#i got back one unsolicited opinion (did not answer my question) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

When she wakes, she momentarily can’t place where she is. The room is dim and there’s a soft whirring sound, a warm body tucked close against her back. Mulder’s apartment, she remembers. They’d decided to make it a double feature, collecting their clothes and switching out Mars Attacks for Twister. She must have drifted off at some point, with Mulder spooning her on the narrow couch, and the automatic rewind on the VCR kicked on when the movie ended. She pulls in a deep breath and his arm around her waist tightens momentarily.

“Stay,” he croaks from behind her, sounding as though he had also fallen asleep.

“I can’t, Mulder,” she replies, twisting her body around to face him, her nose pressed into his chest.

“Why?” he asks, brushing his palm up and down over her back.

“Because, I shouldn’t.” She knows her tone isn’t all that convincing.

“Says who?” he asks, though not indignantly.

“Says…I don’t know. Me, I guess,” she replies in a defeated tone.

He sighs, then pauses to consider his words.

“I don’t want to pressure you. But the idea of not seeing you again for a week kind of makes me want to die.” His words are soft and measured, communicating honesty, not frustration.

“That’s very dramatic,” she answers with a teasing lilt.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic.”

She worms up until she’s close enough to kiss him, pressing her lips to his cheek and then his mouth.

“You’re not pathetic,” she says tenderly, “you’re actually very sweet. I’ll make you a deal; I’m not going to stay the night,” she quirks a smile at his dramatic frown, “but we can get dinner tomorrow, and if you want to have coffee one day this week, you can come down.” She gives him a hopeful smile.

“That seems like a fair deal,” he says, kissing her forehead. “But if you get home, or wake up in the middle of the night, and realize you’ve made a horrible mistake, just call me. I’ll come right over.”

“I promise I will,” she says, then disentangles herself from his arms and collects her purse and shoes. She says goodbye to Priscilla, then bids a very long and very kiss-filled goodbye to Mulder before he finally releases his grip on her. As she waits for the elevator she hears the patter of his bare feet on the hallway floor and turns to see him skittering towards her, pulling her into one last kiss before he runs back to his apartment door, waving at her with a coy little smile.

Once she’s buckled into her car, she lets out a deep breath. She’d barely made it out of there; if Mulder had asked one more time, kissed her once more on the couch, she might have caved. Might have stayed the night, and might have done who knows what else. She can easily see the strong potential for this budding relationship to fast track to being more serious than she feels ready for, and it scares her. She’s never felt this strongly about anyone so soon after becoming involved with them. Clearly he has a strong pull on her, given that she cheated on Ethan with him, it’s just a lot, and she’s a person who likes to think clearly and make rational decisions. When she’s with Mulder, she loses the ability to think rationally.

When she’s home and tucked into bed, she does wish he were there, curled up behind her. Knowing she could call him and he’d be here in fifteen minutes is tempting, but she talks herself out of it. Not yet, not until she’s sure that this is more than just animal attraction. More than wanting to prove she didn’t destroy her relationship with Ethan over nothing.

It has to be more. And she suspects that it will be.

———

“Okay, spill it,” Missy says, and Dana looks at her with a mildly shocked expression, not even having fully taken her seat at the cafe with a mocha in hand before Missy gets down to business.

“Hello to you, too, Missy. How was your evening?” she asks her sister with a facetious tone.

“I hung around by myself and wondered what kind of action my little sister was getting that I wasn’t, so please, indulge me.”

Dana laughs and shakes her head, debating how much detail to give.

“It was nice, we just watched a couple movies, ate pizza, drank beer.”

“...and?” Missy asks expectantly.

“...and, we watched Mars Attacks and Twister,” Dana answers, knowing that this is not the information Missy is asking for.

Missy drops her head to the side with a frustrated glare. “Dana, quit being a prude, or I’ll just make up my own story and tell it to you right here in the coffee shop, I know you’d love that.”

Dana makes a face. “Okay, fine. Yes, we...fooled around. But we didn’t have sex.”

“Really, why not?” Missy questions incredulously.

“Missy, it’s not that abnormal not to sleep with someone on the second date,” Dana retorts with an annoyed tone.

“It is if they’ve already gone down on you and you’ve been obsessing over them for almost a year,” Missy shoots back.

“Well, regardless of your unsolicited opinion,” Dana replies, “emphasis on unsolicited, I’m choosing to wait a bit, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Fine, whatever floats your boat, Sis. Please elaborate on ‘fooled around’.”

Dana scoffs. “We...kissed, and some other things. Why are you asking for all this detail, Missy? I don’t recall you ever asking me to be this explicit regarding my sex life with Ethan.”

Missy rolls her eyes. “I’m willing to bet Ethan was into missionary with the lights off. This Mulder guy has serious sexual energy, he seems like the kind of man who knows what he’s doing. When’s his birthday?”

Scully frowns at the memory. “October 13th,” she answers flatly.

Missy shoots her a surprised expression, but suppresses it quickly. “Oh, wow, okay. Um, so he’s a libra. That’s a good thing, libras are very generous lovers.”

“I have seen evidence of that, however my pants stayed on last night so nothing to report in that respect,” Dana answers, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid looking at her sister.

“But his didn’t?” Missy asks with a smirk, and Dana purses her lips but doesn’t respond. It’s as good as saying yes.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” Missy teases with a knowing smile. “Some things never change.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dana asks defensively.

“Oh please, Dana, we went to the same school, you don’t think I heard the story about you and Marcus behind the gymnasium?”

Dana’s mouth hangs open in shock.

“Well, I hope he enjoyed his favor being reciprocated nine months later,” Missy continues, then adds “did you swallow?”

Her mouth drops open wider and she slaps Missy gently on the upper arm. “Melissa, don’t be gross!”

Missy is giggling and swatting her away. “You know what Dad always said, Dana, ‘a Scully sees it through to the end!’” She crosses her arms over her face in self-defense as Dana peppers her with little slaps, though they’re both laughing.

Finally, the tittering subsides and they are both back in their respective seats, catching their breath.

“So when are you seeing him again?” Missy asks, tucking her feet underneath her legs.

“Tonight, actually.” Dana answers self-consciously.

“Oh really? So soon?”

“Well he practically begged me to stay the night and said he didn’t want to wait until next weekend, so it was somewhat of a compromise,” Dana answers, the arrangement sounding like a red flag to her own ears.

“Dang, he’s got it bad,” Missy remarks with a little frown. “Is it too much? Are you doing that thing?”

“What thing?” Dana asks defensively.

“That thing where you get overwhelmed when someone is really interested in you and you sabotage it?” Missy ventures.

Dana furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t do that,” she says, but her tone suggests that she may not believe herself. “I just don’t want to get all caught up in the excitement of a new relationship and not look at things objectively,” she finishes.

“You know,” Missy says helpfully, “that exciting new relationship, not thinking clearly, crazy in love feeling is something most people like, Sis.”

Dana shrugs. “You know me,” she says plainly, “I’m not really one for excitement.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Mulder is going to put that to the test,” Missy retorts with a smile, and Dana cringes.

“I think you may be right.”

———

Her demeanor when he picks her up for dinner seems just a bit guarded and is markedly different than it had been when they parted ways last night. He brushes it off, figuring that things between them are still new and awkward, and recognizing that he’s probably coming on just a little too strong.

The day has been grey and cool, and she’s wearing jeans and an oversized blue sweater, her hair pulled half up into a little bun. He smiles warmly at her, but stops short of telling her how amazing she looks, sensing that she might not want to hear it. They make their way to a little Mexican place near her house and she is polite but quiet as they order, munching on chips and salsa with a pensive expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks cautiously, and she nods. “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I?” he adds, and she shakes her head gently, but looks at him with wide eyes from beneath her lashes, and he knows it’s true.

He sits back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Is it the sex part or the feelings part?” he questions, and when her eyebrows lift in surprise he suggests “Both?”

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s really not you, Mulder, it’s me. I’m just not very comfortable with the whole,” she swirls her wrist around in the air, “whirlwind feeling, when things are new.”

He leans forward on his elbows and looks at her seriously. “Tell me what you need me to do differently, Scully, and I promise I’ll do it.”

“Maybe just...don’t act as though I hung the moon?” she offers with a pained expression. “I’m just a human person like anyone else, faults and all. It makes me worry that when you really get to know me you won’t like what you find.”

He gives her an amused smirk. “At the risk of further idolizing you, what’s not to like?”

“You want me to write a list?” She asks, returning his smirk, and he gives her a half shrug, half nod. “Well, if I’m basing this on what my family, friends, and past partners might say; I’m very rigid in my thinking on most matters, take myself far too seriously, am emotionally distant much of the time, don’t really know how to have fun and...I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Basically I’m a total stick in the mud.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, smiling at her. Her self-consciousness is wildly endearing.

“Okay now you have to go,” she says, picking at her paper napkin.

“Oh, what are my worst qualities?” he clarifies, “Jeez, this could take a while. Um, I’m very singularly focused, as in whatever I’m chasing down at the moment I become completely obsessed with to the detriment of all other things in my life,” he casts her a little glance to confirm that she understands that this is what he’s doing with her, which she does.

“I’m a workaholic, though that’s a lot easier to manage when I’m not all that invested in what I’m working on. I’m terrible with things like birthdays, anniversaries, or generally sentimental things, I just forget them completely. I’m also persistent to a fault, and have a hard time letting things, and people, go, even when I should,” he looks at her again, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile. His worst qualities are the ones that are at risk of scaring her off right now.

“Well then, perhaps,” Scully offers, “I’ll work on not trying to shut you out, and you can work on not trying quite so hard to get in.”

“We’re still talking about feelings here, right?” he jokes, and she rolls her eyes.

“There’s another flaw I forgot, making jokes at completely inappropriate times.”

She smiles at him, with teeth, and he knows they’ll be okay. He needs to be mindful, but he hasn’t totally fucked it up yet.

The rest of their meal goes without incident. He talks about spontaneous human combustion while she calmly explains why it’s medically and scientifically impossible. The way she can disagree with him without talking to him like he’s a lunatic endears to him even further, but he works hard not to let it show. When the waiter comes by and asks about dessert, she shakes her head.

“I have ice cream at home,” she says after the waiter leaves, “saves us five bucks.”

He masks the surprise and delight he feels knowing she’s essentially just invited him back to her apartment, and absolutely does not allow himself to hope that she’ll let him stay the night. It’s a work night after all, and she’s just made clear that she has a tendency towards rules and guidelines; sleepovers on a school night seem like something she’d be against.

Back at her apartment, she gives him a quick tour, having neglected to do so when he was here last week, and he’s impressed though not surprised by how grown up and clean her place is. It matches her personality perfectly, and that makes him like the place immediately.

She opens the freezer and pulls out a pint of ice cream, then retrieves two spoons and hops up on to the counter, which brings them just about face to face height-wise. The cold blast from the open freezer has hardened her nipples and he avoids looking as they pass the pint back and forth, taking alternate bites and talking about their favorite and least favorite flavors. Soon enough, the tub is empty, and she sets it and the two spoons to the side, leaning back against the cupboard behind her. He steps closer into the space between her thighs and places his hands gently on her hips.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks in a neutral tone, not wanting to sound like he’s trying to persuade her.

She quirks her mouth to the side in consideration. “Maybe not just yet,” she says, then hooks her legs around the backs of his thighs and pulls him closer.

He suppresses a victorious smile and instead leans forward to kiss her, simultaneously slipping his hands under the hem of her sweater. She jumps a little at the contact, and he realizes how cold his fingers must be from the ice cream. He pulls his hands free, rubbing them together briskly in the space between their bodies as he continues to kiss her smiling mouth. When he’s satisfied that they are warm, he returns them to her bare sides and she hums in approval. Her hands find the back of his neck, scratching through his hair as his fingers trail their way up the ladder of her rib cage until they meet with the soft underside of her bare breasts. He wants to make mention of the lack of bra, but isn’t sure if calling attention to it would make her self conscious, so he says nothing and just enjoys it. Brushing his thumbs along the seam where chest becomes breast, he moves to kiss down her neck, teasing at the skin behind her ear with the firm tip of his tongue. Finding the spot she seems to like the best, he then runs his thumbs up until they meet with her hardened nipples and she emits a little moan that goes straight to his dick. He stays on this particular combination of rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger while licking and kissing her neck until she’s tightening the grip of her legs around his hips, seeking friction. He pushes the fabric of her sweater up slowly enough that she has plenty of time to tell him if she wants to stop, but once her breasts are exposed and his mouth is wrapped around one of her nipples, he is absolutely sure that she doesn’t. She lets her head fall back against the cupboard, breathing hard through her open mouth. He brings the fingers of one hand to the button on her jeans, then pauses.

“Okay?” he asks around the nipple between his lips, and she hums out an “mmmhmmm.”

Flicking the button open and easing the fly down, he slips his hand palm-up under her panties, drifting down through her neatly trimmed hair and into the slick heat of her. She’s deliciously wet, and knowing he caused it makes him feel weak in the knees as he rubs his groin against the edge of the counter, even more turned on than he had been before. He slides his fingers up and down over her swollen lips, his tongue still lapping and sucking at her nipples alternately, and she is panting and quaking beneath him, hips writhing and fingers digging into his neck telling him that she wants more. He circles his dampened thumb around her clit and she whimpers, clutching his head to her chest. His middle finger finds her entrance and swirls around it, not quite entering, and she stills, waiting, anticipating. When he continues with his same teasing movements, she lets out a frustrated breath and speaks.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice pained.

He smiles against her breast, slipping his finger inside, and she moans low and long, throbbing once around him. He experiments with different ways of touching her, inside and out, and soon she’s gasping and breathing raggedly, flexing her hips into his hand, nearly suffocating him with her breast in his mouth and he feels like he’s in heaven.

“Oh god,” she moans, then goes still for a long moment as he feels her walls clench tight around his finger. Then she’s coming, throbbing rhythmically and pulling his face up to kiss her, pouring her blissful moans right into his open mouth and clutching him as close as he can get with one hand in her pants. Finally, she touches his wrist gently and he pulls his hand free, enveloping her fully in his arms as they kiss with just as much passion as they started with.

“That really wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested ice cream,” she says against his mouth, and he smiles, breaking the kiss.

“So that wasn’t some kind of ‘dessert’ double entendre?” he asks, pulling back slightly and looking at her flushed cheeks and still-dilated pupils.

“No, but I’m not exactly devastated that you interpreted it that way,” she replies with a playful lilt.

“So...what now?” he asks cautiously, neither wanting to overstay his welcome nor do what Frohike delicately calls ‘hit it and quit it.’

She bites her lip and considers the question. “You wanna hang out for a bit and watch TV? I’ll have to kick you out at 9:00, it being a school night and all.”

He feels his mouth stretch into a broad smile at the confirmation of his suspicion that she calls it early on work nights.

“Sounds perfect,” he replies, then steps back so she can jump down from the counter, re-fastening her jeans while casting him a mirthful glance.

They snuggle up on the couch and half-watch whatever is on, but mostly they talk, and kiss, and laugh. He finally asks her about the little gold cross necklace she’s always wearing, and he finds himself further enamored with how complex she is; a woman of science and religion, beautiful and strong, smart and fun. He’s working hard to temper his expression of it, but if he was only ninety-five percent sure he was in love with her when he said it back in August, he is one-hundred-twenty percent sure now.

True to her word, she kicks him out at 9:00 and promises that they will get together for coffee this week once she takes a look at her autopsy schedule and knows which days she’s free.

Once in his car, he drops his head against the back of the seat with a satisfied sigh. All week at work, his colleagues will ask him what he’s smiling about, and he’ll tell them truthfully that he’s just really, really happy.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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drrutherford · 8 months ago

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Yes. This evening should be over, should've been over before it'd even started.

But the Rutherford doesn't answer her. He buttons his jacket in silence, even as the pleasant, carefree hubbub of the bar surrounds Cecelia's words, a stark contrast between lightheartedness and sobriety. He wants to know who told her about his private affairs. He wants to know what they're saying, how they found out, what poisonous opinions are circulating about him this time. He knows she won't tell him.

'I don't know who hurt you,' Cecelia says, and he wants to laugh. How much time do ya got, Hathaway?... It might've all started with a car crash at the age of five, with his aunt's guilty, trembling fingers as she'd tried to unwind his hand from hers and leave him in a place he didn't understand, with other children who'd lost parents, too.

Old stories, old wounds — but there are events even Cece remembers.

The way his name was dragged in every fucking tabloid and online forum for years after supposedly betraying Britain's sweetheart; the darling, two-timing, drug-abusing Katherine Mayfair — who'd detonated his reputation all to punish him for the Great Crime of divorcing her and seeking custody of his son.

"It's not about whether you're out to get me." He lies, because it is that too, because he doesn't trust her, even though he has enough manners not to say it to her face. But it isn't only that. "It's about the fact that my business – my own – is wagging on people's tongues despite my not telling anyone outside of my family." Leyla and Nora were the only ones among his friends who knew of his plans, and neither were the type to tell. "Hell, Cece," He scoffs, "There are even members of my family who don't know it yet. I'm sure you can imagine what that feels like."

But maybe she's right, that she isn't the kind of woman whose agenda he should be so deathly afraid of. After all, it could've been Charlene; with her razor-sharp smile and cold-hearted machinations. It can always be worse; life has taught him that.

''My motives were clouded, but they were real. Does that count for anything?'

Despite himself, despite the fact he has one foot out the door, Gideon sighs. "I dunno." He admits, this time honestly. "Maybe it does, I'm not sure." He shakes his head and nudges the stool out again, but he doesn't sit; not just yet. Instead, he meets Cece's gaze, as if to say for your love of all things holy, don't make me regret this.

