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wolveria · 4 years ago

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Inside Your Wires - Ch 7

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You try to smooth relations between you and Detective Anderson, made difficult when the human wants nothing to do with you.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet

You allowed the glass door to swing quietly shut behind you, smoothing your tie as you followed at a polite distance on the detective’s heels. The hunch of his shoulders was interpreted by your social module as a sign of discomfort and tension.

You were given several options on how to approach the human, even one suggesting taking several minutes before engaging him in conversation, but your mission prompt wouldn’t allow you to have that flexibility.

[EARN DET. ANDERSON’S TRUST]

Standing directly next to his desk, you appraised the human’s belongings, noting all of the items you had scanned upon your arrival. The human had an assortment of items, including an ancient mp3 player [Zune, manufactured 2008], a work cell phone, a bonsai tree [Japanese maple, dying], and several personal photos printed out and taped to his display board.

They were of different places and at different times, going by the various types of clothing, but they consisted of mostly the same subjects. Three men wearing nearly identical faces that only android software could differentiate between, and an older man catalogued as Captain Hank Anderson. He was marked as the adoptive father of the triplets.

Even though you had done it several times before, you scanned the detective’s features. His identifying information displayed on your HUD, further settling in your memory banks each time you did it.

DET. ANDERSON, CONNOR

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Detective

Criminal record: [Sealed Juvenile Records]

You blinked and the identifying information disappeared, leaving you to fully observe the detective where he sat, hunched over his terminal with a scowl on his face.

“I know the situation is not ideal,” you began in your most diplomatic tone, “but I look forward to working with a law enforcement officer of your caliber."

The human gave no indication he heard you, but his heart rate increased by a small percentage, and his fingers pressed down on his flat keyboard in a way that was counteractive to typing.

You were prompted with more dialogue options, and once again went with the friendliest approach.

“It seems we will be working together for some time, so perhaps it would be beneficial to get to know one another.”

The human remained reticent, glaring at the terminal screen as if it were angering him personally. The detective also narrowed his eyes, indicating an intense dislike, but remained silent on the state of his emotions.

Your gaze drifted down to the empty mug of coffee next to the withering bonsai tree.

[ESTABLISH RAPPORT WITH DET. ANDERSON]

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, freezing your motor functions when the question was asked, putting you in the position of half-bending over the detective’s desk. You had blocked his terminal with your body as you attempted to reach his coffee cup, and he now stared at you from inches away with a wide, startled expression.

“Sorry, Detective. I thought you might like a refill.”

You had received a helpful notification that caffeine withdrawal can result in headache and irritation, both of which you had identified in the detective’s tense expression.

“Okay, fine, could you just—“ He released a puff of air, fluttering the loose lock of hair that strategically fell to the side of your face. “—hurry up so you’re not in my goddamn lap?”

You weren’t in his lap, or even in the relative vicinity of his groin. It would have been more accurate to say you were closest to his face and hands, the latter of which had been rapidly retracted when the front of your chassis had brushed against them.

You also noted the rise in temperature of his skin, the pink hue across his cheeks, and the dilation of his pupils—all indications of arousal and attraction. These were common occurrences with your model design, and you dismissed the pop-up that asked if you wished to run the sexual subroutine. Such programs were low priority and only used as a last result if the detective were uncooperative with the investigation.

“Sorry, Detective,” you repeated, forming your lips into the approximation of a warm smile. “I’ll return shortly.”

You carefully picked up the mug and moved into a standing position, and the detective released a long exhale, avoiding meeting your eye as he turned back to his terminal.

Satisfied in your endeavor, you crossed the short distance to the station breakroom.

Two humans resided inside, leaning against an elevated circular table as they spoke. Both turned their heads to stare, and you took the opportunity to scan them.

CPL. LEE, HELEN

Born: 05/19/2005 // Police Corporal

Criminal record: None

LT. ANDERSON, COLIN

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: [Expunged Juvenile Records]

You blinked away the notifications and gave them a non-threatening smile before turning to the coffee machine. It was a large unit, meant for offices with frequent foot traffic, and a brief scan indicated it was overdue for a cleaning.

You weighed the negatives against the benefits of obtaining a beverage from this machine, and determined it was worth the possible contamination risk.

Placing the mug underneath the drip dispenser, you pushed the appropriate buttons after determining the detective’s preferred blend with a quick swipe of your fingers to the interior of the cup and placing them on your tongue.

There was a noise from behind, a slight huff of air and the soft pad of rubber soles against linoleum. One pair vacated the breakroom, and the other approached and stopped at your back.

“Connor done having his temper tantrum yet?”

You turned to face the lieutenant, examining his features and finding open curiosity. He stayed a polite distance away, unlike earlier, when he had stood so close that you had been forced to take a seat at the detective’s desk.

You wondered now if you should have tolerated the lieutenant’s close proximity, since occupying the detective’s chair had seemed to upset him.

