#You probably all know Will Graham. And I have rambled long enough. But he's the origin of one of my names.

[transmasc-rose]

RULES: make a poll with 5 of your all-time favorite characters and then tag 5 people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite! (tagged by @seaweedstarshine)

Tagging (don't worry if you don't want to/have done it already!): @transgenderdoctorwhomst @27-27-gruff-triplets @quietwingsinthesky @lost-tardis-room @a-shard-of-quartz-lol

[ovaryacted]

Hey there! I saw that you mentioned writing an analysis on Leon's character, and truthfully i'd personally be really down to read what you have to say about him. There's barely any to go around unfortunately so it's very fun to read what other's take from the games.

Also, the most interesting arc of Leon so far to me has been from 4 remake, would you ever consider doing an analysis on him from that period and how he went through a drastically better development rather than that of OG? (ofc it's just my opinion since i prefer 4 remake version much much more!) either way, would love to see what you got!

Hey anon! I know you sent me this a while ago, and I want to give you a proper answer to this analysis so I will try my best to give you something well thought out because I really loved the direction they took to characterize Leon differently in RE4R. I also apologize if this was long, I tend to ramble lol.

So, we all know that the original RE4 is a cult classic in the horror gaming genre, and rightfully so. Here we see Leon Kennedy as the badass he is, he is capable, witty, and nonetheless different than the rookie we were first introduced to. However, considering the period the game was released in and the intentional perception of Leon Kennedy at that time, Capcom went the route of pleasing the "gaming bro" community to make Leon into something he isn't.

Sure, he's one hell of an agent, he knows what he's doing and quite frankly is probably the only person who is capable of saving Ashley Graham. But in the OG RE4, Capcom does not focus on the trauma that he's carried since RE2, which I also don't blame them for doing. The OG RE4 was released in 2005, of course, they were going to focus on making Leon Kennedy super macho and strong and just overall cool because that is what sells. Not to mention the objectification of Ashley Graham also matches up to the period as well, and that's already a whole other problem with gaming as a whole that is not just reserved to Capcom entirely.

Regardless of that, OG RE4 is still considered one of the best games in the genre. It's timeless, it's fun, and it makes other people appreciate Leon in another light because he is now "cool" enough as an agent that the rest of his experiences don't matter as much.

Now moving on to the RE4 Remake released in 2023, the direction they took in characterizing Leon is more on par with what they've been doing with his character since RE6. One of the biggest gripes I have with Capcom in particular is their lack of character depth when it comes to elaborating on the traumas that each character possesses. They are so busy trying to make these characters killing machines that they leave huge gaps in showcasing their humanity, hence why a lot of the lore involving these characters' pasts is left for consumers to interpret.

In RE6 which came out in 2012, Leon Kennedy often compares the mission in China and what happened at Tall Oaks to Raccoon City, saying how it reminds him of that day before he found himself in this mess fighting bioweapons. The detail might be minuscule, but it gives people the assumption that Raccoon City was in fact traumatizing and left a huge imprint on Leon's character, altering him for the rest of his life. You also see Leon wanting to save as many people as he can with Helena reminding him that they don't have the time or ability to do so. His survivor's guilt and humanity are now considered as parts of his character for probably the first time on screen.

Until then, we didn't really know anything else regarding Leon's experiences until the RE2 Remake came out in 2019, and here the way they characterized Leon changed dramatically. He really is just a guy who came to the wrong place at the wrong time, experiencing horrors unimaginable and miraculously survives with two other people he met less than 24 hours ago. Yeah, I'm sure if you drove into a city and experienced your own personal apocalypse, that is sure to change who you are as a person. Now, the RE2 Remake I think was the first remake that used the new RE Engine seen in RE7 & RE8, and from a gaming perspective, Capcom is now adding the horror aspect back into the RE franchise that was certainly missing.

We don't know what happens to Leon, Claire, and Sherry after the RE2 Remake game ends because they're seen walking into the sunset hand in hand, but the idea is that Claire goes off to look for Chris and leaves Leon and Sherry behind where they are eventually apprehended by the U.S. government. I think it's in Darkside Chronicles where Leon is seen being interrogated by the government and he's blackmailed into military service as a means to protect Sherry because she's infected with the G-Virus.

After that, we know that there are other missions that Leon went on in between that time; Operation Javier being the most prominent one since that happens before RE4 and it's where he's working alongside Krauser. There are of course other animations and movies that are made to show Leon at different points in his life, but we don't know much about Leon and what he's been doing in the new canon timeline until he is re-introduced to us in the RE4 Remake.

At the very start of the game, we get an opening monologue from Leon directly where he mentions that Raccoon City was a day he will never forget, the cop inside him died that day, and shares his frustrations with the government because they left people to die before literally nuking an entire city off the map and not saying anything about it. He also mentions that he was "asked" to join the military and help in this new initiative to destroy BOWs and states that he didn't have much of a choice. Just his training alone was gruesome even if we don't necessarily know what it involved, but it kept his mind off of the trauma and the pain he experienced constantly.

The words that Leon is saying plus the way the camera pans out to show Leon's face for the first time since we've last seen him in a canon game reflects just how much he's been through in that 6/7 year timespan. The details on his facial features are enough to show that he's been through the gutter: he's lost the baby fat in his cheeks (which happens with aging anyway but still), his dark circles are prominent along with his scowl, and he already has wrinkles on his forehead which probably came from stress.

It is very obvious that this is not the same Leon Kennedy that we saw in RE2R and that is done very intentionally. He's an agent now, he has experience under his belt, and just like the OG RE4, he is still badass and capable enough to do this job. The big difference in how Leon is characterized in the remake is his humility is now added as an aspect of who he is.

Despite all of the trauma that Leon has gone through and continues to experience, he still has his humanity attached which is one of the biggest things that make me love his character in particular. He cares, and that's what makes everything hurt for him. In that scene where he finds Ashley in the castle and consoles her, he's telling her the words he wishes someone had told him, reassures her that she is strong and will get through this, and even adds a small smile at the end. Leon isn't this heartless person and his trauma hasn't wiped out any remaining empathy he has left, which the remake captures well.

You also see Leon acting like this when he's next to Luis after Krauser kills him and is still remorseful towards him until death despite knowing that he used to work for Umbrella. And then again after he kills Krauser, someone who trained with him closely and who he thought was dead, he is emotional after using his superior's knife to end his misery despite it being a subtle detail. As you continue to play the game, there these moments in the gameplay where you get bits and pieces of Leon and the kind of person he is, which weren't really there in the original game.

The remake also didn't just highlight Leon's humanity but also changed how the other characters are perceived and added new elements that we could appreciate as consumers. Personally, RE4R is such a phenomenal game because of the changes they made to showcase Leon as a human being who is trapped in the worst possible circumstances one could think of, and it makes me hope that they'll elaborate on his trauma in a RE6 Remake or in other CGI movies.

I also hope that Capcom continues to give their beloved characters more of a spotlight that reflects who they are as people instead of their capacity to be badass agents, but one can only hope, right? I wonder what direction they'll go for the RE5 Remake and how they will change Chris, Sheva, Wesker, and Jill but everything is under speculation so we really won't know until that game drops.

[goodnightmina]

the most self indulgent fic idea of the day

Deus Ex: Human Revolution recast with RE4R characters

sigh

here's the thing. I love a man who feels dehumanized. the classic fucking cliche of ohh he has to be a hero but he has so many tortured, angsty feelings! we know. I'm exhausted by how boring I am as well. but, I am who I am.

long ass ramble below, there are a ton of parallels that make this surprisingly writable imo:

Leon -- especially "I was 'asked' to join a top-secret government program. Not that I had a choice"-ass RE4R Leon-- really leans into that. when the devs needs to write someone who's conflicted about the whole thing, they love to call that floppy haired emo bitch to the stand.

Why not go all the way with it? Leon's conscripted in canon. He slots right in for the Adam "I never asked for this" Jensen role. Take the metaphor to the fullest extent by literally making him a weapon-- yoink those arms right off and replace em with cybernetic blade arms that are too strong for gentle, intimate physical touch.

I think the plot would have to be blended-- for it to be properly self-indulgent, you know I need that eagleone in there. Ashley doesn't fit a super great role of any existing DXHR characters. Maybe Megan, as Adam's literal (ex) girlfriend but then I don't get my romantic fluff. Even though that is probably a more nuanced, less cliched romance than Leon and Ashley's knight and princess trope. (I love a cliched loyal, stoic bodyguard and charge who loves their big scary dog moment though. So.....call me cliched.)

I like Ashley Sarif (she'd go by her mother's maiden name, Graham, in the fic. Most likely, anyway.) as the President (of the Company)'s daughter-- still get that conflicted I want to...but I shouldn't...unless? angst between them that way. (but then that begs the question of how she gets involved in the plot. all the kidnapping in DXHR happens off screen, and then there's no eagleone developing)

Alternatively, Ashley is Malik, but then she gets less screen time and adventuring together for the relationship, and it's really more of a coworkers who spend so much time traveling together that something blossoms.

Luis I want to fill the Pritchard role. Less catty, but the homoerotic subtext remains alive. (As would he, if he stayed on the phone!) I think really, Hunnigan should fill this role as the mission coordinator/voice in ear. She really fits better. But then instead of sardonic banter, we mostly get Ingrid being professional, and that's less fun.

If Luis doesn't get a call back from the Pritchard audition, the natural role for him is Malik, in terms of plot position I'd like (bantering with Leon-Adam, kinda teasing him, but they're friends. who also have some sexual tension according to me and three other fanfic writers) or in terms of who he actually is as a character, Luis as Megan makes a lot of sense. Guilty scientist with questionable past...

Ada is also a great fit for Megan-- she has some affection for Leon-Adam, but was also more than willing to exploit him, morally gray, ex GF. working for the bad guys, or is she? Alternatively, Ada as Eliza makes sense- she works for the bad guys, but she wants to help Leon despite it. doesn't give Ada enough intrigue or agency to really stretch her legs as a character though.

krauser: namir. meant as a dark foil to the lead. "Men like us, we never get back the things we love." - there's an acknowledgement of kinship, that, while very different from Krauser's, is a parallel between the two. I think it fits.

mendez - Barrett. brute force miniboss. character doesn't really fit iirc, but ,,, so it goes.

which makes Salazar fedorova: honestly, I didn't think it'd fit at first, given her propensity for illusion and stealth, but she does also jump around like a bug. they fit in terms of gameplay mechanic and hardly at all as characters. she never talks, he won't shut the fuck up

saddler is probably Zhao (the fucking byzantine nature of deus ex lore means there's probably at least three other roles he could fill in this game). the whole biochip control thing is a good parallel for the plaga. he's more of a true believer and victim to the forces he's trying to control, but if we're dumbing down the DXHR plot and it's intricacies to make it fit the RE4R mashup better, maybe there's less machiavellian scheming

the plot would probably be somewhere in between the sweeping conspiracy that DX lends itself to and RE4's more classic knight saves princess tale, were I to write it out. Not that Resident Evil as a lore base doesn't lend itself to labyrinthine conspiracy (Umbrella - Gov't ties, Tricell/Wilson from ID, whatever was happening in Degeneration, whatever Ada's always up to, and so on) but I as a person and writer don't have the patience to plot and scheme it all out myself. so it'd probably be a simplified version of the DXHR plot with more focus on self indulgent eagleone

shit. am I going to write this though?

sigh

that's eighty one drafts in progress...but yes. i will probably write this to about 20k words and give up.

[avatarvyakara]

Answering @kazoosandfannypacks (so sorry about that, I had asks turned off and didn’t realize it until you mentioned it):

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind

Ooh, that’s a tricky one. Let me see...probably Carmen Sandiego with Graham Calloway/Crackle from the modern rendition of the show. Still not 100% keen on it (largely for its treatment of Devereaux more than anything), but I’ve always been a sucker for best-friends-to-slightly-more-than and these two have some surprisingly soft moments together. Took reading a couple of stories to really notice what went on in the show...

(Nope, haven’t written for these guys yet. Worth a go?)

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

Nobody knows how old Shorty is. Even Zhan Tiri.

(In other news, did you know Old Lady Crowley and Uncle Monty have been in a long-distance relationship for sixty years or so? Or that Friedborg does parkour? Cassandra has a Wardrobe for her weapons and a Peacedrobe for her clothes? I actually have a fair few of these, come to think of it...)

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

So far I’ve found it genuinely difficult to get behind a backstory for Hookfoot or even Hookhand. But the fact that Hookfoot was willing to enter a relationship and admit that he didn’t know what he was doing but had enough faith in his crush to ask to try again and made an effort to get it right this time...that’s worthy of kudos right there, sir. And then going back to help your friends despite getting it right? Hook of steel but a heart of gold, that one.

U - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

In no particular order:

Season 1 Cassandra and Season 3 Varian from Tangled: the Series (plus Owl. Can’t forget Owl. And the Captain. Ooh, and the Strikers, I really liked the Strikers, the parallel progression with the adults’ issues while making sense of their own lives? Masterful)

The Tenth Doctor from Doctor Who, with Donna Noble hot on his heels (that lady is amazing)

Literally any and all Spiders from Into the Spider-Verse (possibly with the exception of Miguel but only because he didn’t get enough air-time for me to make a proper decision)—but of those probably Peni Parker and Noir (the A-Team of Miles, Peter B, and Gwen next, Blond Peter next, Ham last—sorry, Porker)

Johnathan ben Mordecai from The Roman Mysteries

...there are a lot to choose from in the Discworld series, so I’ll just say that Death, Granny Weatherwax, Vimes, Tiffany Aching, Lu-Tze, Ronnie Soak, Nanny Ogg, Lord Vetinari, Brutha, Om, Lady Sybil, the Abbot, Cheery Littlebottom, Detritus, Leonard of Quirm, Rincewind, and Pretty Butterfly all are jostling for a position here.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go (prompts optional but)

Look, I’ll be honest, I don’t much like movie-made Next Generation stuff. I don’t like a lot of the fandom stuff either, to be fair, but with the fandom stuff? People actually are allowed to care about the characters from the original. They don’t have to reset them into bland and frankly rather boring stereotypes of “people who made mistakes” (barring the favourites, of course), they take the time and effort to create new life and new people from characters they already love and appreciate. That’s worth a heck of a lot, to my mind. And when the children get a proper life of their own, adventures of their own on a smaller or grander scale? That gets even better, because now even if you’ve got good characters in the form of parents to compare it to you can still root for the kids and feel their trials and tribulations. When your parents have had all these adventures, when they’ve made the mistakes and pulled through, it’s hard not to feel second-best. But you’re not. You’re the next best. And fandom authors? So often—certainly more often than most sequel-writers, who usually insist on the newbies being the actual best—they get that. So one more kudos for all those who make new-generation stories that put kid and adult on equal footing instead of ignoring one or squashing the other.

(It did say ramble...)

[scabopolis]

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Hope that I do this properly 🙃

I would adore a XO between Veronica Mars (LoVe) & Once Upon a Time (C/S).

PROMPT: "I’m really competitive and drunk and I just told a rival that my relationship is way better than theirs, but they don’t believe you exist (but I’m too stubborn to admit they’re right)" OR really anything you'd like. Honestly, I'm dying to see Logan and Killian interact/co-swagger.

And / or another installment of "Come Rain or Come Shine" from In Lovers Meeting because I love it with my whole ❤️.

Thank you so much for doing this. You made my day,

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Oh @jjmazzy​ you bring my heart so much joy! I didn’t feel quite up to the task to do a crossover between OUaT and Veronica Mars so I went straight for a OUaT AU. I hope that’s okay? 

This is just a silly little thing that I am realizing only fulfills about 40% of the prompt, but I think it’s cute??

ANYWAY! Enough hemming and hawing xx *** Title: Of Expats and Onion Rings Rating: PG Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan (mentions of Robin/Marian and a smattering of other characters) Additional Tags: Two out of three of my OUaT fics feature Killian as a bartender, silliness and only half a prompt, probably way more fluff than is medically recommended Word Count: 1,500

Every Friday night, Emma Swan sits on the same barstool at the same bar in the same restaurant. This Friday night has her staring into space as she lets the sounds from the kitchen and the bar swirl around her. It’s busier than usual, with almost all the booths and tables filled and the bar area half-occupied. In fact, when she first walked into the bar, she worried there wouldn’t be a seat for her. But the bartender caught her eye and waved her over, a menu and a glass of water waiting for her in her usual seat at the end of the bar. 

Said bartender slides her an Old Fashioned, extra maraschino cherries on the toothpick per usual. 

She takes a small sip of the drink. “Why is it so busy?” 

Killian’s eyes roam about the room and then come back to rest on her. ���Some magazine labeled us the best kept secret in Portland, Maine.” 

“And in doing so—”

“Assured that we would never be a secret again. Yes.” 

“The pitfalls of fame.” 

“Burger or chicken sandwich?” 

“Burger. Any chance—?”

“Aye, probably a very good chance, but only because Graham is sweet on you.” 

Emma feels her cheeks redden. “He’s not sweet on me.” 

“Sure he isn’t.” 

She watches Killian step away from the bar and into the kitchen to talk to Graham. How Graham can manage to listen to anything given the noise of the dining room and the kitchen she’ll never know. Graham and Killian both look over at her. Graham rolls his eyes but nods, and Emma raises her glass in thanks. 

“Okay,” she says to Killian when he’s back at the bar. “He might be a little sweet on me.” She takes a long sip of her cocktail. 

Killian’s brow is knit with concentration. “Long day?” 

She nods. “I had a run in with Zelena.” 

“Ah. The wicked witch of the northeast. What’d she do this time?” The ticket printer next to Killian’s till spits out a long drink order, but he listens even as he mixes drink and pours glasses of wine. 

“She got engaged over the weekend and hasn’t shut up about it. And today, she took great pains to ask me, in front of everyone in the faculty lounge, if I’d be okay if she didn’t give me a plus one.” 

“Bit rude, isn’t it?” 

“Right? But then she kept going on and on asking how long it’d been since I dated someone, and did I know that after 35, forty-five percent of women’s eggs are considered genetically abnormal and her fiancé is a very wealthy furniture manufacturer and she’s certain he has some less attractive less wealthy friends he could introduce me to and on and on and on.” 

“Does she truly want you at her wedding?” 

“Oh, yes. She said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She runs her finger along the condensation of her glass. “Which is when I did something very very very stupid.” 

“Smacked her?” 

Emma snorts. “I wish. No I—” Her explanation is interrupted by the arrival of her burger and the plate of special order onion rings. Onion rings which are technically available only as an add-on to the steak sandwich but that Emma has a 80% success rate of cajoling the kitchen to make her a plate of. 

She eats her meal with one eye turned to Killian, waiting for a long enough lull in the drink tickets to finish her story. She’s almost finished her burger when Killian slides another Old Fashioned in front of her.

“What was this very stupid thing you did?” he asks, leaning towards her. 

“I told her I was dating someone.” 

Killian remains where he is but she notices the clench of his jaw. “Ah,” he says. “I was unaware.” He seems to hear his own words as he says them because he cringes. “Not that there’s a reason you would tell me. I mean, we’re friends, but friends in that way that I get you drinks and —”

Emma rests a hand on Kilian’s to stop the rambling. “I’m not. Dating anyone, that is.” 

“Then why—?”

“It just popped out. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or Zelena.” 

“So, this fake boyfriend of yours. Just who is he?” 

“Well, okay, so this makes sense when you remember it’s Friday, and I knew I’d be coming here.”

“Right,” he says, equal parts cautious and curious.

“I told her my boyfriend was British.” 

Killian shakes his head. 

ExPats has been her weekly haunt for close to a year now and while not everyone who works there is a British expatriate, with Killian as bar manager, Robin as front of house manager, Graham as chef de cuisine, and Phillip as pastry chef, it kind of feels that way.

“And that he had blue eyes,” she continues. 

“Ah, I see,” he says, teasing her. “Are you telling me you’re sweet on Graham too?” 

“Not Graham.” 

“In that case, Marian is likely going to have a big problem with you trying to date her husband.”

“And, uh,” she clears her throat, “I told Zelena he has dark hair.” 

Killian wings an eyebrow. “How dark?” 

“Uh, right about your color probably.” 

“My color?” 

“Probably. I said probably.” 

“Interesting.” Emma takes a sip of her drink. There’s a delicious, hazy feeling brought on from the second cocktail washing through her veins. “So, you and I are dating?” he asks. 

“Stupid. It was so stupid.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for months now. This might be just the little push I need.” 

“What?”

“What?”

“What did you just say?” 

“What now?” he asks in return, the picture of innocence. 