"Yes, I'm trying to get Felix back. Because..." Gideon hesitates, looking for a polite way to say, 'his mother only remembers he's around when she can use him as a weapon'. He doesn't say it. Even now, he can't. Maybe to the courts, but not to Cece. "Because I've reason to think it's in his best interests. Whatever people may think of that."

Your kind of people, he thinks. The people who make gossip their currency.

The surgeon looks down at the business card for her top private investigator. It's sitting abandoned on the bar counter now, next to Cece's free drink, compliments of Table 5. As much as it irks him to think she's picked up his case out of a need for diversion, as if his entire life is of no more importance than a trifling hobby to her, he tries to consider his son. It might hurt his pride, but if it could benefit Felix...

"How did you come by the services of a PI, anyway?"

It's bold. Blurted out without the due consideration that would normally bar such a question from his mouth. But as his gaze flickers up from the card and back onto Cece, he finds he doesn't regret it. Two could play at this game.

And if isn't a game, then Cecelia Hathaway can give him an ounce of private truth for the pound she'd stolen from him, unsolicited.

Now, he seemed utterly absurd. She couldn't help but release a sigh, one that conveyed a clear message: it was time for a serious discussion. They had barely arrived, yet both were already acting impulsively. What they truly needed was a moment to pause, to take a breath, and to approach this situation anew. She had reconsidered. She was ready to give it another shot, but he would also need to be open to the idea and let go of the ridiculous notion that everything she did was solely for her own benefit. "Are we already deeming this evening over then?"

No, she resolved to push back a bit more. Not to defend her offer for assistance anymore, but to combat this perception he seemed to have of her.

"Gideon, I don't know who hurt you..." someone had to have hurt the man, "but not everyone is out to get you. I'm not. I'm offering to help. If you don't want my help fine. But, don't paint me up as some kind of woman incapable of carry out a single non selfish act. I've got my flaws, but I'm not that kind of woman."

She was actually fighting for this. Why? Especially, when just moments before she was ready to delete his contact from her phone forever. Did Gideon Rutherford really mean that much to her? No, not really. She didn't mean that harshly. It was just, this was a whole lot more than just that. A whole lot more than just one man. This was about her soul. And, unfortunately for Gideon, she'd already decided today that he was going to be her part of her little contrition mission.

I got carried away. When I heard about your situation, I just…" needed the distraction. Would she admit that though? Perhaps just a hint. Just enough for him to grasp. "I needed something to divert my attention. I won't delve into it, but not everything in my life is as flawless as you might assume. So, yes, I took it upon myself to delve into your problem, your ex, and your child. I'm sorry. You're justified in being upset. It was desperate…" pitiful, "but I genuinely wanted to help you. That much is true. My motives were clouded, but they were real. Does that count for anything?"

The atmosphere in the bar grew still, although nothing outwardly had shifted. It remained open, the crowd maintaining its size, and the sound of balls being potted persisted. However, what had truly changed was Cece's heightened focus on the man before her. She waited, anticipating his response. For her, this level of openness was rare, and now that she had shown it, she felt a twinge of unease settling within her.

This wasn't like her. At least not since she'd met Adam. She was insecure all over again. Here she was, waiting for Gideon Rutherford to acknowledge her apology. Fuck—this blackmail ordeal had truly taken its toll on her. But could she honestly claim to be the same person she was before Harrods? No. The truth was, the day Cece chose to get involved with some utter knob (that's how the British put it), her entire world had shattered.

"Maybe I should just go."

#G x Cecelia #March '24 #every day i ask myself #why is he so weak for a good guilt trip #convert him Cece; he'd make a good Catholic

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numba99 · 4 years ago

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The Lies Between Us

A/N: I have no idea where this came form I just started writing and this came out LMFAO honestly I don’t know how much I love this but uhh there’s not enough Quinn content for me and I needed to fill that void so I hope y’all enjoy either way. Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t be jealous.You weren’t his girlfriend, you weren’t his anything, not really. Yet see his hands on her waist stung in a way you never anticipated it would. His hands used to hold you like that, she was in your spot. It was like a white hot knife to the heart, searing, unrelenting.

You were gripping your drink so hard you wondered if the glass might shatter in your hand. It would hurt less, you thought, than watching this. Watching him kiss the side of her neck, the spot he knew you loved so much. It shocked you how much hatred you could harbor for this nameless woman. It wasn’t her fault, how could she know? How could she know she was standing in your spot, with the man you’d fallen for? It wasn’t rational to hate her, but the alcohol flowing through your veins was making it difficult to see anything other than red. It wasn’t just her, though, you hated him too. Or you wanted to.

“Uh, is everything okay y/n?” your best friend Brock questioned. You quickly looked away from Quinn and the girl, fearing if he followed your eyes he’d see what was upsetting you. He’d put two and two together.

“I don’t feel great,” you lied, not looking at him. You hated lying to Brock, you really did, but that’s all you’ve been doing lately. He didn’t know about you and Quinn. When the two of you started hooking up a few months ago, you both agreed it would be better to keep things secret. You were in the same friend group, things would get complicated if other people got involved. Neither of you wanted to deal with the unsolicited opinions, about how it was a bad idea. Of course you knew that. When was it ever a good idea just to fuck someone? When did friends with benefits ever work?

It had been dumb, you absolutely knew it. But when Quinn looked at you, when he touched, when you felt his lips on you, well, all reasoning left you. He evoked something in you that no else did. It was primal, almost, the need you felt for him. It drove you wild to just be in the same room with him, and you knew he felt the same way. Some things you just can’t fake.

“Looks like you wanna kill someone,” Brock noted, sipping his drink. You could feel he wasn’t buying it. He knew you long enough to know something was up. Part of you wanted to come clean, to finally let it all be out in the open. But you were scared Brock would be mad, and you wouldn’t blame him. You’d been lying to him for months, sneaking around to fuck his best friend. He'd be furious with you, you were sure of it. You couldn’t deal with that right now, it would be too much.

“Just some stupid boy,” you lied.

“Do I know him?” he asked casually. He was used to hearing you vent about the shitty men you came in contact with.

“No.” Another lie. God you hated yourself. Since when were you the person who lied? To their best friend no less. You wanted to blame Quinn for making you keep this all a secret, but even through your anger you knew that was not fair. It was as much your idea as it was his.

You hated how much you enjoyed it in the beginning. It had been fun, sneaking around, the fear of getting caught, the absolute thrill of not. It was intoxicating. You thought of all the places you’d managed to fuck without anyone knowing, how each time had been better than the last. One of those times happened to be in the very club you sat in tonight. You thought that if you saw Quinn pulling the girl he was with to the bathroom where he’d had you... well you just might kill someone then.

“Whoever he is, he’s a loser. You deserve better than some asshole who’s gonna get you so upset,” Brock tried to comfort you. It just made you feel more guilty. Would he be saying the same thing if he knew who you were upset with?

“Thanks,” you replied flatly. You were about to open you mouth to say something, but Quinn caught your eye again. He was kissing her, this time on the lips. You felt sick to your stomach, and not because of the alcohol you drank. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t be here anymore.

“I have to go,” you jumped up suddenly, nearly teetering over.

Brock’s hand found your arm, keeping you from falling. “Y/n, are you sure you’re okay? Something seems really wrong,” he was studying your face now. You’d have to put on your best act. Your best lies.

“I’m fine, just had too much to drink,” you started. It really wasn't a lie, it was hard for you think straight with the mixture of alcohol and pain swimming through your body. “It’s not a big deal, I'll be over it tomorrow, I just need to get some rest.” You definitely would not be over this tomorrow, but you needed Brock to believe you were okay. You needed to get somewhere that you could be alone.

“Let me take you home,” Brock replied.

You forced a laugh. “I’m not a child I don’t need an escort. I’ll make it home fine.”

“Stay at my place tonight then? So I can check on you when I get home,” Brock insisted. He was worried about you, and you knew he wasn’t going to drop it. It pained you how much he cared about you in that moment, you didn’t think you deserved it. But you also knew fighting it wasn’t going to work. You figured you could just slip into the guest room and have a melt down before he got home. You could be asleep by then, or at least pretend to be asleep.

“Alright, yeah,” you nodded, “But I just want some time to myself. Stay and have fun, okay? I’ll be okay I promise.” Brock agreed, slipping you the key to his place. You forced another smile, saying you’d see him later before heading out. Tears were already pressing at the back of your eyes as you slipped into the car you called.

You wanted to be mad at Quinn, well you were, but really you were more mad at yourself. You brought on this shit storm. Of course you caught feelings for him, who were you kidding? From the first time you kissed, you knew, you felt the sweetest spark in the pit of your stomach. It wasn't lust, it was love. You loved Quinn. As much as you hated to admit it, you did. You didn’t want to be his secret, you didn’t want to hide anymore. But he didn’t feel the same, at least you didn’t think so. It always seemed to be about sex for him. You couldn't tell him you loved him, it would ruin everything.

So you ruined things differently. You cut him off completely. No texts, no calls, nothing. It was wrong, you knew that, but you'd be lying for months now what was one final shitty act? You avoided him for awhile, making up excuses to Brock why you couldn’t come out. Working late. Friend needed you. Whatever worked.

Until Quinn showed up at your door, demanding answers. The words spilled from you venomously, shocking yourself. You told him he wasn’t worth it, that you didn’t want anything to do with him. More lies. A part of you wanted him to fight for you, to ask you to stay or try to talk things out. For a second, there was a flash in his eyes that made you think he would. But he left without a word, leaving you all alone.

That encounter had been a few weeks ago. You were running short on excuses to tell Brock, which is why you came out tonight. You convinced yourself you didn’t care, that you could handle seeing him. And maybe you could have, if it was just him, but seeing him with someone else stung. It confirmed to you that he never felt anything more for you than just a hook up buddy. How else could he have moved on so quickly?

Tears were slowly freely be the time you hit the guest bed in Brock’s place. You didn’t bother getting undressed, just kicking off your shoes and curling into a ball. You felt ridiculous, but you needed to get it all out. Maybe then you would feel better.

You’re not sure how much time had passed, but you knew it couldn't have been that long when you heard the front door open. Fuck, you should have known Brock would come back early to check on you. There was no way you could hide that you’d been crying, so you turned away from the door, hoping you could pretend to be sleeping and he'd leave you be.

“Y/n?” asked a familiar voice. But it wasn’t Brock’s.

“Quinn?” you gasped. He was the last person you were expecting. “What are you doing here?”

“Brock said you left in a rush, that you seemed upset. I wanted to check on you,” he told you, hovering awkwardly in the door way.

“Why do you care?” you asked. You intended for it to sound cold and uncaring, but you sounded more sad than anything else.

“Because I-” Quinn paused, as if he was stopping himself from saying what he wanted. “I don’t understand what happened between us,” he said finally.

“Us? Was there ever really and us?” you questioned.

He looked hurt. “I mean I thought...” his voice trailed off.

“You could just call me whenever you wanted to fuck and I'd come running?” you filled in the blanks.

“Is that what you think of me? Of how I felt?” Quinn questioned. You don't know how you were expecting him to respond, but it was like that.

“You couldn’t have felt much if you were making out with some random girl,” you huffed.

“That random girl was my shitty attempt to get over you,” Quinn replied, “And it didn’t work.” You stared at him, feeling like you couldn’t possibly have heard him right. If he was trying to get over you did that mean...

“Fuck,” you said, because you didn't know what else to say.

“What?”

“I think I made a big mistake,” you began, “By pushing you away.”

“You mean...”

“I liked you,” you replied, “I still like you, who am I kidding? I just thought you didn’t feel the same and it was all getting to be too much. I don't know, god it sounds so stupid now.” You shook your head at yourself.

“I like you too,” Quinn replied. It made your heart flutter. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I shoulda said something, I was just scared it might fuck everything up.”

“Apparently fucking everything up is my specialty,” you sighed, both of you laughing a bit. “I am sorry though, seriously. I shouldn’t have said what I did and treated you like that. I’m really sorry.”

It was then you realized Quinn had made his way over to you during the course of your conversation. He put his arm around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, I’m just glad I know what it was all about now,” Quinn replied. You were really looking in his eyes for the first time since he arrived and that pull of desire started to bubble up in you.

“Quinn... would it be crazy if we tried this? Us? Like no hiding, no secrets? Be together like normal people,” you asked, your heart hammering. Just because he forgave you, didn’t mean hed want to be with you.

Quinn didn’t leave much time for you to wonder, though. “There’s nothing I’d want more.” His lips found yours and in an instant all the pain you’d felt in the past few weeks disappeared. Everything about him kissing you and touching you felt so right. It was impossible to feel anything but bliss when he held you, his lips moving perfectly against yours.

Before you knew it, Quinn was pressing you into the mattress. You savored the familiar heaviness of his body on top of yours. You missed it so much. You missed him so much. Clothing peeled off between kisses and nipping at skin. Quinn slid his hand between your legs, running his finger over your already wet core.

“God I missed this,” Quinn groaned, stealing the words right out of your mouth. He slipped his middle in ring finger into you, just as you liked it. No one knew what you liked like Quinn did. They curled inside you, pressing your most sensitive spot.

“Quinn,” you gasped as his lips found your boobs. His tongue sliding across your nipple, making you shiver in the best way. It had been so long since you felt him like this, you were going to last long.

Quinn seemed as eager as you; you could feel him hardening against you. It only drove you crazier. When Quinn’s thumb found your clit, it was over for you. It took just a few moment of the extra stimulation to send you over the edge, moaning his name as your hand tangled through his hair. He always loved when you pulled it.

Quinn smirked up at you as he always did when he made you cum. It never got old to him, and you loved that. “Come here,” you purred, pulling him back to your lips. As you kissed, you looped your fingers into his boxers, pulling off the one piece of clothing that separated the two of you.

“Need.. you.. now,” Quinn murmured between kisses. You weren't about to object. Quinn pressed into you easily, as you were slick form your first orgasm and he knew exactly how fast he could go with you. He found his pace right away, building your second orgasm quickly.

Quinn was peppering kisses all over, something that gave you butterflies even now. Sex with Quinn was always good, but this was different. It was more than just sex now, which made it so much better than you ever thought it could be.

“Quinn I’m gonna-” you lost your breath in your second orgasm before you could get the words out. Quinn let out a low curse, feeling you tighten around him. He only managed a few more thrusts before he was cumming along with you.

Quinn was smiling again, though this time it was less pride and more joy. He was happy to be with you, really with you. Before either of you could say a word, the front door opening broke the silence between the two of you. Your eyes widened at each other, knowing there was no way out of this. You had no time to even get your clothes on, so you just scrambled to get under the covers.

“Well would you look at what we have here,” Brock was biting back a smirk in the doorway.

“We can explain,” you responded quickly, feeling a blush tint your cheeks.

“What that the two of you have been fucking for months? Yeah we knew that,” Petey piped up from behind Brock. They both looked thoroughly amused.

“You guys knew? How come you didn't say anything?” Quinn asked incredulously.

“How come you didn’t say anything?” Petey shot back, brow raised. Fair.

“You’re not mad?” you asked.

“Not at all,” Brock shook his head, “Just glad you two idiots figured it out.”

“Thanks Brock,” you smiled at your best friend, feeling the weight of the last few months lift from your shoulders.

“Of course. Now you two lovebirds enjoy yourselves... just don’t stain my sheets,” Brock closed the door behind him. Even in the dark you could see Quinn’s cheeks were just as red as yours. However, embarrassment quickly gave way to joy as he planted a quick kiss on your lips before pulling you on to his chest. You and Quinn finally had each other, in the way you truly want, and that was all that matter.

#Quinn Hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #NHL imagine #hockey fic

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cyndecreativity · 3 years ago

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Day 6 - Go home, you’re drunk

Mask – Firemen’s Carry – “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

Tristan hates parties and will accept any reason to get out of them. Even if it means taking his drunk friend to his room over his shoulders.

~1600 words

---

He hated balls. He hated fancy gatherings of any kind, diplomatic or otherwise. He hated masquerades the most. At no point could he hide his identity with a mask, much less any more than that. He stood at least a head tall over almost every other person, his body wide enough for two, his horns even wider. Simply strapping a fancy leather or paper mask on his face could not hide any of that.

Mostly he hated the people. They made him nervous, memories of bullying haunting him from his childhood. And so many approached him asking inappropriate questions about his size, or girth, or other things that Alden had translated later as lewd and lascivious. He had little to no interest in those things and he tired of the banter about it. He had so much knowledge and so many opinions about other things and all they seemed to care about lie with the bedroom.

And the food? Too small for his enormous hands. He had to scoop up almost half a tray before he felt even remotely satisfied. And he found it incredibly bland. He never realized how many different spices and how much his father added to his food until he ventured into the world and discovered so many bland and boring foods. Sandwiches with some kind of sweet cream and fruits, or a white egg-based spread and vegetables mixed together, or meats with no seasonings, starches with no gravy, or gravy with no spices. He eventually learned what he enjoyed and stayed mostly by the beverages for the rest of the evening.

Alden had finally had a special mug made for him to carry that at least looked proportional to his size and meant he did not have to keep refilling it almost every sip. It allowed him the virtue of wandering the space, avoiding members of the delegations or nobles or nosy mothers that wanted to set him up with their daughters. Just lift the mug to his lips and glance around the room, then nod as if answering a summon from someone far away got him out of most situations. With his height, most people simply assumed that missed his conversation partner and allowed him time to mingle.

