so?

Has taken to religion like a mad man ever since Octavia’s death, like he’s suddenly at church once a week. He tells everybody that it’s for his art, and that he just wants to study the stained glass, but really he’s praying for Octavia’s forgiveness. He’s pretty sure it’s not working in the slightest though. 

Kind of salty that Octavia of all people is haunting him but he hasn’t seen his sister’s ghost once. Actually kind of believes in the supernatural and karma and all that, so he wasn’t too shocked by the whole Octavia coming to him in the night thing. Always thought that he could feel his sister watching over him so, now at least he has that confirmed. 

suffers from black outs, but i feel like that was obvious in my little bio sksdjkjsd straight up has stretches of time that he has no recollection of. it tends to happen when he gets really angry or in really traumatizing situations but honestly people close to dante probably know that he’s just lost stretches of time like you could mention something from his childhood or even a few weeks ago (actually especially a few weeks ago) and dante would just be like... i don’t remember that. honestly has been feeling like he’s kinda going crazy since his sister died, so literally since he was like fifteen oof. 

has been painting some pretty dark stuff lately like since the whole octavia thing, like just in tone and color. probably a bit reminiscent of the stuff he painted after anya for those who knew him then, but if you met him after lady macbeth then this is a drastic change because his art got very beautiful and full of life then you know. 

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 27

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

____________

Stiles isn’t easily distracted. He knows that’s what Allison and Derek are trying to do with him. They draw him into conversations about random things, they watch TV with him, they play cards, they do anything except talk about hunters and werewolves and Gerard and Kate. And Stiles appreciates the gesture in an abstract sort of way, but Gerard and Kate and the past six years are still right there, still an itch under his skin, still the scrape of nails down the chalkboard of his memory. Stiles is unsettled and jumpy, and it’s getting harder and harder to hide it. He sits on the couch and his leg jiggles.

It’s been over twenty-four now since he and Allison ran from the house.

The house that Peter and Laura have left the loft to go to now.

The house that contains Stiles’s supply of Adderall.

He hopes they remember to bring it like he asked.

He remembers how, when Kate took him, at first he didn’t have his Adderall. He remembers when Kate brought him some, a week or so later, and Stiles had swallowed it down eagerly, certain that he’d feel better again—that his heart wouldn’t race, that he wouldn’t cry anymore, that he wouldn’t break the things they gave him—except the pill didn’t magically make him good. It didn’t make him the sort of good they wanted him to be. And he still cried and shivered and didn’t listen.

He’s not sure when that went away.

He only remembers a feeling of profound relief the first time that Gerard told him he was a good boy, because that meant he wouldn’t be punished that day.

Stiles thinks that might have been the day he locked the crying boy away inside a room in his head, because letting that boy out only got him hurt.

He knows Gerard will never forgive his treason. And he understands that. He accepts that. He can’t say he was never warned, can he?

His heart races, and Derek looks at him.

Stiles jiggles his leg for a second longer, and then stands up and makes his way to the kitchen.

Twenty-four hours, and he’s not still locked in that windowless room, is he? He’s helping himself to a can of soda from a werewolf pack’s refrigerator.

This isn’t captivity. Stiles isn’t a hostage, and Gerard, shrewd and narrow-eyed, will spot it in a second. He’ll see it Stiles’s face the moment he looks at him, and then he’ll kill him for his treason.

He leaves the soda in the refrigerator, like that will make a difference, and goes to sit down again.

***

Peter and Laura are back at the loft by six, just as the afternoon shadows are starting to lengthen and soften into dusk. They bring up crates and crates of weapons, explosive and gear, and leave them stacked in the corner by the TV. Stiles approaches the plastic crates warily, and pops the lid off the first one to see inside. A couple of stun guns, some body armor, a crossbow and arrows, and a case of flash grenades. He feels somehow grounded to be looking at this stuff again. Here, in all the chaos, is something Stiles knows. He fights the urge to open the other crates as well, because he’s aware of Peter watching him closely.

Stiles is still a hunter, isn’t he?

Maybe.

He doesn’t really know anymore.

Allison is less constrained than Stiles.

“Hey, a crossbow!” She lifts it out and holds it. She has good form. She aims it at the TV, and stares through the sight a moment. For a moment she looks a little like Kate: sharp, focussed, cold. And then she sets the crossbow down again, and her dimples appear when she smiles. “I call dibs.”

“You don’t need a crossbow,” Laura says. “If things go to plan, you won’t get close enough to be able to use it.”

“But, just in case,” Allison says. Her tone is upbeat, but it doesn’t leave any room for argument. “I’m a good shot, and this is just like the one I have at home. Unless anyone else here can actually use it?”

The wolves don’t answer.

“Good,” Allison says. “Dibs.”

Stiles has underestimated her, he thinks. He glances at Peter and sees the same realisation dawning in his eyes. Allison hasn’t been raised a hunter, but she has been raised to know how to shoot, and she’s not the fragile flower she appears. Gerard shot her dad—or Kate did, but the distinction is academic—and Allison isn’t forgetting that for a second.

Stiles wonders if she’s also remembering how they shot Scott, and how Stiles was there. How maybe Scott would have got away if Stiles hadn’t chased him right into Gerard and Kate’s path.

Sour guilt twists in his stomach and rises in his throat.

“You found everything okay then?” he asks Peter.

Peter inclines his head, a smile playing around his lips. “Yes, thanks to your directions. Now we just need John to tell us what to do with all this stuff. Apparently my plan lacks finesse.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond to that. He sits down on the couch again.

“Oh,” Peter says, and digs into his pocket. He tosses a plastic bottle of pills toward Stiles, and Stiles catches them. “Your Adderall.”

Stiles squeezes his fingers around the familiar bottle. “Thank you.”

He goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

***

Stiles’s father arrives later that night. He’s still in his uniform, and Stiles looks at the badge on his shirt and remembers the way he used to play with it—it was shiny, okay?—tugging at it until his dad had to carefully unpeel his little fingers before he ripped his shirt. He’s also got four pizza boxes.

“I thought you didn’t finish until ten,” Peter says.

“Benefits of being the boss,” John tells him, setting the pizzas down on the breakfast bar. “I got two meatlovers, one supreme, and a pepperoni. I hope nobody’s vegetarian.”

“In this crowd?” Laura teases, but looks to Allison and Stiles questioningly.

“Total carnivore here,” Allison says happily, and Stiles nods.

Stiles waits until his father has selected a slice and stepped back before he moves towards the pizzas. His stomach rumbles at the smell, and he can’t remember the last time he had pizza. He grabs a slice of the meatlovers.

“Is that all you’re having?” Derek asks him.

Stiles looks at his slice.

“Take another one,” Derek says, and elbows him gently. “You have two hands.”  

Stiles feels a rush of warmth, and smiles slightly and reaches for a second slice. Then he glances over towards his father, and sees him watching. Stiles flushes, and turns away.

His father isn’t a thing he can deal with. Not yet. It’s too big. Stiles still gets an almost visceral negative reaction to even hearing his name, let alone seeing him, and while he knows that’s not fair, that the hatred he feels—or felt, he doesn’t know—for the man was constructed on a foundation of lies, it’s not just a matter of knowing it. Stiles has felt it for so long, and so acutely, that he can’t just make it vanish in a heartbeat. If he could, then maybe everything would be easier, but he’s believed it for so long that he can’t just let it go.

He remembers reading the books in Gerard’s study. Remembers the burn of pride he got from learning about his ancestors. They were heroes. Stiles never doubted it. They were heroes, but it had only taken one man to break that chain, hadn’t it? To break it and trample everything into the mud. Stiles worked every day to prove to himself and to Gerard and Kate and to every person in the hunter community that he wasn’t his father. He wasn’t. He was better. The thought of it kept him going even when his body wanted to quit. It sustained him when he was tired, hungry, and even when he was terrified. And he knows now that it was Gerard and Kate who wove his hated so deeply into his every motivation, but knowing that it’s poison doesn’t mean the knowledge is a magic antidote.

He almost wishes his father would show some frustration, some anger, something for Stiles to push back against and validate his hatred a little. But he doesn’t, does he? Because that’s not who he is.

It’s too big to deal with for now.

He goes and sits on the couch, with Allison on one side of him and Derek on the other, and eats his pizza.

“Okay,” his father says at last, and clears a space on the coffee table. He unrolls a blueprint. “This is an empty warehouse on Elm. We’ve got office space at the front, and a second floor. We’ve got windows all around, with bars. Two doors on the ground level, plus the roller doors for vehicle access, and two points of entry via the roof.”

Stiles follows the explanation as his father points out each feature.

“Now, we can rig it easily enough,” his father says, “but we’re going to need bait.”

“Me,” Allison says.

“Ally!” Stiles exclaims.

“No, I mean it,” Allison says. “If I call Grandpa crying about monsters, he can trace the call to the warehouse, and he’ll come and get me.”

“It’s a good idea,” John says.

And there it is. There’s that low burn of anger in Stiles’s gut that could translate so easily into hatred.

“You can make the call,” John says, “then we get you out of there but leave the phone you’re using.”

Stiles sucks in a breath. “Gerard’s not going to fall for an empty warehouse. He’ll smell a trap a mile off.”

“Then I’ll be Allison,” Laura says. “We’re about the same size, and it’ll be night, right? I can wear her clothes, keep my face down, and lure them in. Then I’ll go out the roof.”

“While the building’s exploding?” Peter asks. “You’re an alpha, Lulu, but you’re not fucking invincible!”

“No, but I’ve got a better chance than Allison!”

For a moment Stiles is sure he’s going to see claws and fangs. Then, in the middle of the tense silence between the alpha and her left hand, he hears the very improbable blast of Rihanna’s Umbrella.

Peter growls, and tugs his phone out of his pocket. “Deaton? What’s going on?” He’s silent, but his eyes flash beta gold as he listens. “You’re sure? Fuck.” He growls again. “Okay, keep yourself safe.”

He ends the calls.

“Bad news, kids,” he says. “Deaton just spotted Gerard Argent and his goons in a black Cadillac Escalade on Hooper Street, travelling west. They’re not heading for the warehouses on Elm. They’re heading here.”

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, and reaches out to grip Derek’s hand tightly.

So much for their plan.

[the-big-papa]

The Real Tea

INVOLVED: Oprah Winfrey, Mercedes Evans and Samuel Evans TIME FRAME: Tuesday, June 25, 2019 LOCATION: Evans Estate; Los Angeles, California SUMMARY: Samuel and Mercedes sit down with Oprah for a interview in their home.

Mercedes walked through the large estate, rubbing her hands together nervously as she moved for the living room. She and Ryan had just finished putting her outfit together and fixed up her hair and make-up, while the crew finished setting up in their living room. Entering the recording  area, Mercedes looked around at everything slowly before she took a seat on the large tan couch. “Are we about ready?” she asked curiously, looking around for her husband before she turned her gaze to Oprah. 

Samuel thanked Shania, they went the easy route this time. He was in his own house, why would he not? A dress shirt, slacks, and some comfortable shoes to wear as he moved through the house. He chuckled as Sebastian came running up to him “you know you are not supposed to be out here right now Bash” he said sweetly as he picked the boy up kissing his cheek. “Come on,” he said as he handed the child over to Kelly “mama and papa have to work right now, we can play later” he told him softly. Samuel made his route towards the entire set up, there were so many cameras, he couldn’t tell what they were shooting at the moment and he sat down beside his wife. Running his sweaty hands down the front of his pants he got comfortable as the crew began to mic him and Mercedes. 