“You’ve been trying to ask me out?” 

“Not as such, no.” 

“Oh.” She sinks back in her seat, disappointed.

“I didn’t want to risk you running scared and not being here every Friday night.” 

Emma perks right back up again. “Oh?” 

“You already said that, love.” 

Emma looked down at her plate, the remnants of the crispy bits from her onion rings on her plate. Something occurs to her then. “Graham doesn’t give these to me because I want them. Does he?” 

“Excuse me?” 

If she’s not mistaken the tips of his ears have gone a little red. She loves his little elf ears. “He makes these for me because you ask him. Don’t you?” 

“I might have told him they bring you an inordinate amount of joy.” He scratches idly at a spot on his arm. “And that it brings me an inordinate amount of joy to see how happy they make you.” 

“Did you know my weekly ExPats date used to be on Wednesdays?” 

She can see him try to mentally adjust to the change of direction in the conversation. “Really?” 

“I only came in a few times, but then one week, I had parent/teacher conferences so I came on Friday. And there you were.” Emma shrugs. “Your Old Fashioned is better than Will’s.” She bites off one of the maraschino cherries from the toothpick. “Your smile is better, too.” 

“Emma, darling, are you flirting with me?” 

“What? Suddenly it’s a crime to flirt with my boyfriend?” 

Killian laughs and it makes her heart hum. She likes the clean line of his throat as he tilts his head back. “Your boyfriend? I don’t suppose you’d want to go out on a date with, then?”

“I’m free on Wednesday.” 

“Funny that,” he says. “That happens to be my day off.” 

“Is it?” 

Emma would be content to sit at this bar all night and let Killian smile at her and make her drinks. It seems like Killian is having similar thoughts, until something seemingly flies out of nowhere to hit him in the back of the head. 

Killian reels around to find Robin standing there, arms folded across his chest. 

“What’d you throw at me, you git?” Killian asks. 

“A dinner roll.” Robin gestures at the drink ticket printer. A ticket printer which has at least 10-tickets waiting to be fulfilled. “Pardon, Emma. Mind if he stops flirting with you long enough to fulfill the drink orders?” 

“You’re fired,” Killian says. 

“For the last time, mate, you can’t fire me. My name is on the lease right next to yours.” 

“Murder it is, then.” 

“Make the nice customers their cocktails and then you can murder me.” 

Robin walks away, and Emma notices it’s not just her at the bar who finds herself charmed by the whole display between the two men. She thinks she might see a small group of women sneakily taking a cell phone video, giggling as they watch it through.

“Emma, I’m sorry, but I—”

She waves him off. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, and when she nods, he beams. “Good, because if we’re in a committed relationship I’m probably going to need your phone number.” 

“Pour the drinks, you goon.”

[isagrimorie]

So many men on twitter are saying how terrible it was Thirteen didn’t comfort Graham.

And while I like to joke how Thirteen was like Rosa Diaz with one leg out of the window Thirteen actually wasn’t doing that.

Because unlike Rosa at that moment, she wasn’t pulling away emotionally, Thirteen was listening intently to Graham. Her face is open and listening. 

She’s even leaning forward, trying to understand what Graham was saying to her, if there was any request in his words. 

But then he stops talking and looks at her expectantly. 

She looks back at him expectantly, because she was waiting for him to continue with a request. 

She even raises her eyebrows, as if to say: “Go on...” 

He returns it with his own raised eyebrow, “No, it’s your turn.”

And then that’s when it clicks for Thirteen. Oh. Oh! Oh, crap. He wants me to say something and not do something. What do I do? What do I do??? 

Doctor... buffering...

And this is when Thirteen admits she doesn’t know what to say. 

Graham looks doubly amused at the Doctor after this. He got his fears off his chest and she listened but at that time she had no words to contribute and brilliantly, Graham got that at that particular moment it’s all she could give. 

It just seems like just wanted this off his chest.  

Put me in that situation, it’s more than I could manage to be honest. I’d probably try to give commiserating sounds and scrabble to think for something to say with less grace. 

Also, the tweets have the general air of-- The Doctor should be nurturing and emotionally mature because she’s a woman now, and she should have hugged Graham, to comfort him. 

Despite how she looks like Thirteen is not a hugging person, and she’s able to get away not hugging because she’s able to look boisterous and open, and funny when a large part of that is protective coloring. She’s a friendly person and she will drag you to adventures and then it’s only after you realized the best affectionate thing she’s ever given you was a brief pat on your shoulders. 

(TBH I think Graham himself might be weirded out if the Doctor was physically affectionate with him at that moment). 

Also, and I can’t reiterate it enough and I’m glad Graham understands, better than the men of Twitter -- it is not the job of women to comfort and be emotionally wise, and as another guy mentioned on twitter: The Doctor’s been through a lot herself. She doesn’t have the emotional capacity at the moment to deal. She could barely handle her own issues, Thirteen doesn’t have the spoons at that juncture but she wasn’t brushing Graham off either. 

It’s a Doctor MO when they can’t deal with an awkward thing they either don’t comment on it or ignore it and while Thirteen had no words she didn’t dismiss him. She didn’t check out during the whole talk. 

Other regenerations would have. Admittedly to there are other regenerations that would fare better. Also, I have a feeling when Thirteen does find the words, she will say it to Graham.  

But if you ask me Thirteen needed the cue cards Clara made for Twelve, because those cue cards helped Twelve.  He got really better with emotions but before he got to that point Human emotions baffled Twelve. 

As an example, Under the Lake episode when Twelve and Clara stumble into an underwater base and found what seemed like ghosts and instead of reacting the way people expected. Twelve was positively giddy.

Dude was confused when people got angry at him for celebrating Ghosts! 

Doctor... buffering....

So, yeah... the Doctor not being the most emotionally mature person in the room is in character, just because the Doctor is a woman and looks like a nice girl doesn’t mean she instantly contains all the kindness and wisdom of the ages. 

Twelve had to build up to who he becomes in series 10. He wasn’t instantly emotionally aware. It took a long time for him to get there, and it was a lot of effort, around almost a hundred years give or take (including the time with River).  

I fully believe Thirteen will get there too. 

Oh, also, Sophie Aldred also wrote something similar with Thirteen lamenting her inability to use words, any words to reach Ace, which means this really is a characteristic of Thirteen. 

“Ace.”  The Doctor looked suddenly hearbroken. “You know how much I can gabble on, Yaz. You know how good I am at talking. I once talked a Dalek to death. An actual Dalek! And Ace was with me then, right here in London, 60 odd years ago. Good God, all the talking I’ve done. But, you know, trying to talk to Ace... where were the words?” She shook her head, baffled. “I’m pretty good at uncovering things. I’ve discovered the rarest things in the strangest places, clear across the cosmos. But the right words to say to that woman? Nope. Never. She was sat beside me in the car and I still couldn’t find them.” 

- At Childhood’s End, Sophie Aldred. 

By the end of the book she got there eventually. 

So, yeah, it’s not that Thirteen doesn’t care, it’s just that Thirteen couldn’t find the words, the right words to say but she will stay still and listen because Graham was talking to her and she will help anyway she can, if he asked her to. But words, her number one weapon, her gift of the gab failed her at that particular moment but I also trust that Thirteen will be able to find the words eventually, it’s just not at that moment. 

Plus remember: 

(it is really late so i have no idea how coherent this post is, apologies for the rambling).

[cal-puddies]

is it warm enough for you inside me? || calum hood

this is 100% a joint effort with @kindahoping4forever​. So if you are lucky enough to live in the midwest of the US, then you know we had a random one day snow storm the other and I was talking to crystal about it. mind you i was drinking so i launched into the tropiest idea i could and this is what came out. Make sure you give her extra love too because she doesn’t realize how fucking good she is at writing.

Cal had been your best friend for a while, you couldn’t exactly remember when you met, but you’d run into him and Ashton and he quite literally ran into you, knocking you on your ass and it’s all history from there. 

The two of you had decided a get away was in order, work stress for you and him being home from tour for too long, you both needed a break. 

And getting there was a disaster, Cal had mistaken AM flights for PM flights and booked because they were a good deal, and you didn’t actually see the tickets until last minute only to realize you needed to be up at 3 am and it had been midnight and you were tipsy and still not fully packed. 

Then the airline lost your bag. You had to wait in the airport for hours to get a rental because they were all out and you were 12 hours early.

To make matters worse, you still had to drive in a snowstorm over two hours to get to the cabin he’d rented. And you, of course, trip in the snow almost immediately. And it wasn’t light, fluffy snow, it was the super heavy, super wet stuff, and it of course soaked you through. 

So that brings you to now, tired and cold, with no extra clothes for the night except what Cal decides he can spare. It leaves you in his hoodie and your panties. The two of you sitting in front of the fire, making s’mores. 

He’s wearing the crotch hole jeans and telling  you about how he had to teach Luke about graham crackers. 

“You’re kind of being an asshole.” He mentions. 

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a fun getaway. I haven’t slept in two days and I don’t know If I’m getting my bag back or I just have to wear the same clothes for the next four days.” You gripe. “And I’m fucking cold.” You groan. 

Cal nods in understanding. “I know I messed up the flights but you don’t have to take everything out on me.” He reminds you. 

You relax, because he’s right and you’d be equally as annoyed if he treated you like this. You head for the couch and throw a blanket over your lap. 

And not too long after that is when you propose the alcohol gets cracked open for the "scientific warmth", and when you cheers to your first drink, he calls a truce.

“Sorry for being a jerk, just everything that could, did go wrong” he murmurs, clinking glasses.

“Murphy’s law.” You mumble, agreeing. 

Downing your shot, you can't help but get one last jab in, "I can feel you getting likeable again already!" and then as it usually goes whenever one of you gets in a Mood, it's immediately as if nothing happened. 

You're laughing about the way you fell in the snow and doing impressions of the unhelpful airline employees who couldn't help with your bag situation.

And Cal notices you hogging the blanket on the couch, so he just climbs on next to you and helps himself, “you already got my hoodie so you gotta share.” 

“I’d share anything with you,” you mumble under your breath.

Which he doesn't hear because Cal is making a show of getting comfortable with you on the couch, “so cozy, so comfy,” and he pulls you against him for maximum comfort for you both.

And you lay there together for a while, talking about everything and nothing, his hands are slipping under the hoodie after the third drink because you are warm in his hoodie and his hands are cold.

You gasp at his touch but not entirely because of the temperature change. Calum hood could touch you 100000 times and you’d still never be ready for the full on butterfly feeling

He nonchalantly drums his fingers on your  bare skin because he's Cal and hasn't noticed how your breathing has changed, doesn’t notice you seem to hold your breath and you’re not laughing as much, because what if your stomach feels weird to him and he’s grossed out. 

You kind of panic and you know you need an out of this situation. So you end up exaggeratedly yawning, “think I’m gonna head to bed Cal, I’m exhausted.” You mumble. But you know you just need to put some space between you for even just a few minutes, you don't know how much longer you can pretend that your face is flushed from drinking. 

Cal agrees “yeah, we should get some rest so we can fight the airline for your fuckin bag,” so he’s behind you, rambling, and when you make it to the bedroom in your little cabin, you realize Calum must have booked one with only one bed. You stop short in the doorway.

He finally makes it to the door and bumps into you. He takes in the room and kind of laughs, “coulda sworn I asked for two.” He scratches the back of his neck. 

“It’s cool, I’ll sleep on the couch.” You shrug, turning to walk away, it’s too crowded in here now. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll freeze, we’ll share.” 

"Great" you sigh, and while he's gone back to the living room to make sure everything's locked up, you quickly rearrange the bedding to form a makeshift pillow wall down the middle of the bed,  so you have at least some hope of being able to rest. You rush to the bathroom to pull yourself together as you hear him coming back down the hall.

Cal thinks the pillow wall is ridiculous when and is rearranging the bed when you come back, he gives you this look like ‘what is wrong with you?���

“What?! My back hurts from tensing up and shivering; I just wanted some extra support.” 

“I can rub your back, and if you're still that cold, we should probably snuggle up skin to skin. You know, transfer body heat and all that.” He explains. 

You groan internally as he strips down, to his underwear and snuggles into the bed, “here I’ll get it warmed up for ya.” He smiles, and wow he’s looking so cute smiley and snugg in the bed, cheeks tinted pink from the alcohol. He makes a show of kicking his legs and rolling around to warm up the bed, and then looks at you, “c’mon! It’s warm, hoodie off.” 

“Calum.” You roll your eyes.

"Just tryna help, love," and next thing you know he's pouting with those plush lips and god, you really could not have made this a worse situation for yourself if you had tried. You fidget with the hem of the hoodie for a beat longer before you offer an exasperated "Fuck it" and tear it off and hurriedly slide under the covers.

“That’s my girl.” Calums grins, pulling you into him. He wraps his arm around you and starts absentmindedly rubbing your back, “isn’t this better? The bed is warm, we’re cuddled up together rather than having all those pillows to make sure we both stay cold?”

You roll your eyes to yourself at his ability to remain totally oblivious to the situation. It's so Calum. This isn't the first time your attraction to him has gotten the best of you but it's definitely the closest you've come to having to address it. Wrapped up in tattooed arms, bare chest pressed up against your back, this is the closest you've been to Calum, period. "You were right, 's great, Cal. Thanks" you say warmly but in a tone you hope makes it clear the conversation doesn't need to continue.

He stays quiet for a little bit, burying his face against the back of your neck. “Glad we decided to get away.” He murmurs, and you get goosebumps as his lips brush against the back of your neck. “Are you cold? Here, turn over, against me.” He says softly.

You can't think of a reason not to so you flip over as requested. He runs his hand vigorously up and down your arm, that he's decided entirely on his own needs warming. In a genuine but light tone, you ask, "How are you not tired? We got up so early and everything that went wrong... hell is literally freezing over right now. Why are you not sleeping?" 

Without even a beat of hesitation, he shrugs and answers simply, "Guess I'd rather talk to you."

You let out a little sigh. Cal was aloof. No idea what those words meant to you, no idea of the total effect he was having on you, and you’re not even sure he’d care if he did know and that was annoying enough.

You must still have a notable amount of liquid courage in you because you hear yourself press him, "Well. Let's talk then. Tell me something I don't know. And make it interesting, Hood."

And he decides to match your courage, “I think you’re pretty.” He murmurs, in case you don’t hear him and he can take it back.

You purse your lips in thought. Normally you're a big believer in the "go big or go home" mindset but the problem here is if this goes wrong, you can't go home because of the storm. His admission isn't much but coming from Cal, it's kind of a lot. Realizing you need to respond before either of you lose your nerve, you take a deep breath and move the slightest bit closer to him on the bed. "You got me drunk and naked during a blizzard just to tell me I'm pretty?"

Cal lets out a sigh of relief and grins at you, “best laid plans darlin... what did you wanna hear, about how I wanna kiss you, or suck your clit instead?” He decides to be brash right back.

You grin back at him while your mind is going a mile a minute. You search his eyes, trying to decide how much of this is him trying to get a reaction out of you, hoping this is for real and not just a game of chicken that flirty friends might play. You clear your throat and smirk, "Well. I guess I did say make it interesting, now didn't I?"

“Right, right.” He nods... “so you definitely wanted to hear about how I’d kiss down your body, paying attention to your neck and nipples because I know you like that. Maybe a couple hickies? Then your thighs would just be covered in marks...” he watches you shift, “should I go on?” He smirks

You love that smirk and you hate that smirk. That smirk that lets him get away with anything but also let's on that he knows he can get away with anything. You wish your breathing hadn't become so shallow as you lean in and say in a much lower voice than anticipated, "You know... I'm realizing I've never been a big fan of stories." You lightly drag your finger down his chest, stopping to trace over his many tattoos. "Always preferred 'show' over 'tell', you know?"

“I think I know that about you.” He pushes your hair off your shoulder and pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your neck, he feels your body tense for a moment as he presses another to your cheek. “This ok?” He checks.

You exhale loudly, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. You smile faintly at him, the flirty confidence you'd been hiding behind finally slipping. "Yes..." You answer, running your hand down his sweetly concerned face, enjoying the roughness of his stubbly cheeks. "More than ok. I've just... I've been wanting this." You hook your fingers under his chin and bring his face to yours, fitting your lips against his before he can respond to your confession.

Cal grins into the kiss; happy to have the permission. The kiss is needy, he’s nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it, and then he’s moving his lips back to your neck, pulling you against him, grabbing your ass to pull you closer. He pushes you over onto your back as he starts to kiss down your body.

Your fingers instantly thread thru his hair as you watch him move down the bed, pressing his lips to your skin any and everywhere he sees fit. You gasp as he palms over your right breast, loudly sucking a mark just below it. "You don't waste any time, do you, Cal?" You comment shakily, closing your eyes.

“Well... I’ve been wanting it, too.” He smirks at you. “So pretty.” His tongue pokes out, teasing your nipple. “Wondering how you taste, how you sound.”

You inadvertently let out a yelp when the chilly air of the room hits your skin dampened by his kisses at the exact moment he says the word "sound." You both chuckle warmly at the coincidence and for a second, you forget that this is not normal, that this is uncharted territory. You remember that it's just Cal. His mouth closing in on your other nipple yanks you out of your thoughts and you relax into the feeling, murmuring "That's nice, Cal" because you know he likes encouragement.

Cal kisses back up your body, pushing himself flush against you so you can feel that you’re getting him hard. He presses a couple sweet kisses to your cheeks before moving back down leaving open mouth kisses against your thighs, marks and nips decorating your skin

Cal hooks his fingers in your panties and gently pulls them off. He notices your breath catches as you feel him between your legs and he looks up at you, eyes meeting yours to check in once more. You bite your lip and nod. Satisfied with this exchange, he wraps his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to him and his tongue darts out to lick a stripe down your center.

Cal hums against you as he slowly licks over your clit, “so worked up.” He grins at you. “Can you turn the lamp on? Wanna see you.”

You snort at his request but oblige him, making a big show out of extending your body up and over to reach the bedside table. "Not exactly the type of stretch I've been hoping for tonight, Hood," you tease.

He cocks an eyebrow, licking into you, staring you down. He presses his thumb to your clit, “you want stretch, darlin? I’m sure I can make that happen for you.”

He circles your clit with his thumb a few times before attaching his lips to it. He continues to eat you at a torturously slow pace and you groan, bucking your hips against his face, resulting in him murmuring an unintelligible protest against your pussy and reaching out to steady your wild hips.

“Acting like no ones touched you in months.” He teases. “Fuck, youre delicious.” He rests his head against your thigh and flicks his tongue over and over your clit, moaning. He flicks his eyes up to you to see your face

He sees your lips are moving but no words are coming out. He smiles to himself as he asks a question he feels he probably already knows the answer to, "You ready to cum for me, darlin?"

Your fingers tangle in his hair and he buries his face back against your core, licking, sucking, nipping on the super sensitive flesh, listening to your moans and rambling

He hears you find your voice just enough to get out a strained "Jesus, Cal" and then feels your body finally tense and relax beneath him. He laps at you a few more times before you're pushing him away. He presses a kiss to each of your inner thighs and then raises himself over you, to kiss you, tongue moving against yours with grace, offering you a taste of your arousal, taking away the breath you had barely just caught after your orgasm.

“Was it everything you’ve wanted?” He teases, against your mouth. He drops his hips against yours, needing you to feel him. You pull out the kiss and Cal immediately goes back to kissing your neck, “it was more than I thought, you sound better than I could have imagined. Better than I’ve thought about when jerking off.” He admits.

You press a small kiss to his shoulder and decide you can't get him close enough so you run your hands down his back, drawing him near, "Can't say I was disappointed." You roll your hips against his, eliciting the type of sharp groan you were hoping you'd receive. "But tell me, what else have you thought about?" You reach between you and find his hard cock between your bodies and give it a light squeeze thru his boxers.

“What haven’t I thought about?” He chuckles, gripping you and flipping you so you’re on top, “this has crossed my mind a lot. Bet you look so pretty when you’re riding cock.” He hums, “think about your lips wrapped around me.”

You lean over him and trail short wet kisses all over his chest, "Oh yeah? Reckon I'd look pretty good with your cock in my mouth?" You tease

“I’d be willing to bet on it.” He winks. “Should we find out? Or are you wanting more.”

You both grin at each other like fools as you work together to get his underwear off. You figure you've both waited long enough for this and waste no time licking up the sides of his cock before taking as much of it as you can into your mouth

“No what the fuck.” He breathes

You pull off of him as quickly as you took him in and chuckle, "Thought you said you thought about this a lot, is this not what you expected?" You smile at him playfully while you give his cock a few gentle strokes. You lean down to roll your tongue briskly over the head before wrapping your lips around it and gently begin to suck.