“Must be bad if he’s already sent you to fetch his coffee,” he added with a nod to the mug sitting on the drainage tray. “Usually, he waits a day or two before terrorizing the rookies.”

“I volunteered,” you hurried to say, not wanting a ranking officer to get the wrong idea about the detective. “I believe it will be an appropriate icebreaker for our new partnership.”

“That so? Pretty sophisticated for an android, and terribly hopeful.” He canted his head to the side. “You got some kind of human instruction manual inside that processor of yours?”

The lieutenant dropped his gaze down your body, lingering in a way it had done many times before. The evidence of his attraction was even more obvious than the detective’s, but your sexual subroutines had never been activated by his interest before. You were assigned to Det. Anderson’s charge, and therefore, it would serve no purpose to offer your additional features to the lieutenant.

“In essence,” you answered, passive but friendly enough not to antagonize. “My human relations program assists in easing the interaction between CyberLife androids and humans.”

“I see.”

He moved closer, face neutral but his eyes highly observant. He reached out and took your tie, tugging it upwards. The tie clip stopped him from lifting it far, but the lieutenant seemed satisfied with letting the fabric run through his fingers.

“What else can your human relations program do?”

The tone of his question was easy enough to decipher, your program indicating the query was of a sexual nature.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Lieutenant,” you said. “Only Detective Anderson has access to my specialized subroutines.”

The fingers threading your tie went still. The open curiosity vanished from the lieutenant’s face, replaced by a calculating appraisal.

“Well, then. My brother’s a lucky guy.”

His lips pulled into a languid smile that didn’t match the tightness around his eyes.

You carefully pulled your tie from his lax fingers, once again giving him a non-threatening expression.

“The coffee’s done brewing. I must get back to the detective now.”

Turning back to the coffee machine, you kept a significant number of your processors focused on the sound of Lt. Anderson’s heartbeat and breathing, even sampling the micro sensors on your skin.

He remained at a close distance, though by the time you turned around with mug in hand, all you could see of him was his retreating back as he went around the corner down the hallway. From your downloaded schematics of the building, you knew the most likely route he was taking was either to the unisex bathrooms or the station gym.

Your statistical readouts stated the chance the lieutenant would try to engage in sexual activity with you at some point was at approximately 35.2%, and you tasked your processors with running the probability in the background. It was important that erratic human behavior didn’t interfere with your investigation.

“Have a nice chat with my brother?” the detective asked, tone flat as he stared at his monitor.

You filed away possible tension between the two siblings to observe further. You placed the mug next to his keyboard, this time on the side nearest you so you would not lean over and agitate the human again.

“It was informative,” you simply said, straightening into a standing position once more.

The detective gave a huff through his nose and muttered, “I’ll bet.” His eyes narrowed, and after seven seconds of glaring at his terminal, he locked on your face in irritation.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you said, letting a friendly smile appear. “I would like to know where I can access the DPD’s database. I wish to review the case files.”

The skin around the human’s nose crinkled. He seemed to hold some kind of internal conflict before he sighed and indicated the desk connected with his own.

“Belonged to my last partner. You can use it. For now.” He emphasized the words, as if you had possibly forgotten the temporary nature of your partnership.

“Thank you,” you said with a small nod. The detective rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal, seemingly already having forgotten you.

You knew he hadn’t. Every observant sensor of your body informed you of his continued wariness, even while his eyes were mostly focused on the glass screen in front of him, he was constantly tuned to your presence.

By the time you had sat down in the chair of the empty desk, you had already pulled up in the DPD database to discover what had become of the detective’s last partner.

Sheila Pernell, also a detective, had transferred to another precinct months earlier, citing the difficult nature of working with Anderson and his unpleasant personality. The language she had used had been colorful and extremely unprofessional.

You made another note in your background processes: Detective Connor Anderson displays hostility toward work partners and colleagues. Difficult to connect with others on an interpersonal level. Approach and adapt to antisocial tendencies as needed.

You turned toward the terminal and placed the fingers of your right hand on the keyboard, allowing your synthetic skin to pull make to interface with the device. Connecting to the network and pulling up the cases assigned to Det. Anderson, you downloaded all 243 into your memory bank.

Hoping to prompt a conversation with the detective, you turned toward him from your chair, slightly tilting your head as you analyzed his tense posture. It hadn’t relaxed at all within the past two minutes since your last interaction.

“There are two hundred and forty-three cases dating back to February of this year, many of them originating in Detroit. An AX400 abducted a young girl from her home last night. I thought that might be a good place to start. It’s flagged as the most urgent case due to it being a crime against a minor.”

Your social module had indicated bringing up the danger to a child would have prompted some kind of response, but the detective remained fixedly silent, leaning the side of his jaw against his propped knuckles.