The thing he hated the most, however, came later in the evening. Most of these parties, after any and all children left the room, brought out the alcohol. It only increased the number of unsolicited lewd commentary and patrons approaching him but swaying as they loudly proclaimed obvious facts about his size, the refreshments, or someone else at the party. Alden encouraged him to simply nod and let them bore themselves into finding a more fun partner to drunkenly shout with.

But he had to attend the gatherings. All the friends he made over his journey implored him that he had to show himself to be sociable, or at least accessible, to prove that he cared about the people and not simply the lands hit hardest by the plague that Ophiuchus had spread through Solomon. The Elementals would weaken if the people did not care for their environment, and they would not care for their environment is the embodiments of the Elements did not care for them. He hated the thought process, that there were those that cared so little about others, be they animal, plants, or otherwise, would require some kind of incentive to do their duty to the land they inhabited.

Another shouting drunk approached him to ask about his mask. He had to have his tailor-made for his large head and face and horns, but he requested a simple one. They shouted something slurred in a language he had yet to study, pointed to him, then to their own mask. He nodded and smiled and they laughed.

“Still just as miserable as ever, eh, big guy?”

He slumped slightly at the entrance of a familiar voice. “Idania, I can’t understand them! They all speak Water or Air and none of them seem to care that I don’t.”

She giggled and placed a hand on his lower arm. “Well, the good news is, you might be able to get out of here early. The Prince- Alden has decided to drink this evening and forgot that he is a lightweight. He’s a bit hammered and needs to be taken back to his rooms.”

Tristan’s brow lifted with heavy interest. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why ask me though?”

Spirits bless her, he watched her brow disappear into a furrow under her mask. “Do you want to keep clinging to the walls for people to come shout that you bear a striking resemblance to the Earth Djinn-“ Of course she knew other languages, “Or would you rather take his Imperial Majesty back to his rooms and escape for the evening to the quiet solitude of your herbology books?”

A burden lifted from his shoulder and he stood a little straighter. “I would be glad to escort his Imperial Majesty back to his bedroom.”

Her tailed curled slightly. “I thought as much. Come on, then, I’ll take you to him.”

As they moved through the ballroom, he wondered when she had become the kind of person that people parted for. He remembered, unbidden, his first meeting with her, a strung out and tortured slave deposited into the wagon that would take them out of Pollux. He remembered how demure she acted around Alden and Sophie, the pain that practically ebbed from her at the familiarity her former friend held for the Virgo Princess. He remembered how she faded into the shadows, performing simple, menial tasks such as laundry or shopping or cooking without any of them asking or noticing, waking up to a stew over a campfire with clothes drying nearby as she mended another of his shirts, ripped from another growth spurt. And now, at this party, she held her chin high and nodded to people as she moved through the room, all eyes on her, the muzzle on her tail jingling delicately to alert her presence.

He wanted the confidence she had. The confidence given to her by the Water Djinn, by abandonment and struggle that forced her to emerge from her shell. But how?

“It’s really quite simple, my lord-. Oh no, it is ‘my lord’, isn’t it? I can never remember anymore.” Alden swayed, little punch mug in hand, beside an equally drunk Virgo.

“Come, kelara, it’s time to settle in for the night.” Idania lifted her skirt slightly to step up onto the dais where Alden stood.

The Scorpio Emperor’s face scrunched into the center, unhappy. “Didn’t we already have this conversation? I’m fine, my love.”

Idania smiled sweetly and gestured for his beverage. He sneered at her hand but relinquished the alcohol. She kissed him on the cheek and he melted a bit. The Virgo cooed at their interaction and Alden grinned. He spoke something in Water that Tristan barely understood and waggled his eyebrows. The Virgo’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline and he cackled. Alden turned to fling himself into Idania’s arms, which she accepted with the grace of an easily startled alpaca, and looked to Tristan.

He closed the distance and held his special punch mug to Idania. His hands now free, the large Taurus took Alden’s wrist. He leaned down, careful about his horns and the soft covers over the ends, and pressed his shoulder into Alden’s middle. The smaller man grunted, then elicited a joyous and quiet “Weee~!” as Tristan straightened up, the drunken Scorpio draped over the back of his neck. He felt Alden’s tail against his head, the Emperor’s bells jingling on his muzzle, and looked to Idania.

The Virgo jumped back, surprised at the sight, and Idania bowed to him. “Apologies for our abrupt departure, my lord. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

The man nodded absently and watched Tristan and Idania move carefully around the edge of the ballroom to the exit. Idania led him absently through the Virgo palace, no longer the same glamorous estate from his first visit. Sophie had gone out of her way to sell off the ostentatious décor to place that money back into the populace as soon as she took the crown.

Idania placed her cup on a small hall table outside the door of the Scorpio’s shared suite and fished her key from her muzzle. When asked about her multipurpose muzzles, she said no one bothered to check there for fear of a Scorpio’s venom and stinger.

She thanked him profusely after he dumped her husband on the bed. She brought a clean chamberpot to the bedside and peeled her mask off.

“Goodness I hate those gatherings.” She slumped onto the bed and slipped her shoes off.

Tristan’s brow furrowed. “You seem to fit right in.”

Her dark brow lifted, a sardonic chuckle from her. “It can be fairly exhausting pretending to be someone you’re not.”

Tristan removed his mask. “Both of you?”

Thick boots thudded on the floor by a pile of others and she stood to start removing Alden’s. “All of us. You were pretty excited to get out of there, right?”

He pressed his lips together. She had a point.

“Go rest and recharge, big guy. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow. When His Imperial Majesty is a little more sober. I wouldn’t want to spill any secrets he doesn’t want to share.”

#promptober #promptober 2021 #zodiac #zodiac chronicles #writeblr #writblr #my wip #wip

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dweetwise · 4 years ago

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yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy��blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

#dbd fanfic #felix richter #ace visconti #felix x ace #riconti #dbd #dead by daylight #dweetwrites

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simplybakugou · 5 years ago

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The Villain - Ch. 7: The Unsolicited Attack

A/N: Not even joking, I have like 20 things in my drafts because I have so many ideas to write about but I’m also too lazy and unmotivated to execute them omg. Also, because all of my classes are online now, that means I have literally 5 months of doing nothing so expect more updates because IM SO READY TO FINALLY FINISH THIS FIC. THE FACT THAT I STARTED THIS FIC AT THE END OF 2018 AND NOW ITS 2020 AND I STILL HAVEN’T FINISHED IT DJIFJEWBEHFOJEWVQOJ

Remember, if you want to be tagged in future chapters, comment below and I’ll add your username to the list!

Pairing: villain!bakugou Warnings: swearing Word Count: 3,703

LINKS TO NEW CHAPTERS

✐posted 04.10.2020✐

“Man, I really just bombed that exam,” Kaminari groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“It’s okay, Mina and Sero are probably going to join you in your failure,” you teased, earning yourself some glares from Sero and Mina. Kirishima laughed and you looked at him. “Don’t laugh too hard, Eijirou, you’re not that far ahead either!”

Kaminari, Sero, and Mina took their chances to make fun of Kirishima this time, the boys fooling around while Mina rolled her eyes. The sun was beginning to set as you and your friends waited outside of U.A. before walking back home.

“Where the hell is Katsuki?” You muttered.

Mina heard you over the sound of the boys arguing and put her arm on your shoulder. “Aw, look at you worrying about your boyfriend.”

She made kissy faces at you and you rolled your eyes, pushing her face away. “You know it’s not like that. He just seems down lately.”

Mina raised her brow. “Really? If I’m being honest, I haven’t really noticed. Then again, you’ve always been observant and see things I would never even think about noticing.”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders as Kirishima waved at you and Mina. He showed you his phone, revealing messages between him and Bakugou. “Bakugou said that he’s going to see us tomorrow. Apparently he has to talk to a teacher about one of his assignments.”

“Alright, come on let’s go home,” Kaminari said as the group began walking away.

You stayed back. “I think I’m going to wait for him out here.”

“Are you sure? I can wait with you if you want,” Mina suggested.

You shook your head, smiling. “I just don’t want to leave him alone so I’m going to annoy him a little. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

The four of them waved good-bye to you as they walked away. You turned back around, leaning against the gates opening up to U.A. You had a feeling in your gut that was telling you to stay back and wait for Bakugou and low and behold, Bakugou came walking down the entrance. When he saw you, you could practically hear him groaning despite the amount of distance between the two of you.

As he came closer, you pointed your finger at him. “I knew it, you’re trying to avoid us!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he continued walking. You caught up to him, walking beside him. “Whatever. If you knew I was avoiding you shits, why’re you here?”

“‘Cause I’m worried about you,” you said truthfully.

Bakugou scoffed. “I’m not a kid, I don’t need you to fucking worry about me.”

“Just because you don’t need me to, doesn’t mean I’ll just stop.” You stood in front of him, causing him to stop walking. “You need to talk to someone about the Kamino incident.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly before he gained his composure once more. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling upset about what happened. No one blames you or thinks you’re in the wrong.”

There was a long pause before the corners of Bakugou’s lips turned upwards into a small smile. He placed his hand onto your shoulder as he walked forward. You stood dazed and confused before being able to recollect yourself and catch up with him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m walking you home. It’s only been a few weeks since what happened to your mom and I’m still going to follow you around to make sure you’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

***

The walk was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. Bakugou seemed to be deep in thought and you couldn’t help but study and observe Bakugou, attempting to decipher what was going on through his head. His hands were in his pockets and his lips were almost like they were permanently down turned. Once you got to your house, you could see your dad peeking through the window and sigh in relief once he saw you. Bakugou looked over there and looked back at you. “Your dad must’ve been worried about you. You need to take care of yourself for him.”

You sighed. “I know and I am taking care of myself now.”

Bakugou nodded, walking in the other direction to go to his own home. He lifted his hand to you to say goodbye. You stood in front of your driveway and called out to him. “Katsuki!”

Bakugou turned around and narrowed his brows at you. “For the last goddamn time, you’re the only one I know who calls me by my first name and I swear to god—“

You cut him off quickly, knowing he was going to continue rambling on. “I’m going to beat you.”

Bakugou was taken aback. “What?”

“I’m going to beat you and become the number one hero. I’m going to beat you, Midoriya, and Todoroki.” You paused. “You know what that means?”

“What?”

“It means that you’re still a hero to me. What happened in Kamino wasn’t your fault and that shouldn’t be a reason for you to want to stop pursuing your goal. You’re still the same hotheaded Bakugou Katsuki who is loud, driven, and the one who saved me a few weeks ago. You’re a hero, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened but he turned back around so you couldn’t see his expression. “Whatever. Go inside, your dad’s waiting.”

And after all this time, you always wonder what kind of expression he had on his face then.

***

Your eyes shot open and you sat up immediately in bed. You rubbed your eyes, groaning. It was a dream... But it also wasn’t. It genuinely happened and you can recall that day so easily despite how long ago it was.

The door in your room opened and Mina sighed in relief. “Thank god you’re awake, I thought I had to wake you up.”

She threw a few envelopes at you, indicating that it was some mail that you got. You went through them, most of them being bills. However, one of them was from a famous agency you had heard of. Many old heroes were signed under this agency and you immediately ripped open the seal. The letter was addressed specifically to you.

Dear (H/N),

I hope you’ve been well and that this urgent letter reaches you. I’m going to get straight to the point; I know that you’re the number one hero and that you deserve to be involved in every important villain issue there is.

But, I don’t want you to interfere in any issue related to Ground Zero unless we need your help.

The reason for this is that I’m afraid your personal connection to him will make you biased and refrain you from stopping him if the chance that you meet him ever comes again in the future.

I know you’re a strong hero, which is why you’re number one, but my agency will take care of him if needed.

I understand that this is maybe unfair and I may be intruding, but I’m doing what is best for the world and for you. I’m asking you to step back, not forcing you to.

I hope you can trust me to do this.

—Hawks

You sighed, shoving the letter in your pockets and getting up to get ready. Once you were done, you checked your phone to get a text from Natsuya to stop by his place. You went into the kitchen as Mina set a plate of breakfast for you.

“You look worn out,” Mina commented, sitting down in front of you.

“I just have a feeling something’s going on.” You sighed, eating the food Mina made you. “I’m stopping by Natsuya’s before going to the agency today.”

“Okay.” Mina narrowed her brows in confusion at you but didn’t bother to question you further. “You’ve been at Yamashita’s place more than you’ve been here. Are you sure there isn’t something else going on?”

Mina nudged your arm and you swatted at her. “Absolutely not. I just want to hang out with my boyfriend. Sue me.” You got up to put your plate away, grabbing your coat from the rack in the process.

“But you’re hanging out with him at his apartment. Where his bed is.”

“I’m not going there for his ‘bed.’” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, bending down to tie your shoelaces.

“Hm, then again you don’t need a bed, you can have sex pretty much anywh—“

“Okay, see you later, Mina!” You exclaimed, quickly leaving the apartment only to hear Mina’s snickers as you left.

***

You knocked on the door, patiently waiting for your boyfriend to answer. Once he did, Natsuya’s face broke out into a smile as he was genuinely happy to see his girlfriend.

“Hey, you,” he said, kissing your forehead as he opened the door wider to let you in.

You smiled, walking in and he closed the door. “Why’d you call me here?”

“What? A man can’t see his girlfriend or is that a crime?” Natsuya joked and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I just wanted to check up on you before you and I headed out for work. I have a feeling that everything is going to escalate from here, especially since the League hasn’t done anything and it’s been three weeks now.”

You plopped down onto his sofa, letting out a loud sigh. It was evident that something was bound to happen and lately, it felt as if you were just sitting back and waiting for something to happen. It didn’t sit well with you that you couldn’t really do anything during this time. But there wasn’t anything that you could do, for now at least.

“You’re right, which is why I’m glad you called me over. I need to show you something.” Natsuya sat down beside you as you pulled out the letter from Hawks from your pocket. You handed it over to him, allowing him to read it over briefly. “What do you think about it?”

“If you want my honest opinion, I’m happy you’re not involved with all of this anymore,” Natsuya said, earning a sigh from you. You knew how he would react but nevertheless you wanted to see for yourself what he would say. Natsuya chuckled at your expression. “Don’t give me that look. You get reckless when anything Ground Zero related is called and it’s because you’re biased. Otherwise, you’re a great hero. But I’m glad Hawks stepped in and is taking care of this.”

You groaned. “I know but I’m still worried. What if I can help but it’s too late or if someone gets hurt instead of me?”

Natsuya wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders. “Y/N, Hawks is an amazing hero. He was number two back when we were still in high school and he’s still strong. Have some more trust in him, I’m sure he’ll have everything under control.”

You nodded, knowing that he was right. You felt guilty for not being able to decide to deal with Bakugou by trying desperately to understand that he’s not a villain and by trying to reprimand him because of his villainous actions. Natsuya sighed, kissing your head. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. I know you want to help but you don’t have to save every single person in the whole world. You’re not the only hero here. There are so many heroes, your colleagues, who are here for you and will support you.”

You nodded once more, wrapping your arms around his torso. “I know. Thanks, Tsuya.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here like this, we’ve still got to go to work.” He patted your back as he got up, extending his hand out for you. You took it and he pulled you up, the two of you leaving to go to your respective jobs.

***

“It’s finally over!” Jirou cheered loudly, raising her arms into the air.

You sighed, rubbing the sweat from your forehead. You were asked to patrol areas that were considered “critical areas” that were most likely going to be attacked by the League by the Hero Public Safety Commission, the center that is run my non-heroes and it is involved in investigating the most criminally dangerous cases. Jirou was also in the area so she decided to tag along and help you out, just in case there was a scenario in which the League actually did attack.

“Are you headed home?” You asked.

Jirou nodded, stretching her arms out. “Yeah, this has been one of the longest days of my life. I’ve never felt so worked up. The League really needs to be stopped.” You nodded in agreement.

The two of you made your way back to the Commission Center, having to send in reports of what you had seen and the areas that you patrolled. The two of you waved to passerby’s, especially to the children who were ecstatic to have run into two major pros. Your phone rang in your pocket, continuing to vibrate uncontrollably as you fished it out. It was from the police station.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” A female voice asked from the other line. “This is Tsubaki from the station. Yamashita’s really busy right now but he wanted to make sure to make me tell you that you need to get to the Commission Center immediately.”

You began to worry. “Yes, I’m on my way now. Did something happen?”

“It’s awful, please hurry. Bring as many people as you can, I don’t know how much is left of it.” Tsubaki hung up.

Jirou read your facial expression. “That doesn’t look good.”

“We have to get to the Commission Center now!” You exclaimed, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You began running towards the Center, Jirou following suit. “Something’s going on there, and we have to check it out. Call as many pros as you can, I’ll do the same.” Jirou wearily nodded, wanting to know what’s going on just as much as you want to.

Dear god please let everything be okay…

***

The bar was quieter than usual, only the bartender keeping Bakugou company. But he liked it that way, finding the crowds of people who usually come to be intrusive and bothersome. Thankfully there weren’t any women trying to hit on him like most nights as they try and become the girlfriend of the most wanted man alive.

“Man, you didn’t have to yell at everyone to leave like that. You know it’s bad for my business,” the bartender, Watari, complained.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the table. “Oh, please, I’ll pay you triple my fee if you quit your bitching.”

Watari laughed, being used to his number one customer’s prickly attitude after the years he’s spent with Bakugou. Watari was the only man Bakugou fully trusted, someone he turned to when he was asked to abandon his family, friends, and his old life. Watari was also the only one who’s aware of Bakugou’s true identity, understanding that he had to become a villain to help out the pros.