“No, this is perfect, baby, thank you.” He groans, wrapping his hand in your hair. He moans as you work his cock up and down, flicking your tongue over the tip before licking down his shaft to suck on his balls, drawing out a low groan. “Baby, want you on my cock, please.”

You react audibly to his words and lazily drag your lips across his cock and chest as you make your way back up his body. You lay next to him and he wraps a hand around your neck, pulling you to his lips, murmuring nonsense against them. You pull back and kiss along his jaw because you've always wanted to do that and now you can, "How do you want me?"

“Be a good girl and ride me for a little, yeah?” He asks. “Just wanna see you on top of me for a bit, and then maybe I can get it from behind.” He murmurs, holding your neck tight.

Just the thought of Cal bending you over like you've always imagined has you feeling weak and your eyes fluttering shut, "That... sounds like a fantastic plan." You peck at his lips a few times more and sit up, "So tell me, does a stud like you keep condoms with you at all times or are we going with the honor system here? I'm on the pill and like, I know you so I'm fine either way..."

He hmmms... “I didn’t assume to bring any... like don’t get me wrong, I would have thought too if I thought this was possible. But I can be a responsible adult and wait, as much as I don’t really want to…”

Of all of the unexpected events of the day, hands down the most surprising for Cal has to be seeing the wide smile that spreads across your face. Before he can ask you about it, you're capturing his lips in yours again, "Good boy," you beam and then bound off the bed into the living room. He's confused until he sees you rushing back into the bedroom, digging thru your purse. "You know, I've always wondered what your move would be in this situation, although I appreciate you not assuming anything," you triumphantly toss a shiny packet at him on the bed. He raises an eyebrow at you as you toss your bag aside and climb back on the bed. "Don't flatter yourself, Cal, it's not specifically for you, I just like to be prepared," you tease.

“Oh yeah? Just gonna fuck a random mountain man then?” He quips with a soft smile to let you know he’s joking.

"I didn't take you for a role playing guy, but if that's what you're into, I'm down"

“No no, if we're gonna do this, we’re gonna do this as ourselves. I don’t wanna pretend I wouldn’t have you if you weren’t you.” He admits. 

“Another point for Hood.” You grin. “Now, are you gonna put that condom on or do you need a hand?”

"I'm never gonna say no to you putting your hands on me," he taps the bed next to him, indicating you should come closer. He rubs over the top of your thigh as you tear open the wrapper and give his cock a few firm tugs before you roll the condom onto him.

Cal grabs for your hips, sitting up for a kiss and to guide you over him. He grabs his cock in one hand and slicks it through your folds. “Think you’re ready?” He checks, “it feels like you’re ready.“ he murmurs

"You have no idea how ready," you groan and begin to sink yourself down onto him.

Cal groans from the sudden delicious change of your body on top of him and you wrapping around him “can’t believe we’re finally doing this, you feel amazing.” He admits, laying back. “Show me how you like it gorgeous.” 

And you can’t help but love all the affection and terms of endearment he’s showering you with.

You take his hands from off your hips and place them on your tits. He takes the hint and begins playing with them and then you're rolling your hips, trying to find a rhythm that satisfies you both. "Fill me even better than I thought you would," you tell him.

“Oh? So you’ve been thinking about my dick?” Cal gets cocky, and he grins. “You can take it slow, I wanna enjoy you on top of me, I can rail you in a bit.”

Calum lands a hard smack to your ass.

You roll your eyes, partly at his smug demeanor and partly at how much it turns you on. "You want slow, Cal?" You lean back, bracing your hands on his legs. You raise your hips until his cock is nearly all the way out of you and then slowly lower yourself to take him all in again. You repeat this slow dance again and again and the way Cal is gripping your hips along with the soft curses slipping from him tells you the sensation -not to mention the sight- is driving him wild. "This more what you had in mind?"

“Exactly.” He confirms, slowly moving his hands across your skin, up over your breasts, tweaking your nipples, lightly holding your neck, and down back over your thighs, he might be in you but he wants to make sure you feel him all over your body. He bites his lip watching you, “feels so good, pretty girl.” He praises. “You let me know when you’re ready to switch.” He lets his thumb linger over your clit, pressing soft circles over it.

"Ah... that's so good, keep doing that." You moan contentedly and lean into his touch, bouncing on his cock just a little more aggressively. "Love this but honestly just about ready for you to wreck me"

“Happy to.” He guides you off of him by your hips, “let’s get ass in the air.” He directs. He watches you turn over and settle on your hands and knees, wiggling your ass. He can’t help himself as he leans in to slick his tongue through your folds another time, listening to your breath hitch at his unexpected action. “So good,” he murmurs as he kisses the back of your thigh and up to your lower back. “Nothing’s gonna beat the view of you on top of me, but...” he lines up and sinks in, “fuck you feel good.” He makes quick work of upping the rhythm since you’re already so wet for him.

He moves his hips against you, hands alternating between grabbing at your ass and holding on to your hips for leverage. You can't believe how good he feels from this angle and you want to tell him but all that comes out is a series of whines. He seems to get the message, though, since he responds with "Feelin good, pretty girl?" and a loud slap to your ass as he drives himself in deeper.

Your arms give as you drop your face to the bed, chanting and whining his name. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He teases, rubbing a hand over the newly smacked flesh, landing another one, he grins at your little yelp. “Taking it so well.” He groans. And then it’s just skin on skin and the moans filling the bedroom.

You can't help but move your hips back against him as you feel yourself nearing your end. "Fuck, gorgeous, get what you need," his encouragement sending you over the edge. He slows down, letting you ride out the orgasm at your own pace, groaning at your satisfied sounds and the feeling of you pulsing around him. Once he feels your body relax, he gently alters his rhythm once more, searching for his own release.

He grins, still watching you while chasing his orgasm, your body still moves for him, he’s watching the nothing fall out of your moving lips, your fingers curl into the sheets, it’s when you finally find your voice to say “cum for me cal” that he loses it, holding his hips tight against yours as he spills into the condom.

Cal stays buried in you for a few beats longer, hands absentmindedly rubbing over your ass as he catches his breath. He gives one last "Fuckin hell," under his breath as he eases himself out of you, you murmur in blissful agreement. You feel him affectionately run his hand down your spine and leave a small kiss on the back of your neck before the weight on the bed shifts as he gets up to dispose of the condom.

When he comes back, you exhaustedly cuddle against his chest. He kisses the top of your head and listens as you fall asleep. “Guess we’ll talk about us in the morning.” He whispers, kissing your head again. 

You’re both awoken by your ringing cell phone, cal is wrapped tightly around you, and you have to fight your way out of his arms to go answer it. 

His eyes are barely open as you climb back in bed with him, he scoops his arm around you and pulls you in. “My suitcase came in this morning, they are going to bring it here.” He grin. 

“That’s good, but I was liking you in my hoodie.” He murmurs, eyes closing again. 

“Know you wanna go back to sleep Cal, but, can we talk?” You ask and watch as he nods, “about last night… I want you to know that I hope it’s not just a one time thing.” 

“Could be a two time thing,” he murmurs, pushing his hand between your thighs and kissing your cheek, “are you thinking something else?” He checks, as you push against his chest. 

“I was thinking maybe like… we try… us.” You admit, “if you want to, no pressure.” You quickly sputter out. 

“Of course I want to.” He sighs. “Just wasn’t ever sure you wanted that.” 

“I do, I want that.” You kiss his nose, “so let’s try.”

Tag list: @cocktail-calum​ @1dthewantedlove​ @youngblood199456​ @lustingforwunder​ @calumsphile​ @neso-k​ @rosecoloredash​ @radmcqueen​ @justayoungandwisefangirl​ @itsnotmyblood​  @lietoash​ @pushthetide21​ @5sosfanficrec​ @therealmrshale​ @fallfrxmgrace​ @lukashemmos​ @justarandomgirlthatyoudontknow​ @5sos-microwave​ @madbomb​ @sweetheartmendes1000​ @literally-anythin​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @clemmingstylins0n​ @ccnicole02​ @lustingfor5sos​ @buteverythingiscopacetic​ @rosesfromcth​ @bodaciousbonzi1996​ @ashtontotheirwin​ @captainam-erika-trash​ @xxgendurvikixx​ @jazzyangel242​ @bluebabycal​ @rhiannonmichellee​ @iovehemmings​ @glitterycalum1205​ @katcontreras​ @cashtonasfuck​ @ificanthaveu​ @kindahoping4forever​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @canterburyfiction​ @opheliaaurora​  @queer-5sos​ @banditocth​ @gigglyirwin​  @glitterycalum1205​ @rebelwith0utacause​  @inlovehoodx

gc tags: @sublimehood​  @5sosnsfw​ @angelbabylu​ @aspiringwildfire​ @irwinkitten​ @lashtoncurls​ @myloverboyash​ @singt0mecalum​

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 3  

Part 4 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Talk of blood, murder, Criminal minds stuff. 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

"So what did you find?" Hotch asks, gathering a few pieces of evidence from the table and handing them to Reid to pin onto the bulletin. 

"Each of the victims has a needle mark behind their ear, or in the general vicinity. That means our unsub is using sugammadex, more commonly known as Bridion, or some other form of the drug to paralyze them temporarily. Long enough to keep them subdued and do what she intended without them fighting her." Spencer answered for you, turning around after he finished the last bit of pinning the evidence. 

"Great work. Reid, get started on that geographical profile while we wait on the others. We may be able to finish this case sooner if we find a little more evidence." Hotch informed as he began to walk out of the room. 

Then you remembered the other bit of information. In an attempt to not make a fool out of yourself on your first case, you rushed towards Hotch's moving form and tapped him on the shoulder.

"I-If I may, Hotch, I think our unsub is trying to get back at a specific person. One with short brown hair. Almost military grade." Rushed, you backed away from Hotch a little, giving him back the space you'd just invaded. 

Hotch turned around questioningly, nodding to you as an encouragement to continue. "What makes you think that?" He asks. 

"Well sir, if you'll look at the second victim, Harrison Graham, you'll see he had long, medium-length hair, correct?" You walk over to Spencer’s evidence board and point out the man's picture. 

"His body was found with a buzzed haircut. The ones they give to cadets in the military." You conclude. "I think our unsub lost their partner, or their partner left them alone with a newborn. Which would explain the feedings without a bottle. And this partner is military." 

"I didn't even think of that. H-he had a few tattoos as well. Though they were mostly dates, one was the date his daughter was born, and he had another for when he was married." Spencer cut in, finding his own conclusion of the case. 

"See if Garcia can find any recently discharged soldiers. Or soldiers who've died in the last three months. We need to be cautious that this man may be dead, and that was the stressor." Hotch orders, nodding to you again. "Keep up the good work."

You nodded back to him and watched him leave, most likely to share the news with the rest of the team. 

"How did you know it was military?" 

"Hm?" You prompted, looking to Spencer to answer his question. "Oh, uh my friend Gabriel's brothers are military. I used to see them all the time. His brother Raphael never got rid of the cadet hairstyle." You laugh a little, bringing a hand to your face. 

Spencer nodded slightly, turning his head back to the evidence board. But truly? He couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Your laughter was infectious. He didn't know why but he wanted to laugh along. You were beautiful, and he wanted to get a better look.

"Do we have places to stay set up?" He asks again after a moment. 

"Why are you asking me?" You ask, laughing softly as he turned his attention back to you. 

"Well you were the one so eager to leave and get started. We never got the full briefing." Spencer gave you one of his smart-assed smiles and you groaned. 

"Shut up. You know why I wanted to leave so bad." You insist, looking over the map that was untouched so far by pins. "I trusted you." You turned back, giving Spencer a teasing and fake offended look. He chuckled and rolled his eyes, walking over to you. 

"Yeah you did. That wasn't a mistake, by the way." He says, making you jump slightly when you feel his breath near your terribly sensitive ears. You feel your body tremble at his now very obvious location. 

"O-oh, it wasn't now?" You teased, cursing your nerves silently for your unplanned stutter. Spencer chuckled, and his hand covered the one of your own that had picked up one of the pins. 

He didn't speak for a long, and agonizingly drawn out moment. He blinked slowly, laying a hand scarcely on your waist. You felt like shrinking where you stood. What was he doing? 

You turned your body and faced the man who currently had your body trapped against a pinnable crime map. His eyes looked over your body, and you could swear he was undressing you with his eyes. You gulped, trying to formulate some sort of response. But what would even fit into the conversation that wouldn't cut the tension so harshly? Hardly anything. At least nothing you could think of. 

Finally, as you prepared to try to say something to get an answer out of him, he spoke. 

"I believe you're doing my job." He says just audibly for you to hear him. You blink a few times and make multiple attempts to clear your throat. You nod and get out from underneath the tall man's figure. 

"R-right, y-yeah, sorry. I should-" you begin to ramble, knowing your cheeks were more red than an apple. You'd have to head off to the bathroom to calm down before you'd be able to face anyone. Morgan would probably tease you.

"I should p-probably go see if I c-can help Prentiss. After all she is the agent I'm shadowing." You say as soon as you were able to get your bearings. 

Spencer nodded, having put both his hands into his pockets. But the way he had touched you had made you wonder what it was like for him to really touch you. To hug you, keep a protective arm around your waist, to hold your hand… 

"Y-yeah, yeah. Definitely." He says. You nod at him, standing in front of him without moving. After a few more awkward seconds that felt like minutes, you turned your head and promptly left the room. 

As soon as the door closed behind you, you felt a rush of adrenaline crash from your senses, making you feel suddenly relieved and unweighted. Although your heart was still pumping faster than a factory machine. 

What was this man doing to you? 

○●♡●○ 

You finally had made it into the bathroom, having needed a couple minutes to stand around like a dork and reevaluate what the hell were your feelings. 

You hurried to the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing some onto your face. You did this repeatedly until you let out an uncomfortable groan and braced yourself against the sink with your arms. 

You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm down whatever was going on in your heart. You tried to focus on it, get the rapid beating and deafening ringing in your ears to cease. 

Apparently you were a little too focused, as when you opened your eyes from your little impromptu breakdown, you find yourself not as alone as you had wanted to be. 

"...you okay?" Prentiss asked, giving you an uneasy and questioning look. You sigh and turn the water off, running a tired hand through your hair. 

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine. Just dealing with one of the headaches that my disorder gives me. They get pretty bad." It was only half a lie. But still, she was a damn profiler. The same as you. She could probably tell something else was up. 

"That must suck. I used to get them all the time. Used to get so bad I couldn't focus." She admits, rubbing her neck and chuckling. You were thankful that she didn't press any further. It was totally plausible that she believed you. Hey, if Prentiss bought it, then that was good enough for you. 

"Yeah, you kinda get used to it. I find distraction, especially when I'm just doing class work or studying usually helps." You add, feeling your heart find a slow, happy pace that both your mind and your body could manage. 

Prentiss nodded as you both grew quiet from your short-lived conversation. Then, as you knew would eventually come up, she spoke. 

"So… you sure you're okay? Your cheeks are pretty red. You aren't sick, are you? If you are, don't tell Reid. He'll avoid you like the plague for a week." Emily warned.

"Duly noted…" you whispered softly. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Promise." You insist, hoping that your blush was quickly fading.  

"Alright. Well, we're all a family here on our team. And if you're going to be staying, you'll wanna get used to people getting up in your business." She teases. You smile gently back at her. 

"Oh I know. It's just first case jitters and stuff. I'm okay. I just embarrassed myself a little, that's all." You lied, glad to see that Prentiss was so willing to back off as soon as she read the room. 

"Oh I know that. Just let me know if you need anything. I'm just one door down the hall. At least for this case." You nodded and smiled a bit more warmly. 

"Speaking of which, where exactly are we staying? I didn't really stick around to get that information." You admit. 

"Yeah you didn't...uh just the hotel down the road, closest to the last crime scene." Prentiss affirms, handing you a key card. 

You take it earnestly and pocket it. "Thank you, Emily. Really. Means a lot somebody's got my back." 

"Of course. In more ways than one. Though I hope we'll be on a first name basis soon." Emily teased. You chuckle and shake your head. 

"I don't just give it out to anyone, Prentiss. But, I promise it'll be soon. As long as I know for sure this is where I wanna be." You rationalize. It was totally believable and not what you really were doing. Trust was something not a lot of people really understood anymore. 

"Sounds fair to me. I hope this is the place for you though. If you stay Hotch could sign you onto the team as soon as your application goes through." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, that's what he did when I arrived. After he read over my application he signed me off to join the team over the rest of the candidates. Good luck." Prentiss says, giving you a quick and final reassuring look before she heads to the door. "You'll do great." 

And as soon as you had realized you weren't alone, you were. You sighed and smoothed out your blazer and checked your face for any more signs of your previous interaction with Doctor Reid. Once you were sure you were clear, you turned around and exited the bathroom, finding it to have grown dark. 

You grab your bag and sling it over your arm, getting ready to head out as you spot Hotch hurrying from the glass box-like office the map and evidence board was. 

"What's going on?" You ask, setting your bag down again. 

"There's another body." He alerts, soon exiting the station and leaving you to do so soon after. 

○●♡●○ 

"Zachary Small, he'd just had twins with his wife, Tanya." The chief identified, leading the team towards the body. You grabbed a flashlight from the SUV and shined it over the body as there were no overhead lights. 

Hotch pulled one out himself, looking over the wounds that he could see. "Reid, any needle marks?" He asks. 

Reid walked around and turned Zachary's head, feeling for a needle track. "Yeah, same place as the last three." 

"It looks like his hair was cut too. Based on the photo the station has of him." You interject. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "How'd you get a photo of him so quick?" He asked. 

"Hotch asked Garcia to run for military men. Ones in the town who were either married, recently deployed in the last three months, killed in that same time frame, and recently became fathers. He was one of the men that came up." You explained. Morgan shrugged and pulled back the man's torn shirt. 

"Hey, do all the victims have tattoos like this?" Morgan asked. 

"No, they were all from different walks of life. I think she's escalating." JJ alerts. Hotch nods. 

"If this unsub is murdering surrogates for an absent partner, we can only assume he is alive. We need to find her before he is put in danger. She's getting bolder." Hotch says. 

"Any luck on the geographical location, Reid?" Morgan asked. 

"Only slightly. I think with this body the comfort zone is within ten miles from here. This city isn't huge, but I think we can still narrow down people in that area of low income." Reid answers. 

"Why is that?" Morgan asked. 

"Because these drugs aren't cheap. They're not even pharmaceuticals. They're used in hospitals for sedation. We're looking for someone who works in some sort of medical facility." Reid concludes, pulling off his gloves as he gets ready to head back to the station. 

"I'll call Garcia." Morgan announces. 

You sigh and turn back towards Reid, who was already walking away from you. You were going to have to talk with him about what the hell happened back in the station. But then again, what if you had interpreted it to be something completely different than what he had implied it to be? You were new. You hadn't even been on the job for any more than 18 hours at this point. There was no way he meant any sort of intimacy out of that interaction. Was there? 

You shook your head. Now was not the time to question whether or not your new coworker had the hots for you based on one measly interaction. You had a serial killer to apprehend. 

"Hey, Mystery Girl, come over here a sec." 

You raised an eyebrow and turned to see Morgan waving you over. 

"Yeah? You guys need something?" You ask. 

"Yeah, you think you could ask Pretty Boy out and save us all the suffering of having to watch you two eye-fuck?" Morgan grinned. You widened your eyes and blushed heavily. 

"M-morgan!" You glared at him, your mouth agape in surprise. "Don't tell me you three are in on his little idea!" You insist, looking between Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss who all stood in front of you. 

Suddenly an arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you closer. You growled and looked up at the offender, who currently looked back down at you with a teasing look. 

"Come on, Ms. No-name. You can't act like we don't see it. I saw you comin' out of that bathroom after Prentiss did. Boy did you look like a strawberry." Morgan teased, winking at you. 

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but I do not like him l-like that. It's not very nice to assume things, Morgan." You insist, huffing as you pushed him off. 

"Come on, mama. We're both profilers. You really think I'd be wrong about this kind of thing?" He asked, his eyebrows cocked in a teasing position.

"Do you really think I'd admit it if you were right?" You fire back, letting out an annoyed sigh and storming back to the group of parked SUV's to head back to the station. 

○●♡●○ 

You felt like you haven't slept for days. And truthfully, you hadn't. You had all hit a rut in the case. There were too many suspects and not enough time to interview them all. That and all the information wasn't alluding to anything. It was frustrating. 