Looking over at her husband as he rested beside her, Mercedes took one of his hands into her own, giving it a squeeze. “Are you nervous?” she asked him softly, adjusting her blouse a little around her stomach before she began to fiddling with her curls some. Getting quiet as the crew mic’d them, she shifted some, releasing Samuel’s hand to place the mic pack on her jeans behind her back. 

“No I am fine” Samuel told his wife, because he was thanks to adderall rush he were on at the moment. He felt like he was prepared for it all, hopefully she would be too. Because he knew this would not be easy at all. Samuel shifted in his seat again, adjusting himself and he allowed the woman micing him to also secure his mic pack before he looked towards the crew once more. “Let the games begin” he said under his breath as he shifted in his seat once more. 

Nodding slowly, Mercedes gazed at her husband, taking him in. “Are you okay?” she asked him softly, placing a hand on his thigh. She couldn’t quite place it but something was off with him. Shifting slightly on the couch, Mercedes looked at the young woman as she touched up her make-up some as some crew members adjusted the lighting rings for them. “Thank you…” Mercedes said softly to the young woman as she moved to walk away. “Let them…” Mercedes said in response to Samuel.

“Yeah babe” Samuel said to her again as he looked back at her before he sat back in his seat. He rested his hands above hers as they waited for this all to began. As she replied back to him he looked to her for a moment before Oprah showed, joining them in a chair across from the couch they were sitting on. She had some papers in her hand but Samuel noticed as she sat them aside. There were cups of tea added to the coffee table for all three of them and a box of tissues just in case. 

Taking her husband in, Mercedes shifted slightly. “Okay…” she whispered back to him despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach. As Oprah appeared before them, she smiled at the woman gently, watching as she older woman sat down in her seat. Shifting once more, Mercedes crossed her feet at her ankles, adjusting her blouse around her stomach once more. Looking down at the tea and tissues, Mercedes leaned forward, grabbing her cup and taking a sip of the tea and Hennessy mixture to calm her nerves.

Oprah sat before the couple and she smiled modestly as the crew got a mic on her and began to set the camera positions the way they wanted them to be. Having sat her notes down beside herself, she mused at the beautiful house. “First let me say you home is gorgeous,” she told the two “simply beautifully decorated” she said speaking with her hands. 

Mercedes looked at Oprah, a soft smile tugging her lips. “Thank you,” Mercedes said gently, taking another sip of her tea before she sat the cup down. “We did it all ourselves,” she said honestly. “Took a while…” she rambled slightly, looking over at Samuel momentarily.

Samuel nodded at Oprah “thanks” he said happily “I’ve seen your home a few times so that is much appreciated” he charmed lightly. “I left it all to her” he said truthfully “this is the family’s home, I am just a visitor” he joked. 

“Because you are a busy man I hear these days. You have so much on your plate Samuel. How do you manage it all?” Oprah asked “you are managing your wife, you produce, you write songs - some of said songs could be written and recorded for movies, you are a husband, a father, you own a label…. The list goes on” she stressed excitedly. 

Mercedes chuckled softly at her husband’s joke, her tongue rolling over her lips slowly as she nodded looking to Oprah as she spoke. Apparently her husband was quite the accomplished man. 

“I-” Samuel said thinking to himself for a moment “I guess I just go about everything full force. Full throttle, I don’t hesitate you just have to do it” he said to her. “I wanted to be her manager because people just don’t see her the way I do. She’s not a product to me, because I’ve heard that before” he said looking at the camera. He looked back to Oprah and said “I see the most intimate parts she has to offer so, I felt like I could redirect her career in the direction it needed to be based on the other side of her life that I had full access to that a normal manager wouldn’t” he said looking to his wife before he shifted. “Everything else just came with the…. Fame” he shrugged. “I couldn’t imagine people seeing my vision and my talent and accepting it the way that it has been. But I came from the bottom up and I was running” he mimicked “ignoring all obstacles. I had a goal. I didn’t want my kids wanting for anything and I never wanted to be broke again, broke or hungry” he told her. 

Oprah nodded her head listening to Samuel “I relate to that, I know what it’s like for people to give you 100 no’s before you get that yes” she breathed. “People seem to think that Mercedes helped brand your career, that isn’t true?” she asked looking at them both. “People think Mercedes made you…”

Mercedes listened to her husband as he spoke and her hands fiddled with her blouse more, as she recrossed her ankles in the other direction. Taking in what he had to say, Mercedes nodded slowly, just listening and processing. At the next question Oprah asked, Mercedes looked at Oprah before looking at her husband. They had argued over something similar to this many times in the past, so years later, she wanted to know his true standpoint. 

At Oprah’s next question Samuel sat back against the chair “I think people want to use any excuse in the book to discredit my hard work and all the determination I’ve put into this I made for myself” he said shrugging. “Mercedes hasn’t offered one producer, one manager, one record label, nor a songwriter I did that all on my own, I made that happen for me,” he said. “Do you not agree?” he asked looking to Mercedes. 

At Samuel’s answer, Mercedes continued to nod her head. She agreed wholeheartedly. “Sam’s right,” Mercedes said looking into the camera before she looked at Oprah. “I had nothing to do with Samuel’s career,” she said out-right. “When Samuel released his first album back in 2015, I had no idea that he was doing it, that he had been in the studio, or anything. I was clueless,” she admitted. “I remember the day,” she said, “I was in a meeting about my own album and my team at the time kept talking about this new artist and this amazing album and song and I was so confused until they popped the CD in and hit play. Imagine how baffled I was to hear my own man’s voice coming from those speakers…” she trailed off laughing a little. “So, I completely agree with Samuel. I had nothing to do with his success and career.”

Samuel nodded his head at his wife’s words “I never step to her and told her I wanted to venture into this. I kind of just knew, but I also toyed with the idea of not doing it because I get tired of the comparison or the disrespect” he said sighing. 

“How does it make you feel when people refer to you as, just Mercedes’ husband or just her white husband even? Because I have seen articles like that, and it shocks me because I don’t see color, so I have no idea why that plays a factor in both or your careers” Oprah asked next as she looked to him. 

Mercedes looked back at her husband as he spoke once more and she nodded slowly, her plump bottom lip poked out naturally. At the next question, Mercedes closed her eyes shaking her head. She hated that term, that phrase, that saying. It bothered her so much. Opening her eyes, she leaned forward, grabbing her tea cup once more, taking a small sip.

“I think it’s just ignorance” Samuel said simply, “I try not to let small petty things of that nature get to me” he lied on camera as he looked to Oprah. 

“How does it make you feel mercedes?” Oprah asked next. 

Mercedes looked at Samuel over her tea cup, arching an eyebrow slightly before Oprah directed the question at her. Taking another sip quickly, Mercedes took a moment to gather herself before she sat the cup down. Letting out a breath she said, “I hate it,” honestly. “It’s 2019, I don’t understand why everyone is so caught up on race and color. It’s ridiculous,” she said with a shake of her head. “Not only that, it’s insulting and degrading,” she said looking over at Samuel. “I’ve even heard this term in offices and label rooms and it’s maddening,” she sighed. “I just want everyone to know that Sam is his own person. I have absolutely nothing to do with his success and his place in this industry. He opened doors on his own, without any input from me. He created his own success and made a whole new lane for music and genere’s and he’s an icon in his own right…” she said looking to Oprah. “And him being white or my husband has absolutely nothing to do with it. He’s simply genius…” 

Samuel looked to his wife as she spoke up and he let her, taking her words in he ran his hand up and down her thigh supportively. He looked to her at her compliments and smiled slightly, before he looked back to Oprah. 

“They think he’s in your shadow” Oprah pressed further as she leaned up in her chair. “They think that he's steps behind you at all times. That even when you aren’t there you are over powering every move he makes” she said. “Do you feel like you are in her shadows some days? Is it simple the Mercedes show and you are just living in it?” 

Mercedes blinked at Oprah, shifting slightly, adjusting her blouse once more as she nodded slowly, she was making a statement, not a question, so she saw no reason to respond. At the question to Samuel, Mercedes looked to him. 

“I think it’s the Sam show and she’s just living in it” Samuel said using his thumb to point towards Mercedes. “That’s my honest opinion” he chuckled. 

“Well that brings me to ask this question that does contradict that fully” Oprah said looking to her notes now. “People call you lazy Mercedes, is that what you think of yourself?” she asked. 

Mercedes chuckled softly at Samuel’s words, thinking it was cute that he thought that. She stroked his ego, but even she knew the only reason they let him into the studio all those years ago was because he was her husband. He couldn’t afford getting into the studio at that point in time in their lives otherwise. Despite that, she did have nothing else to do with his success and his career and he had been grinding for years to make himself a household name. Suddenly it was dawning on her that she kind of was in his shadow. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Licking her lips slowly, Mercedes looked to Oprah at the next question. “Of course I don’t think that of myself, but it's fair that people think that of me,” she said honestly. “In the last few years I’ve been through a lot and I haven’t done much career wise aside from drop album after album. I haven’t toured or done a lot of press so I can see where and how they could make such an assumption…” Mercedes said as she looked at the camera’s, “but I’m not lazy… I’m simply a mother and I have to split my time.”

“I will like to add to that, if you’ve never experienced what we’ve been through first hand then you truly wouldn’t know just how hardworking she is” Samuel said. “She shouldn’t be blamed or slander for her taking breaks and time-off because when she is up and running, she's kind of like me. We have that in common. When we are on the gone we don’t sit down” he said looking to his wife. 

“Speaking of what you’ve been through” Oprah started as she eased into the next major thing she wanted to speak about with the couple. “You’ve recently brought your daughter out into the World. Showing her off essentially on social media, and by the way she is the most adorable thing I have ever seen” Oprah said as Kelly were instructed to bring Sanaa in the forefront of the camera handing her over to Samuel. “Tells us about Sanaa” Oprah said testing the name of her lips “what were your pregnancy like because you had complications, yes?” she said directing her attention to Mercedes. 

Mercedes looked at Samuel, smiling softly at his words and she nodded sweetly before she looked at Oprah as she spoke. When Kelly handed Sanaa over to Samuel, she looked at her child, then Kelly with an arched eyebrow before she turned her gaze to Oprah at the question. “Sanaa is amazing,” she breathed out. “She’s a breath of fresh air,” Mercedes said gently. “She’s only 7 months but she’s so bubbly and happy all the time,” she said looking at Samuel and Sanaa, stalling to answer the next question. “Sanaa seems to laugh at just about everything and she enjoys music and cartoons so much…” Mercedes said before she signed looking at Oprah. “Yes, my pregnancy with Sanaa was very difficult,” she said before she looked down at the hardwood, shifting once more. “I struggled with preeclampsia…” she said trailing off.

Samuel looked to his baby girl and sat her in his lap, kissing her forehead gently. He watched as she looked around her head turning to look at her mother before she looked back towards a camera. He adjusted her little shirt over her stomach as he watched her play with his finger happily. “She is the best baby ever” Samuel cosigned “honestly all of our children were amazing babies” he said as if he knew anything about Sydney’s behavior as a newborn or so forth. At his wife’s words he looked to her slowly, he happened to hate when she exhausted her efforts to not acknowledge that she indeed carried their son to the every end. He pulled his eyes away from her with a raised brow trying to keep his composure as he looked back down at their daughter. 

“Do you truly feel like you had done everything to prevent the loss of your son?” Oprah asked the couple. “Had this preeclampsia cause the loss of him?” she pressed watching Samuel. 