Watari studied Bakugou, the now grown man that he saw as his own son. He set down the glass he was wiping. “You know every time I look at you I keep seeing that hopeless kid that came to me all those years ago.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Tch, I wasn’t hopeless. And I didn’t come to you, you saw me and came to me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never seen a kid with such a defeated look in his eye.” Watari chuckled at the memory, running a hand threw his gray hair. “I know the pros are the good guys, and I do trust them. I’ll just never understand what they were thinking asking a child to give up his dreams and his friends and family to help them out.”

“It’s not like they fucking forced me, I agreed to it, you know.”

“I know but I can’t stop thinking about that look on your face. You had to say goodbye to your classmates, to your dream of becoming the number one hero. Hell, if you ask me, you basically handed your dream over to (H/N) without any fight at all! And don’t get me started on you having to abandon your parents, your mother was pissed when you just disappeared all of a sudden.”

Bakugou’s lips turned upward, staring down at his glass as he reminisced with Watari. “That old hag was ready to fucking kill me, calling radio stations and news channels to find me. Must of surprised her when three years later her only son ‘murdered’ the leader of the League to become the leader himself.”

Watari laughed, shaking his head as he recalled the numerous amount of times he saw Bakugou Mitsuki stampeding through the streets to find her son. “You think you’ll ever talk to her? Once you’re done being the bad guy and can go back to your normal life?”

Bakugou sighed, leaning back on the table and staring at the ceiling. “That’s the thing, Pops, I don’t think I can go back. Not to the old hag, to my friends, to being a hero. I haven’t heard from my folks in fucking years, but I don’t blame them since they don’t know the truth. The minute I accepted this job, I knew that I wouldn’t be treated as a kid pursuing heroism like I was before. I’ve been in this shit for over seven years now, no one’s gonna accept me with open arms like that.”

“You’re wrong.” Bakugou turned his head to face him, confused. Watari smiled. “(H/N) would accept you. She’s been accepting you for all these years and she hasn’t been quiet about it either. Also, don’t forget that you have me, kid.”

Bakugou smirked as Watari patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, it seems like you and that shitty girl are the only ones who believe in me.”

Bakugou turned his head back to the ceiling, closing his eyes and taking a breath in. He stills remembers being a broken down mess, agonizing over the decision he had made. Although he didn’t regret the decision he made, the initial reaction to being given the offer by Hawks was one that he could never forget. He was a high schooler, a teenager, a kid being asked to work with adults to help them out. He was a kid asked to become a double agent and he had to sacrifice everything for it, too. But he didn’t regret it. The minute he got abducted by the League during the Kamino incident, he knew he wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old U.A. student anymore. No matter how many times anyone told him otherwise, Bakugou couldn’t help but blame himself for the incident. And no matter how hard he tried to conceal how he was actually feeling, mostly everyone bought his act, believing that he was fine, believing that he was a tough kid that could put up with the aftermath of the incident.

That is, everyone except you. You saw straight through him and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit either.

As much as he had missed seeing his friends and his parents, he couldn’t describe the loneliness he felt when he realized he wouldn’t have the shitty girl who he saved from the rooftop of U.A. High nagging him everywhere he went. He couldn’t describe the feeling inside of him when he first saw your face after ten years those few weeks ago in that flower shop. He couldn’t describe the relief he felt when he heard you spew out your drunken yet supportive words for him. You always believed in him, you always cheered for him, and here you were ten years later continuing to believe in him.

Bakugou opened his eyes, shaking his head. It happened again; he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His fingers subconsciously, like it was practice now, typed your name in the internet browser on his phone. He looked at the images that popped up with the search result. He internally wanted to puke at the picture of you beside your shitty police boyfriend on the day you were announced as the number one hero. What a fucking tool…

“Katsuki.” Watari broke Bakugou away from his thoughts. “Turn the volume up.”

Bakugou looked over to what he was looking at, getting concerned over the news reporter covering what was read as “BREAKING NEWS.” He turned the volume up.

“This is breaking news and I’m coming to you live from the Hero Public Safety Commission. As you can see, the building is completely burnt down, exploded from the inside. Police have been investigating all night, concluding that the explosions from the inside were not caused by notoriously wanted criminal, Ground Zero,” the woman on the screen said to the camera.

Bakugou stood up from his seat, his eyes widening. He had no idea what was going on. “What the fuck?”

“Officials have confirmed that the villain known as Kurogiri was involved in the attack. However, as he is a part of the League of Villains, he does not have a fire type quirk that would cause such an explosion. Officials have also confirmed that there was another figure involved in this atrocious attack, concluding that it was not villains Ground Zero or Dabi.

“To make matters even worse, the only pro hero that was able to get to the scene before all of this unfolded was Hawks. Kurogiri and the second individual involved managed to hurt Hawks so badly that he is currently critically injured and is in intensive care. Officials have confirmed that they do not know when or even if Hawks will be able to recover from this—“

Watari turned the television off, looking over at Bakugou who was absolutely furious over the events. Kurogiri had worked independently, taking orders from someone else, most likely the true leader of the League, and had hurt Bakugou’s actual boss. “Katsuki… Don’t do anything irrational.”

Bakugou grabbed his coat, slamming the bar door open. “I’m gonna kill that Warp Gate fucker.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tagging: @chims-kookies @bokunoheroes-stories @iamthe-leaf @simplysymphonic @mylittlesunshineblog @imyourliquor-youremypoison @sxperhuman @sunflowerchild27 @miraculouskatsuki @geesshoku @ghoularaki @katsukiwonu @mochirecipe @kotakingly @giornouh @tyongflight

#the villain #katsukibakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bnha bakugou #katsuki #kacchan #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #bnha katsuki #bnha imagines

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ratingtheframe · 4 years ago

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Why Armie Hammer’s Scandal Is More Than Kink Shaming

The 34 year old actor has had numerous allegations thrown his way this past month, from cannibalism to an obsession with BDSM. But do these allegations go beyond a widely accepted community of kink lovers and venture into deeply rooted misogyny?

Warning: this article contains mentions of cannibalism and sexual assault.

For those of you who aren’t aware of Armie Hammer’s presence on screen, you may be scratching your head and wondering what on earth people are talking about, seeing the cannibalism aspect to this all as face value without making the connection between Hammer’s past behaviours and current allegations. The actor who rose to prominence in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher’s The Social Network (2013) playing both of the Winklevoss twins, has become quite the favourite amongst the film industry. His role Oliver in Luca Guadagnino’s Call me by your name (2017) has sent Twitter into a permanent frenzy as memes and daily adoration for Chalamet and Hammer’s on screen romance continue to thrive even 4 years after the film's release. As well as Call me your name, Hammer is known for roles in Sorry to Bother You (2018), Rebecca (2020), On the Basis of Sex (2018) and soon to be released, Death on The Nile (2021). He currently has another film due to be released and a Call me by your name sequel in development. Sounds as if he’s got a lot going for him and despite him not being the biggest star to be churned out of Hollywood today, the recognition is still there and with that, he’s still being paid.

The Allegations

At the beginning of the year, an account emerged under the handle of @houseofeffie, that was created to expose some lurid and unpleasant communication between several women and Armie Hammer. Some of which he had relations with whilst married to his now ex wife Elizabeth Chambers. The nature of these dms are incredibly disturbing and worrying considering that Hammer not only has children but as an actor, spends a proportionate time around women.

These are just a few of the messages that were exposed that led the media to brandish Hammer as a “cannibal”:

Hammer:

“You are the god damned standard I hold women to in terms of kink and enjoyment of fucking the[n]...”

“I need to drink your blood, why the distance?” “...thinking of holding your heart in my head and controlling when it beats”

“I am 100% a cannibal...I want to eat you....Fuck...that’s scary to admit..”

“I’ve cut the heart out of a living animal before and eaten it while still warm”

“You were the most intense and extreme version [that I’ve ever had]. Raping you on the floor with a knife against you. Everything else seemed boring”

“You [were] crying and screaming, me standing over you. I felt like a god. I’ve never felt such power or intensity.”

“You just live to obey and be my slave”

“Would you come and be my property till you die? If I wanted to cut off one of your toes and keep it with me in my pocket so I always had a piece of you in my possession?”

“I want to see your brain, your blood, your organs, every part of you… I would definitely bite it...100%”

...O-kay. Lots to unpack here. First and fore mostly, I’d like to address the kink shaming element to all of this. I personally don’t see any harm in kinks, BDSM, pornography, as long as people are consenting and aren’t inflicting unsolicited pain upon people. Therefore, kink shaming and finding Hammer’s taste in sexual preferences isn’t what we are here to discuss. In fact when I first read the allegations, that wasn’t even my initially thought. CNN posted an article two days ago titled “Armie Hammer May Be Disturbed, But Is Shaming Him the Answer?” an opinion based article by Aaron Weaver that explores the allegations and believes Hammer shouldn’t be shamed for his kinks. But this begs the question whether Hammer was actually being shamed? I didn’t see much evidence for this seeing as people were mostly horrified by his taste in human flesh than anything else, a kink that is uncommon in the BDSM community and is only practiced by the most extreme.

Kinks aside, the most worrying thing about the DMs above is the way in which he views women and their bodies. It’s clear to see that he might not have much respect for women seeing as he proudly states his willingness to cut them up and drink their blood. And funnily enough, the sexual objectification of women’s bodies for one's own sexual pleasure without considering their comfortability is classed as misogyny. A reddit user made an extremely good point on a thread about Hammer’s scandal stating:

“To me, the problem is not that he’s into rough sex, or that he has kinks some people find scary. It’s not about yucking his yum, so to speak. I’m more concerned that he may have ignored safe words and pushed his partners beyond their limits. I feel like the media is focusing so much on his kinks and sexuality as opposed to his ignoring of consent, which is a complete and utter inversion of priorities”

Past Relationships

Another example of Hammer disrespecting the boundaries of women and sexual pleasure would be his past girlfriend Paige Lorenze. Lorenze is a 23 year model and former professional skier who has shone a light on Hammer’s worrying behaviour and his involvement in BDSM activity. The sources of Lorenze’s allegations are highly unreliable, which is one of the most frustrating things about this entire charade. The BBC BRIEFLY covered the fact that Hammer dropped out of his latest film amid the allegations, without fully going into detail about the allegations or the abuse subjected towards his former partners. It just goes to show we’re rubbish at taking abuse seriously enough to the point where people are punished for their wrongdoings. Had a more reliable news source covered this story, then it’d make it more viable to the public. Even though this scandal is in its early days, that doesn’t necessarily mean it's unimportant or should be swept under the rug along with the hundreds of other scandals that Hollywood refuses to expose.

Only the Daily Mail, The Sun and Page Six seem to have gone in depth with the accusations, making the entire story rather murky for the reader. Anyhow, Paige Lorenze said to the Daily Mail that Hammer had carved an ‘A’ above her groin without her consent and licked it whilst it bled. He had also reportedly tied her up and hit her with paddles to fuel his BDSM obsession and sexual desires. Lorenze was quoted saying 'Any man who is fantasizing about crushing bones, eating them, having sex with female limp bodies is a danger to all women'. Hammer insisted to Lorenze that his behaviour was normal, and that there was an entire community of people that carried out the same things he did on her. This is partially correct seeing as the global sex play market is worth over $30 billion, with practices in such activities dating back to the mid 19th century. However, the one thing the BDSM community doesn’t condone is not giving consent, which is where the fine line is drawn in between Hammer’s sexual preferences and the BDSM community. His choice to carve that ‘A’ into Lorenze isn’t backed up by a wider community of people who enjoy a variety of sexual pleasure. Lorenze claims he also DMed nude photos of her being tied up to people without her consent, further perpetuating Hammer’s lack of respect towards people’s boundaries. This is a serious incident, that sees someone with more power (Hammer is 6’5 and Lorenze is 5’6 btw) assert their dominance and by doing so, degrades and harms someone else. We shouldn’t be kink shaming Hammer, but shaming him for thinking that this behaviour is acceptable.

Hammer’s previous relationships can also draw some light into his lack of respect for women. He and his wife Elizabeth Chambers divorced in July 2020 after a decade of marriage. Though it's unknown what triggered the separation, these recent allegations may have something to do with it. Furthermore, two other women have come forward to express their distaste towards Hammer and his questionable fantasies. Entrepreneur and ex-girlfriend of Armie Hammer, Courtney Vucekovich, told Page Six that Hammer wanted to “break [her] rib and barbecue it and eat it”. She also expressed how easy it was for Hammer to charm his way through into getting women, especially young women into doing what he wants through “active manipulation and making you feel like he’s never felt this way about anybody.” Lorenze was also subjected to similar retort after reporting that Hammer too wanted to barbecue one of her ribs because she “didn’t need it”. Writer Jessica Ciencen Henriquez took to twitter last summer after a lunch date with Hammer and expressed that she had blocked him on Instagram. She later went on to tweet this:

“If you are still questioning whether or not those Armie Hammer DMs are real (and they are) maybe you should start questioning why we live in a culture willing to give abusers the benefit of the doubt instead of victims”

Exactly my point here. There’s not much to this scandal other than the fact that several people were hurt and undermined and someone else caused it. Someone who is societally above everyone because of their race, class, status and gender, with a well connected and dominant family support system.

His background and past

Hammer comes from a very powerful and wealthy family. Hammer’s great grandfather, Armand Hammer, was the chief executive officer and president of the Occidental Petroleum company founded in 1920. Now if you’re wondering the exact scale of such a company that is still running today, they are the 4th largest oil and gas acquisition in the entire world worth over $100 billion. ONE HUNDRED, BILLION, DOLLARS. Not all actors in Hollywood can say that their great-grandfathers were worth that much, which gives me little hope in seeing Hammer be held accountable for what he’s done. He was also kicked out of UCLA after apparently not “being able to do it”. Just another rich white male with enough power, malice and money to work his way around any struggle.

Now that we’ve established Hammer’s allegations, it’s worth looking back to see whether the signs of such behaviour were already prevalent in the numerous interviews he partook in over the years. Complex highlighted an episode of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert from 2017, where the host brought up Hammer’s obsession with knots, to which he laughed off and claimed that “knots make sense” that they are a “language” and referenced how man used knots before the wheel. Valid points but ones that are debunked in light of his interest in BDSM. during a 2013 interview with Playboy (appropriate) Hammer expressed that his “sexual appetites changed'' when he married his wife and that hair pulling used to be something he enjoyed but could no longer do now that he was married “even though he wanted to”. This is quite the backwards comment when we’re talking about respecting boundaries and it's clear to see it was only a matter of time before his desires could no longer be repressed.

Since this whole shit storm began to travel Hammer’s way, he has since dropped out of the film The Billion Dollar Spy, which would’ve seen him star alongside Jennifer Lopez. BBC News reported that this move was made as Hammer stated that “I cannot in good conscience now leave my children for four months to shoot a film in the Dominican Republic” following the ‘vicious’ online abuse he’s been subjected to. Hammer was again put in the firing line by Grand Cayman law enforcement for lying about a woman provocatively shown in a video was Miss Cayman of the Miss Cayman beauty pageant that’s held on the island. He and the woman were warned for their misconduct and had confirmed the matter is now closed.

Final Thoughts

There are enough red flags in Hammer’s behaviour to open up a flag store, and I would go as far as to say that this isn’t the end of it. For someone who’s grown up having the majority of things they want, it's easy to want more beyond morality and despite the discomfort of others. Hammer’s move to drop out of his latest film was an attempt to lessen the blow of hate being turned towards him as opposed to the benefit of those he’s hurt. So far, him and his lawyer have denied all allegations and further action hasn’t been taken against the Hollywood star. He’s apologised for the DMs and brandished his actions a “foolish attempt at humour”.

Wrapping his own behaviour up in humour is an attempt to detract from the severity of the behaviour itself, whilst excusing it, something he can get away with because of his status.

Major media outlets haven’t done much in even attempting to expose this man’s behaviour and have left it up to unreliable sources to piece together the true persona of Armie Hammer. Though innocent until proven guilty, common sense is widely available to the general public meaning we should be delving into the past a little and comparing it to these allegations. Along with Hammer’s character, family and unnerving Instagram posts of cutting up meat and eating raw steak, there doesn’t seem to be much in the actor’s favour.

All I would say is as a director, producer, writer or actor, would you feel comfortable in being associated with someone who believes they're a cannibal and marvels at the idea of drinking human blood? Or someone who goes as far to objectify women to the point where they become nothing but sexual fulfilment and pieces of meat?

That’s all I’ll say and those who do feel comfortable doing such a thing means that Hammer may still have a career at the end of the day. One point to Hollywood, no points to political correctness and respecting women.

#armiehammer #call me by my name #actors #hollywoodmovies #paige lorenze

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pulaasul · 4 years ago

Text

Billy Batson and the Woes of Journalism

Billy takes Colin Creevey as an intern, as per Professor Mcgonagall's suggestion. There Billy teaches Colin on proper etiquette on taking pictures and sometimes vent on how the Daily Prophet and the entirety of Wizarding Britain's press media write their articles.

[FFN] [Ao3]

---------

Colin was nervous.

He didn't know why Gryffindor's head of house called him to her office. As far as he knew he didn't break any rules like some of his housemates did, even managed to stick by the curfew at the last second.

He has learned his lesson when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, thank you very much.

He wasn't even in the business of pranking like the Weasley twins were.

The Creevey knocked on the door and gulped down anything else that was on his mind.

"Professor Mcgonagall? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes Mr. Creevey!" Professor Mcgonagall nodded. "Come in, come in."

Colin nodded and went inside the room then closed the door behind him.