Not to mention the teasing everyone just HAD to do to you every time a certain Doctor left the room. It was getting on your nerves and quite frankly, it was messing with your ability to work through the information of this case. 

You had all given the profile, but no one had called in yet. Garcia was still giving the profile to the medical facilities near the geographical location that Spencer had put together, but nothing was sticking just yet. 

"This is confusing…" you huffed, setting the tablet down as you tried to look over all the data again. Thankfully this unsub hadn't gone after another victim yet, that you knew of. But unfortunately that also meant you were stuck unless someone was willing to call and say that their family member fit the profile. Which no one ever was. And they didn't have any leads whatsoever. 

"What do you mean?" Reid asked, turning his attention to you after having stared at the map for the past hour with nothing to pin onto it. 

"How does this profile not fit anyone? I mean, we talked to the families, asked if they knew any new women who their husbands or partners had in their lives, any old ones. And we even asked the facilities. Nothing. Of course we got a list of names, but it's not short enough to narrow down." You sigh, rubbing your face. 

"We might need some fresh eyes." Spencer ponders. You feel your eyelids slowly collapsing, making you pry them back open. Spencer turns as he went to ask you something else. "And some coffee." 

You raise your eyebrow and give him a confused look. "Coffee? How is that going to help?" You asked. 

"It'll keep us both awake, for one. Mostly you though. What with the three all-nighters you had." He reveals. You widen your eyes and blush. Of course he'd noticed. He was one of the last people to even try to get any rest each night the past couple days. Besides Hotch obviously. 

"It…" you sigh. "It's not that bad. I'll sleep on the jet ride back-" you plead, soon to be interrupted by a yawn. When you open your exhausted eyes you're met with a playful pair of amber ones that were connected to a teasing smirk on the Doctor's face. 

"I think your body decided that for you. You're body needs approximately 8 to 9 hours a night for your age. Any lack of sleep can lead to sleep deprivation. And that can cause irritability, mood swings, and can deplete your quality of life." He informs, beginning to fill up the coffee pot with water and filling up the machine. 

"Yeah yeah. Says the 30 year old doctor." You tease, sending a playful glare towards him. 

"Says the 25 year old graduate." He shoots back, smirking at you as he turns around and leans against the counter. "Still, you need to sleep. Even if it's a small amount it can help to recharge your body. Did you know that with enough exhaustion our body has microsleeps? It happens often between blinks and is the body's attempt at charging." 

You smile and turn your head to look at him. "Do tell me more, Doctor." You reply groggily, laughing a little at your tone. He smiles at you and chuckles, turning back around to pour you a cup of the newly brewed coffee.

"The reason caffeine helps the body stay awake longer is that it inhibits the body's receptors, and makes us feel more awake for longer than we would without. However caffeine has different effects for different people. As you age, it actually has been proven to make you more tired than you were before you drank it." Spencer continued, carrying over two cups. "How do you take yours?" He asks. 

"Hm? Oh, well…" you blush. "I usually just take it with a little cream when I'm trying to stay awake. But my morning stuff is totally different." You say, chuckling as you take the cup from him with a slight nod of thanks. 

"How do you take it in the morning?" 

You smirk. "I guess you'll just have to find out, Doctor." You tease. "Why don't you and I get some coffee when we get back? We can get some for everyone else too if you want." You offer. You were wary that Spencer might've rejected you if it sounded like a date. So you panicked and added the last sentence soon after. 

Thankfully though, a smile pulled onto his face and he nodded. "Sounds good to me."

You smile back at him, finding yourself staring for a few moments. You cleared your throat and looked down a bit in embarrassment. 

"I uh… wait…" you paused. 

"What?" He asked. 

"We kept saying that this unsub couldn't be of the lower class, right?" You asked, standing up and walking toward the map Spencer had recently left to get you your coffee. 

"Right." Spencer clarified. 

"But what if our unsub is working for an urgent care or-or a long term care facility? Where you only have to get a short period of training done to work there? The pay wouldn't be as good, but it could get our unsub what she needs all the same-" you realize, gasping slightly. You turned back around and faced the map, grabbing a pin as you looked over the neighborhoods in the area Reid had circled. 

"Here! There's a low-income neighborhood right around here. It's not any farther than 2 miles from a nearby urgent care. We should cross-reference the residencies with the suspects and see if they live here." You insist, grabbing your phone to call Garcia. Spencer smiled at you and nodded, standing up to alert the rest of the team. Maybe this case wasn't going to be a bust after all. 

[capaldifiction]

Graham Norton Show - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

I apologize for how long these have been taking me to get to, but I hope you like your request 💙

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Actress Reader

Word Count: 2,014

Description:  Based on this request: “Where the reader and him are doing the interview on Graham Norton show and being funny as hell and everyone knows they are dating even if they didn't say it. Can you also add then having long cute stares at each other.”

Warnings: Some swearing

“And welcome our next two guests, Y/N and Chris Pratt!” Graham Norton calls out as the two enter the set to applause. Waving to audience quickly, Y/N smiles before turning to shake the hands of Graham, Jared Leto, and Tom Ellis before taking her place next to Tom, with Chris sitting to her left.

“How are the two of you doing? Enjoy your trip back home to the U.K. Y/N?” Graham asks.

“Real good,” she respond with a small smile, relaxing back into the couch. “Long flights suck, but being back home is always great. Haven’t gotten to get back to my actual house yet, but what can ya do?”

“I’m doing great,” Chris nods in response. “Got to film and now promote this film with this fantastic woman right here. She’s hilarious, and gives me a run for my money as set prankster.”

“Oh?” Graham asks noticeably intrigued. “And what kind of pranks is Y/N pulling?”

“Oh nothing that great,” Y/N insists, her cheeks reddening as she tries to talk it down.

“How long do we have?” Chris asks with a grin toward the audience that cheers in response.

“Give us one good one,” Graham insists.

“Hmmm,” he says as his gaze drifts to the ceiling of the set. “Probably the prosthetic zombie finger she stuck to the bottom of my coffee cup, then filled it with my coffee and brought it to me. Took me an hour to finally see that sucker. We’re standing there discussing the next scene, I take a sip and seeing a freakin’ finger coming up out of my coffee and chucked it.”

“He screamed like a little girl,” Y/N grins cheerfully to the audience’s laughter. “It was fantastic.”

“Well we can’t expect anything less… from the one rumored to be dating our hilarious musical guest of the day,” Graham teases.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” she insists, her eyes immediately leaving Graham’s.

“Oh? So you’re denying the rumors of you and Lewis Capaldi?”

“Absolutely.”

“I mean,” Chris butts in with a shrug. “He was on set an awful lot for someone who lives in Scotland when we were filming in Canada.”

“Well yeah, we are friends, I never said we weren’t friends and he never visited me, we live near each other and see each other all the time and he had some concerts in North America so he dropped by a few times to hang out and see the set,” she rambles quickly as she tugs at the bottom of her shirt in embarrassment.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Tom Ellis throws in, raising his eyebrows.

Jared and Graham laugh as Y/N sinks further in the couch and reaches for her drink on the table.

“Bit thirsty there Y/N?” Jared teases.

“Parched,” she quips back with narrowed brows to her former costar.

“So the film you two are starring in is ‘End Of The Living,’ care to give us a taste of what it’ll be about?” Graham asks looking at Y/N and Chris.

“Well my and Chris’ characters are neighbors in an apartment building that don’t really get along. They deal with seeing each other on an occasional basis, but generally avoid each other. Then all hell breaks loose as the zombie apocalypse basically breaks out, and they have to work together to survive.”

“Annnnd then they fall in love,” Chris adds with a chuckle.

“Naturally, nothing says love like zombie guts and certain death,” Y/N nods with a carefree smile.

“And here on the couch we have a vampire, two zombie hunters, and Satan himself,” Graham summarizes as he looks at his guests who laugh in response. “It’s a nice light promotional day isn’t it?”

“Zombie hunters are no match for Morbius though,” Jared jokes looking over to Chris and Y/N.

“Says you,” Chris throws back. “But if we can’t Star Lord will wipe the floor with him since he’s in his world.”

“In all due respect,” Tom jumps in, “None of them can take on Lucifer.”

“And with that, we should go to a break, when we get back we’ll see our musical performance from Lewis Capaldi!” Graham shouts as the cameras shut off.

Giving pointed looks to the men around her, and sticking her tongue out at Jared, Y/N’s attention is finally caught by the instruments being brought in for Lewis’ performance.

She nods at his piano player Aiden as he gets settled, then smiles as Lewis himself comes out onto the set. The typical nervous expression always etched on his face before a performance there. He looks up to see her gaze on him, and smiles wide before sending a wave her way.

Smiling in turn she waves back at him as she watches them finish setting up, ignoring the scoffed laughed from Chris beside her.

As the lights brighten again, the cameras come back to life as Graham steps in front of the camera, “And here to perform his newest hit, two-time Brit winner and Grammy nominated singer Lewis Capaldi!”

The cameras turn toward Lewis as he begins the song, and Y/N leans forward with her chin in her hands as she watches the performance intently, standing up and applauding loudly as Lewis hits the last note.

Finishing up the song, Lewis sets his guitar down and gives a wave to the audience before heading over to the couches. Shaking each person’s hand down the line, he stops to pull Y/N into a side hug, whispering something in her ear causing a smile to spread across her face.

After all shaking hands, all the guests take their seats once again. As Chris sits back down, he places his arm on the couch behind Y/N, while Lewis takes his seat on the other side of him. Lewis’ gaze lingers on Chris’ arm for a moment with a frown before forcing it away and looking to Graham.

“Fantastic performance Lewis!” Graham says looking over at him. “Now where do we start? The new album you have coming out or the triple platinum on your last one and the two Brits you’ve gotten since you were last here?”

“The new album Graham,” Y/N says before Lewis can respond, throwing him a look. “You’ll give him a bigger head if you go on about the other things.”

“And that’d be a bad thing Y/N?” he asks with a teasing tone.

“There’d be no living with you if it got any bigger,” she sighs dramatically.

“Living with him?” Jared asks as he looks between the two, noticing Lewis’ gaze lingering on her a moment too long.

“W-well yeah,” she answers hastily. “We live pretty close, I see him pretty often.”

“Speaking of you two living close, do you also go on some of his tours Y/N?” Graham asks. “You appear on quite a few of his social media posts from Instagram to Tik Tok, and everyone’s loving seeing that side of you when you usually play such serious roles.”

“Well we just always have a good time. I have gone on some of his tours when I’m not working, get to see some cool places with a good friend of mine. And we’re both a little weird, so it makes for some interesting videos I guess,” she shrugs.

“Let’s take a look at one of them now,” Graham says, gesturing to the screen beside him.

The screen changes to a clip of Y/N wearing a Lewis Capaldi merch t-shirt and a pair of black sunglasses as she stands atop a large table singing the lyrics to ‘Grace.’ Throwing her head back, she starts dancing to the music, when the camera pans over to Lewis also doing the dance from his music video and singing the song at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not ready to be just another of your mistakes!” she yells out as the camera follows Lewis moving in front of the table she’s dancing on. As she finishes the line, she launches herself onto his back, a look of panic on his face as they both crash to the ground in front of the camera, followed by a chorus of obscenities.

As the clip fades out, Lewis and Y/N have equally red cheeks as they make eye contact and look down at their drinks while the audience and other guests laugh.

“And what were you two doing there?” Graham asks with a grin.

Lewis runs his hand through his hair breaking his gaze from Y/N back over to Graham, “That, that was a less than sober rendition of my song and Y/N trying to kill the both of us as my piano player filmed us.”

“Ok but we were on his tour and had too much to drink and it seemed like a good idea at the time,” she defends.

“Alcohol would do that,” Tom teases.

She smiles at him sheepishly before taking a drink, “Alright we don’t always make the best choices, but we do make the fun choices.”

“Fuck yeah,” Lewis agrees with a grin, his eyes quickly widening before muttering a quiet apology.

“So about this new album, what should we be expecting from it and when?” Graham asks.

“Well there are the artists that really want to reinvent themselves for their next album, really try something new and push the boundaries of music,” he replies. “And that’s not me. It’s gonna be more sad shit, and hopefully if you liked the first album you’ll like the second. We’re looking at it coming out in May of this year.”

“No inspirations for happy love songs in your life huh?” Chris asks with a knowing smile, glancing at Y/N next to him who quickly looks away from Lewis.

“Nope, I’m sad and alone,” Lewis confirms, his gaze once again drifting to Chris’ arm behind Y/N on the couch, then to her eyes as a content smile spreads across both their faces.

“Right then,” Graham chuckles as he stands up from his seat. “That’s all we have time for tonight. Give a big round of applause for my guests tonight, Lewis Capaldi, Chris Pratt, Y/N, Tom Ellis, and Jared Leto! I’ll see you next week everyone!”

Once the cameras have shut off, the guests all stand up to bid their goodbyes to one another.

“It was great seeing you again,” Jared says, pulling Y/N into a quick hug over the table. “We really need to work together again some time.”

“I get pranked enough in my personal life to go up against you again,” she chuckles setting her empty glass down on the table. “You take it to a whole new level Leto.”

“Oh you know you loved it,” he teases patting her shoulder.

“Of course, snake in my dressing room was the best,” she says while rolling her eyes but smiling. “It was good talking again. Hit me up sometime again sometimes. And it was great meeting you,” she says turning to Tom.

“You as well,” he responds with his own smile. “That goes for all of you, I had a great time.”

“Same here bud,” Chris says throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder and extending it for a fist bump at Tom who bumps it with a smirk, his gaze going to a very obviously uncomfortable Lewis behind Chris.

“It was fucking fantastic meeting you all,” Lewis interrupts after a moment. “All of you are amazing. But if you don’t mind…” he reaches around Chris to snag Y/N’s hand, who he quickly pulls out of his grasp and to his own side.

Placing a quick kiss on her cheek, he mumbles, “Let’s get out of here.”

Y/N nodding in agreement, follows Lewis off the set hand in hand with shy smiles on their faces as the last few remaining people in the audience cheer.

Turning to look at the other two men, Chris smirks and crosses his arms in victory, “Fuckin knew it.”

-----

Extra Notes: As to why I chose Jared Leto, Tom Ellis and Chris Pratt. Chris Pratt I thought would be a good funny guy that would mess with Lewis and Y/N a bit (and I’m a big Marvel fan so I’ve seen some of his interviews lol). Jared Leto just because I’ve been a fan of him and his band for a really long time and just thought he was someone I could write alright. And Tom Ellis because I felt like the Lucifer show fit the vibe of this, and I had the chance to see a live panel of him at a Comic Con I went to where he was just a really cool guy.

Masterlist

Request List

[lastxviolet]

The Assistant - CH. 2

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

Cool air stung her face as she followed Sadie off the train. They'd left London completely under the thumb of summer so the autumnal chill was entirely welcome. She sucked in the familiar earthy, forest air, relishing in the arrival at their destination, and shook the image of her family having dinner tonight without her while pushing through the crowd of students chatting loudly. The small Hogsmeade platform was hardly big enough to house them all so she quickened her pace, desperate to emerge from the pack before the crowd was shoulder to shoulder.

As she walked, she eyed the students around her hopefully. There was still one dear friend that she owned a greeting to but she hadn't seen her on the train. She searched the crowd making its way to the enchanted carriages at the beginning of the forest and spotted sporadic curls walking quickly behind a group of Gryffindors, a few feet in front of her.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Hermione Granger outside of their evenings in the library. Her almost two-year-long friendship with the witch wasn't necessarily a secret but it was certainly unexpected and not very well known.

It had been annoying at first, sharing her late-night library refuge with the young bushy-haired witch, until one night they talked so long that Madam Pince had found them asleep at the desks around sunrise. They'd crossed paths almost every night in the library since, spewing factoids, and quizzing each other but also sitting in comfortable silence. She would never admit it to her fellow Slytherin's but studying with Hermione always made her miss her younger sister a little less.

"Alright, Granger?" She called loudly enough to cut through the bleating crowd, accidentally making her friend jump a little. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's necks snapped back towards her, ready to defend their friend, but relaxed and kept walking at the sight of her.

She scowled. If she had to see any more red hair today, she would vomit. She didn't mind Harry or Ron too much, not that she'd ever spoken more than a few sentences with them. But, by the way, they spoke to Hermione when they came to occasionally tear her away from the library, they didn't appreciate the brilliant witch nearly enough, which rubbed her the wrong way.

Hermione abandoned her red and gold crowd briefly to awkwardly hug her shoulders. "Violet!"

She had grown a bit taller over the summer and Violet no longer had to look down on her, now they stood face to face. Her tawny eyes were bright against her freckled skin. A summer of unwinding had done her some good.

"How was your summer," Hermione continued, smiling broadly.

"Excellent, and you," she asked into Hermione's signature curls, as the witch held her tight.

"Quite busy really, I have loads to tell you," she exclaimed. "I'll find you in the library, I've made some astounding discoveries in Arithmancy that I think you'll find interesting."

Hermione let go of her shoulder as Harry and Ron pulled her onto the enchanted carriage, landing next to Neville Longbottom, a particularly tragic Gryffindor.

"I can't wait to hear about advanced potions this year," she half shouted from her seat, waving as they rolled away towards the castle.

That's right, it was her sixth year so she finally got to be in the N.E.W.T level potions class, the most advanced potions course that Hogwarts offered. How had she forgotten? She silently thanked Hermione for the much needed happy thought.

"You'll be sick of hearing about it before Christmas!"

She smiled. Leave it to the Gryffindor to make her look on the bright side of things.

Sadie pulled her up to their carriage and nuzzled into her as they glided through the trees, cold air whipping any exposed skin.

If it weren't so cold, it would've been a nice walk. The Hogsmeade train station was close to the spot she occasionally wandered to in her free time. There were a few feet, closer to the lake where the various protection spells and other charms were weakest and her cassette tape player worked. She stared at it longingly as they passed by. It, and a few books, would be the closest she'd be to the muggle world for another year.

The Great Hall was already hustling and bustling with students scurrying to say hello to friends from other houses before the feast commenced, by the time they got there. The ceiling glowed ominous blue and black, mirroring the storm that was brewing outside. Below it, thousands of candles hovered, glittering the ornate gold accents and casting bright reflections around the room.

One more important hello left, she thought, as Sadie dragged them to their table.

She passed the Bloody Baron, shooting their house ghost a nod, and craned her neck to inspect the head table at the front of the room before sitting down.

Professor Snape was already glowering at the Slytherin table, inspecting them for appropriate behavior no doubt, so all she needed to do was raise her arm in a small wave to get his attention. It took only a second for his eyes to find her. She greeted him with a curt smile, to which he responded with a polite nod. His somber eyes lit up for just a moment at their interaction but it ultimately made no dent in his stoic expression, not that she expected much more than that. He was incredibly guarded, strict, and stoic but she respected him immensely.

"Did you see him?"

Sadie pulled her down to their seats.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "See who?"

Sadie huffed slightly, aware that she hadn't been listening to her since they walked into the room.

"Graham Montague!"

She'd heard that name too many times come from Sadies mouth to be curious about what was on about. Their tumultuous fling for the past few years had been exhausting to hear about.

"Oh yes, sorry I see him, but I wish I couldn't," she rested her head in her hands and tried to look interested.

"He wrote me over the summer you know," Sadie continued, ignoring the dig. "I told him that he owed me five galleons for making me read his stupid ramblings."

The sound of thunder made the room jump as the clouds on the ceiling broke, signaling a night of rain. Impatience had never been a flaw of hers but silly, elongated ordeals like the first feast of the year brought out the feeling in full force. It was a huge fiasco that took forever. She tried to calm her anxiously bouncing knee but it was torture to be away from the library when it was raining. No one would be there to witness the water droplets ricocheting off the stained glass that contorted the sprawling green grounds outside, transforming the world into a Monet painting.

The front doors opened with a bang and she turned to watch the soaking wet first years scurry down the center aisle. Enchanted music swelled to greet them, much to the surprise of the muggle-born students. They looked like they'd stumbled into a dream as they registered the amount of magic swirling around them.

Her first year, she'd pinched herself the entire boat ride across the lake, waiting for the majestic castle to disappear and be replaced by her bedroom ceiling. Her father's descriptions of the castle and campus hadn't done it justice and she still found new things to marvel at from time to time. She wished there was a way to sneak a camera in next year so that she could capture her sisters reaction.

The festivities crawled at a snail's pace. She politely clapped along for every sorting, ignoring the pang of nerves in her gut when a few of the newly sorted Slytherins scampered over to greet Malfoy with a handshake, clearly aware of the pure-blood supremacy they were joining, and it's leader.