Mercedes looked at Oprah and then Samuel and Sanaa before she picked up her cup, sipping down more of the liquor laced liquid. Sitting the cup back on the table, Mercedes sighed once more. “Our son wasn’t in good health when he was born and his life expectantly was very minimal. He would have been on a ventilator for a majority of his life, he would have needed several surgeries, he would have needed several steroids to help his growth, and his was in pain. Simply breathing caused him so much pain.” Mercedes said sadly, looking down at the floor. “Without the help of the ventilator he could not breath and without it he would die, so the decision was made to take him off the ventilator…” she said turning her head away from everyone as she blinked hard. “I made the decision to let him go… Samuel wasn’t exactly in agreeance but… he allowed me to make the decision and we let him go…” Mercedes spoke the truth for the first time ever. “It was a very hard decision but it was made because I didn’t want to see my son struggling and in pain for the rest of his life,” she breathed. “If it wasn’t going to make it, I wanted him to do it with us close and in our arms…” she said a single tear falling from her eye but she quickly brushed it away, clearing her throat. “Yes… the preeclampsia was one complication that caused more complications…” she said simply. “I was rushed into an emergency c-section the day I gave birth because I was suffering from placental abruption…” 

Samuel bounced Sanaa lightly on his leg and he looked to Mercedes as she actually explained, he watched on shocked. I mean, this is what the people wanted and they basically vowed to give it to them in this interview so. It had to be done. Sanaa shifted in Samuel’s lap, and he watched her as she did, she’d found a new profound awe her mother’s top as she tugged on it with a bright smile. “I envy her” Samuel said watching the little girl “to be this small you are so oblivious to the dangers and the heartache just around the corner” he breathed with a headshake. “If there was anything Mercedes and I could have done. I want people to know I would have made damn sure it was done” Samuel said to Oprah. “I would have given my last, everything could have been taken from me and I would have been fine with that” he said gazing at her. “I have not been very fine since the day I had to watch his tiny casket go into the ground” he trailed off looking back down at Sanaa. 

Mercedes turned her eyes to Sanaa as she leaned in Samuel’s lap, tugging and playing with her scoop neck blouse. Smiling softly, Mercedes scooped Sanaa into her arms, kissing the girl’s chubby cheek sweetly before she looked at Samuel at his words. Nodding slowly, she agreed with him wholeheartedly. If there was anything that they could do, they would have done it. “Simba’s funeral was the worst day of my life…” Mercedes breathed out, looking down at Sanaa. “I was supposed to have two babies… not just one…” she said sadly, stroking Sanaa’s cheek, “and every day I look at her and I see his face…” she said with a shake of her head. 

Nodding her head at their responses, she looked down for a moment before she said. “You actually died on the operating table correct?” Oprah asked Mercedes “after coming to did you feel you deserve to be here? To have that second chance at life essentially?” 

Mercedes shifted Sanaa in her lap slightly, her hand pressed against her back firmly keeping her upright just in case, as she looked to Oprah. “Yes… I died that day…” Mercedes trailed off looking over at her husband. She still didn’t know exactly how he felt about that part of what happened. It was always about Simba and they didn’t really discuss the fact that she died. “Apparently, I went into shock from losing too much blood from the abruption and the c-section… I was dead for 25 minutes before they revived me…” she said looking to Oprah. “Did I feel I deserved to be here…” Mercedes repeated the question as she pondered on it. “Honestly… no…” she breathed out gently. “Considering what happened a few hours later with our son… I’d rather given my life for his…” she said simply. 

Samuel allowed Mercedes to take Sanaa from his arms and shifted in his seat licking his lips slowly. He grabbed his cup and took a long sip of the still warm drink before he sat it back down fidgeting in his seat again. “That was the scariest moment of my life. Everything in your mind just” he said shaking his head leaning forward “I drew a blank. I thought I was losing my son and my wife all in an instance and I sat on the floor outside the operating room, until I was drugged away” he told Oprah. “As soon as I saw her flatlined, that was it” he said rockng slightly “you have a where the fuck do I go from here type of epiphany�� he offered. “If you ask me, I checked out and I don’t even know if I ever checked back in” he confessed. “I’ve lost so much” he said become overwhelmed when he thought about it “until her being added would’ve just” he chuckled shaking his head. “I would’ve soon followed from a broken heart” he sighed sitting back once more. 

“Okay, guys let’s take 15 minutes” a crew member said as aloud to the couple and Oprah. 

Looking at her husband, Mercedes listened to him as he spoke and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. She didn’t know he felt that way, looking away from him, Mercedes quickly wiped another tear before anyone could see. Turning her eyes to the ever bubbly Sanaa, she smiled gently, hugging the baby girl close before the crew member spoke and Mercedes nodded as she moved to stand up, holding Sanaa on her hip. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly, to Samuel as she walked away, bouncing Sanaa a little as she walked into the kitchen. Holding Sanaa with one hand, Mercedes reached into a cabinet and pulled out a fresh glass before she moved to their liquor cabinet, opening it and pulling out the bottle of Hennessy. She poured the glass full before she capping the liquor bottle and picking up the glass, sipping the liquor straight. She guzzled down the brown liquid before she sat the glass in the sink and handed Sanaa over to Kelly, who had entered the kitchen behind her. “I’m okay,” Mercedes said to the younger girl before she could ask. Straightening up a little, Mercedes adjusted her blouse once more before exiting the kitchen, letting one of the crew members touch up her make-up.

As Mercedes moved to walk away, Samuel sat there with his hands in his lap he didn’t know what else to do. This happened to be killing his high at the moment, but there was nothing he could do to combat that. He licked his lips again and picked up the tea mug before sitting it back down. 

Mercedes thanked the young woman when she finished fixing her make-up before she sat back down on the couch beside her husband. Picking up her tea cup, she drank some more down before she offered the cup to Samuel with a look of take it and drink it, solidified with a simple arch of an eyebrow.

Samuel looked to his wife as she breezed past him to sit down and he looked to her for a moment. As she offered her cup to him he read her face and grabbed it, confused as to what was different about hers. When he grabbed it, he took a sip before he took another. It was spiked, now that made sense to him as he took another long sip, finishing the cup off before he set it back down. He sat back in the chair fidgeting with his hands, “I need a smoke” he said as he got up from the chair quickly moving to find the nearest exit as he pulled out a new pack of cigarettes, popping one between his lips and he pulled out his lighter quickly placing it against the end of the cigarette before he exhaled. 

Mercedes watched as Samuel took the cup and sipped from it, finishing it off. Licking her lips, she nodded as he stood up and she sat back, looking down at her shirt as she adjusted it once more, fixing her spanx a little in the process. Looking over at Kelly and Sanaa as Sanaa got fussy, Mercedes stood once more, walking over and taking the child into her arms with ease. She tossed Sanaa into the air a few times, catching the child with ease, and kissing her nose and forehead before Sanaa laughed out loudly, cooing some. Mercedes smiled at the child, kissing her forehead again before she handed Sanaa back to Kelly. “If we’re done with Sanaa for the shoot for now, you can take her on back,” she said easily.

Samuel paced the concrete on the side of the house exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. He was starting to regret all of this, but he was going to get through it because it was something that she wanted to have done so he had to be subjected to it. As walked back and forth he used his two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as he mumbled nonsense to himself quietly. He stopped short as he finished that cigarette lighting another one up soon after. 

Mercedes turned as Kelly walked away with Sanaa and she blew her baby a kiss before turning on her heels. Through the glass, she could see her husband pacing back and forth and she sighed, rubbing her fingers through her curls before a stylist came running over to fix it. Huffing softly, Mercedes stood there allowing her hair to be fixed before she sat back down, a crew member refilling her glass with plain tea. As the man walked away, Mercedes looked over at Alexandria, snapping her fingers to get her attention. “Alex,” she said quickly before she motioned for her to come over and when she did, Mercedes whispered into her ear. Alexandria nodded, taking the tea cup into the kitchen to spruce it up before returning and sitting it back in front of Mercedes. Mercedes looked around her home curiously, watching everyone flutter around as she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.

Samuel began to pace more, in this time he finished his second cigarette before he walked back into the home. Making his way to the nearest restroom he washed his mouth out with mouthwash before he sprayed himself with something more refreshing. When he was done, he looked to his watch and moved back towards the couch sitting down beside Mercedes. He looked over to Simon and he signaled with his head for the guy to get something for him, watching him disappear for a moment and then resurface. Samuel looked to the boy as they handed off, Simon disappearing again before Samuel tossed back the pills, swallowing bare back as he shifted in his seat. 

Oprah looked to the couple before he rummaged through her notes for a moment, buying everyone time to get situated. “How long have you two been married?” not asking either one in particular. 

Mercedes looked at Samuel as he reentered their home, disappearing off to the back. She assumed he was washing out his mouth, but honestly, she had no idea at this point. Sitting there, Mercedes shifted on the couch, her hands resting on her thighs now as she tried to remain calm and collected, the liquor doing absolutely nothing to calm her nerves. Fidgeting with her blouse again, Mercedes looked over at Samuel as he sat. Watching Simon hand Samuel something, she arched an eyebrow as Samuel threw whatever it was into his mouth and swallowed. What in the hell was that? She wanted to ask but now was not the time, that she knew. So instead she turned her eyes to Oprah at the question, “4 years... “ she breathed. “We got married on April 30, 2015…” she said revealing their wedding date publicly for the first time ever. 

“We wanted something private, I don’t think either of us cared about this big grand event” Samuel as he looked to her for a moment and then back to Oprah. 

“Is your love strong” Oprah said pausing after each word, she rested her head in her hands as she looked at them both. “What does your love mean to you both?” she questioned. 

Mercedes nodded along with Samuel, agreeing with the statement before she looked at Oprah once more. Mercedes was taken back by the question and she looked at Samuel before back at Oprah. “I believe our love is strong…” Mercedes said before she trailed off, glancing at Alexandria momentarily before she looked at her husband. “Our love…” she stopped her sentence, looking away from everyone before she said, “our love is the love that made love…” she said simply. She didn’t know how to explain it any further than that.

“Yeah” Samuel shrugged after her comment “I don’t think what we’ve been through is for the weak” he acknowledged aloud. “How does one come back from, oh by the way I was pregnant and never told you, hi?” he breathed. “Three dead children, a missing child, a break up that last how long?” he said looking to her “almost a year,” he said. “I had an entire girlfriend I thought I was madly in love with….” he added agitatedly. “She had a boyfriend” he said before he looked back to Oprah. “Yeah, strong” he nodded “and unconditional…..” 

“Samuel did you cheat on Mercedes?” Oprah asked him next as she shifted in her seat crossing her leg one over the other. “The World wants to know about the truth stemming from the scandal” Oprah said. 

Mercedes looked at Samuel watching his shrug and she looked away from him quickly, feeling some type of way about it. Listening to him as he spoke, Mercedes stares outside into their vast backyard, everything single thing leaving his mouth hitting her hard. Was all of that really necessary? She didn’t feel that it was. Licking her lips slowly at the mention of Miranda, Mercedes looked straight into the camera, fire burning behind her eyes as she said nothing, her face pretty plain, but her eyes, her eyes were flaming. When Oprah asked her next question to Samuel, Mercedes shifted slightly, hands resting in her lap, fingers laced as she grew extremely still and quiet because she dared him to say anything but no after she had explicit asked him in the past. 