What caught Colin's immediate attention was that his transfigurations teacher wasn't alone in her office, there was another man seated by the chair facing the fireplace.

"Mr. Creevey I would like you to meet Mr. Batson from the Mudblood." Professor Mcgonagall introduced the man. "I'm sure you remember the person who taught muggle studies at the Great Hall."

Colin nodded as a response.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Creevey." The man offered his hand. "If you have forgotten my name, I'm William Batson."

"It's nice to meet you too Mr. Batson sir." Colin shyly shook the man's hand.

"William's fine." William chuckled.

"Please take a seat Mr. Creevey." Professor Mcgonagall ordered.

Colin nodded as he sat at the chair facing a table with stacks of parchment on top of it.

Professor Mcgonagall nodded as she took her seat behind the table while William took the seat beside the young boy.

"Mr. Creevey, I've received complaints regarding you and your camera. " The Deputy Headmistress cleared sorted the number of parchment on her table to the side. "You have the propensity to brandish your camera and take pictures anytime and anywhere with little regard to anyone near you." She relayed what she had heard. "Some of the staff has recommended that we confiscate your camera while some students had requested the same and even called for its destruction as, in their opinion, you became a nuisance especially for the students taking their OWLs and NEWTs."

Colin visibly sagged as he listened to Professor Mcgonagall's spiel. He knew he was being annoying when started taking pictures every chance he got. The maddest anyone has got due to his behavior was when he had the unfortunate circumstance of taking a picture of both Professor Snape and Mr. Filch, near curfew.

The flash from his camera caused Mrs. Norris to run away and almost fall down a flight of stairs.

"Holy Moley!" William exclaimed. "Surely you can't destroy a student's personal effects?"

"Naturally." Professor Mcgonagall agreed.

"That's good to know." William nodded.

The journalist opened his mouth to continue his line of thought when realization hit him. A smile adorned his face as he processed what he realized, he looked at Creevey and offered a smile.

"I see," William nodded. "I see where you're going with this Professor."

"I am here to offer you something Mr. Creevey." The deputy headmistress offered. "Hogwarts has never seen a passionate photographer in years, and one as talented as you." She handed William a piece of parchment. "In exchange for not brandishing your camera every chance you get, how would you like to be the Mudblood's youngest intern."

"I-I'm not expelled?"

"Of course not." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "Wherever did you get that idea Mr. Creevey?"

"I heard some students say that especially with Harry Potter's and Ron Weasley's arrival last year." Colin admitted.

"Your situation is rather minor compared to the infractions committed by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at the beginning of last year's term." Professor Mcgonagall huffed. "They could've just sent an owl regarding the matter at King's Cross but they had to fly Mr. Weasley's father's flying car."

"That's going to put a lot of work on the Obliviators." William winced. "And the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well, considering the distance between Hogwarts and King's Cross station."

"An eight hour travel by train." Professor Mcgonagall nodded.

"I'm surprised Mr. Weasley's father wasn't sent to Azkaban for his son's stunt, it is a major breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"Fortunately for the Weasley family, some muggles has come up of a reason for the phenomenon."

"That and the law regarding muggle artifacts enchanted by magic has major loopholes." William chuckled. "Mr. Weasley's father is rather clever."

"It's pure dumb luck." Professor Mcgonagall huffed. "In any case, what do you say Mr. Creevey?"

"If sir William Batson would have me."

"Nonsense Mr. Creevey, I would be delighted to have you around." William grinned. "My nephew, Billy, would love to have someone closer to his age around the offices."

"I'm sorry, nephew?"

"I'm homeschooling him since I came to his life." William admitted. "I didn't know Hogwarts would be accepting transfer students, especially someone older than a first year."

"If you don't mind me asking, how old is your nephew?"

"He's sixteen, a bit small for his age." William shrugged. "Late bloomer too, he discovered his magic during his 13th birthday."

"I can understand the need for homeschooling your nephew, although rare, some magical children do exhibit their magical gifts late." Professor Mcgonagall sighed.

"Enough about Billy." William swerved the topic back on track. "I do have questions about this arrangement with Mr. Creevey. First off, I would like for him to take pictures around the school so that I can mentor him on how to take a good photograph, especially moving ones."

Professor Mcgonagall nodded in agreement, the whole idea of letting Colin Creevey intern with the Mudblood was to hone his talent in photography both moving and still. It wouldn't be good for the boy if he were to be banned from taking pictures altogether.

"Tell me Mr. Creevey." William turned to the boy. "Did you ever ask for the consent of the people in your photographs?"

"No sir William." Colin admitted. "Once I see something I like, I would immediately try to snap a picture."

"Does that 'something you like' happen to be in the vicinity of students, teachers and staff?"

"Yes sir, most of the time."

"Well then, consider this your first lesson, you first need to ask if it's okay to take their pictures." William stated. "That way you can gain your subject's trust rather than hate you for taking unsolicited photographs that your subject might or might not find themselves in an unflattering position."

"Tell me Mr. Creevey, are your subjects in your photographs the students of this school?" Professor Mcgonagall asked.

"Not exactly professor." Colin shook his head. "Sometimes I find the sunrise at Gryffindor tower beautiful to look at so I take a picture of it."

"I see where this is going." William chuckled. "Am I right in assuming that most of the students complaining are Gryffindors?"

"Yes." The professor sighed.

"Of course they would complain, most find their sleeping positions and their wake up look unflattering, most especially if they just got out of bed, which is usually the case during early mornings in the common room." William grinned. "Next time, wait until no one is in front of your camera to take your picture, but if you really want it and people still keep on coming, especially if you're not one of the earliest risers, asking nicely would do the trick."

"I quite agree." Professor Mcgonagall nodded.

"So Colin, Can I call you Colin?"

Colin responded with a nod.

"What have you learned today Colin?" William asked.

"I need to ask for permission before taking someone's picture and if I want to capture a scenery I should wait until no one's in front of my camera or ask nicely."

"Good." William nodded. "Are you allowed to go to Hogsmead tomorrow?"

"He is." Professor Mcgonagall answered for the boy. "Provided that he has a chaperone from the staff, as I have meetings at the village almost every weekend, I can be that chaperone."

"Wouldn't that count as favoritism Professor?" William raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily, I've chaperoned students on parents' requests before." The deputy headmistress shook her head. "However, we still need for his parent's consent, which the two of us will ask sometime this week."

"Well then, if you are able Colin, meet me at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, bring with you your camera and the photographs that you have already taken."

"I trust that you will not be brandishing your camera and take any unsolicited pictures Mr. Creevey?"

"Yes Professor Mcgonagall."

"You are dismissed."

Colin exited the room.

"Nephew?" Professor Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I can't have him knowing about my cursed form, now can I?" William grinned. "Besides, my supposed nephew is among the listed employees of the Mudblood."

"Isn't that a form of corruption?"

"Technically yes, I am getting paid as the Mudblood's editor-in-chief while also chucking out articles." William admitted. "My cursed form, being a separate entity, is also getting paid for producing articles hence getting double compensation. It's just fair, isn't it? I mean I am producing articles both as William and as Billy."

"I am not refuting your logic William." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "I would think that an auror as distinguished as you, one who has curtailed the corruption of the descendants of the scourers within MACUSA would be above that."

"So you have heard of that." William sighed.

"The Headmaster's power as the ICW's Supreme Mugwump does help out a lot when researching the backgrounds of people outside of Wizarding Britain, especially one who's arrival came as a surprise for the headmaster."

"Yeah, well, you can blame your current Minister of Magic for that." William sighed. "Seriously, every time I visit the Ministry for permits and travel authorities, the one approving my papers is the Junior Assistant, might as well make the Junior Assistant the Minister for all the work she's doing."

"Minister Fudge has qualities that's leaves a lot to be desired." Professor Mcgonagall sighed.

"What has he done?"

"He claims that Pettigrew is still under Ministry custody when in fact Madam Bones has contacted the school a week ago that he has escaped by placing a guard under the Imperious curse."

"He did what?!" William growled. "What of the Weasleys?"

"Madam Bones's hands are tied, Minister Fudge refused to put a protection detail near the Weasley's residence, and in fact he ordered the DMLE not to pursue the matter."

"Why won't Dumbledore do something about this?" William decided to ask.

"I don't know." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "As I understood his position, Albus's hands are tied as well, he can't oppose the Minister or Leader who he answers to."

"That pesky clause." William growled. "Didn't think that a clause that protects every magical government from usurpation from within the ICW would be unknowingly used to protect a criminal running free."

"You hold a seat at the ICW?"

"Don't count your owls yet Professor Mcgonagall." William shook his head. "With Dumbledore as the Supreme Mugwump, the ICW is powerless to act against your ministry, not unless other countries would jump to my aid, which is rather unlikely as I'm a new addition to the council and Pettigrew is largely a Britain problem and not the world."

"Anyway, back to Colin, am I right to assume that none of the students are allowed to be anywhere aside from Hogsmeade?"

"Unless there's an emergency or the headmaster gives an approval."

"Looks like I need to set up a hub at Hogsmeade then."

--------

"Glad you could make it Colin." William took a sip of tea from his cup. "Where's Professor Mcgonagall?"

"This is a lifetime opportunity Sir William sir." Colin enthusiastically replied as he too took a sip of tea. "After we saw you outside, she immediately ordered me to stay here until she would fetch me, she also told me to request you not to leave until she's here to fetch me."

"Just William's fine." William smiled. "I can live with that." He nodded. "In any case, can I see your photographs?"

Colin nodded as he enlarged a stack of photographs he retrieved from his pant pocket and handed them over to William for inspection.

"You've mastered the engorgement and shrinking charms." William commented.

"I wouldn't say I mastered them but I've used them on a lot of occasions, mainly to easily carry things around." Colin admitted. "I don't think people would appreciate me carrying around muggle backpacks, especially the Slytherin people."

"You didn't have to justify yourself Colin." William ruffled the boy's hair. "I was just commenting on your use of the spells."

William looked through the stack of photographs the young boy has taken. He first sorted through the ones Colin took during first year, most of which were still pictures, before moving on to the photographs the young boy took during the current year.

From the looks of things, the boy learnt from his mistakes, even when he was teaching himself. The boy even learned to make pictures move at the end of his first year, which was a feat in of itself.

"Tell me Colin, who taught you to make your pictures move?"

"It was Professor Flitwick sir." Colin admitted. "I might've tried to get a picture of the feather he was levitating which earned me a detention." He chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "I know it wasn't one of my brightest moments."

"A Gryffindor to the core." William chuckled. "What did you do with Professor Flitwick?"

"Surprisingly, he just asked me to get something for him at the top of a shelf then taught me how to make the pictures move after developing them."

"I'm guessing, Professor Flitwick gave you access to a dark room?"

"Yes sir." Colin nodded.

"Moving on." William declared. "Would you sit beside me Colin, we'll begin lesson two."

Colin obliged and sat beside the older man as they stared at a few pictures of one Harry Potter.

"First off, you need to adjust your lens so that you'll have a proper focus on your subject or get a find a suitable location that would force your lens to focus on your subject." William pointed at Harry's wide-eyes and blurred figure. "One would think that your subject was the blond Slytherin behind Mr. Potter."

Behind the blurry but wide-eyed figures of Harry, Ron and Hermoine was Draco Malfoy with narrowed eyes.

"Tha-that's Draco Malfoy!"

"Was he your subject when you took the picture?"

"I was introducing myself to Harry at the Great Hall." Colin blushed. "For the 20th time I think."

"Someone's a fanboy." William teased.

"He's Harry Potter! The Boy-who-lived!"

"One thing you need to keep in mind Colin is that all our human subjects are indeed human, people." William shook his head. "They all have feelings, dreams and ambitions in life, it would just annoy some people with how you treat them as an object of affection rather than their own person."

"Hence we need to ask for their permission when taking their picture." Colin sighed.

"You're a quick study." William praised.

"I had the whole evening to think about what you and Professor Mcgonagall said.

"So long as you understand now, it's okay." William smiled.

William picked another photograph, another still one. He showed the picture to the young boy.

"Tell me what's wrong with this picture Colin."

The photograph showed someone eating an apple too close to the camera as others were studying in the Great Hall, judging from the girl's robes, she was a Ravenclaw student.

"Someone was in the way of my subject?" Colin questioned, unsure of the answer.

"Am I right in assuming that this person in the photograph walked in just as you captured the picture?" William questioned.

Colin nodded. "I wanted to take a picture of Harry Potter when he was studying."

"Instead you got a picture of someone eating an apple walking between you and your subject." William raised an eyebrow.

Colin had the decency to blush at the comment.

"No one can really do anything about this case, apart from the first lesson we had yesterday." William stated. "The next right thing to do would be retaking the photograph again."

The discussion between Colin and William continued on until lunch when the older man treated the young boy. As the both of them ate, the young boy enthusiastically what he thought of Hogwarts, his peers, his housemates and of course his hero, one Harry Potter.

In retrospect, it does explain the multitude of photographs of the famed boy-who-lived.

"I'm gonna have to stop you there Colin." William spoke. "You do know that Harry was only a year old when he supposedly defeated you-know-who?"

"Really?" Colin questioned. "From what I read when after buying some books was that Harry dueled against you-know-who."

"Think about it for a second Colin, what year is Harry currently?"

"Third year? Why?"

"How old is he?"

"Thirteen?"

"Do the math."

"But the books said…" Colin trailed off.

"Here's a life lesson for you Colin." William smiled at the young boy. "You shouldn't believe everything you read or hear at face value."

"Face value?"

"You shouldn't take things literally." William explained.

Colin was silent as he mulled over William's words. In retrospect, he did notice that Harry was annoyed whenever he brought up the boy-who-lived title within his earshot and the level of annoyance Harry exhibit whenever he's near is different from the level of annoyance he has observed on everyone else.

Harry was just too polite to say anything to anyone or to him, unlike some of the other students who wanted to have his camera destroyed.

"Should I apologize to him?"

"You could, but I think he doesn't blame you." William looked at the boy. "Neither do I, a lot of the adults are perpetuating the idea that Harry is some powerful wizard who managed to defeat you-know-who as a baby. Personally I blame the publishers and adults who normalized that way of thinking."

"One of the things why you started a news magazine here?" Colin asked.

"I've read some articles by the Daily Prophet and by Merlin those were bad, really bad."

"How so?"

"For one they don't follow the proper way in writing their headlines and articles." William growled." Seriously adding in, I quote: writes Rita Skeeter your special correspondent', into the article lessens its credibility."

"You really have some bone to pick with how the news are written here." Colin chuckled.

"The list of my grievances of the press media in Wizarding Britain doesn't end there." William shook his head. "I could go on and on, but we'd lose precious time with me ranting." He chuckled.

After lunch William continued inspecting Colin's photographs and imparted lessons about the proper ways to take pictures and proper etiquette when before, during and after taking them. In addition to the photography lessons that William has been teaching the young boy since their meeting with Professor Mcgonagall.

"Looks like the sun is about to set and I see Professor Mcgonagall approaching the shop." William observed. "Let's continue this next week, I'm introducing you to some of the Mudblood's employees."

"Really?"

"You're already an intern, you should know them." William shrugged.

"Thank you so much Mr. Batson sir!" Colin thanked the journalist profusely.

William merely shook his head as Colin's infectious enthusiasm put a smile on his face.

"I told you William's fine." The journalist smiled at the young boy. "Since the sun's setting, practice the spells I taught you alright?"

"Will do!"

---------

"Have you waited long Colin?" William waved at the young boy inside the shop.

"I just arrived myself William." Colin waved back. "Professor Mcgonagall told me the same thing last time."

"I had already told her that I was going to leave you with my employees for the day." William gestured for a blonde man beside him. "Oscar, this is Colin Creevey, he's the Hogwarts intern I've been telling you all about." He placed his hand on the young Creevey's head.

"Hello Colin." Oscar offered his hand to the young boy. "I'm Oscar Ollerton, I'm a pureblood Wizard." He introduced himself to the young boy.

"H-hello, I'm Colin Creevey." Colin introduced himself. "I'm a muggleborn wizard." He whispered.

"Come now Creevey, there's no need to be whisper your blood status, you do know that the Mudblood's owner is a muggleborn himself."

"I-I know." Colin nodded.

"Well I guess with the Slytherin lot, you'd have to be careful." Oscar sighed. "In any case, welcome to the Mudblood." He patted the young boy's back. "Between the three of us, I believe muggleborns are simply related to squibs that were disowned by wizarding families." He shared. "Or of half-bloods, Merlin knows there are more half-bloods than there are pureblood wizards these days."

"Especially with the three generation rule." William interjected. "Oscar I'm placing Colin and Billy in your care." He informed the other man. "Professor Mcgonagall is going to pick Colin up at the end of the day."

"You know Billy can take care of himself, right William?"

"Another pair of eyes never hurt anyone Oscar." William smiled. "Billy would be bringing the other employees who are off duty today, get Colin acquainted with you guys."

"Where will you be William?" Colin asked, curious as to why the owner won't be with them.

"I'm off to the Ministry later today, I'm preparing for my documents for my trip back to the Americas later in the month."

"We'll miss you and Billy, William." Oscar stated.

"Holy Moley, you're acting like we're leaving Wizarding Britain for good Oscar." William chuckled. "This is like the fiftieth time I'm going to the Americas since arriving here. I'm just sorting out the Mudblood papers in MACUSA and the ICW."

"Aren't the ICW meeting venues dependent on who the current Supreme Mugwump is?" Oscar questioned. "In this case, it would be here in Britain?"