The others nervously stared at their plates, occasionally looking up to search for a friendly face, which she and Sadie were always happy to provide. It was tough, especially for those who were aware of Slytherin's reputation but had expected to be sorted into a different house. Tougher though, for those who had to learn the hard way. She pitied them, as she'd pitied herself. Her father didn't talk about the wizarding world much so she was left to piece together the dos and don'ts through old photos and whispers between her parents. It was a learning curve, especially coming from a muggle school but it took almost no time to realize that a simple green tie could be interpreted in terrible ways.

She glared at the sorting hat as a professor whisked it away.

The shrill noise of echoing metal against glass signaled the room to be quiet. Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat, effectively hushing the students. He extended his arms, the silver of his robes shimmered in the candlelight, as his soft eyes took in the room.

"I have only two words to say to you," he said, pausing pervasively. "Tuck in."

Dinner flooded onto the tables, appearing out of thin air. She craned her neck to watch the first years again, the shock on their faces was hilarious and would probably take a few more meals to disappear. The rest of the room was completely distracted by the lavish meal.

Finally.

"That's my cue," she whispered low enough for only Sadie to hear, turning to swing a leg over the bench.

"I don't think you can escape so easily."

She shot her friend a puzzled look before following her gaze towards the closed main doors, being guarded diligently by the caretaker, Filch.

"Bloody hell," she huffed, glancing around the buzzing room for an explanation. Sadie spotted the Bloody Baron again, making his way down the table and beckoned him to join them.

"Tell me, Baron," she mewed, smiling sweetly. "Why does Filch look like he'd tackle anyone who tried to leave?"

Even in his wispy white form, the Baron's eyes twinkled at the opportunity for gossip. You wouldn't expect it from his name but he had two soft spots; Slytherins and the chance to spread rumors.

"You didn't hear it from me Miss Baldock but the Headmaster wants everyone here for a special announcement at the end of dinner," he answered in nothing more than a whisper. "However, I would be willing to assist you, should you need to make a quick escape." He bared his teeth and shot a devilish glare at the caretaker.

So, she was stuck.

"Thank you Baron but that's alright, I'd hate to miss anything important," Violet insisted, resettling herself back on the bench.

"Suit yourself, Miss Wilkes, I might just go and do it anyway. Excuse me," the ghost floated back through the hall, giving them a mischievous wink.

She glanced back up to the head table. Other than a few more empty seats than normal, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe he had some new professors to introduce? Or perhaps some new school rules to brief them on? Either way, the thought of being trapped was making her restless.

She pursed her lips in thought and begrudgingly returned to the one-sided conversation Sadie was having with her.

"As I was saying, if we don't have Care of Magical Creatures together I will have a fit."

She held her fork and picked at the food in front of her; trying and failing to enjoy herself.

"Oh Sadie, please tell me you're not still on about your obsession with Hagrid," she regarded her friend with a knowing glance.

"I am not ashamed of my lust for a big, daft man," Sadie said, pointing her chin towards the rest of the Slytherin table. "Lord knows none of these twigs could do the job — daft yes —but twigs none the less."

She laughed, easing the nerves in her torso. Sadie's pessimistic view of their house wasn't entirely wrong, the only exceptions were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two particularly porky fourth years who followed Malfoy around like puppies. Definitely not the big and dumb that Sadie was looking for.

She'd never really looked at anyone from her house as a romantic possibility. Very few gave her the time of day and the ones that did usually regretted it. Her short fuse and hot temper didn't mesh well with the haughty nature and overconfidence of most Slytherin boys.

She participated in bits of conversation here and there during dinner but was at her wit's end by the time dessert finished. The air shifted from excitement to agitation as the rest of the room finally noticed their inability to leave. Dumbledore must have sensed the unrest because not a moment later, he was situated at his podium in front of the head table.

"Now that we are all settled in a sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," his voice echoed through the hall and drowned out the inquisitive chatter. "This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. See, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event, the Triwizard Tournament."

The conversation was instantaneous and ricocheted off of every surface. Students, mostly from wizarding families, picked their jaws up off the floor and tried to explain the exhilarating news to their less-informed peers, like herself.

The noise was enough to make her miss the train.

Over the twittering, Fred Weasley yelled, "You're JOKING," from the Gryffindor table and the room burst into a fit of laughter. Even Dumbledore struggled to stifle his giggle of delight.

"No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking. Now for those of you who don't know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a magical contest."

Their headmaster paused dramatically, and then continued, seemingly satisfied with the awe-struck look on nearly everyone's faces.

"From each school, a single student is selected, and let me be clear, if chosen, you stand alone. Trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint-hearted." His voice turned eerily serious and a shudder rattled down her back.

So not a fun, light-hearted tournament then, she thought. It had been a shock to learn that most things in the wizarding world came with a good amount of danger, even some of the most common forms of travel were riddled with risk. She was an idiot to think that a school event would be any different. Just look at Quidditch.

"More of that later," he said, snapping out of the somber trance. "Now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies from the Bauxbatons Academy of Magic and their Head Mistress, Madame Maxine."

The doors finally opened and a group of girls clad in light blue silk strutted through, nearly appearing out of midair. She rose out of her seat slightly to watch them flit down the aisle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, releasing blue butterflies with every step. Male voices erupted into cheers. Not surprisingly, the lewdest and loudest comments came from the Slytherin table.

Disgusting pricks had no respect. Not even for themselves.

"Blimey, I'd crack skulls if I were that big," Sadie gasped.

The giant Headmistress waltzed in behind her students, lead by Dumbledore.

"What a woman," she echoed, trying to tune out the embarrassing howls from her male peers as the French witches finished their show. She'd heard of other wizarding schools around the world but never expected to see their students in person.

She clapped along and admired the flattering Bauxbaton's school uniform. Who on earth had designed the grey and black Hogwarts uniform when other schools got that?

Maybe an all-girls school wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

"And now, our friends from the north," Dumbledore bellowed from the podium once more. "Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff."

With a bang, a group of large, tall, men strode into the hall sporting dark turtlenecks and fur coats. This time it was Sadie shouting lewd comments over the crowd.

"Bloody hell I think I'm going to slide off my seat," Sadie said breathlessly, pretending to grip her arm for support. "Guess I won't have to settle for Hagrid this year!"

She couldn't help but smile and laugh at the unconventional, scandalous humor of her friend.

The Durmstrang boy's faces were stoic and brooding, clearly, the cold northern winters were less kind to soft adolescent features. She wondered how they could be the same age as anyone at Hogwarts.

Sparks poured from the ends of their walking sticks, each strike leaving scorch marks on the stone floor. Gasps echoed through the hall as their quick pace eventually turned into a run, with some bounding forward to show off incredible acrobatics before joining the Bauxbaton girls at the front of the hall. Cheers turned into low murmurs as a man, who she guessed was their headmaster, walked into the room with a very stoic and large boy at his side.

"Fuck me," Sadie muttered. "That's Victor Krum. I can't believe my eyes. He's even better looking in person."

Violet tore her eyes from the pair strutting down the main aisle. "In person? What do you mean?"

"Quidditch of course," she snapped. "He almost won Bulgaria the Quidditch World Cup just last week. It's a wonder how he even has time for school."

Figured. Her father didn't even follow muggle sports, let alone wizarding ones. She'd successfully avoided the Quidditch pitch for a majority of games and could barely name a single ball.

The three headmasters met at Dumbledores podium, but the room was still abuzz, eyeing the celebrity excitedly.

This was her chance.

"Fill me in later," she said, swinging her legs over the bench, once more, to hop up from the table. She crouched and ran, hoping to go unnoticed.

"You're a real bore you know that," was all she heard before a rogue lighting bolt from the enchanted ceiling above helped her slip out the door without interruption.

Filch didn't notice her disappearance and she heard the doors slam closed when she was a few feet away. The noise was canceled immediately. The silence was a relief after nearly an entire day of chaos.

She marched towards the library, trying to stick to the shadows as much as possible, as she didn't normally go out of her way to break the rules like this. The halls were empty except for a few raging fireplaces, lighting her way and the occasional preoccupied ghost.

The isolation was heavenly.

She pressed a hand to the library door and pushed. Locked. Of course. Madam Pince was still at the feast, she thought, pressing her wand to the door.

Alohomora

The unlocked doors opened with a loud groan signaling that no one had been there all summer. The long room with mazes of books, desks, couches, and chairs was stale and less inviting in its dark state, than it normally was, fully lit and busy.

Incendio

She smiled. The familiar flickering orange glow illuminated the room and extinguished the final bit of nerves left from the train ride and annoyingly long feast.

One,

Two,

Three…

She counted the bookcases diligently. It took 40 to get to the hidden alcove at the end of the hall but even if she lost count, she'd know her plush, velvet chair anywhere.

No one except for Hermione ever wandered that deep into the library so the long walk was well worth the refuge and privacy that it allowed.

The sound of rain echoed through the shelves and high ceilings, creating a loud repetitive sound, only interrupted by her thudding footsteps on the rug. She dodged a few self-sorting books, enchanted to move on their own, but other than that, there was no movement.

Thirty-eight,

Thirty-nine,

Forty.

Relief.

The large wingback velvet chair in the corner welcomed her back with a familiar creak and groan as she nestled into her favorite spot. Nothing about the sanctuary had changed. Her chair, the oversized couch, and Hermione's long wooden desk with a few matching chairs sat exactly where they had been when she'd left in June. Satisfied with the familiar surroundings, she turned her attention to the large window. The colors outside were much less vibrant as darkness cascaded over the campus but at least she could still make out the last of a purple and pink sunset reflecting off of the lake.

Accio

A copy of Advanced Potions came barreling out of a bookcase too far away for her to see and landed in her outstretched hand. The familiar purple cover reminded her of all the ways that the castle felt like home.

The first time Snape had given her a copy of this textbook was during her fourth year. She'd worked through it late into the night for almost the entire term, only being befuddled by a few of the more time-consuming recipes. The look on Snape's face as she'd presented him with a box of vials containing the completed potions just before Christmas break, was the closest she'd ever seen him smile.

The pages were crisp as she flipped idly through the instructions, much different than her worn copy, and decided on the chapter about love potions.

After a few hours of leisurely reading, she battled the heaviness of her eyelids in vain. She nodded awake, surrendering to her need for sleep, and muttered a spell to return the book to its place. The library was still entirely undisturbed as she made her way to the door sleepily.

The sound of heels clicking over the whirling wind and rain against the windows signaled Madam Pince's return at the entrance of the library.

"I just cannot keep you away," the librarian said, letting her pass. "Is Granger back there as well or can I lock up for the night?"

Violet grinned. "Nope, just me, and I'll be out of your hair until tomorrow."

The generally stern woman shot her a wink and closed the door behind her. Madam Pince had probably seen enough of her to last an entire lifetime but she always made it seem like she was pleased to see her every time. Violet wondered if it was genuine.

Her exhaustion escaped her as she stepped out into the hallway, finding it in a state of disarray with her peers abuzz, running from one group to another, all gossiping about the Triwizard tournament.

Darting back down the main hall, she dodged running Prefects, and giggling underclassmen, sticking to the wall to avoid any familiar faces. Even on a normal day, it was quite easy to disappear in the vast castle and busy hallways. Steering clear of wandering eyes only took a step into a shadow here, or a quiet shuffle behind a babbling group, there. Which is just what she did as she made her way through the corridor. Only a few more paces of being invisible and she'd be back in the dungeon.

The energy in the hall practically rattled the stone walls. She couldn't fight the feeling that she'd missed something else important. She wondered if she was correct, and if leaving early had been worth it. The answer came as soon as the thought passed her mind, as a familiar voice boomed through the hall.

"They can't do that!" George Weasley yelled. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

Her heart race quickened as the redhead and nearly half of Gryffindor house came into view only a few feet away.

"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred waved his arms wildly next to his brother. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

Of course, they wanted to enter. There was no doubt in her mind that a Gryffindor would be chosen as the school's champion. They had a tendency for danger, and for proving bravery. She stayed in the shadows but watched the pack's trajectory closely, fearing that it might intersect with hers.

Hermione trailed behind the group, ushering them towards the moving staircase, and pestering them about being the last ones to make it to the common room. The young witch always looked at her whits end around her friends. How she had the energy to herd cats, was a mystery.

Violet accidentally caught her eye and picked up her pace, hoping to escape the group of extroverts with a smile and a nod.

"Violet," Hermione called as they crossed paths. "Can you believe the news about the tournament? Are you thinking about entering? You're seventeen aren't you?"

It would have been easy to lose them in the crowd but she couldn't be rude to her friend. Even if she was accompanied by a pack of lions. Begrudgingly, she peeled herself out of the shadows and met them in the middle of the hall.

"Not until October," she admitted to the group, all of which had their eyes on her. They were significantly less intimidating than her own house, but annoying all the same. The Weasley twins appeared to her left but she refused to meet their eyes.

How was it possible to avoid their hi-jinx for nearly five years, and now, she'd seen them three times on their very first day back, twice before they'd even made it to the castle. Well, she thought, bad things always come in threes so this would surely be the last time having to speak with them.

"The tournament doesn't start until after Halloween so you'll be just in time," Hermione said in an awkward tone, clearly sensing her apprehension. The encounter was uncomfortable but she appreciated the interesting revelation about an age limit. It certainly explained the prominent maturity of the students from the other schools.

The twins pushed between her and Hermione before she could answer.

Her heart rate spiked slightly. The devilish look in their eyes from when they'd entered her train car had returned. Were they going to confront her about the incident? Make her do something worse and in front of everyone?

"An older woman then," George sneered, still looking rather burnt about their previous encounter.

"Whaddya say, Wilkes? Do us a favor and put our names in the Goblet?" Fred echoed.

He loomed over her, his eyebrows arched in question and mouth stretched from ear to ear. She doubted he'd ever held his tongue in a conversation this long, and appreciated the show of restraint.

Regardless, she rolled her eyes. "And watch you get yourself killed?" She took a step around the boisterous twin and squeezed Hermione's hand in a silent goodbye. "I'd be happy to."

The Gryffindors laughed at Fred's protests but she ignored them, pushing through the group, regretting leaving the announcement too early.

She practically flew down the dungeon stairs, happy to have escaped from the interaction with minimal worlds. Freezing air and the smell of stone and musk welcomed her underground. It was good to be back.

The Slytherin common room door came into view and her excitement fizzled. A long summer away had made the putrid password, slip from her mind.

This was, perhaps, when she envied other houses the most. They all changed their common room passwords with the seasons, or just for fun; ad-libbing silly meaningless phrases to make homesick first years laugh as they entered their home away from home.

Not theirs though.

It stayed the same, year after year. She kept it hidden in her subconscious, only acknowledging it for the split second it took to open the common room door. Even then, she tried to regard it as meaningless, simply an old-fashioned tradition that refused to die, but deep down she knew what it was.

Submission.

A forced admission of blood superiority so that everyone knew, regardless of house, who was meant to submit to who. The sour taste lessened the more times she said it throughout the years but the first time back was always the worst.

Her lips curled and teeth bared in order to force her tongue to spit it out.

Pureblood

The stone slab slid away, revealing the elegant stone, leather, and green velvet common room within. She shook off the cloud of disgust and wove through a sea of familiar faces chatting and hanging off of couches and chairs. A group of seventh-year boys boasted loudly to the room about how they would bring Slytherin glory by winning the tournament.

She sucked her lips to her teeth and swallowed a smile. These purebred, pampered, prats wouldn't last a day in the muggle world, let alone with actual beasts, she thought.

Sadie practically pounced on her as soon as she pushed open the door marked Wilkes & Baldock. Despite her roommate's animated pestering, their new two-person suite, a perk for upperclassmen, was quite peaceful. Emerald sheets, curtains, and pillows, accented by dark wood furniture and adorned with silver knick-knacks, memorabilia from alumni past, made the room quite cozy.

She looked around the room once more before submitting to Sadie's chatter.

"Alright, what did I miss?"

"Could you have taken any longer? I've been back for ages," she scolded, pacing back and forth while trying to hold a straight face. "Sometimes I wonder what you would do if I wasn't always waiting around to fill you in on stuff."

She smiled at Sadies attempt to be withholding, especially with such clearly juicy information. Keeping secrets was not her specialty, not that Violet minded. Her lack of scandalous behavior ensured that she only ever got to reap the rewards of her friend's knack for gossip and weakness for babbling.

"But you are," she reminded her.

Sadies half-hearted scowl cracked. "Good point Vi," she said with a bemused grin. "Okay, where do I even begin to begin?"

Violet made herself comfortable in a pile of throws and cushions on the floor and listened attentively in order to correctly adorn Sadies dramatic retelling with appropriate gasps of shock, and bursts of laughter.

It wasn't that Violet didn't like to talk, because she did, but Sadies ramblings were somewhat comforting to her. It relieved her of the pressure to be entertaining, or the center of attention. She liked how relaxed she could be, as her friend had no expectations for her to fill the silence.

She'd missed the arrival of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had quelled the stray lighting that had covered her escape. Sadie hadn't caught his name but he was apparently very strange looking, not an unusual trait for the rather cursed position in recent years.

Sadie's face lit up as she recounted the looks of shock from everyone in the room when the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation from the Ministry of Magic had stepped forward to warn them about the real dangers of the tournament, and deliver the bad news of the age limit.

Real dangers, she thought. What had they been dealing with beforehand?

Their school definitely seemed more pampered than the Durmstrang's. Surely no one at Hogwarts stood a chance against these men somehow passing for teenagers, who looked like they'd seen worse things on their walk to class than they had in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She didn't even want to fathom the skill hidden behind the pleasant French faces from Beauxbatons.

She couldn't think of a single person at Hogwarts who might fare favorably against the dangerous tasks that had been alluded to. She wouldn't stand a chance unless she could bring a potions kit and be allotted weeks on end to brew. Maybe Hermione, but she was much too busy. If the twins did indeed find a way to enter, they wouldn't stand a chance at surviving, unless the monsters they faced liked pranks and bad jokes.

"Obviously I am going to enter," Sadie said. "I mean I've basically fought half the school already. And I'll take any chance I can get for those Drum — whatever, boys to fawn over me."

Strangely enough, it wasn't Sadie's worst idea.

"I'll happily and safely cheer you on from the stands," she assured her friend. "And help you cheat of course."

Sadie squealed in delight and continued her lecture, only stopping when she noticed how difficult it was for Violet to keep her eyes open.

They changed for bed, and Violet whispered an incantation to turn off the lights, ignoring Sadies not so silent departure from the room shortly after. Probably sneaking off somewhere to argue and then subsequently make out with Graham Montague for the millionth time.

Sleep came for her quickly, and she gladly joined it, despite the ominous impending images of Death Eaters and Dark Marks.

[riversofmars]

Hi! May I request soft space wives + an AU where Grace is still alive?

I LOVED writing this! I wasn’t sure what to do for it for ages and then inspiration struck as I was feeling festive so here you are! I really hope you like this! 

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1700

Another Christmas

“This was a wonderful idea, thank you for having us.“ Yaz grinned as Grace handed her a mug of eggnog. The O’Brien’s house was warm and cozy thanks to the fire in the lounge and Graham had put on his favourite - and ancient - collection of Christmas tunes to which Ryan insisted he could do better on Spotify. Travelling with the Doctor all year, time had flown by and Christmas had come round quickly, so this year, Grace had insisted on a holiday celebration with the Fam. 

“That’s alright, Love, though I’m not sure what you mean by us, it’s just you so far, God knows where the Doctor is.“ Grace chuckled taking a sip from her own mug.

“She’s late.“ Graham commented with a huff walking over from the adjoining kitchen where he had just checked on the turkey. 

“How do you have a time machine and still manage to be late?“ Ryan wondered dropping into the armchair by the fire, holding out his hands to warm them after clearing the footpath of snow in front of their house. 

“She probably forgot which Christmas it is. Bet she’s knocking our door down in 2022 right now.“ Yaz chuckled.

“Maybe she got distracted.“ Ryan shrugged. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.“ Grace chuckled. 

“It’s snowing! White Christmas!“ The Doctor exclaimed with the pure joy of a small child seeing snow for the first time. The evening was approaching and darkness had fallen early as it did this time of year. The warm light of the streetlamp tinted everything orange and it was eerily quiet, the snow swallowing any sort of sound. “It’s it beautiful?“ She glanced back at River who had followed her out of the TARDIS and gave a small smile, her heart warming at her wife’s childlike excitement. The Doctor took a twirl and stuck her tongue out to catch snowflakes. 

“You do realise how dirty the air is on Earth is in the twenty-first century, eating snow isn’t exactly…“ River started saying but stopped when her wife shot her a look.