Samuel looked to Oprah “no” he said to her, “I never physically cheated on Mercedes with anyone” he told her truthfully. “Never had a reason to do so, I am satisfied at home” he said to her plainly. 

“Have you cheated on Mercedes sense the original allegations Samuel?” Oprah asked him next. 

Mercedes looked over at her husband at his answer and she bit back the feeling of wanting to suck her teeth on camera as she thought about the night she heard the song and he came home and basically told her that he was having an emotional affair with Miranda. Licking her lips slowly, she closed her eyes before she looked back to Oprah at the next question. 

Samuel sat there quietly for a while, “no, I just answered that. I am happy at home I don’t need to go looking for someone to lay down with” he told Oprah. “I love my wife” he said. “I would never cheat on her,” he said before he looked to Mercedes “would I ever cheat on?” he asked Mercedes outright. 

Mercedes nodded slowly at Samuel’s answer. I love my wife. That’s exactly what he would always say to her while he was out sharing his true love and emotions with another woman. No, he never physically slept with another woman but emotionally cheating was just as bad she felt. At his question, Mercedes looked at him, gazing into his eyes long and hard, before she said, “physically, no…” 

At her response Samuel tilted his head at her, eyes peering into hers for a moment before he looked back to Oprah. Oh, okay, he thought to himself. He could only keep his composure as he blinked a few times before the other woman. 

“What were your thoughts when you first heard the song Mercedes?” Oprah asked directly looking to her. 

Mercedes gazed at Oprah, letting out a hum. “I honestly don’t remember,” she said easily. “I was pregnant at the time and you know… pregnancy brain…” she said to Oprah before she shifted. “I just remember being shocked,” she said honestly.

Samuel looked to Mercedes at her remark and he looked away from her trying not to roll his eyes at her comment. 

“Do you know who the woman is from the scandal Mercedes?” Oprah asked next. 

Looking at Oprah, Mercedes shifted slightly, her hands laced in her lap. “Not personally no…”

Samuel looked to Oprah, their son was one thing this was totally different. He shifted in his seat as he raised his brow at the question that was asked. 

“Samuel would you disclose who the woman is?” Oprah asked him leaning forward a bit. 

Mercedes knew of Miranda of course, however she had never actually met the woman. As Mercedes thought back on it, she realized she barely knew what Miranda looked like. If she were lined up in a crowd of people, Mercedes would never be able to pick her out specifically. Looking at Samuel, she waited for his response, genuinely curious. 

“Miranda Blake” Samuel said “her father showed me all the robes, invested everything into me he had” he said truthfully. “They helped me with my first album, well not really. I recorded some stuff, produced some stuff, held on to that stuff, moved here and released that stuff” Samuel said to Oprah. “I have nothing to hide here…” 

“At any time did you tell yourself you couldn’t put up with this anymore and were going to call it quits? Did the scandal make you want to divorce your husband Mercedes?” Oprah said “truthfully?” 

Mercedes looked at Oprah and she shifted slightly in the seat, picking up her tea cup and taking a sip. Cradling the cup in her lap, Mercedes shook her head. “No... “ she said easily. “I trust my husband…” she said softly. “I was weary in the beginning but I trust him…” she said honestly. “Divorce never crossed my mind…” she said looking down, before she looked over at her husband, unsure if he felt the same way. 

Samuel looked to Mercedes at her words he pondered that for a moment “I didn’t take it that way but it's up for interpretation really” he said. “I feared losing her, but I always do so again, it just depends on the person” he breathed “when you know you don’t deserve someone that’s kind of the space you always live in…. When are they going to leave, you know?” he said. 

“Did the scandal cause you to react negatively and indulge in an affair yourself, Mercedes?” Oprah asked as she sat back in her seat her documents in her life. “This is a man who is known to have torn you down, he has been accused of verbal and physical abuse” Oprah listed off on her finger. “I can not imagine him being as emotional supportive as you think giving the track record in the media” Oprah trailed off. 

Mercedes looked at Oprah at her question and she arched an eyebrow in shock as she continued. “First and foremost I would like to say, Sam has never been physically or verbally abusive to me. I have no idea where you all are getting this stuff from. He has always been my rock. Always,” she said out-right needing to clarify first. “No, I never cheated on Sam nor did I ever think about it. I love Sam so much and even if we were going through a rough patch, how would that help?” she questioned, shaking her head. “He is very supportive and loving. Sam is the most amazing father and husband.” 

As Oprah tore into him Samuel looked to his wife with wide eyes, he hadn’t known people were spreading these lies about him. He was shocked, yes he had a horrible tongue when speaking to his wife but he changed that and hadn’t returned to his old ways. “I had a horrible way of communicating with her, but we’ve since worked that out” he said looking to Mercedes. “After some couples therapy, which might I add is healthy,” he said to Oprah “we have found more stable ways of communicating in hard times and in the moment such as that supposed scandal” he said. “You know what, and another thing. I was not a scandal. We were having a rough patch, and I confided in a woman that I had known to understand me previously. I was stupid enough to think people could separate love and lost, and just be friends with an individual who they had once wished well. But no, people are just disgusting individuals” he shrugged. “She used my vulnerability and made a pass at me and I ended that” he said. “I let he get close because I felt I couldn’t get close to my wife and I was wrong,” he admitted. “But I never touched that one, never lead her on, never told her I wanted anything with her” he breathed. “And I told my wife what is was, and what it wasn’t” he added as he shifted in his seat. “I put pen to paper in an act of poetry, I turned that into a song” he breathed “and now everywhere I turn someone is labeling me a cheater or a bad husband and I am being punished for getting my feelings out in the only way I know how!” he argued, as he grew red with anger. 

Mercedes listened to her husband as he spoke and she frowned up her face slightly, bottom lip poking out as he got it all out. Leaning over to him slightly, Mercedes placed a soft hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. “People need to understand that we’ve been through so much. We’ve both experienced so much loss and hurt over the years that sometimes it does affect us, we’re human. Sometimes we misplace feelings and anger because that’s what people do but the point is we come to our senses and we correct ourselves. When you’ve been through what we’ve been through you have the right to act out and seek understanding,” she said softly, still rubbing his shoulder. “I don’t resent Sam for anything that’s happened between us…” she said out-right, “and I don’t feel like at any point he was ever purposefully hurtful or mean towards me… and the same goes for me towards him…” she said looking to Oprah. “What was a private thing, Samuel decided to turn into something beautiful like a song… and people get these ideals in their head and they just run with them… when there’s absolutely zero basis in fact in their thoughts…”

Oprah nodded her head at the two as they spoke, she didn’t comment much on what was said but she accepted it and understood it fully. “And I can respect that,” she told them both before she asked. “What is in store for you both? What do you have planned? What do you want to see happen? Are their any changes to your family? Any business ventures you all are dabbing into next? Give us an update of the family…..” 

Mercedes gazed at Oprah as she spoke and Mercedes nodded slowly taking it all in before she responded. “Well, I am preparing to get back in the studio to record some new music,” she said honestly, “with this new album I’m going to be working on, I want to plan a world tour,” she said, glancing at her husband, wondering his thoughts before she looked back to Oprah. “I want to go back to therapy for a while because since everything happened, I haven’t been and I still need to get my head right. As you know I’ve been pretty secluded in the last year and it’s taken a lot for me to even get to the point where I could even sit and do this interview,” she admitted, “I am a work in progress and I just want to keep progressing.” Licking her lips slowly Mercedes looked at Samuel, “as far as our family goes…” Mercedes said taking Samuel’s hand into her own. “I am content at the moment, however, who knows what the future holds?” she said thoughtfully. “Business wise… I have nothing outside of getting more involved with the label again. Since it’s kicked off I haven’t been too active considering everything but this year, I do plan to take more initiative with our artists…” she said with a soft hum. “As our family goes, Sydney’s now 10-year-old and she’s about to start the 5th grade this upcoming school year. Sebastian is 3 now, he’ll be 4 this August… and will be starting pre-school. Sanaa is turned 8 months yesterday and she’s doing wonderful... “ 

Samuel looked to his wife defeatedly, he felt like this interview would probably make things worse for him but, if was his own fault. “The album is doing good” Samuel said behind his wife “so I will probably tour this year, do all those good things that come with an album being released,” he said. “I have a few things I’ve been planning that I can’t disclose yet. I am toying with ideas” he said to her. “I pretty much planned to work hand and hand with ‘Cedes for whatever it is that she wants to get accomplished this year” he added. “I would like to try again, we haven’t talked about that. It’s just a feeling I have, but no real call on that. I know that” he said looking to Oprah. “I can’t subject her to anymore pain” he said licking his lips. “I say the future looks bright, I think everything has calmed down a lot and everything is back on the right path. There should be no obstacles” he told the woman. “Our family is beautiful and healthy. What more could I ask for you know?” he said thoughtfully. Seeing Sebastian run up to him he looked down with a smile “hey bud” he said as he hoisted the boy up, watching as Sydney walked over and he made room for her between him and Mercedes. Sanaa was offered back to her mother and he looked to Mercedes, they did have a pretty beautiful family, he thought to himself as he looked to their children. 

[addictedtofiction03]

The Only Thing That Mattered

Available on A03 and FFN now

Betty yawned as she finally closed her laptop turning to look at her clock on the table beside her desk shaking her head as read the time as 11:59 pm. Her throat felt a little dry, so she decided to go down the stairs to get a drink of orange juice before she attempted to go to bed and try to get some sleep. When she reached the bottom step of the stairs she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise up and a tingle shot down her spine as she took in how eerily quiet the house was and the soft light from the lamp seemed to intensify the feeling or was there a glow coming from the outside. She turned around expecting to see her mother in the living room drinking her nightly glass of rose wine but found the seat empty.

“Mom?” Betty called out but was greeted with nothing but silence. She bit her lip as she began to feel more uncomfortable as she could not see any sign of life in the house not even the sweet coos of her niece and nephew. “Polly?” She called out next, but the same silence returned to her. She looked toward the stairs but she knew that they were not upstairs as both of their bedroom doors were open when they were usually closed when they occupied their room. Betty shrugged to herself and turned her attention back to the reason she had came downstairs in the first place.

She walked down the short hall into the kitchen where she saw a flickering light through one of the windows in the door that led out to the backyard and she could not stop her body’s automatic response of going to that door and walked outside to see her mother and sister with a few other people she did not know standing around a small bonfire staring at the flames. She swallowed as she walked over to the rail blinking trying to clear her mind of the images her mind was clearly playing and gasped when she saw her mother and sister holding those sweet babies as they grinned to each other. Although, Betty was not really sure of what she was watching and she felt her breath catch as she watched Polly and her Mom turn the babies around in their arms before raising them up in the air as Rafiki did with Simba in the Lion King and before that could register in her mind she was reminded of the bloopers she watched on Youtube of the baboon dropping Simba over the edge as her sister and mother threw the babies in to the hot flames below.

Betty felt her eyes widen as her word froze in her throat as she felt the tears beginning to well up them as she tried to make sense of the horrible acts just committed in front of her. Betty tried to scream but her chest felt so completely tight that she couldn’t breathe. Then as the horror burned through her veins like a hot liquid the babies began to rise slowly into the air until they were floating above everyone’s head and Betty shook her head as she tried to get her eyes to work right because there was no way in hell this was happening in front of her. As her next thought began to appear in her mind, her mind went blank as she suddenly felt lightheaded as everything around her went black.