"Normally yes," William nodded. "But any of the council members can request to hold meetings in other places, subject to the Supreme Mugwump's approval."

"This time it's the Americas?"

"I don't know, I have to confirm it to MACUSA's current President, President Calderon"

"Huh, I blame Professor Binns for my ignorance about the Wizarding World, especially the ICW." Oscar huffed. "Anyway, Billy and the others must be waiting for you William."

"Okay, Oscar you take charge in introducing Colin to the rest, including Billy."

"Will do."

William vanished with a lightning strike.

"What just happened?" Colin managed to ask, unable to process what has happened.

"While waiting, I'll explain to you what William and I were talking about." Oscar patted Colin's shoulder. "I do hope I'm good at explaining things than Professor Binns."

"I can't keep my eyes open whenever Professor Binns is the teacher." Colin shyly admitted.

"Only a rare few can." Oscar chuckled. "Thankfully I read all my History of Magic textbooks."

---------

"Wow Oscar." Billy grinned. "You've managed to corrupt someone yet again."

"What do you mean corrupt Billy?" Oscar replied indignantly. "Colin was curious as to what your uncle and I were talking about."

"Forgive my friend Oscar kid, he tends to talk everyone's ear off, especially to the ones who would actually listen." Billy chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to introduce us to the kid Oscar?"

"Fine." Oscar rolled his eyes. "Everyone from the Mudblood, please meet Colin Creevey, he's our photographer intern here."

"William's accepting interns now?"

"Yes, Goldstein." Oscar nodded. "Why don't you guys introduce yourselves?"

"Hello Colin," Billy grinned at the young boy. "I'm Billy Batson." He introduced himself. "I'm a no-maj born from the Americas, discovered that I had magic when I was thirteen."

"I'm Mary Atkinson." The woman beside Billy smiled. "I'm a half-blood, my deceased mother was a witch." She shared.

"I'm Frederick Fawcett, a pureblood wizard." The boy to the right of Billy introduced himself. "Did you know that William originally wanted to name the news site Fawcett but decided not to when he found out about my family."

"Does not mean William favors you Freddy." Mary rolled his eyes. "Please try to forgive him, he can be quite vain."

"Hey!"

A few more employees of the Mudblood introduced themselves to Colin, eager to meet the new intern for the company.

From what Colin observed, most of the Mudblood's employees were on the young side, the youngest was in their mid-20s and the oldest was in their late 30s, well except for Batson who's in his mid teens. In hindsight, from what Colin had gathered, the news magazine was relatively new and it made sense that the employees were relatively young.

Apart from Ollerton, Atkinson, Fawcett and Batson, Colin also met an Alves, a Maestro, a Wright, a Bailey, a Wilson, a Goldstein, a Macfusty, and an Alton during his day with the other employees of the Mudblood at Hogsmead.

"This is just half of the entire workforce of the Mudblood." Billy informed. "These guys are supposed to be on their day off, well some of them had their day offs moved to this day, just to meet you."

"I feel sorry for the people who remained at the office, hence some of us would be returning for duty after lunch." Mary sighed.

"They must be swamped with work." Freddy shivered at the thought.

"So tell us how you got to be an intern Colin?" Oscar questioned the boy. "In the years that the Mudblood has existed, William hasn't taken in any interns until now."

Colin blushed at the mere thought of how he got the internship but he nonetheless shared the story enthusiastically he then got to know his relatively older colleagues.

---------

Colin was nervous as he made his way to Professor Mcgonagall's office. He kept on thinking on what he had done for the past week and nothing came to mind as to the reason for this particular summon.

Colin hasn't violated any rules, he managed to get inside the Gryffindor common room before curfew, he hasn't even violated the deal he had struck with his head of house, while he was still wearing his camera on his neck and he didn't brandish the camera every time he wanted to capture a scene.

The Creevey knocked on the door.

"Mr. Creevey, you're just in time." Professor Mcgonagall opened the door. "Come inside, I trust that you brought your camera with you?"

"Yes Professor."

"Very good," The deputy headmistress nodded. "As it happens we were just waiting for you."

Colin was confused, why would anyone wait for him inside Professor Mcgonagall's office.

He entered the office and the room was full of people, from the entire Weasley family to William to the Headmaster himself.

"Colin?" Ginny exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Ginny?" Colin did a double take on who called him. "I… I don't know." He admitted.

"Am… Am I in trouble?"

"No dear boy." Dumbledore shook his head. "You are here at the request of Mr. Batson."

"William?"

"Yes Colin." William nodded. "I would like you to take photographs for the interview I'm taking."

"Children?" The Weasley matriarch called. "Could you introduce us?"

"Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie this is Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor in Ginny's year." The Gryffindor Head Boy obliged. "Colin, this is my family, you've met the twins, Ronald and Ginny." He gestured towards the Weasleys that the Creevey knew. "This is my mother: Molly Weasley, My father: Arthur Weasley and my older brothers: Bill and Charlie Weasley."

"Nice to meet you Messers and Mrs. Weasley, I'm Colin Creevey."

"What a polite young boy." Molly praised. "You say you're in Ginny's year?"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley." Colin nodded.

"He's a big fan of Harrys." Ron supplied.

"Could give Ginny a run for her galleons." The twins snickered.

"I wasn't that bad!" Ginny huffed.

Colin blushed at how the Weasleys described him, he really gave a bad first impressions.

"Now that we're all introduced, I would like to get this interview underway." William declared. "I'm sure Messers Weasley are being missed at their respective workplaces."

The Weasleys straightened their postures as they prepared for the interview.

"Before we begin, should my paper not reveal your names for the paper, our organization values the privacy of all our subjects."

"Please do." Arthur nodded. "Knowing Scabbers was a death eater, other followers of you-know-who could strike at any moment."

"Well then, Colin remember what I taught you last week."

"Yes sir." Colin nodded. "Only take pictures of their neck below and only take still pictures, no need of the potions to move them."

"Still?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yes still." William nodded. "Body language can still be used to identify someone if we take moving pictures, the entirety of the Weasley family could be compromised, making their request to remain anonymous moot."

"I see, carry on."

"Wait." Professor Mcgonagall interrupted. "What about Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys? Unlike their children, they aren't qualified to wear school-sanctioned robes."

"Right!" William nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, if it's not too much to ask, can we ask you to wear these." He handed the Weasley parents two sets of robes. "Your anonymity would be compromised if people can identify you through your clothes." He explained.

"I do apologize for giving you trouble Mr. Batson." Molly apologized. "I didn't realize a simple request such as this would be so troublesome."

"Not at all." William shook his head. "We at the Mudblood value our subjects' requests and privacy." He smiled at the Weasley family. "Shall we get started then?"

William started to question the entire family starting with the family's head, Arthur Weasley then his wife, Molly and next were the children the twins and then Ginny.

Percy and Ron were the last people to be questioned as they were the first and last owners of the rat animagus.

"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for your time." William thanked the Weasley parents. "This should shed some light as to how Pettigrew was able to escape and hide from the authorities."

"It was our pleasure." Molly smiled. "I do admit being shocked upon learning that a supposed dead man has disguised himself as my son's pet." She admitted. "The thought that someone who could have been a death eater living in our home was disconcerting to say the least."

"I know." William offered a strained smile. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Pettigrew has escaped Ministry custody earlier this week."

"The Daily Prophet said that he hasn't." Molly's eyes widened even with Percy's denial. "Minister Fudge said so, even your paper reported that Mr. William."

"That is the official stance of the Ministry." William nodded. "Regardless of the Minister's stance on the issue, I believe you won't lose anything if you would prepare yourselves for any event." He offered.

"Constant Vigilance, as my good friend Moody would say." Dumbledore interjected.

"Thank you for informing us Mr. Batson." Arthur thanked the news reporter. "I don't think I will gamble my family's life and safety on the Minister's words."

"That would be for the best." William nodded. "I'll send your family an owl and give you a hundred galleons in a week or two."

"No, no that won't be necessary Mr. Batson." Arthur shook his head, trying to politely decline the offer.

"Don't get me wrong Arthur, every the Mudblood subject is legible to get monetary compensation for sharing to us their side of their story." William smiled. "This will also include the monetary compensation for your children back when Pettigrew was first discovered within the castle walls."

"If that's the case, then we thank you for the compensation Mr. Batson." Arthur sighed.

"I am simply adapting the muggle press standard in the Americas." William admitted. "I am also of the opinion that the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly adapt the same system but alas everyone's disdain for muggles here in Wizarding Britain is prominent."

"You do not include the Quibbler?" Percy questioned.

"The Quibbler hardly have as many subscribers as the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly do." William shook his head. "I don't think Mr. Lovegood could pay for the compensation of his subjects."

The Weasleys exchanged goodbyes to everyone in the room before exiting.

"Mr. Creevey, why don't you tour Mr. Batson around the school?"

"No that's okay Headmaster." William shook his head. "Colin still has to develop the pictures he took today and I need them for tomorrow's paper." He explained. "Remember the spell to fast track the development of still pictures."

Colin nodded excitedly.

"You have brewed the potions correct?" William asked some more.

Colin continued to nod as a response.

"Off you go then, I'll send you a Patronus if I want to meet with you immediately."

"Right away William." Colin gave the Batson a salute before he exited the room.

"Are you certain you will be okay on your own Mr. Batson?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Positive." William nodded. "Although I must thank you for discovering the Patronus charm's communicating properties, it has been a literal lifesaver, especially for the MACUSA aurors."

"Think nothing of it Mr. Batson." Professor Dumbledore smiled. "It was needed during our fight against Voldemort."

"Still, thank you for divulging that particular spell to the ICW."

"Glad to be of help Mr. Batson." Professor Dumbledore nodded.

---------

William exited Professor Mcgonagall's office and leisurely walked around the castle's halls. He looked around and saw various prefects about to begin their patrol. He even saw Professor Flitwick, Percy Weasley and Colin Creevey talking with each other.

"I trust that this wouldn't be a common occurrence Creevey?" William heard Percy question. "You may have been with me and my family and took some photographs, it doesn't mean that you can wander around past curfew."

"It's quite alright Mr. Weasley." Professor Flitwick assured. "Professor Mcgonagall has informed me Mr. Creevey's circumstances, I will personally lead him to the Gryffindor common room once he is finished with his tasks."

"Please don't trouble yourself Professor." Percy shook his head. "After I've met with the prefects on duty for the night, I will see to it that Mr. Creevey will be back to the Gryffindor Tower myself."

"Mr. Creevey, please proceed to the Dark Room, just near the Ravenclaw tower." Professor Flitwick ordered. "I will negotiate with the school's head boy."

Colin merely nodded obliged with the order given to him.

"I commend you for your adherence to the rules Mr. Weasley, 10 points to Gryffindor." Professor Flitwick praised. "However, I must insist that I escort Mr. Creevey back to Gryffindor Tower as I am aware of the many tasks Mr. Creevey has on his plate." He explained. "I am there both to ensure Mr. Creevey's safety as he deals with the various tasks of printing the photographs and guide him for his first time-constrained work."

"Time-constrained?"

"You are aware that the interview you have had with the Mudblood news magazine was abrupt?"

"I must admit it was disconcerting to be called to my Head of House's office had the twins put themselves in trouble." Percy nodded.

"Mr. Creevey was also caught unaware of this interview," Professor Flitwick sighed. "And the photos are needed for tomorrow's paper, you understand?"

"I see what you mean for this being a time-constrained project." Percy nodded. "Very well, if both the headmaster and Professor Mcgonagall are aware of this arrangement, then I guess I'll concede to your directive Professor Flitwick."

The Charm's professor nodded. "Run along now, I'm sure the Head girl and the other prefects are waiting for you."

William smiled at the interaction between the student and teacher. He can already tell that Percy Weasley will be most efficient working in the Ministry, his work-ethic would leave him untainted by the Ministry's corruption, barring the Imperious curse of course.

The journalist continued on walking around the school's hallways aimlessly. William didn't have an exact location in mind to go visit, but there was this pull on his core, on his magic, on his very person that he couldn't help but let it lead him.

William arrived at the castle's seventh floor, a floor he had yet to explore. He felt that the pull was stronger here, as if it was a child impatient for their chaperone to keep up with them. He shook his head and let it lead him to a blank wall.

"This is where you were." William smiled as he caressed the wall.

Soon enough, a majestic door appeared on the wall. William pushed the door that just appeared and went inside.

#billy batson #harry potter #shazam #captain marvel #minerva mcgonagall #percy weasley #ginny weasley #professor flitwick #story #woes of journalism

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years ago

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I did take the quiz yeah, and it said my top two are words of affirmation and quality time, bottom two are physical touch (probably bc of my sensory issues) and receiving gifts but idk... I didn't feel like my answers were completely accurate hahaha. Maybe I just didn't understand the questions entirely. I mean I don't know what I'm feeling half of the time anyway so... It was hard answering anything. I used to confuse being parched with wanting affection when I was younger so... I have a hard time understanding stuff like this haha. And it's not like I'm going to be with anyone anytime soon so... Will remain clueless about this subject indefinitely 🤘✨

But most of my friends are huggers like you and I don't mind when they show affection like that but it makes me incredibly uncomfortable when people I've just met do this. And I've noticed your reaction to compliments are a bit more enthusiastic from these little interactions we've had too. I'm afraid you're a bit of an open book haha (not a bad thing at all in my opinion!).

Speaking of books, are you reading anything atm? I also forgot to say I started drawing again! I'm excited to do that this weekend too 🎉

Ahh that's cool that you did it too even if it didn't make much sense to you. I've done it a few times and always get the same answers but maybe if you do it again some other time the results might be a little different and it might make more sense to you... my bottom two are acts of service and gifts- gifts by quite a lot too.. I think I have 3% giving gifts haha 😂 so while I might like getting them it definitely isn't the way to win me over or show me you care haha 😂 I just love physical touch I used to hate it but now even if someone I only just met reached out to comfort me I'd appreciate it and like it but I prefer it when it's a friend / loved one I am such a hugger and touchy person but if someone ever tells me not to I stop straight away because I know that doesn't work for everyone But words of affirmation are such big ones for me... like I respond so well to praise and unsolicited compliments I just love them they really do make me really happy even just something like "your hair looks nice today" I will carry that with me the rest of the day and just feel great I am an open book in some senses like I don't mind talking about myself and certain things I like / don't like etc... but I hardly ever talk about my feelings. It does take a lot for me to open up to someone I am with and tell them exactly how I'm feeling but once I have got past that wall it's hard for me to stop.

No I haven't had much time to read lately so the last book I read is still one of the books from the Six Tudor Queens series by Alison Weir - the last one I read was a re-read of the Katherine Howard book which is my favourite from the series... but other than that I haven't read any books for a while... have you? Awwhh that's great that you're drawing again!! I'm so glad you're looking forward to doing some more this weekend that's great that you got back into it!! ☺️

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personasintro · 4 years ago

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Hi, author! i'm a reader that found your fic thru this hell app and downloaded wattpad just to keep up with your story. I'm piedepagina over there and i've been commenting a lot for the latest chapter (i'm sorry 😭) and i had just never sent you an ask here, but i'm seeing the asks you're getting and it's really sad to see you're feeling down 😢 ngl i wanted to come here with an ask to talk about the characters bc i love that (btw me identifying manipulative traits in Kiko come from personal experience, it's how we all analyze media, so i apologize if i'm misunderstanding your character, it really isn't with ill intent, but as a neurodivergent person who suffers from rejection sensitivity, i do understand your reactions and irdk how i would react to stuff like that if i were you, which is why i'm here so back to the point sjdj lol), i love when stories like yours give us space to talk about character development, but the reason i decided to come here and comment here is bc i really am so sorry you're feeling like this bc of people's out of line comments, i won't tell you that you should just ignore asks bc ik how hurtful some things can be, even if we try to brush them off, they affect you and it's okay to give yourself the space to feel it, and get over it, it's not an overreaction, you're human.

And though i understand if you're feeling so burned out that you don't think you wanna do this anymore after you are finished with your current stories, i hope from the bottom of my heart you don't, and not to prove ppl wrong or to be stoic or w/e or "for your readers" but just bc i hope this part of you stays with you for a long time, be it as a hobby or something more, you deserve it, you deserve to give yourself the right to keep doing this, bc you love it and bc you're good. Believe me, not everyone doing this for free can get this many people discussing, really discussing your characters and story like this (not meaning the hate or negative criticism, but people forming opinions and theories and trying to analyze the characters and turning into therapists skdjd and even people hating characters AND loving characters)... you're doing it right, so i hope, i really hope you keep this with you for a very long time and you get the chance to tell more stories, fanfics or otherwise, for yourself.

My only unsolicited advice to you rn would be, try to explain less, if we still misunderstand the characters after the light you've shed on them, it's on us, we're on our own, and it will be then on the story to speak for itself and clarify what it has to at the moment it has to (even if we, with our headcanons, aren't satisfied, we as a society really need to learn to deal with this! In media, to omg ok back to the point) when you decide it's time. You will save yourself a lot of headaches, for sure 🤭 and to people reading and getting frustrated with the pace, just bookmark the story and comeback in a couple months to binge read the chapters posted till then, you all will save lots of trouble too AND will spare our author from dealing with your bitter asses.