“Alright, spoil sport.“ The Doctor pouted. She noticed River looking up and down the road somewhat awkwardly as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pulled her leather jacket tighter around herself. 

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea.“ River mumbled confirming the Doctor suspicion. She was feeling insecure about spending Christmas with her wife’s friends.

“It’s not like you to be nervous.“ The Doctor gave her a reassuring smile and took a step closer to her. She reached for her hand, forcing her out of her defensive posture, by pulling it close and to her lips. She placed a soft kiss on her knuckles and River couldn’t help but smile a little, despite her obvious discomfort. “They’re the kindest group of people, we’re going to have a lovely time.“

“I don’t doubt that, I just…“ River didn’t really know how to put her worries into words. Talking about her feelings wasn’t something she was particularly good at. “What do they even know about me?“

“Honestly? Absolutely nothing.“ The Doctor replied with an apologetic smile. 

“Seriously?!“ River exclaimed. She couldn't believe her. That was even worse than she could possibly have imagined. She ran her hands through her wild curls. “Why not?!“ 

“It just… never came up. I don’t know. How do you say: Yeah by the way, I’m married. But technically, my wife is dead. She’s trapped in a super computer in a huge library. I might try and rescue her this Christmas, who knows, maybe I’ll bring her for Christmas dinner, maybe I won’t, depends on whether I succeed or not.“ The Doctor rambled, trying to brush over how scared she had been of failing, how much she had actually doubted her ability to do it, and how close a call it had been. She still couldn’t quite believe River was here with her, actually here, flesh and blood, alive and well, and oh so real. She hugged her hand to her chest, not wanting to let go of her ever again. 

“Alright, point taken…“ River mumbled and stepped closer, leaning against her and resting her head on her shoulder. The Doctor mirrored her, leaning her head on her shoulder in turn, just standing still for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth of River’s body against her, as the snow fell silently around them. 

“We should go in before we catch our death out here.“ The Doctor said softly after a while when the chill started reaching her bones thanks to her naked shins. 

“Alright.“ River nodded straightening herself up, taking a deep breath. She shook her hair out, trying to rid herself of the snow flakes in it. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful.“ The Doctor breathed and reached out to touch her cheek, overcome by her emotions for a moment, marvelling at her natural beauty and effortless grace. She leaned forward and captured her lips in a soft kiss. River smiled into the kiss, it had been so long for both of them, there was a carefreeness to them now that neither of them had ever known. The Doctor had always dreaded River’s death. River had always dreaded the day when the Doctor would not recognise her. Now, they could finally imagine a future without the inevitable heartbreak that had both lived with for so long. 

“Thank you for coming back for me.“ River whispered, almost like a sigh of relief, as she rested her forehead against hers. 

“I love you, River.“ The Doctor replied softly. “I don’t think you know just how much… I never told you that enough… but I will from now on.“ She broke off when she chocked up. Her emotions were all over the place. Her brain still hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that River was back for good now.

“You sentimental idiot.“ River chuckled softly brushing her blonde hair back. “Is a woman’s body making you more emotional?“ She joked and wiped a tear from her wife’s cheek. 

“Shut up.“ The Doctor huffed wiping her eyes in embarrassment.

“I love you, too.“ River smiled leaning in to kiss her again. 

“There you are, Doc!“ A voice called from the door of the house they had parked in front of. “What are you doing out here, you’ll catch your death, you…“ Graham stopped when he realised the Doctor wasn’t alone. 

“We better go.“ The Doctor chuckled trying her best to hide her embarrassment at being caught during an intimate moment. She took River’s hand in hers and pressed a quick and reassuring kiss to it. 

“Too late to turn back now.“ River sighed but felt a lot better than she had a moment ago and allowed the Doctor to guide her along the path, holding her hand tightly. 

“Come on in!“ Graham beamed at them both as he held the door open. He didn’t question the Doctor bringing company, he had seen enough to know that they were about to learn something very special about their friend who never revealed anything about herself. It was a big deal. 

The Doctor gave River a reassuring smile as they made their way into the cozy home. 

“Come on through, it’s nearly time for dinner.“ Graham showed them to the dining room where Grace was putting large bowls of food while Yaz and Ryan were laying out cutlery. “Look who I found loitering outside the house.“ Graham joked announcing their arrival. The others looked up and didn’t quite manage to hide their surprise when they realised the Doctor hadn’t come alone. None of them had seen the mystery woman before but they all immediately picked up on the fact that they were holding hands. 

“Did you get sidetracked?“ Yaz raised her eyebrows in amusement. 

“Uhm… yeah, you could say that…“ The Doctor retorted awkwardly, not sure how to best go about this. “I… uh… there is someone I would like you to meet.“

“You must be River.“ Grave smiled kindly at River and the Doctor’s face fell. How did she know who she was?

“She talks about you a lot.“ Ryan chuckled, amused at the Doctor’s dumbfounded expression. River was confused, hadn’t the Doctor said they knew nothing about her?

“What are you talking about, I never told you about her.“ The Doctor looked around the room utterly bewildered. 

“True, you never told us about her but you talk about her all the time, you just don’t notice.“ Yaz smiled kindly. 

“We never asked, we thought you’d just tell us when you were ready.“ Graham added as he walked over to his wife and looped his arm around her waist. 

“We knew there had to be a reason why we hadn’t met her, why you never properly told us. We thought it might be something that’s hard for you to talk about so we never pushed… but you speak of her constantly.“ Grace explained. 

“This is just like the time River and I…“ Yaz grinned, mimicking the Doctor’s voice. 

“The last time I did this, River…“ Ryan joined in with great amusement. 

“River always used to say…“ Graham added.

“I wish River was here to see this.“ Grace smiled. “You always speak of her and don’t even realise it.“

“I never realise I did that…“ The Doctor spoke softly. 

River felt tears welling up in her eyes. Embarrassed she wiped her face, she didn’t look at her wife, she thought she might burst into tears of she did. Instead she just squeezed her hand more tightly.

“It is a great pleasure to finally meet you.“ Grace smiled at River, catching her attention. “Let me get you a drink, how about some eggnog?“

“That would be lovely, thank you.“ River managed a tearful smile, finding her voice at last.

“You don’t have to tell us what happened if you don’t want to.“ Yaz smiled at the Doctor who was struggling with composure herself.

“I just… couldn’t go another Christmas without her.“ The Doctor said at last looking over to her wife, her hearts full of joy, surrounded by the people that had come to be her family, and reunited with the woman she would love until the end of the universe itself. 

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 2

“Under the Knife” - Part 2

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2,500-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talks of murders, talk of crime scenes, cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List:

@fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

----------------

After your meeting with Jack, you filled out some paperwork and made it official: You were going to be his profiler for any case that he wanted to call you in for. And apparently he already had one building. 

“We have a suspected serial killer hitting close to home. Three killings in Montclair, Lorton, and Fredericksburg.” As he said the Virginian cities, Jack plopped 3 case files in front of you and moved to the board full of evidence that he had.

“Oh! We’re starting right now? O-Okay.” He turned from the board to look at you with a sort of incredulous way. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” 

“I mean, we literally just signed the papers. I thought I would have a night to prepare instead of being thrown right in.” You said the truth without seeming ungrateful or annoyed, which was good. But you instantly started to nervously ramble as Jack nodded and walked back to his desk. “But if we need to start right now, I can. I just wasn’t ready for--”

“You’re right. We’ll start talking tomorrow. For now, take those files, do your homework, and report here at 9AM. We’ll go to the lab and introduce you to Beverly, Price, and Zeller.” Jack smiled and motioned toward the door. 

“Thank you. I will see you tomorrow morning!” You tried to be professional but also show that you were actually excited to work with him. 

“See you tomorrow.”

After putting the files securely in your bag, you headed to your apartment. You put the files on your dining room table before you hung up your coat and work bag. You checked your watch. You had dinner plans with Hannibal in an hour and a half. You stood between your room and the table that the files were seated on. You fidgeted with your ring for a few seconds as you debated on whether or not to start catching up on the case now or after dinner. 

“I can read over the first one and then get ready for dinner.” You told yourself as you pulled out the semi-comfy chair and opened the file. 

Case: #566-A

This case was from 6 weeks ago in Montclair. Ballsy to be close to the FBI and kill people. There were two victims: Dr. Everet and his wife Whinnie. They were found dead in their shared bedroom in their upper-class house. A nice upper-class place thanks to being a doctor. 

Whinnie looked like a murder that you would find in an armed robbery case: Quick throat slit, not much thought or motive into it, left on the floor to bleed out. Dr. Everet on the other hand was what you assumed grabbed Jack’s attention.

Dr. Everet was in the middle of their bed. The autopsy report claimed that the cause of death was exsanguination which made sense considering he was in pieces. Everet was cut at every major joint. His arms were separated from his shoulders, his legs from the pelvis, his thigh from his knee, his forearm from the elbow, and so on and so forth down to his fingers and toes. The report showed that there was a high level of paralytics in his system. So you make him sit there while you cut him apart. That’s why there are no defensive wounds. He had to lay there and endure all of that...

Why was Everet presented like this while his wife was a simple throat slit?

You made some notes in your book, making sure to write out questions to ask the team when you met up with them tomorrow. With every note you made, you found yourself going back to the case file and trying to connect dots. You soon realized that you couldn’t begin to connect those dots until you looked at the other files. 

Without much thinking, you opened all three files, quickly skimming over each of them and writing out the main points that stood out. You were supposed to be at Hannibal’s at 7 o’clock and it was only 5:45. It didn’t take that long to get to his place.

All of the murders happened 2 weeks after the other, starting 5 and a half weeks ago. Dr. Everet was about 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten was about 4 weeks ago, and Dr. Loriet was about 2 weeks ago. Which means this killer is bound to strike again soon if this time frame is important to him.

They all have at least one victim that is treated like a paralyzed piece of artwork like Dr.Everet and at least one victim thrown to the side and killed quickly. The ‘pieces of art’ were all doctors, the others were their husbands or wives.

They all were in different cities in Virginia but close enough to make a solid assumption that this is the same killer.

You were scribbling out a note to ask about if there were any particulates found in any of the bodies when your phone buzzed on the table next to you. You didn’t even look at the screen, you just hit the answer button and put whoever was calling on speakerphone.

“(Y/N) speaking.” 

“Good evening, (Y/N).” The thickly accented voice rang through your speaker and stopped your writing mid-word as you looked from your phone to the files that were now spread out across your small tablespace.

“Dr. Lecter! Hi! Good evening! Sorry, I was um...  caught up in something and didn’t even register who was calling!”

“No need to apologize. I was just wondering if I should still expect you tonight?” You dropped your pen as you frantically looked at the time on your phone. It was 6:15PM. You quickly started to shut the files and stand up muttering a few curse words as you did. “I take it you got distracted?

“Yes! I’m sorry! But I am still coming over as long as the invitation is still good.” You picked up your phone and walked to your room to start to quickly figure out a nice outfit that didn’t look too much like a work outfit or too fancy. “I am getting ready now!”

“As I can hear.” You could almost hear the slight smirk he most likely had on his lips from hearing you fumble around your small space. 

“I should be there right around 7 and I’ll explain myself, I promise.” 