-

Alice and Polly looked up went they heard the door from the house open to see Betty walking through it. Alice sent a welcoming smile to her youngest daughter hoping that she would come down to join them, but that all changed when a look of terror washed over Betty’s face and her eyes became as wide a cup saucers and the next thing Alice knew Betty was falling over to the floor of the deck. She looked to Polly whose worried mirrored her own and Alice hurried around Polly hurrying over to stairs of the deck where her ears picked up the sound of Betty gasping for breath and felt her heart stop as her eyes landed on Betty as she convulsed violently on the floor.

“Betty!” She cried as she hurried over falling to her knees just above Betty’s head reaching down to lift her head off the floor and into her lap. “Oh Betty,” Alice sobbed as she stroked her daughter's clammy cheek as she tried to still her daughter. “Oh, God!” She whimpered as she looked around not knowing what to do. “Help!” she called out to the group of people standing around uselessly in her year and she saw Polly hurrying up the stairs.

“What happened to her?” Polly asked worried as she kneeled beside her mother.

“I have no idea,” Alice said shaking her head as Betty still continued to convulse in her lap. “Polly, you need to call 9-1-1,” She ordered to her daughter and Polly nodded as she jumped up to run into the house for the phone and after Polly came running out with the phone slapped to her to ear as she told the operator what was going on and trying to give the information that was being asked and gave their address for the ambulance driver. Alice watched as Betty’s eyes began rolling into the back of her head.

“Hold on Betty,” She whispered to her baby girl brushing back her hair and closed her eyes to try to quell the panic and fear that was rising to nuclear levels in her mind. “How long?” She asked Polly as she ended the call, but was answered by the echoes of a siren sounding closer and closer on the street. “Never mind Polly, just go let them in! Hurry!” She yelled at Polly who only did what her mother had asked.

“It’s going to be okay Betty,” Alice said looking down to Betty who was still gasping for breath but the convulsions had almost subsided and then the sound of hurried footsteps sounded through the kitchen and Alice saw Polly lead a man and a woman pointing the direction they needed. The paramedic dropped their bags as they circle around Betty and dropping to their knees.

“Ma’am, I need you to move back please,” the male paramedic ordered and Alice shook her head almost immediately.

“No, I am her mother,” She snapped at them and the man shook his head. “She’s my baby,” Alice told him in a softer voice.

“We understand, but we need a little room so we can work on her,” the lady paramedic said placing a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Can you tell us what happened?” She requested and Alice looked to Polly before looking back to the lady.

“We were having a bonfire with our friends,” Alice explained stopped short because even she didn’t know what was going on. “She came out on the porch and a few seconds later she passed out and started convulsing… I don’t… “ Alice tried to explain but stopped because she didn’t know what else to say and the lady apparently got that and nodded as she turned her attention to the girl on the ground. “Is Betty going to be okay?” She asked in a weak voice.

“Has Betty ever had a seizure before?” the lady asked as the other paramedic began taking her vitals.

“No,” Alice answered shaking her head. “None.”

“Is she on any medication?”

“Only Adderall for her ADHD,” Alice explained looking down to Betty who was now lying unconscious and Alice blinked back tears at the sight of her looking so small.

“What is the dosage?”

Alice began but the paramedic cut her off with his words.

“Her blood pressure is low,” He told the woman who nodded. “Pulse too.”

“What does that mean?” Alice gasped as she listened to the new information. “What is wrong with her?”

“It means we need to get her to the hospital as soon as we can,” He told her as Alice gasped he looked to his partner. “Liz, where is the stretcher?”

“Outside the front door,” She answered quickly as she began to pack up the things she was using. “We can just carry her to it.”

“What does that mean?” Alice asked again not liking the fact that they were telling her basically nothing.

“It means her vitals are low and she needs the emergency so they can further the help she needs,” the man told her as Liz gathered Betty in her arms lifting her up off the ground. “Do you want to go with us?” He asked her.

“Well that is a dumb question,” Alice barked at him. “Of course I am going with her.” She told him shortly and looked to Polly. “Do you want to come honey?” She asked her and Polly shook her head.

“No, I will stay here and get the twins to bed,” Polly told her and placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Alice nodded and gave a kiss to her daughter’s as she went to follow the paramedics who were making their way through the house only stopping to trade in her slippers for better footwear before turning around. “I will call you when I know something.” She called back to Polly who only nodded before walking out the door closing it behind her making her way over to the ambulance where the currently loading Betty into the back of and Liz held out her hand to Alice to help her up into the back and she took a seat on the bench only then she did close her eyes as the vehicle began its journey to the awaiting emergency room.

Ten minutes later, Alice found herself strolling through the halls of Riverdale General following the gurney that Betty was laying in that was now surrounded by nurses and a doctor asking questions and giving orders to each individual to do and then rounded the corner into an empty room where they transferred her to another bed. Alice stepped out of the way as many people were moving about as they worked on Betty and then Liz came up beside her.

“Mrs. Cooper?”

“Yes?” Alice asked looking to the younger woman.

“I hope she gets to feeling better,” Liz told her giving her a warm smile.

“Thank you,” Alice reply as she returned the warm smile. “Thank you for all you have done tonight.”

“It was nothing. Have a good night,” Liz said as she and the male paramedic left the room leaving her alone with the hospital staff.

“Alice?”

“Yes, Mel?” Alice turned around to see, Melanie, a woman who she went to high school with and a nurse that was staffed with the hospital holding up a clipboard and a pen.

“I just need to fill out these forms,” Mel said slowly and Alice could tell she was still afraid of her as she was way back when.

“Of course, Mel,” Alice told her as she took the pen and the paperwork from the nurse before she sat down in the stair to get to work on answering the questions that she knew by heart. She only stopped to catch her breath and to answer anything question sent to her from the medical staff and when she was finished she got out of her seat and went in search of Mel who was currently sitting at one of the workstations at the computer and walked over to hand her the board.

“Here you go,” Alice told her and Mel stood up as she took the board from her and walked off in the other direction. Alice took the moment to grip the counter as her thoughts were racing through her mind a mile a minute and then heard her name being called once more.

“Alice?”

“What?” Alice snapped ready to give the person hell for bothering her as she turned to see Fred and Mary Andrews standing in the hall with concerned etched on both of their faces. “Sorry,” She muttered as Mary stepped forward.

“Polly just told us what happened,” Mary explained. “Is Betty okay?” She asked and Alice shook her head.

“I have no idea,” Alice answered truthfully as tears began to fill her eyes. “She was just standing there and she just dropped,” she sobbed as Mary wrapped her arms around Alice’s shoulders in a comforting way as she held the sobbing woman. “I didn’t know what to do,” Alice sobbed as Mary ran her hand up and down her back.

“Start from the beginning,” Mary coaxed her gently and Alice nodded as Mary led her back to Betty’s room.

“Alice,” Fred began calmly causing both women to look at him. “Does Jughead know?”

Alice looked at Fred as she felt her eyes widen hearing her daughter’s extremely loving boyfriend who suddenly had no current idea of his girlfriend’s current state. “No! Oh my God, Jughead!” Alice looked to Mary and Fred just help up his hand.

“I will call him,” Fred offered, but Alice shook her head refusing the polite request.

“No, I can do it,” Alice told him as she reached into her pocket only to find it empty, but then searched her other pocket to find it empty as well. “Son of a bitch,” She sighed realizing that she had left her cell phone at home.

“Alice, I don’t mind calling him if you need to be with Betty,” Fred told her and Alice shook her head again.

“I will just use the payphone,” Alice said and when Fred went to say something else, Mary sent him a look before she dug into her purse to fish out the change in the bottom of it figuring that Alice had left the house without anything that she might have needed and pulled her hand out and counted the coins.

“I only have change for one call,” Mary told her as she handed Alice that change. “So you best make the call count.”

“Thank you,” Alice said sending Mary a thankful look. “Can you stay with her until I get back?” She asked them.

“Of course we can,” Mary answered as Fred wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder and guided her back toward Betty’s room. Alice let out a sigh of relief as went in the direction of the payphone and when she picked up the phone she realized that she didn’t know Jughead’s number and was about to hang the phone up and let Fred do what he had offered then a light bulb lit up in her mind as she sank the change into the machine and dialed the number she had only dialed too many times and listened as the ringing.

- - -

FP was laying on his side on the couch watching the latest sports news on ESPN debating on whether or not he should be going to bed but wanted to wait up until Jughead came home. He looked at the clock noting that it was past midnight which was odd for his son to be out so late because he was usually in by 11 or at least would call him to tell him if he was running late or not. He downed the last of his cola that he was drinking and reached for the remote to turn the television off when he got distracted by the sudden ringing of his house phone. He stared at it for a moment debating whether or not to answer it because the only people who called that number were teenage prankers, but decided to him their run for the money. So he hoisted himself up and walked over and pulled the phone off the hook hitting the answer number.

“You pranksters need to get in bed or your mommy is going to whoop your ass,” FP said into the phone but his attention was peaked when he heard his name being said by a voice that only belonged to one person.

“Alice?” FP said into the phone and then he heard the sound of sniffling coming through the line.“Alice, what’s wrong?” He asked as he downed the rest of his can of coke before walking into the kitchen to tossing the can in the trash can as he leaned up against the counter as the sniffling turned into quiet sobs. “Alice?” He asked as his gut was telling him this was no ordinary phone call.

“It’s Betty,” Alice sniffled before clearing her throat. “She’s in the hospital.” FP swallowed as her words sank down hardening his already uneasy stomach.

“Why what happened?” FP asked worriedly as gripped the phone in his hand tightly as he waited for her to answer.

“I am not sure,” Alice said and it sounded as if she was crying again. “She had some kind of a seizure and I was calling to let Jughead know, but I don’t have my cell phone or do I know his number.” She explained and FP could hear the hysterics in her voice. “I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I know Jughead would want to know.”

“He would, but Jughead hasn’t made it home yet,” FP explained as he reached over to snatch his keys off the counter. “Have they said what caused the seizure?” He asked as he pulled on his serpent’s jacket.

“No,” Alice explained. “I don't have any answers yet as we only just got here.” She told him. “I can’t get the image of her eyes rolling back into her head out of my mind,” Alice said breaking back down into sobs. “They said her heart rate was too low. I can’t lose her too FP.”

“We are not going to lose her Alice. She will be fine,” He said trying to reassure her. “Look I am on my way and I will get ahold of Jughead.”

“Thank You,” Alice said and he could hear some voices in the background. “Look, I have to go,” She said hurriedly. “The doctors have some questions that I need to answer.”

“Okay,” FP said as he let out a big sighed. “She will be fine Alice. I will see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Alice said and soon he heard the click that ended their connection. FP threw the phone on the counter and picked up his cell phone before making his way out the door and to his truck. While he was getting in his truck he was scrolling through his contacts on his screen until he found Jughead’s name and his the call button as he started the truck then pulled out of the driveway turning in the direction towards Riverdale General.

- - -

Jughead sighed as he watched the four paramedics stroll the two stretchers that were holding Dilton and Ben to the back of the two ambulances. He groaned as he heard his phone ring in his pocket what seemed like for the sixth time, but ignored them as he had been a tad busy trying to keep these two fools alive until help arrived. When he got his phone out of his pocket he felt his eyebrows furrow as he saw that he had six missed calls from his dad which was strange because his dad was always relaxed about him staying out late, but he noted that he was later than normal so he hit the answer button then placed it to his ear.

“I know it’s late Dad,” Jughead said as he sighed as he felt his body sag from the fatigue that now was plaguing it. “I am on my way home now and I will explain everything then.”