Anyway, i'm sorry for this essay lenght rambling idk if anything makes sense 😭 i just find all of this really sad, you deserve to feel joy with your works and i hope this passes again and doesn't come back! and yk take the time you need to clear your mind from all this, do what you need to do, after all the most important thing is that you feel well. We love your story and we are always rooting for you, i'm sure 💜

💜

It can get a little bit frustrating, okay sometimes a little bit too much, especially when I don’t answer certain questions they just keep going. The same ones all the time. I got like 4 messages on wattpad going something like “hey can you please tell me if the story ends with jk and y/n together please? I only read stories that end like this”🤯 I don’t even know how to reply to that since I said countless times I won’t be spoiling anything, not even in the messages individually. The thing with me explaining is usually when ppl directly ask me about it or give me feedback and I try to just share my thoughts on it. I always want them to make their own opinion while reading the story, not asking me. If you’d look for my older asks about mh, I actually asked people to read my stories more carefully but I’m always open to explain some things (things that don’t give spoiler), or just sharing my thoughts. I don’t see anything wrong with that and I’ve no idea what I did wrong or why this has become such a big deal all of a sudden. This happens every time I speak up and address certain things lol

Thank you for writing me all of this! You’re so sweet and kind, I want you to know that I really took your words to my heart. Thank you again!!💜🙇‍♀️

#ask: anon

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m00nlitknight · 5 years ago

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Hello. I really like your previous works. Can I make request, please? Reader's been in relationship with whole gang for a couple of months. Everything was ok but Henry got jealous and started to ruin her relationship with rest of the gang distancing her from them.

ofc!! ✨ i don’t know if im really happy where i left off with this, so if you’re interested i could potentially make a part two? i’m pretty happy with some parts of it ngl, but that might be my 4am brain talking lol;;

warnings: usages of slurs / degrading terms ( light, but still present ). mentions of frick fracking. possessive behavior. none else to really talk about. pairing: poly!bowers gang x reader / henry bowers x reader extra ( edit ): feel free to look through my masterlist for other bower’s gang/reader works, and have a fantastic day!

vindictive.

The relationship with the infamous Bowers’ Gang began in what you could only describe as a fictional scenario. You’d always been known as one of the kindest individuals in your classes, a large soul and absolutely heart-warming and dazzling smile. The reputation, though humbling on the darkest of evenings, felt strenuous to keep up. It was suffocating, sometimes, when you wanted nothing more than to fade in the scenery, or to say no to a request from someone. Being the school doormat gave you an easy pass to adoration, but a hard road to doing whatever anyone wanted.

That’s what confused you about the sudden interest of the gang. Sure, you had been paired up once or twice with them for class projects, shouldered the entirety of the workload; but everytime they hardly batted an eye your way. Except for Vic, but he always seemed to be a bit more socially adept then the other three. So it was only fitting that the initial interest came from him, one day after your shared class he approached you, and asked if you’d ever want to hang out.

Obviously, you said yes, and reaped the immediate consequences. Practically the next day after his query, people began to look at and treat you differently. No longer was there an affectionate warmth in their gaze, reserved exclusively for you, instead replaced with a brief flash of fear before morphing into a bout of confusion for how to tread the situation. You didn’t mind it, or at least on the surface you didn’t. The validation found in your peers suddenly being ripped from your grasp was a bit whiplash inducing, not that you could really do anything about it.

The initial hangout, which you look back at fondly as your first actual date, was a casually dressed affair. He took you to get milkshakes, which you indulged in the city’s center and poked fun at the Paul Bunyan statue, then took you to go thrift shopping. It was that day you’d found your new favorite sweater, called ‘hideous’ on many occasions by the likes of your mother and peers, and a cute denim skirt.

It didn’t take long for Henry himself to nearly shoehorn himself into your relationship with Vic, apparently prompting Belch to ambush the two of you on your second date. The Trans-Am’s engine was unbearably loud, coming up behind the two of you holding hands as Henry hollered something you couldn’t quite make out.

Five months down the line, and half-way through Junior year, a heartfelt outpour from the entire gang; and suddenly you’d become the apple of all of their eyes, so to speak. Most of the time, your interactions were soft with all the boys, cuddled up with them all -- your personal favorite being Belch, he knew just the position for you to be putty in your hands; Patrick on the other hand did everything in his power to make you squirm while in his grasp. He’d simply cackle at your protests of his wandering hands, then proceed to mock the tone of your voice.

Though, from the sidelines, you were mostly able to ignore the fiery glares thrown by Henry. No matter how much attention you gave him, how many times you’d let him leave unsolicited hickies on your neck in plain sight to be hidden from your mother, or held him after a rough night.

He’d never said thank you or praised you for anything, which left you devoid of where you stood with him. If he hated you, would you even be around the other three? Wouldn’t he have been completely blunt and outright with it? The creeping worry manifesting itself in your gut grew with time, and with time you began to give him more of your attention to try and sedate it.

Inside the labyrinth of his mind, Henry’s opinion of you began as negative -- the ambushing of your and Vic’s date was a stunt to try and drive you away from the gang in entirety. But you just came the fuck back. Loyalty was written all over your features, as was inexperience. With time, the faint flame of interest that licked the recesses of his mind fanned themselves into a stronger blaze, and suddenly the shared attention you had been giving the gang was like gasoline.

He played himself off as distant, instead replying to the work you put in with brief hand holds or an arm thrown around your shoulders to show possessiveness around school. Being calculating obviously wasn’t his thing, nor was being patient.

He took your first kiss, and one of his first, one night while alone with you, the second month into the relationship. Pussyfooting around the more carnal aspects of a relationship wasn’t something he typically found himself doing, but he knew that Vic or Belch would have his head if he rushed things too fast. In the end, though, it drove him to wanting more.

Physical affection was kept behind closed doors, and he couldn’t be sure that your intimacy was only reserved for him, considering you never sported any other markings or called out the name of any of the other members while you were with him. It inflated his ego to astronomical levels, and it killed him that he couldn’t flaunt it in his friend’s faces.

Regardless, he wanted you to himself and himself alone.

-----------

“Good morning!” your voice cut through the mid-morning drowsiness of the boys sitting in the parked Trans-Am on the curb in front of your home with steely sharpness, but a welcome smile finds its way onto Belch’s face.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says from the driver’s seat. “Hop in.”

“Can do!” your morning pep leads to a foot on the tire and hauling yourself into the car by means of the roof, and plopping directly in Patrick’s lap - eliciting a hearty grunt and smirk from the boy.

“You’re awfully full of life this morning, feels shameful to waste this energy on something so innocent as breakfast,” he all but purrs as he tugs you further into his grasp while the car lurches forward and en route to the typical Saturday-morning hangout spot.

“Ew, Pat,” Vic cringes over to his friend and you, true malicious intent absent. “It’s fucking brunch time, let ‘em wake up first, will you?”

His question is answered by a cheeky nip to your neck, causing you to squeal.

In the front seat, Henry broods silently. On the radio plays one of Belch’s cassettes which goes unlistened, and a favorite of his; ...And Justice for All by Metallica. The playful tone of your voice and Patrick’s advancements manage to leave a sour taste in his mouth, even though he made the extra effort to brush his teeth this morning.

The meal goes relatively uneventful, though your wandering eyes, half-lidded and vixen-esque, irritate him further. Vic has an arm around your waist, and Belch holding an unoccupied hand under the table. If he’d thought any better, Patrick was all but devouring you from across the table. It was an affection-filled scene, which made the poor diner waitress visibly uncomfortable.

After breakfast, Belch drops both you and Henry off at your home, currently unoccupied by your mother who has work. “Bye, we’ll be seeing you guys later!”

“Henry, be nice to ‘em, will ya?” Belch booms from the window, around Patrick climbing into the front seat like an animal.

His request is met with a smirk from Henry, who pulls you into a passionate but short kiss in front of the trio. “As nice as I can be.”

It leaves you immediately flustered and giggling as you’re pulled into your own home and leaving the other three in a vague state of confusion. The engine faded away in the distance as you moved toward your house, a mess of giggles, flushed cheeks, and a downcasted gaze. Henry’s smirk is short-lived as his expression shifts back to neutrality. He watches you walk through the door and shift to the side to take off your shoes, opting to keep his own on. The brief and blissful silence is broken by his voice, laced with the undeniable edge of his ire. “Who’s your favorite?”

The question hangs in the air, souring the atmosphere directly as it leaves his mouth. You freeze at the words, mid finangling your shoe off as you turn to look at him with a confused, and slightly hurt, expression. “Huh?”

“Don’t play fuckin’ stupid. Who’s your favorite?” He takes a step towards you, which you subconsciously shrink back from.

“I-I don’t have one?”

“God, maybe y’are fuckin’ stupid. There’s four of us and y’mean t’tell me not ‘a one of us sticks out more than the others?”

A blush spreads across your features, an involuntary testament to your unease and outright lie. Your eyes dart to look anywhere but him as your body betrays you, petrified in intimidation. “You,” murmur with a gentle voice and laced with a lack of thinking.

He leans down to your mouth, quickly overtaking your personal space and invading your nostrils with his scent -- cheap body spray and masculinity. It’s nearly intoxicating. “What was that?”

“You,” an utterance with little more force, the action of taking a lungful of air simply too strenuous.

“Mind tellin’ me why I feel the least love then?”

You almost want to deflate at it, even if the hands wrapping around your shoulder feel like nothing short of a tender moment. All the time you’d spent with him, all that you’d given to him, and he still felt overshadowed?

“I…”

“Or, is it jus’ that you’re an attention-seeking slut?” The words cut deeper then he’s capable of understanding, and the sick smile curling onto his lips and the whispered tone feel vastly different then what he’s actually saying.

You’re rendered speechless as he takes you closer to the couch, dragging you into a straddling position on him. “Show me what I was missin’ at brunchfast then, huh?”

Wide-eyed and bashful you stare. What are you even supposed to do? He leans into you, peppering your throat with kisses while his hands wander up and down your sides. Instinctively, your hands move to run through his hair and he nearly purrs at the contact and looks up at you with an intense, baby-blue gaze.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“You,” sighed out as he starts sucking on your neck and rubbing at your hips.

“Say it,” a rough voice reverbs through him from his chest, and he relishes in the affection of your gentle hands. You’re his. His.

“You’re my favorite, Henry,” your voice tightens when he starts to suck on your collarbone.

---------

He’d managed to cut your afterglow short in the early evening, badgering you to call Belch and tell him not to drive you to school for the next week. You did it, albeit with a bit of confusion, and feeling vague sadness when Belch’s tone took a nose-dive into disappointment when the subject of the call was revealed. For the next week, you couldn’t look any of the gang in the eye, instead taking to marinate in your own shame and blatantly avoid them.

#henry bowers x reader #it 2017 #it 2017 fanfiction #reader insert #henry bowers imagine #henry bowers #bowers gang x reader #bowers gang imagine #poly bowers gang #belch huggins x reader #vic criss x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #writing.txt #i hope this is ok! thank u for the req :')#Anonymous

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tearlessrain · 4 years ago

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30 questions tag game

Tagged by: @mercurypilgrim (thanks!)

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 5 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Name/nickname: I’ve been going by tearless/tearlessrain for so long that a friend once called me that in person and I did not notice that it wasn’t my name until they said something. but I also have a lot of other names, only two of which have legal relevance.

Gender: male

Star sign: virgo, but I’ve been told by the local astrology gays that I’m also an aquarius moon and that it “explains a lot”

Height: 5′2

Birthday: a secret. I do not like being the center of attention.

Time: it’s like 3:40am. I will experience deep regret tomorrow, and I will learn nothing from this.

Favorite bands: queen feels like a cop out but like I’m never really not in the mood to listen to queen. linkin park, unironically. and all the different permutations of the crosby/stills/nash/young/simon/garfunkle cloud.

A few I am currently listening to, though: I can’t really call out specific bands/artists because I’m mostly listening to my oc playlists lately (I literally can’t stay in a bad mood listening to riska’s playlist and that’s just the energy I need in my life right now).

Favorite solo artists: (all together now) david bowie. also hozier and joni mitchell.

Song stuck in my head: O Come All Ye Faithful, in latin, for some fucking reason. it’s been there for days. send help.

Last movie: Kung Fu Panda, discord server was having a movie night.

Last show: WandaVision but I’m behind on it (loved the first two episodes but now I can feel the Marvel-ness looming again and I dread it)

When did I create this blog: god I don’t even remember, I’ve been here since the first age and never changed accounts/urls so like. around ten years now I think.

What do I post: whatever the hell passes through my brain from moment to moment, I can’t believe anyone follows me. lately a lot of rambling about my swtor ocs, sometimes it’s tolkien/silmarillion content, sometimes I liveblog terrible movies on purpose, sometimes it’s isaac asimov hours, sometimes just shitposting or unsolicited opinions about completely random things I’m not qualified to talk about. the only thing I can be relied on to provide is reblogs of ocean and horse photos, but not on any kind of consistent schedule.

Last thing googled: celtic invasion of portugal. I got slightly sidetracked from something else I was doing.

Other blogs: I’ve got art over at @tearlessrainart, horny art over at @a-world-of-osha-violations, and a little pile of extremely specific sideblogs I rarely use.

Do I get asks: not often, but those I do get are appreciated. except you, ray bans bot. I don’t appreciate you.

Why I chose my url: I originally used it as a deviantart handle (still there) because it wasn’t taken and I liked the overall way it sounded, and kept it because it’s rarely taken anywhere. and now it’s been ten years so like it’s stuck at this point.

Following: 305

Followers: 1392 which is far more than I deserve given my wildly inaccessible blogging style

Average hours of sleep: 7-8 hours usually but my actual sleep schedule skews late. I’ve never been one of those people who can skate by on 5 hours and be functional, if I get less than 6 hours I am absolutely useless and was that way even in high school/college when everyone else was pulling all nighters and shit.

Lucky number: I honestly have never understood lucky numbers, and how much I like any given number is solely dependent on how appealing its colors are according to my synesthesia. if anyone’s wondering, 420 is a hideously tacky blue/orange clusterfuck, but 69 is pleasantly greyscale.

Instruments: I play the flute, in that I own a flute that I was pretty good at playing in high school and can, if I choose, still play notes on it. I also own a melodica but I cannot play it, which to be clear does not stop me from playing it.

What am I wearing: pajama pants and a sith cloak. which sounds like a joke but I do actually own a set of sith robes and the cloak happens to be warm and very comfortable so I just kinda. wear it around the house sometimes in the winter.

Dream job: ornamental lighthouse hermit who may or may not be a wizard.

more realistically though I’m hoping to go into sfx makeup and cosmetology (I was like a week away from getting my license when the apocalypse hit)

Dream trip: I’d love to visit australia and new zealand, would also very much like to go back to scotland and possibly just not leave scotland.

Favorite food: sushi, specifically good salmon nigiri. god it’s so good. smeagol was right.

Nationality: regrettably, american.

Favorite song: god I have no idea. uh. I really like the boy in the bubble by paul simon. something about the visuals in that song speak to me.

Last book read: rereading The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov, which is a terrible book that I nonetheless subject myself to periodically because I like all the books around it a lot. I need to start on Robots and Empire but shit’s been going down recently so I haven’t been reading much.

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in:

okay LIVE IN is a very different question from “universes I think are neat” because like. I love the whole thing firefly has going on but I wouldn’t survive it for more than five minutes. so with that in mind:

1. middle earth but like, the shire during the third age specifically.

2. I think I would enjoy being a legend of zelda npc. I could just be a weird little potion seller who lives in a tree or something. or maybe an inexplicably sexy fish man. or better yet, the inexplicably sexy fish man’s husband, who sells potions. yeah I’ve got my fictional life here completely figured out now, this is good. I would also own an extremely chonky horse.

3. one of the ones I made up, specifically the one that involves a lot of gryphons and interdimensional bullshit. more specifically the origin universe of said gryphons, which exists at the heart of an extremely complicated multiverse that includes both earth and at least one fantasy world but is part of neither. anyway it’s a nice place.

Tagging: @raemanzu @sith-nb @vampiraptor @nyriad @crypticspren

(only if you want to of course)

#long post #tag meme

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halictus-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 3 of 5)

Remus deleted Tinder the second the app finished downloading. He was sitting at the dining table/desk combination of his studio apartment, and, unsurprisingly it was raining just outside the window. Seattle felt so new to Remus, although it had now been months since he moved away from his previous life. It took a lot of journaling and time, but he had begun to feel like what had happened–– his ex breaking his heart an hour before his twenty-sixth birthday party–– was meant to happen. His life hadn’t been his own. It was full of so much compromise, as is necessary for a life shared by two people, but the compromises that were made did not further his growth. He was stuck in a rut in his career, he was still in his college town, and he hadn’t even written a word of the novel he told himself he would write after the next big thing––graduation, holidays, birthdays, travel–– finished.

And now, here he was. Living in a big city, alone, but doing it the way he wanted. He had a job that furthered his growth, he had supportive friends, and he had already filled entire notebooks with the ideas, character charts, and plot diagrams that would eventually become his novel. Suddenly realizing that no one was here to complain about the cold, he cracked the window open, letting some of the fresh, rain-scented air in, and shrugged on a sweater.

He was at peace with himself, and for that reason he felt he was ready to give dating another shot. He re-downloaded Tinder, chose a few random pictures of himself, and typed out the bio that Dorcas had helped him draft, cringing the entire time. He closed the app without viewing the other Tinder users within twenty-five miles and two years of his age.

As a treat for his bravery, he decided to get a margherita pizza for lunch. If he exercised self-control, he could save half for tonight’s dinner as well. It was really a matter of simple economics.

***

Remus immediately noticed that the restaurant looked a little different in the midday light, but he also immediately noticed that Sirius was not on the clock. He ordered his pizza to-go.

As he walked back to his apartment, one hand tucking the pizza close, the other brandishing an umbrella, he tried not to think about the fact that he had so far only received free–– and unsolicited–– dessert items when Sirius was working.