“I will see you then, my dear.” Hannibal hung up while you were slinging your work shirt into your laundry bin. You couldn’t help the smile that spread as you thought about how he called you ‘my dear.’ You know it's probably nothing more than a common nickname for any woman in Hannibal’s life, but it still felt good to be called something other than your real name. 

~~~~~~~~

Somehow you had managed to avoid a lot of major traffic and pull up to Hannibal’s home right at 7 o’clock. He must have heard your engine or seen your headlights because as you got out of your car and made your way to his front door, it was already open with him waiting for you with a small smile on his lips. 

“Right on time.” 

“Did you doubt me?”

“Never.” Hannibal moved to the side to let you in. You were instantly hit with the scents of whatever he was whipping up in his kitchen. 

“One day you’ll have to teach me how to make something really fancy just so I can show off next time I have someone over.” You shrugged off your bag and went to hang it up in the closet, but Hannibal beat you to it.

“Someone like a partner?” He was so good at hiding any sort of inflection in his voice, but you could have sworn that you detected a bit of jealousy. You slightly laughed at the idea of having any sort of romantic partner right now.

“I was thinking more along the lines of my brother. You know I don’t have much of a social life outside work.

Hannibal motioned for you to walk towards the kitchen, you did so and he was right behind you. 

This was normal for the two of you. You tried to have a meal or at least coffee together once or twice a week to give both of you a break from whatever the world was dishing out to you that week. You had met as colleagues when you worked together on a project for the FBI. But now you both were in a comfortable friendship. There was a pang in your heart that wanted to explore the idea of being more than friends or coworkers with him, but you doubted Hannibal felt the same. If he did, he wouldn’t show it due to his connection with your brother and out of respect for you. So the two of you continued this dance of being extremely friendly but too scared to make a move or speak up.

You poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter as Hannibal reached into the refrigerator for lemon juice and finished up cooking. 

“How was your day today?” You ask him, as you take a sip.

“It was alright. Met with patients, got further in a drawing, figured out what to cook for a beautiful lady as a congratulation of sorts.” Hannibal quickly looked up at you as he said the last half of that before turning to the stovetop. You felt a very small blush creep on your neck, but tried to play it cool. 

“Congratulations?”

“On your new position. I hope you don’t mind that Will shared that with me today.”

“Did he now?” You couldn’t help the slight negativity in your voice as you looked away and played with your ring. “He is definitely not as happy for me as you are. I’m sure you’re aware that he did not want me to accept Jack’s offer.”

“I cannot tell what he said, but I can tell you that he was rather upset when he came in today.”

“Sounds like my brother.” You took another drink of water, not even noticing that Hannibal had plated dinner until he spoke up.

“Now, if you’d please.” You quickly looked up and saw that he was gesturing to the dining room. You tried to help by grabbing a plate or his cup or something to bring to the table but he just gently ushered you into the next room. He never let you help out when you were over as a dinner guest, but you tried every time. 

The two of you sat and began eating. It was a good minute or two of silence before someone spoke up. 

“This is delicious, Hannibal! I don’t know what vegetable this is exactly,” you help up a swirly looking green piece on your fork, “but it is amazing with this sauce you’ve made.”

“That is romanesco broccoli. I thought you might like it. It looks intimidating but tastes like the typical broccoli that you normally eat. It's just a bit… Artistic.” He slightly smiled, happy that he could amuse you with new food. You took another bite as Hannibal reached for his wine. Before he took a sip, he asked something that had been on his mind.

“May I ask what grabbed your focus so much that you almost missed out on dinner tonight?”

“Oh, right! Jack apparently already has a killer he wants me to start profiling. He gave me copies of the reports to read up on before I have my first official day tomorrow. I told myself I was just going to read the first one, but then got carried away.”

“Is this the killer that has been targeting doctors?” You gave him a questioning look, unsure of how he knew about the case. “Jack asked for my opinion at the crime scene for Dr.Chaseten a few weeks ago. Considering they haven’t caught anyone, I’m assuming that is what he has you working on.”

“Then you would be correct. There are now three mutilated doctors that have no obvious correlation to each other other than the cause of death and the fact that they are doctors.” You sipped your drink and continued. “I know I’ve only been Jack’s official profiler for less than a day, but it's still biting at me that I don’t see anything yet.”

Hannibal reached over and put a hand on yours to try to rein you back in before you thought too much about the case.

“I’m sure you will have more answers tomorrow.” You smiled and patted his hand, ignoring the slight butterflies you got from the contact. You took a deep breath.

“I know. I shouldn’t get this deep yet. That insanity will hit me tomorrow when I have to brainstorm with Jack.” You smiled even though it didn’t fully reach your eyes. You knew Hannibal would pick up on it. 

“I think it was Oscar Levant that said that ‘there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.’ Let’s just hope Jack Crawford won’t erase his line.” Hannibal gave your hand a small squeeze before removing his hand, causing you both to return your attention to your meal. 

“You know, we could have rescheduled this dinner if you felt the need to finish your work.” Hannibal was sincere. He understood your work was a major part of your life, but he did like to see you outside the halls of the FBI.

“No! I wanted to come by tonight! Honestly, I needed a mood lifter after today.”

“Oh? How come?” You finished chewing and then spoke your mind. You knew Hannibal was a therapist, but he wasn’t your therapist. So you tried to keep it friendly.

“I should be excited and happy to be starting this new position, but I’m more worried about Will. I don’t want this job to be what divides us, you know? We’re so close, and I am one of the few people that he can be comfortable around. I don’t want to take that from him.” You pause, unconsciously bouncing your leg and fidgeting with your ring slightly. You shook your head as if that would temporarily erase the thought. “I just hope that if I keep working cases, he will get more and more okay with it.” You cut off a piece of fish and ate, letting Hannibal know that you were done speaking.

“I’m sure he will be fine.” You look up to find him staring at you. More like watching you, hyper-aware of your movements that show your anxiety. “But enough about Will.” Hannibal held up his glass towards you. “Here’s to you and your new path in the FBI. May they see you as valuable and wonderful as I do.” 

You patted your lips with your napkin and smiled as you clinked your glass with his. Your heart swelled at his words. Why do you do this to me? 

The rest of the evening was spent finishing your meal and forcing Hannibal to let you help with the dishes. Afterward, he walked you to your car, as usual, opening the door for you like a true gentleman. 

Your drive home was peaceful and you found yourself smiling, thankful for your evening with Hannibal. It was nice to know that someone you cared about was happy for you.

[zyalahmiscfandom]

How Well Do You Really Know Him? (The Master x Reader)

Summary: You’ve been travelling with The Master for six months now, and an attempt to celebrate makes you realise just how little you know about the Time Lord. 

Word Count: 1944

AN: First time ever writing for the master or anything doctor who, so sorry if its way too OOC

It was supposed to be a nice relaxing trip. A sweet way to celebrate your six month travelling anniversary with the Master. You hadn’t expected this, you weren’t even keeping track of how long you’d been with the Master. So when you had come into the console room of the TARDIS this morning to a beaming and excited Master, rambling on about how amazed he was that you had lasted this long with him, and how he wanted to show his appreciation to his favourite pet, you weren’t going to say no. Not that you had ever wanted to say no to your Master.

That’s how you ended up on The SS.Fairfax. The 32nd century’s most expensive and high class Space Liner. A cruise ship that only the best of the universes 1% was permitted to vacation on. But your fun day out had been ruined when you had ran into The Doctor and her quote ‘fam’.

The Master had told you a little about his best frenemy. You knew that she was a Time-Lord like him. That they had grown up together, and had even spent some time travelling together recently. Though he said he was a completely different person when that happened. But the main point you had gleamed from his vague stories was that she was his complete opposite, where the Master strode through the universe enveloped and reveling in the chaos he found, and often created. The Doctor was cautious and vigilant, trying her best to be a calming safety net for the universe and even beyond.

So when you found yourselves all in the Celestial Solarium on the 55th Pleasure floor an argument quickly rose up between The Doctor, Master and the 3 people the Doctor was travelling with. You had no idea what the hell was going on. During the fight you could only gleam a few things like;

“I thought you were dead!” “Gallifrey exploded!” “What are you doing here?” “Is the ship gonna explode?”

And most importantly,

“Who is she?”

A question that didn't get answered because the Fairfax security dragged you all to the brig, and to your surprise, The Master surrendered easily, he didn’t even fling a snarky hidden threat to your captors. The only time he protested was when they split you into gendered cells.

The guards didn’t care, and they threw you into a surprisingly posh jail cell, with The Doctor and the girl she had been travelling with.

And that’s where you sat.

Staring almost unblinking at the sealed door. Waiting patiently for The Master to burst through and take you back home to the TARDIS. You made a mental note to never celebrate anniversaries again, or maybe if you did, you’d suggest that you stay in an watch a movie or something.

You sigh, finally tearing your eyes from the door, to quickly glance back at the women behind you.

Awkward eye contact ensues.

“Uhhhhh...” You creak out just seconds before The Doctor bounds forward hand extended, beaming smile plastered across her face.

“Hi there, I’m The Doctor.”  She grabs your hand and vigorously shakes, whilst keeping unbroken eye contact with you. Clearly she was searching for something in your eyes. You just didn’t know what.

“Uh. Y/n.” You reply. Shaking your hand limply after she finally lets it go.

“Nice to meet cha’ Y/N. That’s Yaz by the way. Say hi Yaz.” You looked past the energetic blonde to her younger friend.

“Hi.” The beautiful girl beamed, as she gave you a little wave.

You were starting to question if people this extroverted really existed when The Doctor grabbed your shoulders tightly and gave you an almost too serious look.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I’m gonna get you home.”

“What?” You questioned. Taking a step back from the Time-Lord and shaking of her prying hands. Confusion swept over your face.

“It’s okay,” Yaz smiled, taking a tentative step forward. So she was directly beside The Doctor, she had an aura of helpfulness around her, though you knew it was misguided at the moment. “The Doctor’s here to help. We both are.” The Doctor and Yaz shared a look and a smile before placing their attention on you again.

“Help. Why would I need help?” You stated. Firmly standing your ground against these ‘helpful’ strangers.

“Well, first your in prison.” The doctor playfully remarked, to which your rolled your eyes.

“It’s a cruise liner not Guantanamo.” You retorted, your sass palpable in the air. You obliviousness to the seemingly serious situation seemed to irk The Doctor a bit, as you saw her eyebrow twitch.

“Second, you are travelling with THE most dangerous man in the universe.” Her tone was low, almost unnerving.

“I know.” You stated back. A statement that seemed to take both women aback.

“You know that he’s The Master?” Yaz inquired confused.

“Who else would he be?” You found their puzzled expressions amusing. Normally you wouldn’t be this antagonistic towards people you’d just met, but they where starting to push your buttons. Not many things did, but The Master was one of your buttons. You hadn’t realised it until now. But all your confrontations recently had been because someone (normally the alien The Master had come to destroy) had insulted your friend. You didn’t have much good in your life, and The Master had taken you to the stars and given your life more meaning that it would have on Earth. He could have left you behind after your first encounter, but he hadn’t. He’d seen something in you. Something he didn’t see in other humans, and so what if it had only been 6 months, you couldn’t deny he was so important to you now. He was your best friend, your family, your home. And the idea that someone was going to try and take you away from someone you loved was incomprehensible to you.

“Emil Keller, Martin Jurger,” The Doctor started pacing, rambling off names in increasing displeasure, “Professor Yana, Harold Saxon, Missy…”

“Don’t forget O.” Yaz chimed in.

“Exactly. The Master may have told you his real name Y/N. But how well do you really know him?”

“How well do your companions know you, dear Doctor?” The Masters voice sang out from behind you. You could hear the smirk in his voice before seeing it, and you couldn’t stop the beaming smile from taking over your face.

You spun instantly, coming face to face with the one person you wanted to see. The Master leaned casually on your open cell door, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching his TCE nonchalantly.

“Master!” You practically squealed out. You had to restrain yourself from hugging him right there on the spot. Your predilection for hugs had gotten you in trouble with the Master before, and you had come to an agreement that you can hug him all you want, as long as it’s in the TARDIS.

You quickly positioned yourself by The Masters side. The place you felt the most safe and most comfortable. The Doctor however had anger burning behind her eyes.

“Where’s Graham and Ryan?!” Yaz demanded.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The Master teased. You sensed a history there, and a small pang of jealousy hit you. Which was new. You didn’t like it.

“Master, I’m warning you.”

“Oh I’m so scared Doctor.” The Master pressed a hand to his chest and feigning fear. “Come on, show me that Oncoming Storm.”

His goading was interrupted, by who you assumed was Graham and Ryan, though you didn’t know which man owned which name, bursting into the increasingly cramped room.

With the two men bursting the tension bubble. The Master seemed to become incredibly bored with the situation.

“Well, now you have your friends back,” The Master stressed the word friends out, “I’m taking what’s mine.”

Without warning The Master grabbed your hand, and took you away. Not stopping or caring when The Doctor yelled after him.

The walk back to the TARDIS was silent, and so was the take off. You sat silently in the soft brown leather chair in the console room. The Master was purposely avoiding your eyes. Something was off. You knew it, and he knew it too.

You realised how little you actually knew him, you only had his side of events, if he in fact told you anything about his past. And any adversaries you crossed with him, never lived long enough to tell their tales of The Master. You knew he had a dark past, one filled with pain, and death. You knew he had hurt people, that probably didn’t deserve it. But he never went into specifics. And you had been fine with that, but you realised now, that you had told him everything about you, anytime he’d wanted information from you, you’d given it. Did he not trust you, or did you mean so little to him that the truth wasn't worth you knowing.

“You were Harold Saxon?” You mumbled out quietly.

“Don’t.” The Master’s eyes met yours in a silent plea. As he clenched his fists on the controls.

You had started down the road of truth, and you weren't about to back down now. You slowly got up and went over to the man who was seemingly still a stranger. You gently placed a hand on his clenched fist, causing the man to flinch. His eyes filled with fear, or maybe regret. You couldn’t quite tell.

“Like…Prime Minister Harold Saxon?” You probed.

“Y/N I’m warning you. Don’t.” His steely face was turned to you. His expression deadly serious.

“Why?” Self preservation be damned, you needed his to trust you. More than you expected too.

“Because!” The Master yelled, yanking his hand from your grasp, and turning his back to you. His shoulders hunched, his breath heaving his short frame.

“Because is not an answer!” You yelled back, surprised at your rising anger. “Master tell me!” You demanded.

The Master snapped, twisting round and slamming your back against the console. Pinning your there with his surprising strength.

“Because I’m a monster.” The venom in his voice was tinged with despair. “I’ve bathed in the blood of stars and danced across the barren fields of the universe, and loved every minute of it.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as the man who had been your saviour showed his hidden rage. Though you were sure it wasn’t entirely aimed at you.

“But you saved me, you took me with you.” The tears finally fell. “Was…was everything a plan, a ploy? Some kind of sick game to you?”

“No.” The Master eased off a little, no longer pinning you in place, but not letting you go either.

“Then why not tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t want you to leave me.” He sounded so, so broken. It killed you. Without thinking you pulled him into the tightest hug you’d ever given. His arms hung limply at his sides as he continued, “I wanted to pretend, see what it would be like to be THEM. To just have someone I...”

“Master, if I didn’t leave after what you did to that Anoxil General, I’m not gonna leave now.” You tried to make a joke, it was after all one of your defence mechanisms. “I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I want you to trust me, I need you to trust me Master.”

Slowly his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose nuzzled softly into your hair.

“If I tell you, you have to stay forever.”

“Deal.”

[hookedonapirate]

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.  

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

So a few things before we get started with this chapter.

You've probably noticed, I made Emma older than she is usually portrayed in fanfics since being chief of surgery requires an extensive medical background, education, training, experience, etc. Basically this is how old she would be ten years later from the OUAT pilot. With that said, I've made the other main and supporting characters older as well. Emma and David are 38-39, and Killian, Elsa, Anna and MM are 32-35. Just wanted to clarify that to avoid confusion, though I do mention some of their ages in the story. I'm doing my best to keep the timeline consistent but if anything doesn't make sense with the timeline, or in general, please don't hesitate to ask me about it either on here or Tumblr.

Secondly, I know some of you, or maybe all of you are hoping Emma will contact the police about Neal, but keep in mind, Emma's a suspect and yes, contacting the police would be in her best interest, but Emma's going to be paranoid about every move she makes because she overanalyzes and thinks everything through. And any move that could potentially bring more attention to herself regarding graham's murder could effect her career she has worked so hard to obtain. So please keep these things in mind before you get too upset with her.

Also, this chapter is in Killian's pov, so we will see the video footage of Emma's interview. To avoid a bunch of repetition this chapter shows different points of the interview so that's why different questions are shown in this one, except for a few that I included in both chapters..

You will find that Killian has to iron out some wrinkles in his relationships with David and Elsa, so this chapter and the next will include some angst, but I think all of you lovelies are going to like what I have planned for chapter 5, so please bear with me until then :)

Okay enough of my rambling and on with the story. Thanks for reading!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2

Chapter 3

“Uncle Killian!”

  With a big smile on his face, Killian watches his nephews charging toward him. He sets down his tackle box and fishing pole and wipes the sweat off his brow as he steps off the dock. “Oof,” he feigns a pained noise with a chuckle as Leo tackles him. Killian picks him up, drawing him into an enormous bear hug, noticing his nephew is heavier than the last time Killian picked him up. “You’re growing too fast. Soon you'll be taller than me.”

  “Nah-ah,” Leo laughs, shaking his head. 

  “Uncle Ki-wi!” Liam wobbles toward him and wraps his arms around Killian’s legs. 

  “Can you tell they missed you?” Mary Margaret asks as she catches up with her children, David hot on her heels, their hair rustled by the wind.

  “No, not at all,” Killian chuckles, setting Leo down to pick up Liam. “It’s been too long. Far too long.” The two brothers are four years apart, and though Killian is not related to them by blood, he’s like a brother to David, thus Uncle Killian to David’s sons. “I missed you too,” Killian says, dropping a kiss to the crown of Liam’s head. 

  The little lad will be three years old soon, but it feels like only yesterday when Killian cradled the newborn in his arms as the parents announced they were naming him after a man who died a hero—David’s best friend and partner, and Killian’s brother. 

  He sets little Liam on his feet and looks up at David, noting the laptop satchel strapped around his shoulder. He fooled Killian into thinking this was only a social visit by wearing his casual clothes—khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. And Mary Margaret is carrying a tote bag of beach supplies, ready to lounge on the beach.

  “Did you catch anything?” David asks. 

  “Fishing is not about the catch, mate.”

  David grins. “I know. It’s an excuse to drink during the day, right?” 

  Killian scoffs playfully and waves his words. “Like I need an excuse.”

  They share a laugh as they draw each other into a hug and pat one another on the back. They’ve been friends long before Killian joined the Storybrooke Police Department. David’s four years older than him and the same age as Liam would've been—thirty-nine—but the three of them were pretty much inseparable. And after Liam passed, Killian and David shared a heartache neither would ever fully recover from. “I’ve missed you, Jones.”

  “Missed you too.” After they break the hug, Killian turns to Mary Margaret, smiling warmly at her. “Thanks for bringing the boys.” 

  “Of course,” she says, throwing her arms around him. She’s six years younger than David and has been married to him for ten years. They met right after she graduated from college and moved to Storybrooke to take a teaching job. She is now the vice principal at Forest Grove Elementary. 

  “Sorry if I smell like fish and sweat,” Killian apologizes as he wraps his arms around her.

  “Oh wow, you do,” she laughs, pinching her nose but doesn’t pull away. “That’s okay. Wouldn’t expect anything less since you live in this fishing town.” 

  He chuckles. “You know, I could’ve just visited you all in Storybrooke if I had been given more notice. I could’ve saved you a trip.” He didn’t even know they were coming over until last night when David had called him out of the blue.

  Mary Margaret waves off his words as they break the hug. “Nonsense. The boys were dying to see their Uncle Killian, and they've been begging us to take them to the beach, so we thought we'd kill two birds with one stone.”

  “It’s nice to see all of you again.” He looks at David, narrowing his eyes. “Though I have a feeling this isn't just a pleasure trip for you, is it?”

  David gives into a grin and pats Killian on the shoulder. “Is it ever just pleasure with me?”

  Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “Never.” Outwardly he’s relaxed and cheerful, but inwardly, he has a bad feeling about whatever David wishes to discuss with him.

  “Uncle Killian, will you make sandcastles with us?!” Leo asks as his mother hands him and Liam a big sand bucket packed with sandcastle molds and a shovel.

  Killian opens his mouth to answer but David beats him to the punch. “Actually, we have some important things to discuss first. Then Killian can make sandcastles with you.”

  The boys groan their disapproval, Leo gets over it quickly and wastes no time racing off toward the shoreline, Liam wobbling after him.

  “Not so fast, you two! Sunblock, first, then floaties!” Mary Margaret calls out, following their trail of messy footprints in the sand.

  When Leo halts in his tracks and turns around, going to his mother as she spreads out a blanket on the sand and retrieves a bottle of sunblock from her tote, Liam trails behind his brother.

  “Anyone want something to drink?” Killian asks them.

  “Sure, I’ll take some iced tea,” Mary Margaret replies.

  “Do you have Capri Suns?” Leo asks.

  “Of course I do. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t stock up on Capri Suns for when my nephews come to visit?”

  “Yes!” Leo exclaims, fisting the air.

  Mary Margaret pulls off Liam’s shirt and rubs lotion over his back and arms. “Thank you, Killian. And you don’t have to worry about Liam, he has his sippy cup with juice in it.”

  “Okay.” Killian turns his head to look at David. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure, you got Lone Star?”

  Killian’s lips stretch into a wide grin. “Any other beer would be treason.” After he grabs his fishing gear and stores it in the garage, he and David head inside the house. 

  Killian goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher of sweet tea, a fruit punch Capri Sun and two bottles of beer, setting them on the island counter. He pops off the caps of the beers before handing a bottle to David. “What important things did you have in mind to discuss?”

  David holds up his bag. “Take a wild guess.”

  Killian sighs as he pours Mary Margaret a tall glass of tea. “And here I thought you just wanted to catch up on old times.”

  “I do, but I also want to discuss a case with you,” David admits softly before taking a swig of his beer.

  Killian’s jaw twitches as he glares at his old friend. “Then you’re wasting your time. I came here to Port Lavaca to get away from that stuff.”

  “Which is exactly why I brought it to you.” David sets down his beer and places his laptop bag on the counter, unzipping it. “Just give me five minutes, okay?”

  “And why should I?”

  “Because you’ll want your hands on this case, trust me.” David pulls out his computer and sets it up on the counter.

  “How are Elsa and Camila doing?” Killian asks, deliberately changing the subject. He’s not interested in whatever case David is about to present to him, nor is he pretending to be. 

  “Why don't you ask them yourself?”

  “Because you see them and talk to them more often than I do. I didn’t even get invited to Anna’s wedding, which I’m positive the Maid of Honor had something to with.”

  David looks up from his open laptop, furrowing his brows. “Doesn't the bride and groom normally choose the people on the guest list? Mary Margaret and I chose our own guests for our wedding.”

  “True, but even if Anna and Kristoff wanted to invite me, you don’t think Elsa talked them out of it?”

  David shrugs. “Maybe, but if she did, who’s fault is that?”

  “David…” Killian mutters with a pained expression, his heart constricting. “You know my relationship with Elsa hasn’t been the best since Liam passed.” 

  David turns around and plants his hands on his hips, gaping at Killian. “Hasn’t been the best? It’s almost nonexistent.”

  “Aye, because of what happened,” Killian states bitterly. “Since then, she’s only ever let me stop by so I can pick up my niece and spend time with her.” He desperately wants to change that though. He wants his sister-in-law back, he wants the friendship they once had, and he wants to spend time with both her and Camila again. He’s tired of missing out on important milestones in Camila's life all because her mother and uncle prefer not to be in the same room together. He’s just been too much of a coward to tell Elsa that. To apologize for letting his temper get the best of him.

  “Do you blame her? You let her husband’s killer get away with murder,” David scolds.

  Killian slams his beer on the counter, anger surging through him. “I loved him too, okay?! I was only trying to prove—no, you know what?” He raises his open palms in protest. “I’m not doing this with you. Not today, not ever.” He gathers the beverages and storms out, the backdoor squeaking on its corroded hinges as he strides onto the deck and rushes down the steps. He doesn’t need this shite. His nephews are here to visit with him and he’s not about to waste the opportunity.

  “Killian, wait!” David calls out from the deck as Killian trudges through the sand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that! I know you loved him! We all did!”

  Killian turns around, pinning him with a glare as David makes his way down the steps. “He was my brother. I’m the last person in the world who wanted that piece of scum to get away with ending his life.”

  “I know.” David sighs as he inches closer. “Which is why I’m here.”

  Killian narrows his eyes, his brows knitted in confusion. “I thought you were here to discuss a case?” 

  A pained expression etches David’s features. “I am. A case involving your brother’s killer.”

  Killian’s fists clench around the drinks, his jaw tightening at the thought of another innocent victim falling at the hands of—

  No, he can't do this. He’s not going down that path again; it only leads to anger, bitterness and vengeance. He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m done with detective work. I’m not interested.” He walks away again, heading toward Mary Margaret and his nephews.