“That is not why I am calling son,” FP piped up and Jughead heard the sound of jingling keys in the background followed by the sound of a door closing.

“Where are you at?” Jughead asked curiously as he watched the two boys being lifted up into their ambulances.

“I am at the hospital,” FP answered and Jughead felt his heart jolt as his words.

“What are you doing at the hospital?” Jughead asked hurriedly as he scratched his forehead wishing he had a bag of chips or something. “Are you okay?” He looked up as he heard the paramedics yelling something to the other crew members.

“It’s not me, son. It’s Betty,” FP explained and Jughead winced as his head jerked around so fast feeling an icy chill wash over his being as he tried to recall the name his father had just said.

“Dad, did you just say Betty?” He asked his father in desperate need of clarification as he felt his heart begin to pound in his chest as many different and terrifying thoughts entered his mind. ‘Why would she be at the hospital?’ He thought to himself but forced his attention back to his dad. “Dad?”

“Hold on a second,” FP told him and listened to his father’s muffled voice and he heard the name Betty Copper for sure that time forcing more unpleasant thoughts through his mind as static began coming through from the other line.

“Dad!” Jughead yelled into his phone, but Jughead was only met with only more static which meant his dad had moved into the zone where no one got reception in the hospital and it was confirmed when Jughead heard a click disconnecting the phone call. Jughead pulled the phone from his ear so he could check to see if he had gotten any calls from Betty but they were all from his dad. ‘Why didn’t she call him?’ He asked himself and he let out a sigh of frustration before looking up to the paramedics who were beginning to close the doors.

“Hey,” He said running over to them. “Do you mind if I get a ride to the hospital with you?” He asked.

The paramedic looked up at him and looked him up and down through narrowed eyes before speaking. “Are you sick or injured as well?” He asked him looking slightly annoyed from the interruption.

“No, ”Jughead answered honestly.

“Then I am sorry,” the paramedic said shaking his head. “Only family members or legal guardians are allowed. You will have to find your own way, I am afraid.” Jughead swore silently to himself as he tried to come up with a better solution to the matter at hand, but there was nothing that came to mind as he was far out in the woods and it would take him too long to get there by foot and that was not an option. So, Jughead decided to try again.

“There is a family emergency and I need to get to the hospital right away,” Jughead said urgently and the paramedic started shaking his head no in an annoying way and he had to fight back the urge to yell at the man. “It is someone that really matters to me. Can you please help me this one time?” He asked causing the paramedic to stare at him and he could see him breaking, so he crossed his fingers. “Please?” He begged adding a little bit more urgency into his tone and the paramedic sighed before nudging his head signaling him to come on up.

“Thank you!” He uttered as he climbed on board of the bus and took a seat on the bench as the guy closed the door and the ambulances began rolling through the trail letting out a painful groan as the vehicle rolled over bumpy tree roots and he turned back to his phone to see if he could get his dad again, but only got a busy signal.

“How long until we get to the hospital?” Jughead asked leaning on his knees as the need to pace became rampant in his body but it would probably end with him walking to the hospital so he stayed seated.

“Not too long,” the man said as he began tending to the boy on the stretcher. “Ten minutes to fifteen at the most? Depends on traffic as well.” Jughead sighed as he closed his eyes not at all pleased with that answer.

After the longest ten minutes of Jughead’s life, the ambulance came to a smooth halt and the medic started moving around gathering up the supplies placing them on the bed before turning to Jughead as the back doors open to give him instructions on where he needed to go, but once Jughead’s feet hit the pavement he sprinted towards the automatic doors ignoring the shouts coming from behind him as he entered the extremely bright hallway with glassy looking tiles weaving around that people who stood still or weren’t moving fast enough. He only stopped when he realized that he had no idea where he was going or where Betty’s room and he looked around to ask but there was no one in sight like there had been only moments ago and noted that the hospital had gone eerily quiet. Jughead shook his head as he hurried along finally reaching the corridor that housed the patient rooms looking in each one to hoping to see Betty’s face but she wasn’t in any of them which caused his heart pound even harder in chest as he rounded the corner to feel hand clutch his shoulders as he realized that he had crashed into the chest of his father.

“Woah Woah Woah!” FP told him as he took a hold of Jug’s shoulders to prevent him from falling over from the impact.

“Where is she?” Jughead demanded while his head was whipping around to each room he could see from where he was standing and felt his chest tighten as she was not in any of those rooms. Jughead felt the room spin around him and he realized that his panic had turned into a gripping fear that latched on to his soul.

“Easy there Son,” FP said anxiously as he looked over his son noting that there was dirt on his face, but there would time to question what his son had been up to moment ago later.

“Where is she?” Jughead asked again not caring if he sounded rude or not, but he needed to see Betty and he needed to know she was okay and he knew that his voice was shaking as he could tell his fear had spilled over into his voice.

“She is just down the hall,” FP told him pointing his thumb over his shoulder and Jughead shot around his dad in search of his girlfriend and heard his dad say something to him but just kept on going until he turned the corner only to find it was a dead end. “I thought you said her room was this way?” He asked turning around to look at his dad who had followed him.

“I did, but you weren’t listening when I told you to take a right,” FP told him and Jughead started to make his way towards it but FP placed a hand on his chest to stop him from going any further. “Hold on,” FP told him and Jughead shook his head almost immediately.

“I want to see her Dad,” Jughead told him lowering his voice as a nurse walked came out from a nearby room and tosses them a dirty look telling him that he was being too loud then a question popped up into his mind and one he still didn’t have an answer too. “What happened? Why is she even here?” He asked his father.

“Alice told me she had a seizure at home tonight,” FP explained as he moved to lean up against the wall next to Jughead watching a group of nurses walked by them talking amongst themselves.

“A seizure?” Jughead questioned as he began pacing in front of his father because he was just too wired to sit still when all he wanted to was to see his girl. “Do they know why?” He asked next as moved lifted hand tugging on his lip.

“Not yet,” FP answered. “They are still running tests to see what the problem is. Have you noticed anything off about her?” He asked and Jughead shook his head. “Anything out of the norm?”

“I know she hasn’t been sleeping well and she has been working nonstop on Archie’s case which she has been super stressed about, but I mean we all have been,” Jughead told him. “When I dropped her off at home, she said she was going to go straight to bed.” He added and FP nodded.

“That right there could have done it,” FP shook his head. “Stress has a way of fucking your body up and knowing how Betty is, well she could have just overdone it.” Jughead nodded feeling a little guilty because he knew that she was working way too hard and now it sounded as if the all her hard work over the summer was beginning to take a toll her making him wish that he had said something to her and maybe this could have been prevented.

“This is not your fault,” FP said knowingly causing Jughead to glare at his dad. “So, don’t be over there beating yourself up about it because there was no way of knowing that this was going to happen.” FP finished.

“I want to see her,” Jughead told his dad and FP nodded as he placed a hand on to his shoulder.

“You will, but Betty is not in her room at the moment,” FP explained. “They took her down for a head scan so it will be a little while before you can.”

“A head scan?” Jughead asked worriedly. “I thought that you said that she had a seizure so why would she need a head scan?”

“Well, she was on her deck when it happened,” FP answered. “She must have hit her head really hard when she fell because they found and bump so they want to make sure that she doesn’t have a concussion or that the seizure didn’t cause any brain damage.”

“She’s going to be okay right?” Jughead asked as he felt a thickness build up in the back of his throat as he listened to the trauma Betty had gone through.

“They say she is going to be fine, but she still hasn’t woken up,” FP told him and Jughead swallowed against the thickness in his throat as the words registered in his mind. Jughead started to say something else, but was cut off at the sound of stretcher being wheeled through the hallway and looked up to see a bed being pushed around the corner with Alice Cooper following behind it and when her eyes met his she signaled to him with her hand telling him to come on over to her.

- - -

(Going back to where FP leaves Alice to go call Jughead again)

Alice turned away from the door as FP took a few steps back before turning around to where the transport team was moving around the bed getting it ready to roll. The younger girl turned to look at Alice.

“Did you want to come with her?” She asked Alice and Alice nodded her head not wanting to be away from her daughter.

“Yes I do,” Alice told the orderly and the orderly nodded as Alice walked out of the room and waited for the bed to leave the room. Once they had left she hurried up her pace to where she was walking beside her daughter’s bed as they walked through a series of double doors that needed badge scans and felt her heart jump for joy when she heard the most beautiful voice she had ever heard as they arrived at the testing room.

“Mommy?”

“Oh, Betty!” Alice sighed as she reached down to take her daughter’s hand.

“What happened?” Betty asked in a confused voice blinking as she looked around the room. “Where am I?

“You had a seizure baby,” Alice told her in a soft tone. “You are at the hospital.” She told her and watched as Betty’s eyes widen knowing that her daughter had a fear of hospitals.

“Can we go home?” Betty asked her in a small voice. “I want to go home.”

“We will soon, baby,” Alice told her as she reached down to stroke her cheek. “But first we need to make sure you are okay.”

Betty stared at her for a moment as she became more aware of her surroundings. “Where’s Jughead?” She asked and Alice smiled as she expected to hear those words coming from Betty once she had woken up, and she was not blind to that fact that Jughead Jones was her daughter’s rock in the time of need.

“He will be here soon,” Alice promised and the orderly that had been pushing Betty’s bed walked over to Alice as two technicians surrounded Betty’s bed with warm comforting smiles.

“You will need to follow me while they do the tests,” the orderly told her and Alice only nodded as she followed the girl to a room with windows to where she could still see Betty as they moved her over to the large round machine.

Soon enough the test was finished as soon they were taking the same journey back to Betty’s room in the emergency room and Alice held her hand all the way back.

“I want to see Jughead,” Betty told Alice and Alice nodded to her daughter.

“Okay, Honey,” Alice replied as she let go of Betty’s hand as the hallway had narrowed a bit and soon she was following behind and as the bed was turning the corner two figures caught her attention just as they too looked up and one of them was the person her daughter was repeatedly asking for. Alice wanted to smile as she saw the worried etched on Jughead face and waved her hand at him tell him to follow her no could she ignore the relief washing over Jughead’s face as he made his way over to her.

“Is she okay?” Jughead asked her and Alice bit her lip as she heard the quakiness of Jughead voice and nodded.

“She is going to be fine,” Alice told him and nodded her head. “Go on in and see her. She has been asking for you. The third room on the right.”

Jughead sent her a thankful smile before walking down the hall counting three doors turning when he reached the right one and was met by a glare from the orderly.

“Are you family?” the orderly asked and before he could answer he heard Betty’s soft voice.

“Yes, he is,” Betty told her causing the orderly to turn and look at her suspiciously. “I could get my mother to tell you if you don’t believe me,” Betty added and Jughead bit back a laugh as he watched the orderly’s eyes widen and she shook her head then hurried out of the room with a quick pace. Jughead turned around to see Betty laying back in the bed with her hand covering her mouth as she giggled.

“Your mom really does scare everyone in this town,” Jughead joked as he walked over taking a seat in the chair beside the bed.

“I know,” Betty nodded. “But sometimes it has its advantages.” She giggled as Jughead reached up to take her hand before looking up at her face taking in her soft green eyes as she gazed at him lovingly something he was afraid of never seeing again tonight.

“Jug,” Betty sighed as her smile fell from her face as her tired eye filled up with tears. “I think I am actually going crazy Jug.” She said as using her free hand to wipe away the tears before they fell down her paler than normal cheeks. “I literally saw my mom and Polly throw the babies into the fire.”