***

An hour later, Remus had made his first matches on Tinder. He had also accidentally “super-liked” a person named “DL Top” with a gray image as their only picture, frantically looked up how you could “un-match” with someone, read a very patronizing how-to article on basic Tinder functions, and decided to choose “block” for good measure.

One of his matches was a graduate student at the University of Washington, and Remus liked that his profile said he loved to read. They exchanged normal greeting messages, before the man asked Remus if he was “a LTR kind of guy.” Remus answered him by saying “Tolkien is an amazing writer, obviously, but I have to admit the movies were kind of long.” The man didn’t reply, and Remus figured that his opinions on the Lord of the Rings franchise must have been a deal-breaker for the other man.

Dorcas and Marlene were adamant about hearing his progress with Tinder, so he sent a group text to the two of them.

Remus: Tinder day one is a thing, I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong yet

Dorcas: Yes! Proud of you

Marlene: what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened so far!!!!???

Remus: well, someone asked me what I thought about lord of the rings on the second message, does that count?

Dorcas: haha seriously? What did they even say

Remus: “so are you an LTR kinda guy or what?”

Marlene: HAHA

Dorcas explained that LTR in this context likely stood for “long-term relationship,” with intermittent texts from Marlene such as “how in the heck even” and “you are my favorite person oh my god.”

Remus decided to give Tinder a break for the rest of the day.

***

He made a good deal of progress within his first week of online dating, especially when considering that he started so low, with the misunderstanding of slang and accidental super-liking. It was now a Friday night, and he had a real-life, in-person date set for six o’clock. On Wednesday Remus had met a different match for coffee (but only after Dorcas had cross-referenced his story, friended him from a blank Facebook profile, and found pictures of him at his high school senior prom from nearly a decade ago. “You should be arrested,” Remus had said, horrified but a little grateful). Coffee had been perfectly pleasant, but both men agreed that they would rather be friends than anything more. They even friended each other on Facebook so that Remus could be added to his book club.

Meeting new friends was a welcome side-effect, but Remus was still in the market for a boyfriend. Hence, the anxious shuffling as he waited for the clock to get closer to six. Remus wished his apartment was larger, if only for the chance to have more space to clean. He had already Swiffered the floor, cleaned the bathroom mirror, and remade the bed, and it was still only a quarter past five. The cleaning was just for something to do with his hands and nerves, he knew that his date wouldn’t be seeing the inside of his apartment tonight. As per Dorcas’s prescriptions (and his own self-preservation), Remus’s first dates with strangers met online would take place completely in public.

At 5:45, a message from his upcoming date announced that he was being held a bit late at the office, and asked to reschedule for 6:30 instead of 6. Remus, wanting to be easy-going and amicable, kindly agreed, wishing him luck with his pressing work matters. Internally, however, he was frustrated that he had already taken the garbage out, since now there was absolutely nothing left to clean.

6:30 turned into 7:00, and by 7:15 Remus had taken his shoes off and was laying on the top of his neatly-made bed. The excuses changed from finishing at work, to a friend in need, to traffic, and Remus was beginning to consider just preemptively cancelling it himself.

At 7:45, the match asked if they could just skip dinner and maybe move straight into watching a movie “and cuddling” at Remus’s place instead. It was the final nail in the coffin Remus already saw, so he wasn’t even too disappointed.

Remus sent a polite but clear no, and knew that whoever this person was, he was not someone Remus would be building his life with. His stomach growled suddenly, reminding him that he still hadn’t eaten the dinner he was supposed to have hours earlier. Instead of going to all of the trouble to devise a meal at home, Remus decided that his troubles with the cancelled date warranted a very cheesy, doughy, and effortless meal. He quickly changed from his date clothes–– button down shirt, khakis, and tan buck shoes–– into a more comfortable, eating-pizza-alone-on-a-Friday-night ensemble: cozy sweatshirt, old blue jeans, and nikes.

When he got to the restaurant, he was still moping about getting blown-off from his date. He had sent a quick text to Dorcas and Marlene to let them know that his date was cancelled (otherwise they would have been checking his location religiously every fifteen minutes), but said he was doing okay since he didn’t want to interrupt their own date night plans with his sorrows.

Truthfully, Remus was pretty upset about what had happened. So far, online dating had not been a success, and Remus found himself returning to his secret fear that he wouldn’t ever successfully date again. Maybe it was because he was just too old, or perhaps he was out-of-touch, or it was simply because he had no real experience with dating since he had only ever had to go on one first date, and everything afterwards seemed to fall into place. If Lily was right, and he needed to meet someone organically for a relationship to work, he hoped it would happen soon.

Just then, his inner wallowing was interrupted by Sirius, carrying silverware and a glass of water. Somehow, Remus had forgotten that Sirius may be here, and hadn’t had time to prepare himself for the sight of the attractive waiter. His hair was swept into a loose bun, seemingly held together with a pencil.

“Hey there, how’s your Friday night going?”

Remus almost laughed at the question. Clearly, his night was not fantastic, because if it was, he would not be sitting in the booth of an Italian restaurant, alone, at 8:30 PM. He tried to shake off his own self-pity before answering. “Fine, thanks. How about you? Has it been busy tonight?” One of Remus’s favorite tactics when avoiding conversations about himself to his friends was to get them talking about themselves instead. Or, in the case of James, talking about Lily.

“It hasn’t been too busy today, or at least not since I got here at 5. Although,” he said, smiling almost conspiratorially, “I’ve had three different tables tell me ‘you too’ after I brought them their dinners.”

Remus laughed, and filed away the knowledge that Sirius remembered their inside joke from last time to the back of his mind for unpacking later. “I’ll have to see if I can get that number any higher then.”

“Oh, but you won’t be able to if I change up my script when I bring you your small margherita pizza. I’ll just say something like ‘here it is,’ no wishes of enjoyment included.” Sirius said, with faux sincerity.

“And what if I changed up my order on you?” Remus was surprised but pleased that Sirius remembered not only their jokes from last time about customers stumbling over words when presented with their food, but also the very food that Remus had ordered.

“I hope not, since I told the kitchen to start making it right after I saw you walk in.” Sirius grinned, but then suddenly looked almost bashful. “Although if you wanted something else, you still can order something else, that would be fine, I just thought, well, since it’s kind of late, we might as well give the ovens a head start?” His voice tilted up at the end as the statement turned into a question.

Remus liked this more approachable version of Sirius. He made him feel at ease. “No, you were right, I came here specifically for that margherita pizza. Thank you for starting it early for me.”

Sirius’s nervous smile turned soft.

***

The pizza was delicious, and succeeded in making Remus feel slightly better about the cancelled date. After all, he wouldn’t have been able to eat this much on the date, hindered by an abundance of good manners.

When Sirius dropped off the check, he also let Remus know that they would be closing soon. “You’re welcome to sit as long as you like, but the kitchen did just close.”

“No worries, I’m ready to head out. Thank you!” As Remus signed the receipt, a small to-go box was placed in front of him.

“Kitchen is closed, but you may want that for the road.” Sirius smiled warmly at Remus. “Have a good night!”

As Remus left the restaurant, carrying the small box, he reflected on Sirius’s parting words. He did have a good night, all things considered. Comfort food is one for addressing his emotional turmoil, but having a light conversation with a few inside jokes with another person is another thing entirely.

He also happily noted that he would get to bring the enclosed tiramisu with him to his breakfast with Dorcas and Marlene tomorrow. Pawning off the soggy dessert on them would be good for both reducing food waste and generating karma.

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enterthesmosh · 5 years ago

Text

He Makes me Shine Like Diamonds: Shayne Topp

Word Count: 2381 Summary: SmoshCast and chill. Request: ‘ shayne topp x reader where the couple is on the smoshcast answering questions about their relationship since they are very private about it and give relationship advice ‘

In your tiny shared apartment, for just a moment, the only sound you could hear was the running water from the sink faucet. You sat perched on the counter beside the sink holding a plate in your hands while Shayne had his back turned to set the bowl he just finished rinsing into the dishwasher. When he was stood upright again you handed over the plate while he watched you with careful eyes.

“You can say no.” he said as he rinsed the remnants of dinner from the plate. “I mean, I was unsure that’s why I told Ian we’d have to have a talk about it.”

You hummed softly and reached to the side to grab another plate. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I mean, I’ve been on the SmoshCast before. It’s just… I don’t know. How are we qualified to give advice?”

Shayne chuckled lowly as he turned to put the first plate away before coming back to take the other from you. “Is that it, or are you nervous that the main topic is going to be us?” he asked, casting you a suspicious eye.

Unable to think of a witty response, you stuck your hand out under the water and flicked your fingers at Shayne, grinning as droplets landed on his cheeks and nose. Shayne laughed and rolled his eyes as he turned off the water and started the dishwasher. He walked over to you and stood between your legs, placing his hands on your knees.

“I know that it’ll be different since we don’t really talk about us or our relationship in the public eye but, I don’t know, I think it’ll be fun.”

You looked back at him and stared into his eyes for a moment before you watched the gentle smile spread across his lips. You took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.” you conceded as you leaned in to press a kiss against his lips.

Shayne hummed and kissed you back. “Awesome… cool. I’ll text Ian.”

Sitting at the SmoshCast table wasn’t a new occurrence for you. Sure, you didn’t work for Smosh, but you had your own following online and were around the office quite a bit so more than once Ian had asked you to be a guest. During your first appearance, it had been made obvious that you and Shayne were a couple. Even though you both had more than once mentioned each other on your own social media, from twitter to instagram, it still shocked some fans.

You preferred to keep certain facets of your life private - or as private as you could.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to know you were dating Shayne. You love Shayne. It was more so the fact that you didn’t want unsolicited opinions on your relationship. So, it was slightly unnerving to be sitting there with Shayne ready to take questions and give advice on relationships.

Ian introed the show and introduced both you and Shayne, and you could feel your heart pick up pace inside your chest. As if sensing it, Shayne reached out to grab your knee, his thumb brushing gently against the side while he gave a comforting squeeze. You dropped the hand closest to Shayne to rest on top of his.

“I have to say, if you hadn’t told me, I probably wouldn’t have realized the two of you were together.” Ian said with a slight laugh.

Shayne chuckled and shook his head from side to side. “A lot of people say that.”

“Is it because I threaten to shank you a lot?” you asked with a grin. “Or that your name in my phone is still Douche McGee?”

Ian let out an unexpected laugh and you turned to face him with a pleased smile on your face. You could feel your heart settling down into its normal rhythm. Shayne’s hand let go of its grip on your knee but he turned it over in order to grab hold of your own and lace your fingers together.

Ian shook his head as he looked at his computer. “Idiots. Okay… our first question here is a simple one. Someone on Twitter wants to know how you guys met and how you got together.”

“We met through mutual friends almost three years ago.” Shayne said as he looked at you with slightly squinted eyes, like he was trying to remember exactly.

You hummed softly and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “We have some mutual friends who were having a beach… thing. I didn’t really want to go but I got dragged along and in protest I sat under an umbrella reading. I was there a whole like… ten minutes when Shayne showed up, sat next to me and started talking about the book I was reading.”

“I didn’t want to be there either.” Shayne leaned back in his chair and let out a short laugh. “But I saw Y/N with a copy of one of the Game of Thrones books and decided I needed to talk to that girl. We talked for a long time, exchanged numbers, and parted ways.”

Ian looked at the two of your through slightly narrowed eyes but you only smiled at him as you felt Shayne give your hand another squeeze under the table. “But you guys didn’t get together right away, right?”

You laughed loudly and shook your head, lifting your free hand to cover your mouth for a brief moment while you collected yourself. “God, no.” you said through giggles.

“We’re both way too awkward for that.” Shayne said, joining in your laughter.

It took a few deep breaths but you managed to bring yourself back. “We’d hang out a lot when we had free time. It was nice. I remember when I first realized I had, like actual, feelings for Shayne. It was, like, a slap in the face of ‘why aren’t you doing anything about this?’. So the next time we hung out I asked him if he wanted to go on a date with me.”

Ian made an interested noise and you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “How’d you like that, Shayne?”

Shayne smiled broadly as he cut his eyes in your direction and you could feel your heart stutter in your chest as he looked back at you. “Oh, it was great. I loved that Y/N was, like, confident enough to go ahead and do that. And, obviously, I said yes.”

“How long did it take for you guys to be like official. Boyfriend-girlfriend official?”

You hummed thoughtfully and looked at Shayne as you tried to think. “We went on dates and stuff for like… two months? Two and a half months? And then one night we were hanging out at the pool at Shayne’s apartment and he asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend.”

“I was so nervous and so uncool.” Shayne laughed softly into the microphone.

You squeezed his hand and made a soft cooing sound. “You’re always nervous and uncool, babe.”

Both Ian and Shayne laughed loudly and you only grinned back at Shayne as he watched you, his eyes bright and shiny. Ian collected himself and cleared his throat as he looked back on the screen of his laptop. “Someone on Instagram said: I’ve recently moved in with my girlfriend and suddenly we’re fighting a lot more and things just feel harder. How do you deal with that kind of transition?”

“Well, we moved in together about a year and a half ago.” you said, crossing your legs under the table and trying to get more comfortable. “And we definitely had some growing pains for the first few weeks.”

Shayne nodded. “It’s hard. To go from being on your own and seeing this person for a few hours at a time to suddenly having them everywhere all the time. It took us a while to reach a point where we realized we couldn’t, and really didn’t want to spend every second of every day together.”

“It’s all about boundaries. There are days that Shayne will come home from work and I’ll be in the bedroom and he won’t come see me right away and I know it’s because he needs time on his own to decompress. And conversely, when I am really in my head and know I need my own time I will find somewhere away from Shayne to just… be. Like, it’s great that we live together and I love that we do but we are still our own people with our own interests and needs so we really had to find the balance of together time and personal time.”

Ian nodded. “Because otherwise you’d kill each other.”

“Exactly.” Both you and Shayne said, sharing a laugh.

The three of you powered through a few more questions, sharing anecdotes of your relationship and giving out whatever advice that the two of you found to work for you. For the majority of the podcast, you kept your hand clasped together with Shayne’s under the table. It was comforting to feel his warm hand cradling your own and giving you firm, reassuring squeezes as you spoke.

Ian seemed to be scrolling for something on the laptop but stopped and nodded. “How did you know you loved each other? How did you tell the other person?”

Immediately, you knew your answer and couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread over your face. “You should watch the video of this podcast just to see the look on Y/N’s face.” Ian teased softly. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him before straightening up in your chair. “Shut up.” you chuckled, shaking your head from side to side.

“For me… we had been official for a little while and I got very sick. Like, I was in the emergency room for six hours running tests sick. Shayne had been filming all day for The Goldbergs and when I finally got released, after being told I had pneumonia and was put on a crap ton of antibiotics, I went home and just passed out.” you started to explain.

You caught Shayne’s eye and could see the soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I woke up to knocking at my door and when I finally shuffled out there, Shayne was there with flowers, and soup, and tea. He even brought over this super fuzzy blanket and he just wrapped me up and made me take my medicine and just… took care of me. I’d never had someone do that before, and he had been at work all day, so to just come over and do all of that blew my mind. Like, I remember curling up on the couch watching something on netflix and looking over to see him in the kitchen making me soup and just thinking… yeah, I really love him.”

It was quiet for a moment between the three of you and you glanced over at Shayne to see him watching you with warm, loving eyes. You grinned and lifted your joined hands to press a kiss to the back of his which just made him laugh softly and roll his eyes at you.

“I think, for me, it was probably around the same time. We were at Y/N’s apartment and she was playing Valkyria Chronicles, which is one of my favorite games. She got to this very emotional part in the story and I remember watching her trying to, like, subtling hide the fact that she was tearing up and I just put my arm around her and pulled her close and I kissed the top of her head and…”

You chuckled lowly, “And you said it.”

“I did. I said it without thinking,” Shayne nodded. “And Y/N just stared at me with these wide, teary eyes and I felt like I was going to shit my pants.”

Ian laughed. “So romantic.”

“After I composed myself, I told him I loved him too, obviously.” you clarified, giving Shayne’s hand a squeeze.

Ian pushed onwards and the three of you talked through quite a few more questions. You looked at your watch to check how much more time was left just as Ian sat up and cleared his throat.

“Okay, last question.” Ian said, taking a long sip from his water bottle. “From Twitter: I am seeing a guy who is very adamant about who I spend time with and wants to look at my messages all the time. Is he just jealous? How do I deal with it?”

At the same time, you and Shayne both leaned into your microphones. “Dump him.”

“Look. I dated a guy who was so sure I was cheating on him and demanded to see my phone messages to prove it. After a lot of cyclical arguing, I unlocked my phone and showed him there was nothing there. And then I broke up with him on the spot. If someone cannot trust me, then how am I supposed to trust them?”

Shayne nodded and adjusted the hat on his head. “On top of that, like, someone telling you who you can and cannot hang out with his just not the kind of person you need to be in a relationship with. At all.”

Ian took it upon himself to wrap up the show as both you and Shayne waved at the camera. Once all of the equipment was shut off, you removed your headphones and relaxed back in your chair. “How was that?” Ian asked with a slight laugh as he got to his feet.

“Not as bad as I thought.” you said, checking your watch again. “Damn, I have to go though.”

Shayne stood up just as you did and you grinned at him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ve got some errands to run but I’ll be home around the same time you are. Do you want me to make something for dinner?” you asked as you gathered up your stuff.

Shayne shook his head and kissed you again. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’ll pick something up on my way home. See you then.”

You nodded your head and smiled brightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, now leave me alone.”

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