  “What if I said there's a good possibility you could catch him this time? Then would you be interested?”

  Killian stops in his tracks, gazing out at the sea as David’s words slice through him. No, he shouldn’t care about catching Liam’s killer anymore. He gave up a long time ago. But somehow he finds himself turning around to face David again, curiosity clawing at his gut. “How?”

  A triumphant grin crawls across David’s lips. “I knew that would gain your attention.”

  “Just tell me,” Killian demands ardently.

  David steps toward him. “I'll tell you when you agree to hear me out.” He holds up the five fingers of his right hand. “Five minutes.” 

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Killian mumbles and turns around, walking away. This time, David doesn’t holler after him or follow him.

  When Killian brings the drinks to Mary Margaret and Leo, she thanks him and lifts her sunglasses, perching them atop her head and squinting up at Killian. “What were you and David shouting about?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing important.”

  Mary Margaret frowns, not believing him. “You should hear him out, Killian. He really misses working with you.”

  Killian sighs and sips his beer as he watches Liam filling his bucket with sand and Leo walking along the shore, collecting seashells. “Will I really want my hands on the case?”

  A solemn expression creases Mary Margaret’s features. “Would David drive three hours to ask you if he thought otherwise?”

  “He would if it meant spending time with an old friend… or at least I would hope,” Killian grumbles.

  “Of course he would, but if he didn’t think you’d be interested, he wouldn’t have brought it up.” 

  Killian takes another swig of his beer, pondering David’s offer.

  Mary Margaret puts her tea in the beach cup holder she’d brought with her and gets up to walk toward her sons, giving Leo his drink and sitting across from Liam to help him make a sandcastle. 

  Killian misses spending time with them, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to head back to Storybrooke. He’d moved here to this fishing town, Port Lavaca, almost two years ago and bought this cabin on Lighthouse Beach. After Cassidy got away with murdering Liam, Killian blamed himself—everyone blamed him—and he couldn’t stand to be in Storybrooke any longer. He couldn’t live in a town that reminded him of his brother, a town that couldn’t bring his brother’s murderer to justice and pointed their fingers at Killian for the reason Cassidy got away with his crime. David knows he has no interest in going back. Not to Storybrooke, not to the SBPD, and yet he made the trip with his family three hours away from home. Nolan wouldn’t have bothered bringing the case with him if he knew Killian wouldn’t take the bait.

  When Killian heads inside and steps through the backdoor, David’s back is leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he waits for a different answer. Or rather the answer he wants to hear.

  Killian knows he’ll regret this, but he can’t deny his curiosity is piqued. The detective in him is itching to know more about the case, or so he tells himself. He assents with an exasperated sigh. “Five minutes. That’s all you get.”

  David grins. “That’s all I need.” He brings his laptop to the table, and once Killian takes a seat next to him, David plays a video that’s ready to go on his laptop. “This was recorded yesterday.”

  The video feed takes place in the interrogation room. David and Detective Jefferson are sitting at one side of the table and there’s a man in a suit sitting on the other side who David says is an attorney. But what really piques his interest—or rather who—is the blonde woman sitting next to the attorney. She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail and striking green eyes. She’s wearing a black blouse under a fire engine red, two-piece suit and red pumps on her feet. Bold color choice. She’s definitely not a woman who lacks confidence. 

  “Who is she?”

  “This is Dr. Emma Swan. She’s a surgeon at Storybrooke General.”

  “That name sounds familiar,” Killian comments, more to himself than to David.

  “She’s Anna and Elsa’s cousin. But this conversation and what I’m showing you has to stay between us. I’m only here to visit with an old friend, got it? I haven’t even told Mary Margaret that Anna and Elsa’s cousin is involved in the case.”

  Killian nods. “I understand, but what’s her crime? Dressing too nicely. Being too pretty?” he quips with a smirk.

  David rolls his eyes. “This is serious, Jones.” He reverts his gaze to the computer screen. “Her colleague, Dr. Graham Humbert, was murdered seven days ago in the Storybrooke General parking lot. They were rival surgeons who bickered and teased each other all the time. Both were vying for the Chief of Surgery position he was appointed to just a week before he was murdered.”

  “And you think she offed him for his job title?” Killian asks, unable to take his eyes off her. She doesn’t look like your typical suspect by any means. She’s calm and still, her arms and legs crossed casually, her face expressionless. Typically, people who were being questioned for a felony offense trembled, couldn’t sit still and would sweat profusely. But not this woman. He can't detect any sign of fear or worry in her eyes, her posture or her behavior. 

  “I think there’s more to it than that, but yes, I think she had something to do with his death. The night he was murdered, Dr. Swan was with Graham at the Rabbit Hole. According to other colleagues who were also there celebrating Graham’s promotion, the two surgeons were having an intimate discussion.”

  Killian lifts a brow. “You think they were lovers?”

  “According to Emma and everyone else, they weren’t. They often squabbled, but it was mostly friendly. They respected each other.” 

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Dr. Swan said he walked her to her car that night, and before she left, she saw him head back inside. According to the bar owner and his employees who were on duty that night, Dr. Humbert left the bar an hour later, around eleven o’clock and went home. His phone records show he received a call at 2:20 in the morning, but it was from a restricted number.”

  “And let me guess, the number was untraceable?”

  “Yep. But whoever called him knew the safety code.”

  “Safety code?”

  “Anyone who calls in hospital staff is required to supply the safety code. You know, like when parents give their kids a safety word for emergencies so they don’t get abducted by strangers.”

  “So, whoever called Humbert was someone who works at the hospital?”

  “Possibly, and either that person had something to do with his murder or it’s a sheer coincidence the phone call preceded his death by only twenty minutes. But no one I spoke with at the hospital knew about the phone call or why he would've been called in. He wasn't on call that night.”

  “Was Dr. Humbert married?”

  “Nope, never was. A few people I interviewed mentioned he once had a fling with Dr. Regina Mills, head of Cardiology, but it ended four years ago. She’s now happily married.”

  “Maybe they still had something together, but kept it secret so her husband didn’t find out? And if so, maybe her husband found out and is the one who murdered him?”

  “The husband, Mr. Locksley owns the Rabbit Hole, and he was closing the bar at the time Dr. Humbert was murdered. One of his employees was there to corroborate that.” 

  “Dr. Mills didn’t take his last name when they got married?”

  “No, I asked her about it during the interview, and she said she wanted to keep her maiden name to avoid confusing her regular patients.”

  “And where was she that night?”

  “She was tending to a patient with cardiac arrest.” 

  “What was the cause of Dr. Humbert's death?”

  David clears his throat and retrieves a folder from his bag, pulls out some photos and spreads them over the table. 

  Killian swallows the sizable lump in his throat. The photos are of the murder victim with a knife lodged in beneath his left arm. 

  “Massive hemorrhaging from the stab wound.”

  Killian picks up one of the photos, studying it. “And the knife’s untraceable as well?” he asks bitterly, though he doesn’t need to. He already knows the answer.

  “Of course. The knife is an average filleting knife that could’ve come from any kitchen. The blade went through clean as a whistle and popped Dr. Humbert's heart like a balloon. And no fingerprints. Whoever did this knew what he was doing. Or she.”

  “Like another doctor?”

  David shrugs. “Possibly.”

  “And you’re certain the cardiologist was with a patient? She would know exactly where to stab a person to make it fatal.”

  “I checked the hospital security footage for verification. She went into her patient’s room at the time of the murder. Her alibi checks out.”

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  “A security guard saw Humbert pull into the parking lot but never saw him go inside. When he left his post to check on Dr. Humbert, he found Graham’s body near his car. The murderer was like a ghost. Never seen, never heard. He left without a fucking trace.”

  The hairs on the back of Killian’s neck stand on end. “Cassidy...” He cringes from merely speaking his name.

  David nods. “Question is, who hired him?”

  “This Dr. Swan… is she married?” Killian doesn’t think Emma had anything to do with the murder, but perhaps a jealous lover who saw her with Graham that night hired Cassidy. He’s drawing straws though.

  “No husband or boyfriend to speak of. She lives alone. No kids, not even birth parents. She was shuffled around from one foster home to another until she was adopted at the age of ten—by Anna and Elsa’s aunt. I’m sure you've heard the story?”

  “Aye, after their parents died in a car accident, Anna and Elsa went to stay with their Aunt Ingrid and her adopted daughter.” Killian points at the computer screen. “That’s her?”

  David nods. “Yep. The aloof cousin.” 

  “Huh.” Why has he never met this aloof cousin? Of course, if he’d known she was so gorgeous, he’d have made that happen a long time ago, but he'd never seen a picture of her, at least not one of her as an adult. If he had, he would have recognized her on the video. Killian shakes off the thoughts and studies the photos again. “I don’t get how a good-looking, successful doctor like this man stayed single?” Or a beautiful, successful doctor like Emma for that matter.

  David shrugs. “He probably was by choice. Maybe he was too focused on his career and thought a romantic relationship would only distract him. Or maybe he was in love with Regina and knew he couldn’t have her, so he didn’t want anyone else.”

  “Or maybe he was in love with someone else?” Killian poses. If he were Graham and had a female friend like Emma, he doubts he’d have only platonic feelings for her. “You said he walked Emma to her car that night?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Was there a kiss goodnight?”

  “When I questioned Dr. Swan, she said they hugged, and he kissed her on the cheek. I asked her if that was normal and she said no. It surprised her. But I checked the video footage in front of the bar. Mr. Locksley set up a camera there after someone tried to throw a rock through the door window a couple of years ago.”

  “To steal alcohol?”

  “Or cash from the till,” David shrugs. “Whatever their reason was, they weren’t successful. Probably got spooked by someone who saw them. Anyway, the hug between the two surgeons lasted too long to be friendly.”

  “How long?”

  “Ten seconds.”

  “How long is a normal hug?”

  “A few seconds, maybe more, depending on the relationship of the person you’re hugging. But ten seconds is too long if you’re only friends. Or frenemies in this case. So maybe, Graham had feelings for her but she didn’t return them? Maybe Graham made her feel uncomfortable or said something to her when he hugged her, and that, topped with him getting the promotion she desired was enough to want him dead.”

  Killian mulls it over for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, it’s too obvious. She’s smarter than that. She’s a doctor and has way more education than both of us combined. If she really wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have hired someone to murder him a week after his promotion. I don’t think she hired Cassidy.”

  David cocks a brow, a sly smirk curving his lips. “So does that mean you’re in?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Killian grumbles.

  “But it’s been over five minutes. Which means I’ve intrigued you. Otherwise, we’d be outside with my wife and kids right now.”

  Bloody hell. 

  David’s right. Killian is intrigued, and not solely by the case, but by the blonde woman on David’s computer screen. He wants to know more about her; he wants to find out more information. He has a gut feeling about her; he knows she didn’t murder Dr. Humbert. He doesn’t believe the whole rival surgeons scenario is a motive for murder. He and David also bicker and tease each other, but he would never murder David over a job promotion. “Okay, fine. I’m intrigued. But as I said, I don’t think she had anything to do with Dr. Humbert’s murder.” 

  David makes a noise of hesitance and appears to be unsure about Killian’s assessment. “There’s something else you should know that might change your mind.”

  Killian cocks a brow. “What’s that?”

  “Did you hear about Cassidy’s most recent trial?”

  Killian shakes his head. “I stopped watching the news or following any media regarding that arsehole,” Killian mutters. “Not knowing there’s yet another victim left in his path of destruction is the only way I can sleep at night.”

  “He was acquitted from another capital punishment.” 

  Killian scoffs. “So he got away with another murder? What else is new?”

  David sighs and fast-forwards through the video. “Just listen.” He hits play.

  “Dr. Swan, did you recently serve on a jury that recently acquitted an accused contract killer, Neal Gold?”

  Killian’s eyebrow jumps, and he reclines in his chair, crossing his arms.

  “What’s the relevance of the question, Detective?” Mr. Hopper asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  David raises his hand in defense. “I’ll get to that, I promise.”

  “Please do very quickly,” Emma says curtly. “Some of us don’t have time for unnecessary interviews. I have patients waiting for me.”

  David sighs. “The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can leave.”

  She expels a tentative breath. “Yes, I served on the jury that acquitted Mr. Gold.”

  “And were you or were you not the forewoman?”

  Killian swallows the lump in his throat. 

  “I was. But you already knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Feisty lass,” Killian remarks with a subtle smirk.

  David nods. “That’s for sure. Feisty but polite.” 

  They revert their attention to the video.

  “That’s correct. I’ve already interviewed the other eleven jurors.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe Dr. Humbert’s killer was hired. He wasn’t robbed, and he has no known adversaries… other than you, Dr. Swan.”

  Emma narrows her eyes at the insinuation. “Dr. Humbert and I were not adversaries. We were friendly colleagues.”

  “Yes, you were a colleague of his who wanted the promotion he got, and recently let a contract killer back on the streets.”

  Her eyes widen as she lunges forward in her seat. “I didn’t free him. The judge made the final decision. My job was to determine the facts and reach a verdict based on all the facts and evidence. In that case, the evidence was lacking.” 

  Her attorney puts out his hand to stop her from continuing to speak any further. “Detective, Mr. Gold’s crime was alleged and has no relevance to this case.”

  David pauses the video. “Some of the jurors said Cassidy and the doctor kept making eyes at each other.

  Killian quirks a brow. He doesn't doubt any straight, red-blooded male would be attracted to Emma, but he highly doubts a woman of her class, beauty and intelligence would be interested in a scumbag like Cassidy. “Did you question her about it?”

  “Yes, she claimed he kept staring at her, but that his attentions were very much unwanted. That’s as far as I got before Mr. Hopper stood and asked if there were any more unnecessary questions I wanted to ask her.”

  “So, you think the doctor hired Cassidy to eliminate her competition?”

  “The crime scene had his name written all over it.”

  “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t think someone like her,” Killian says, pointing at the paused screen, “would get involved with someone like that piece of scum.” The thought makes him utterly sick to his stomach.

  “He may be scum, but he’s clever scum. That’s why your brother coined his moniker, remember?”

  “Aye.” He remembers very well when Liam began calling him Cassidy. 

  One time Killian asked his brother why he called him that, and he said Neal’s father, a convicted felon Liam successfully put behind bars, was referred to only as his surname, Gold. To avoid any confusion, he didn’t call Neal by his surname too, nor did he wish to call Neal by his first name—Liam never called perps by their first name—so initially, Neal was the clever killer because he seemed to be an exception to Locard's Exchange Principle, which asserts, “the perpetrator of a crime will bring something to the crime scene and leave with something from it,” and that “both can be used as forensic evidence.” Dr. Edmond Locard was the Sherlock Holmes of France who came up with the basic principle of forensic science, “every contact leaves a trace.”  

  While Cassidy always leaves a weapon at the scene, he never purchases the weapons, or at least there is never a trace of the purchase. He also never leaves fingerprints. There was only one single time when Cassidy was sloppy and accidentally left something of his behind and that was when he murdered Liam. But he never took anything from his victims.  

  The name Cassidy was brought up when Elsa became pregnant with Camila and they were deciding on names. Elsa had mentioned Cassidy as a possible name for their daughter, and when Liam looked up the name to see what it meant, he discovered the origins of the name and that it meant clever. So it became Neal’s nickname.

  When Liam’s daughter was born, he suggested they call her Camila, which means perfect , and Elsa was immediately on board with it. Killian’s glad Liam and Elsa didn’t end up naming their child Cassidy. How ironic would it have been if Liam gave his daughter the same name he gave the man who eventually killed him? 

  Liam never mentioned Neal Gold to Elsa, he didn’t like bringing work home with him and he especially didn’t like to cause his wife any distress by talking about a notorious serial killer on the loose. He didn’t want Elsa to worry about her husband, and while she knew the risks that came with Liam’s job as a homicide detective, he made her believe he mostly reviewed old, unsolved cases. 

  After Liam died, Killian promised Elsa he’d find her husband’s killer. While no one was certain of who murdered Liam because there was no evidence, except for a single thread of fabric left behind at the crime scene, Killian and David knew. But Killian botched any chance they had of convicting Cassidy and failed Elsa and Camila in the process. Not only did he fail, but he’s the reason why Cassidy couldn’t be convicted. He acted on high emotions after Liam’s death. He was so angry and vengeful, he was willing to do whatever it took to put Cassidy behind bars. And that’s exactly why he failed. He didn’t think. He made a split decision, and several people have subsequently paid the price for that decision. Now a highly respected surgeon has been added to that list, along with who knows how many others.

  “So, how will you proceed?” Killian asks skittishly, afraid of what David’s answer might be.

  “Not me. Us,” David says. “I need your help.”

  “Why me? Why not Scarlet or Jefferson?”

  “Because I need someone with your instincts, someone good, and you're better than them or anyone else in our department. Besides, no one knows Cassidy like you do.”

  Killian shakes his head. “I can’t. Any case involving Cassidy is personal for me. After he killed—” His voice cracks. He can’t even force the rest of the words out. “I can't.”

  “Come on, Killian. I’m not asking you to come back permanently; just this one case, that's it,” David pleads. “If you won’t do this for me, do it for your brother.”

  Damn it, Nolan. Why did he have to go and use that card? 

  Killian sighs and stands up, pacing the kitchen. When he reaches David again, he stops and places his hands on his hips. “Let’s say I said yes, what would you want me to do?”

  “Search for any clues that will tell us if Emma and Cassidy are in alliance.”

  Killian furrows his brows. “Since you need probable cause, I'm guessing you don't have a warrant for Dr. Swan, so how do you suppose I do that?”

  David shakes his head. “Ah-ah, I’m not telling you until you say you’re in.”

  Killian sighs dramatically as he drags his hand over his face. He has a feeling he’s not going to like whatever plan David has up his sleeve. But he misses working with him again, and he has to admit, he still doesn’t believe Emma had anything to do with her colleague’s murder. So perhaps he can go along with David’s plan to prove that. He looks at David again and with a curt nod, he makes it official. “I’m in.”

  To that, David says nothing, just grins complacently.

  Killian gulps. What the bloody hell did he just sign up for?

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke​ @iam2307​ @winterbaby89​ @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

[whumphoarder]

Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”  

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

X

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They’re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

X

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder. 

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

X

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

X

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

X

Link to all my fics

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Morgan Stark, M.D.

Dad Level: 3000

Long Distance Dadding

X

[alphasmoonlit-selfships]

For Jason on the shipping asks!! Pre relationship 1, 2 and 4. General 1, 5, 7, 8 and Love 1, 4, 8!! So sorry for the late ask, my friend ;;w;;

Oh my dear friend!! No need to be sorry! These asks are so fun! And an ask of my sweet storm, a day after his birthday! 🥺🥺 much acceptance! 😤💖

Let’s dive in! 🥰🐺🐺 I wanted to give a good split between The Legendary Wolf Warrior’s and Digimon AU, but it is just going to be hella long uwu; so I’ll go with Digimon College Au for now! There is also a second first impression and meet later, buuuuut will go with the first! ^^’

Pre-Relationship:

1. How did they first meet?

It is about second semester of new uni for Danielle, she was on her way back to her university’s town, riding on Cyberwolfmon on the way over. Jason was with his sister, Lula, Lidia, and Thomas, having a short outing nearby the area, when a rogue Digimon appears and let us just say Jason gets grabbed protecting his sister and goes airborne by this Rogue. Raiwolfmon’s champion form manages to strike the Rogue and Jason is free falling from there after. Until! Danielle swoops in and saves his life, almost falling herself, she is small and he tall like,,, girl! Know your limit!

The Rogue was defeated and everyone was safe and sound! 

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Hehe, honestly, after that saving, Jason was utterly smitten by Dany, with her crooked smile and shining eyes as she tells him, “Gotcha there friend!” when she catches him from falling. His words all tongue tied and unable to say anything, but fluster and gratitude. Even as they all scramble to get some covering from authorities that heard some of the commotion.

She is honestly concerned over Jason, of course, understanding what it is like to fall from a great height like that and how shaking it is! She does admit that he is handsome and his pale blue eyes the most captivating thing about him... But doesn't let it linger for long, not when she is feeling affections for someone else... 

Nonetheless, Danielle is utterly excited to know Jason, along with Lidia who is another Digimon holder with her Earthamon! She takes their contact info and heads on her way soon after (always a shy lass to much action is overwhelming). Even so, she gives Jason the kindest smile and tell him to be careful, or she’ll come saving him again~

He, of course, doesn't mind at all, but is not hearing the end of it from his sister and fellow roommates~ 🥺😳

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Jason! Definitely my dearest storm. Although a clear crush at the start from her saving him, upon meeting her again did he slowly grow more feelings of affection. Curious to know more about her and her major and such... even when she had clear affections for someone else, he held back his feelings a lot, more than happy and content to be in her presence and get to know her more as a person. Both definitely had a strong friendship for a long time, but until things got messy in the Digital World did things between them start to move along.

Note: I will say that Danielle does grow feelings for Jason in their duration of friendship in the real world, it is...just difficult to fully explain, as another plot device keeps them from truly turning to one another as their true person of affection. 

General:

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Oof, the one thing I haven't truly thought of...

Jason most definitely! Believe me, these two are the slowest burn ever ;;w;; TakaSam is the slow burn in canon, but Digimon AU? That place goes to JayDany lol.

They are definitely in the Digital World when they confess, about a few years in, memory wipe and everything. It probably happens sometime after a battle with the Sins or a significant Digimon, Jason definitely confesses to Dany in recovery, maybe even kisses her too,,, or maybe that was her UwU, who knows? Nonetheless, they are finally together after such a long time, Jason is over the moon and just so in love with her, Dany has honestly never felt so light, even when evolving with Darkwolfmon, her heart is just warm and full ♥️🥰

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

UwU you know meeee~ am smol and he be tol <3 Danielle’s height varies depending on my AUs,,, but she is 4′9″ like me~ Canon wise she is 5′4″. Jason is about 6′1″, while canon him is about 6′4″. So about 14 inches between them UwU’’’

Danielle is 21 and Jason is 22 when they first meet! They are a year and two days apart in age! Canon wise they are both 22 with a two day gap in age!

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Jason! He is just more social and curious, despite his abusive upbringing by his stepfather, he has always been more interested in learning and meeting new people, he has a soft disposition to him that makes him more approachable to others around campus. He does get skittish and wary around older men who have a rough edge to them or stern way of speaking as it reminds him of his stepfather.

Although, later on in the digital world, Danielle herself, along with Takaru and their Digimon, becomes a voice and leader of convincing the Digimon to follow in their quest to defeat the grand evil that is causing the digital world to crumble. Of course... not by her choice, more so after the convincing of the others~

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Danielle! Yeah... our way of being jealous is honestly just self-loathing more than anything UwU’’’ feelings of self worth and not being good enough clouds the mind a lot. She never acts on her jealousy and it is often spent with Jason slowly getting her to talk about her feelings. She doesn't like thinking badly about anyone, and feelings of guilt soon come in which leads to the intrusive thoughts.

In a more solidified relationship, Danielle is more confident and trusting of Jason, growth in her self worth and confidence definitely grows!

Love:

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Jason! He may have said it once or twice before they were taken to the Digital World, probably a small murmur before Dany left or when they were having a moment~ But it does happen for real, real in the Digital World, he is probably on some pain meds, but they are the truest words. Dany does return the affections though actions and much later tells “Te amo, te amo con todo mi corazon, Jason; esa es mi verdad” (I love you, I love you with all my heart, Jason; that is my truth).

Precious Jay, he is just so in love with her, embraces and carries her.

4. What are their favorite things to do together?

Honestly, just being around each other, even before their relationship began, Dany just enjoyed his lively presence, he had a patient and beautiful demeanor, the way he spoke about his interest and engineering just made her smile. He had the tendency to ramble about happy moments he barely recalled and never interrupted him when he spoke on it. 

He enjoys her calm presence just as much, but when she speaks, it’s like she is telling him about a world unknown. Talking about her imaginings and tales just made him fall more for her. Often the one to push her to talk more about her stories and art in a way not many really heard about. He often asks her to teach him more on art and is often the one he turns to for critiquing. He is also one of the first from the group to hear her sing, encouraging her further and falling for her soft voice.

Stargazing is another thing, Jason never once thought of the endless sky or universe before Danielle showed him more. Flying on Cyberwolfmon with her, before the digital world? Now that is some intimacy building right there! Listening to music, while it rains heavily outside, and they are both just working together on their own thing? Some nice intimacy building! Both just catching a break from saving the world and running through a field so in love with each other and just imagining a life together with their friends and Digimon with them?? Omg yes! 💕💖😳💖💕

8. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

UwU I got all the songs, lol, a mess, but here are some!

Heart, Venus, Two by Sleeping At Last (Definitely Jason’s POV in the first two, w/ a mix of both in the last)

Spark (The Hunger Games: Catching Fire) by Arshad (Mix of both, but Jason singing)

7 years by Lukas Graham (Cover by Jasmine Thompson) (Danielle’s POV)

Love by Nathan Wagner (Jason’s POV)

Many, many thanks for the ask my dear friend! I truly appreciate it! 🥰🥰 I miss my stormy boi so much, you have no idea! I definitely need to give him some love (along with my other warriors ;;w;;) too! 🥰🥺🥰