“Fire?” Jughead asked as he leaned forward placing his arms on the bed beside her but making sure to lace his fingers through hers because he didn’t want to let her go just yet.

“My mom and Polly were having a bonfire of some sort and they were chanting something,” Betty explained as she looked back down to Jug who was watching her so intently that it caused her heart to pound twice as fast. “The next thing I know they were tossing them into the flames and then they were floating,” Betty said as she recalled what she saw and it even sounded crazy to her. “Yup...I am going crazy” She closed her eyes.

“Hey,” Jughead told softly as he tightened his hold on to her hand. “You are not going crazy, Betts.”

“Are you sure?” Betty asked him with wide eyes. “Because what I am telling you is the sign of someone losing their mind.”

“You probably just hallucinated which was probably brought on by the seizure,” Jughead told her assuringly and brought her hand up to his lips pressing a soft kiss to her skin. “Hallucinations are common right before seizures, so you are not going crazy.”

“You promise?” Betty asked him looking at him with big green eyes and Jughead felt himself smiling as he nodded.

“I promise,” Jughead told her softly and Betty smiled at him before scooting over patting the empty space beside her on the bed and not being able to deny her anything he got up out of the chair taking the spot beside her and she lifted her head up so he could wrap his arm around shoulders as she turned to her side so she could lay her head on his chest and felt her eyes grow heavy as she listens to the beat of his heart like it was her very own lullaby and smiled as she felt him pressed his lips to her forehead. “You scared me tonight,” He whispered into her hair the feel of his breath created waves of comfort that washed over her and down her spine.

“I’m sorry,” Betty murmured as her eyes grew heavier by the second. “I will buy you a week's worth of milkshakes at Pops to make up for it.”

“Hmm, how can I pass up an opportunity like that?” Jughead chuckled and she loved the way it vibrated in his chest and he brought his finger up to her chin lifting it up and she forced her eyes open so she could see those baby blue eyes she loved so much as he leaned down. ‘You promise?” He asked against her lips.

Betty smiled against his lips as she nodded. “I promise,” She whispered as he sealed his lips over hers in a kiss that said everything that needed to be said and to them, it sealed in their love and that was the only thing that mattered to them.

- - -

[hufflepuff-ravenclaw-reviews]

Proven Innocent Season 1 Episode 4

This review contains discussion of abortion and miscarriage/loss of a baby

We begin with some old news footage, of a Muslim woman wearing her hijab, walking into court through a hoard of protesters screaming about abortion. Somebody dumps something red all over her, and the poor woman is made to sit in court, covered in the substance.

In the present, Madeline watches this footage with disgust over how the judge could make the poor woman sit in court like that. The lady's lawyer says that the judge wanted to go out of his way to show how much of a monster that the woman was. He asks that Easy and Madeline take over her case, because he doesn't think that he can continue to do a good job.

Our client du jour is a Muslim woman who was charged both with feticide, but also the murder of her baby. What doesn't help with this is that she had bought “abortion pills” from Mexico, although she insists that she never took them because she'd changed her mind. Her story remains that she went into premature labor, and the baby was delivered as a stillborn. But then she panicked and threw the dead baby away in a construction site dumpster.

As Madeline and Easy drive away from the prison, they fight about the case. Madeline is obviously on the side of their client, as she always is. But it's not exactly black and white for Easy. He's pro-life, and eventually decides that he doesn't want anything to do with this case.

Meanwhile, Bellows talks with the talk-show host. She knows that “Rosemary's Law” to ensure the rights of the victims, and to ensure that literally nobody ever gets out from jail, even if they never committed a crime, is a fat load of bullshit and will literally never EVER pass. However, they kind of gloat over the idea of Madeline taking on the “Muslim babykiller” case. Ugh.

Later, a senator, Isabel, and Bellows watch the talk show lady talking about “Rosemary's Law”. The senator also knows that Bellows is full of shit. However, Isabel quickly says that she'll go to the press and say that the senator won't endorse crime bills! She also says that she'll run against him... and that she'll probably win because she young, female, and Hispanic. Ugh. The entire thing makes my skin crawl.

Even later, Bellows dramatically burns a picture of Rosemary. No, I don't know what that's about. But I just thought that I'd mention it, in case it becomes relevant later.

Madeline and that reporter have sex. He's surprised the next morning to find her asleep on the floor at the foot of the bed, which is something that we've seen her doing from time to time. He also takes a look at her Rosemary's Murder Wall.

In court, Madeline argues that feticide laws were used to protect mothers, not to punish those who wish to harm their own unborn child. The judge doesn't see it that way, which seem fair, I suppose. However, this opens the door for Madeline to get one of the two thrown out, because either the client murdered her fetus, or she murdered her child. It cannot be both, because that's physically impossible. The judge is reluctant, but grants her this.

Later, Madeline explains to Violet about the “lung float test”. It's a test that's used to determine if an infant took a breath outside of the womb or not by dropping it into water. However, as Bodie is quick to point out: it's about as reliable as dunking young women in the lake to see if they'll float or drown to determine if they're a witch or not. He also comes with good news: he has an expert witness who'll testify that the float test is junk science.

Violet and Madeline go meet the man who is... er... an aging hippie. He's literally just a tinfoil hat away from being a crackpot. However, he agrees with their assessment that the float test is a load of garbage, and should never have been used in the first place. However, before he can appear in court, he needs a... make over. Violet gets a super flaming homosexual friend of hers to help give the guy a haircut and shave, and Madeline puts him into a suit.

He testifies in court about how easy it is to get a false positive on the float test. However, the judge thinks that it's just as likely that the test was correct. He also doesn't give the prosecutor any chance to ask questions of her own, because he asked them after Madeline presented her witness. Madeline is steamed about the judge's obvious bias towards her client.

Madeline then goes to visit Rosemary's dad. He's exceptionally pleased to see her, and acts like a proud uncle about all of the work that she's been doing. Madeline then asks about reopening Rosemary's case. He tells her that he hired a PI to try and crack it open, but the guy came up with nothing. However, he feels like it's too painful for him to deal with now. Madeline understands, and leaves.

However, he changes his mind a few days later, and calls Madeline up again. They go to a storage locker where some of Rosemary's things are. While looking through a box, Madeline finds a bottle of adderall “hidden” in a sock. Mr. Lynch is surprised over this, and even more so because the prescribing doctor is Heather's dad, who was treating Mr. Lynch for... something. In short, he's not the kind of doctor who would have prescribed something like adderall to a teenager.

Madeline then goes to find Heather, who denies knowing anything about any of that.

Bodie, meanwhile, goes to pick up his detective girlfriend, who's undercover as a prostitute. After they have sex (off screen; this isn't freaking HBO), they get into a fight because Bodie wants more than just casual sex, and she's... afraid of something.

Easy goes to speak with his pastor about the case. He was in court to support Madeline, even if he was just watching the trial and not asking questions or helping to find evidence. The pastor asks why Easy is so upset by the case, and then argues: even if she did have an abortion, does she really deserve 25 years for it? He then reminds Easy of Jesus's teachings of kindness, compassion, and mercy. Their client deserves all three.

Easy goes back to the office, where he says that they need to figure out what was going through their client's mind at the time. This leads them to find her parents, who weren't at the trial, and they sure haven't visited their daughter in prison. However, they tell Madeline and Easy that they'd stopped talking with their daughter some time before she became pregnant, so they wouldn't know what her state of mind was during her pregnancy.

However, this raises some questions, because during initial interviews with their client, she said that she'd hid her pregnancy because she was ashamed of what her parents might think. This leads them to the conclusion that, not only had she had premarital sex, but it had been with a non-Muslim, white man. They ask their client who he was, but she says that they'd broken up before everything happened. She doesn't want to ruin his life, and doesn't want him to go through this.

Bodie tracks the guy down, where he works at a gun range. He refuses to testify about everything at first, and offers up his fiancee as more evidence that his life is great. However, Bodie says that he'll leak to the press about the “Muslim Babykiller's” dad, so either way, this is getting out.

He goes to testify, where he says that even though his girlfriend bought the abortion pills, she was upset over the entire thing. He flushed them down the toilet. However, much like with the expert witness earlier, the judge asks all of the questions, rather than the prosecutor. He asks if the client couldn't have bought more abortion pills later, which the boyfriend can't say either way. Despite the fact that the only reason why he flushed the first pills down the toilet was only because he had said that he wanted the baby, and that he'd wanted to be with his girlfriend. So at this point, I feel like it's pretty safe to say that it's a wanted baby.

Later, Bodie is in bed with his detective girlfriend, when he brings up the issue of them being in a relationship again via a metaphor for their client and her ex-boyfriend. This leads to how imperfect that the police department can be at times. She's so upset over the entire thing, even though she clearly knows exactly what he does for a living. She storms off in a huff.

However, she later pulls him over, and invites him back to her place. So she'd clearly missed him, and reconsidered having ended their arrangement.

Back in prison, their client says that she didn't want for her ex-boyfriend to testify, because she didn't want to ruin his life. (He said as much on the stand, that his fiancee broke up with him after this came out. Which... she sounds like a piece of shit anyway.) She keeps insisting over and over that all of this is God's way of punishing her. However, Easy then turns the tables on her religious talk. He asks her if God is punishing her... or testing her. He also mentions this phrase: The Lord works in mysterious ways. She responds by saying that they have their own saying: God knowith. This convinces her to keep on fighting.

She takes the stand on her own behalf, but, as you might imagine, the judge made up his mind over what had happened a long time ago. It doesn't do any good. After court recesses for the day, Madeline catches up with the prosecutor. Both of them know that the judge is a piece of shit who shouldn't be on the bench. Madeline asks to cut a deal, but the prosecutor refuses, saying that Madeline will go back to Chicago when this is over, but the lady still has to work with the judge.

Later, Madeline gives closing statements. However, as I keep mentioning, the judge has already made up his mind long before it got to this point. He hates the client on principal, and refuses to listen to facts. The prosecutor stands up and says that she's filing for “improper disposal of a fetus”, which is what Madeline wanted, and wants to let the client off with time served. Madeline then says that she'll push this all the way to the supreme court if she has to. The judge doesn't want to continue this nonsense with Madeline, so he agrees to the plea, and releases the client.

Finally, Madeline goes to prison, where she meets up with her former prison girlfriend. They were together for a long time, clearly, and obviously once madly in love. Or at least, their options were limited because they were in prison. Madeline tells the woman about how she's dating a man, and she really likes him. There's a lot of hand touching, and then they kiss.

[beatriceinmessina]

American Horror Story: Cult Rewatch--Episode IV, “11/9″

SPOILERS for the entire season and William Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.  (Screenshot by me, from Netflix.  And ha, it looks like they’re looking down at my notes.)

The episode flashes back to election night, before the cult starts.

Winter takes a selfie in the voting booth.  Isn’t that illegal and causes your vote to not count?

Ally promises to vote Democrat, but then votes for Jill Stein, which Ivy knows about in the first episode.  When did she tell her?  Did she even tell her, or did Ivy find out on her own?

Kai and Gary jump the voting line.  Gary obviously needs a doctor, but wouldn’t Kai be told to go to the back of the line?  What are the rules of this polling station?

Everyone votes very quickly.  What about the rest of the ballot?  Don’t you have to fill that out too?  

I’m positive that if a man pulled out his bleeding stump of an arm at a polling station, he would be rushed to a hospital to recover, then be psychologically evaluated.  Has Gary been evaluated?  He needs it.

After the intro, the date is 09 November 2016, so Kai seems to begin to form his cult on that day, meaning the previous episodes (with the exception of the first scene) take place after that, likely in the rest of November and December 2016 or January of 2017.

How long has Kai been watching the Wiltons, that he selects Harrison as the first person to recruit for the cult?  They appear to vote before he comes in, so he probably didn’t see them then.  How did he find them?  Was it just because he was a member of the gym, or did he join to find Harrison?  How much control does he have at this point?  It’s only one day after the election!

Kai knows enough about Harrison to know he’s gay even though Harrison’s just met him.  Again, how long has been be watching them?  How has he been watching them?  Does he have cameras everywhere or something?

Kai says he works in technology, specifically coding.  He could probably hack into a camera in someone’s house and watch them.  On the other hand, he could be lying.  I’m not entirely sure he even has a job prior to deciding to run for city council.  He also says that he tested at a genius IQ level at age ten, which could be possible--he is very intelligent and good at getting in people’s heads, but again, that could be lying.  There some things he says that I know aren’t true, and some things he says that I’m not sure about.

Kai tells Harrison that while he likes women, he will fight and kill for anyone, man or woman, if they’re part of his team.  He adds that “and if they wake up in the morning with a hard-on that won’t quit, I will find a way to make sure they know how much I love them.”  This is the start of indoctrination: letting Harrison know that he’s okay having sex with men, opening up the possibility of them sleeping together, if Harrison is with him in his endeavors.  He’s using his sexuality to draw Harrison in.

Harrison says that sometimes people masturbate in the steam room--are people allowed to masturbate in a gym steam room?  What if someone else is in there?  Doesn’t that count as sexual harassment, then?  Or indecent public exposure?

When did Kai have the time to sneak into the steam room and draw the smiley face without Harrison noticing?  He went right there from the end of their session.

About the shower masturbation bit: How is Kai so sure that Harrison is going to walk in on him doing that?  What if someone else came in?  Why wouldn’t he close the door just in case and then open it when he saw that it was Harrison coming in?  Why does Harrison just watch him?  Does this count as indecent exposure in a public place?  (He’s probably doing it on purpose to let Harrison get an eyeful, though… Kai likes to use sex to get people interested, which is interesting in of itself.  He is later established as a complete misogynist, and yet he uses a traditionally feminine means of villainy--sexuality.  What is this archetype of the person who uses their sexuality as a weapon often called?  The femme fatale--which is French for “fatal woman.”  The femininity is right in the name.  Why would a man who so disdains women employ a tactic that he likely associates with them, and therefore would disdain as well?  I won’t deny I like seeing the trope gender-flipped, though.  It’s cool, and fun to think about.)

The “Macbeth scene” (my name):

It’s been at least twelve or thirteen days since the election, since this apparently Kai and Harrison’s last session out of twelve.  

Kai has somehow managed to get into Harrison’s head well enough that the bullshit he spouts about being a mirror and quoting Nietzsche makes sense to the latter and he doesn’t ask questions.  Then again, Harrison is very vulnerable here--he’s about to be homeless, and he’s feeling down on himself.  It’s classic cult leader logic--get them when they’re feeling lost, and reassure them to make them think that you have all the answers.

“Harrison, I’m just a mirror.  Anything you see in me is in you.”  (Kai).  These words are almost lifted directly from a 1970 Rolling Stone interview with Charles Manson, a man who (in my opinion) Kai might as well be.  They’re so similar that the season is kind of just that history repeating itself.  Perhaps this is the writers trying to seed the Manson material that wil happen later.  (An additional note: I discovered this completely by accident about a week after watching the episode while reading this article.  It even mentions this season!)

The actual Macbeth part begins with Harrison cleaning up in the steam room and Kai walking in.  Harrison, like Macbeth, is in a place of uncertainty; Kai, his Lady Macbeth, urges him to take power and control of his life, which in both cases means murder.   There’s also a bit of a gender thing going on--Lady Macbeth insults Macbeth’s masculinity to encourage him, and Harrison probably is feeling a bit emasculated right now, being made to clean up other men’s semen, which leaves him vulnerable to Kai’s manipulations. Harrison, however, is more willing than Macbeth--he doesn’t ponder killing as Macbeth does, he simply does it. On the other hand, his reaction to murdering Vinny is almost identical to Macbeth’s to murdering Duncan--freaking out.  Kai is the opposite: calm and covering up the murder, just as Lady Macbeth does.  

Kai is able to hack into Vinny’s phone to send a text from it as well as erase three weeks of security footage seemingly due to a computer virus.  Perhaps he’s not lying about working in tech.  Either that or he’s a really good hacker.

He also confirms that he’s been watching Harrison and everyone around for a long time.  How?  In person?  Through cameras?  What kind of operation is he running?

More classic cult leader logic: Kai tells Harrison that they’re going to destroy everything to create a better world.  He smartly doesn’t specify what that world is, but promises a better one to someone who’s having a hard time, which is part of seeming like he can provide all the answers.

Kai apparently knows enough about the human body to instruct Harrison how to cut off a head.  Has he done this before?  As a matter of fact, did he ever kill anyone before he started the cult?

Cut to December of 2016, when Beverly is reporting on Vinny’s murder.  I’m guessing that his body wasn’t found for about a month or a little more than a month.

Beverly’s not a part of the cult during this report, since it’s this that draws Kai to talk to her and recruit her.

Kai takes Adderall, which is prescribed at one pill a day, but he’s also popping more than one at a time.  Also, I just want to point out that he looks like a modern-day, ratty Daario Naharis in this scene.  

Beverly understandably cracks after being harassed during work, but still checks herself into a rehab facility, which doesn’t really seem like her, since she’s very headstrong.  Was she made to by her boss?

Once again, Kai practically appears behind someone, this time Beverly.  Honestly, does the man wear some kind of noise-cancelling shoes?

Beverly takes up Kai’s offer for coffee even though she has no idea who he is.  Why would she do that?  Why would anyone do that?  He could be dangerous!  He is dangerous!  The fact that she took him up on the offer and didn’t walk away is honestly a stroke of luck for him.

Kai almost acts as a more chaotic version of James March here, asking Beverly how it felt to do something bad (as March often does with John), and encouraging her to kill people.  He tells her that fear gets stronger and scarier as it spreads (which is pretty obvious) and essentially asks her to be his minister of propaganda.  An earlier scene has shown that Beverly is worried about her job, as Serena seems to be rising in the ranks of the news station.  Kai is preying on that here; giving her an opportunity to become valuable when she feels like she isn’t.  

“If you get the world scared enough, they will set the world on fire for us.”  (Kai).  So he wants people to be so scared that they’ll do anything for him.  Does that mean he’s going to make people scared of him, or of the world at large so that they’ll cling to him?  Maybe both.

The backstory Kai gives Beverly (Iraq, Yale, etc.) is such blatant lying that I’m not entirely sure she believes him either, given the indulgent smile she gives him after.  Did he really think she going to believe him, or is he using the lie to paint himself as stupider than she thinks he is, so she’ll underestimate him and he’ll be able to control her later?

Beverly tells Kai that there aren’t any open seats on city council, so this is before the Changs are murdered, meaning that they were probably murdered in mid-December of 2016.

“I need you, Beverly.”  (Kai).  The vocabulary is specific.  Beverly isn’t feeling especially needed at her job at the moment, given the assignments she’s been getting (such as the landfill), but Kai is there to fill that hole.  Like with Harrison, he takes advantage of a person at a moment of low self-esteem and unhappiness.  Once again, pretty classic cult recruitment.

Only Harrison, Meadow, and Kai show up to kill Serena and her cameraman.  Are Samuels and Gary not part of the cult yet, or could they simply not make it?

As the clowns walk away, Kai appears to be holding Serena’s heart in his hand.  Holy shit.  That’s all I can say.  Jesus freaking Christ.  That’s… that’s another level of depraved.

Two people are dead, but at least the puppy is alive.  The puppy lives, and that makes me happy.  Also, I want to pet it.

Meadow is clinging to Kai’s every word in the next scene.  I’m guessing she’s already in love with him, and he probably knows it, given that he’s going to use her love for him to his advantage in two episodes.  (Just a note on the way Kai talks here--he’s very slow and deliberate, building up anticipation for his reaction to the masks.  He knows he’s got them (or Meadow at least, Harrison doesn’t look too interested) completely in his thrall.)

Kai tells Beverly that he will do anything for her, a probable callback to him telling Harrison something similar earlier in the episode (see above).  So he wasn’t lying about that--he’ll do anything for anyone in his circle, or if he thinks it’ll get them in his circle.  And it’s part of indoctrination--he’s making Beverly feel like he cares about her, like he’s one of the only people who cares about her, so she’ll come to rely on him.

Beverly is next seen reporting on the finding of Vinny’s severed head, which was reportedly alerted to the police by anonymous tip.  Did one of the cult members call it in, to work more fear-mongering?  

Flash back to 07 November 2016, the day before the election.  Ivy first meets Winter when the latter defends the former after Gary sexually assaults her.  I’m guessing that Ivy met Kai through Winter, likely after confiding her frustrations in her about Ally voting for Jill Stein.  An important question: is the cult tormenting Ally only because Ivy is angry and wants to hurt her, or does Kai have some vested interest in Ally?  (I’ve seen the interpretation that he’s in love with her, which is interesting to think about.)

Kai must have some kind of ability to move without sound, because he opens the door to Winter’s room and walks in without her noticing.  How stealthy can he be?  I’d swear he was a ghost if this season wasn’t the only one without supernatural elements or magic.

He also seems to notice the blood on Winter’s finger even though she’s standing far from him in a dimly, red-lit room.  Again, does he actually have some kind of power?

Kai honestly looks rather aroused when Winter tells him that hurting Gary “felt fucking fantastic” and orders her to tell him everything.  It’s like if James March and Viserys Targaryen had a son.  An extremely disturbing son.

Given that Kai frees Gary from the basement, Winter must have told him everything, but why, when it’s not in her interests at all?  My guess: she’s afraid of what he’ll do to her if she doesn’t.  Even though the cult isn’t a thing yet, he still exerts some power over her, especially since she likely knows of his violent tendencies and inappropriate attraction to her.  (I am using the words “likely” and “probably” a lot in these notes.  I’m sorry; it’s simply that not everything is confirmed and I must hazard guesses based on dialogue and body language.)

When Kai goes down to find Gary, there’s a shot where the background is completely black, and he’s the only thing in the shot that’s lit.  No comment here.  I just think it looks really cool.

“Humiliation” and its varieties is a word Kai uses with almost all of his followers recruited so far: Harrison, Beverly, Meadow, and now Gary.  He even uses it to refer to himself in the first episode.  Humiliation is key here; Kai takes people that feel humiliated and works with it, because people hate feeling humiliated (in my experience), and he’s promising them that he can take away that feeling, and maybe even help them punish those who humiliated them.  He’s using it to get them to do insane things that they would otherwise never do (i.e., Gary cutting off his own hand).  Throughout this whole episode, he’s been doing that, and I won’t say that it’s not clever, since it’s working very well.

I don’t like Gary at all, but I do feel sorry for him.  No one deserves an insane man manipulating them into cutting off their own hand.  Not even to vote.

Kai looks unnerved by Gary cutting off his own hand.  This man cut out a woman’s heart without flinching, and this freaks him out?  What the hell are his standards for gore?  Not self-inflicted?