A more drastic approach was needed. You stood, walked around the joined desk, and approached the detective as he made a noise and turned away.

Coming to a stop directly next to his chair, you adopted the understanding demeanor, hoping to placate the detective’s agitation.

“I understand this isn’t an ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps it would be best to set aside your personal issues, and—“

“Excuse me?” the detective snapped, glaring at you out of the side of his eye. “Were you just about to suggest how I do my job? Because if so, I advise you to shut the hell up. You’re not my boss, and you’re definitely not my partner, so perhaps it would be best if you fucked off and didn’t come back.”

He turned away again and picked up his tablet as he pretended you were no longer standing there.

You plucked the device out of his hand, ignored the surprised noise he made, and placed your other palm between his shoulder blades to establish a physical connection he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m investigating these cases whether you like it or not, Detective.” You leaned closer, speaking directly next to his ear so as not to be overheard. “If you continue to refuse to cooperate, then I’ll find someone else who will be more amenable to my presence.”

For the span of two seconds, the detective remained completely frozen. And then he abruptly stood, grabbed you by the jacket, and swung you around. Your back slammed against the glass partition with a solid thud.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, inches from your face. “I don’t care how many Barbie dolls CyberLife sends to the station. If you keep mouthing off to me, I’ll shoot you myself and throw you in the dumpster. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” you calmly answered, which served to only agitate the detective further.

His brows creased as his hands tightened around the edges of your jacket. The human was stronger than his wiry frame gave him credit for as he managed to hold you between himself and the glass, your toes brushing the ground but unable to find purchase.

You remained silent, returning his glare with a bland, pleasant expression despite the discomfort traveling your circuits. If the detective was going to continue to be a problem, you would need to report his behavior, and that might further delay the investigation.

Trying to adapt to his psychology was proving fruitless, and it was clear you had underestimated just how socially challenged he was. Perhaps seeking a new partner was the right course of action after all.

Elijah had stated that if the detective became too much of an issue, his brother would be a suitable replacement. But when you thought of the lieutenant, the idea of working with the human was…

Unpleasant.

You studied the human’s face, searching those dark brown eyes, but found no acceptance there. You were going to have to work harder to—

“Detective, uh… sorry to bother you…”

At the sound of the timid voice, the detective released your jacket and allowed you to stand on firm ground. He didn’t turn to look at the officer standing behind him, however, and continued to level a glare at you, effectively penning you in so you couldn’t step around him.

“What is it, Ralph.”

“It’s about the AX400? The one who kidnapped the little girl? Someone just called in on the APB, said they saw it in the Ravendale district.” He paused, wide hazel eyes darting between you and the detective’s rigid back. “If you need me to bring this to the lieutenant—“

“I’ll handle it,” he said, the heated glare finally pulled off you when he turned and walked away.

Adjusting your jacket of its newly acquired wrinkles, you took a moment to process the detective’s unstable and problematic behavior, and quickly followed before the detective left the station without you.

Next Chapter

#human!connor x reader #connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #reverse au #dbh #my writing #my fanfiction

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Inukag modern AU

For the first few days Kagome was back at the home she’d shared with Inuyasha, it felt a little strange and familiar all mixed up together. Their friends had helped in moving her things back into the house, but Inuyasha had given her the main bedroom and took the spare saying it might help her memories since that’s where she would normally have slept. During the day, he would go to work leaving Kagome time to wander around unencumbered. So, she took the opportunity to look through photo albums, keepsakes, or simply absorbing the feel of the place. Inuyasha had told her that she was the one who’d decorated it, and from what she could see, that all made sense. Perhaps that did help her in feeling a little comfortable and yet still somewhat of a stranger. To dispel those odd energies, Kagome took it upon herself to be useful, cooking dinner or cleaning, even doing his laundry despite him telling her she didn’t have to… Okay that chore did make Kagome blush the first time she came across his underwear, but she reminded herself she was a grown ass woman who may not remember yet but has seen him naked before so it’s not a big deal unless she made it into one.

All the little normal behaviors seemed to really help her memory to improve rapidly. Several times a day, Kagome would be doing something in the home and flashbacks would hit her. Mostly good ones or embarrassing things that must have made an impact. For instance, finding a bottle of wine in the cupboard and remembering a night she got so drunk Inuyasha had to carry her to bed. Or another, while moving a chair in the living room she remembered a friskier romp and later finding her bra under the couch the next time she cleaned. She was so happy it hadn’t been discovered by a guest or something because Sango probably would have teased her mercilessly.

But with all the memories coming back quicker, and her sense of comfort increasing, so too did a feeling of loneliness. At night, as Kagome laid in bed things felt less foreign and emptier, like something was missing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that missing element was Inuyasha. This was their bed— their sharedbed, so it made sense that it wasn’t the same without him there. Kagome still felt nervous about it, but after three days of feeling that way and not getting a lot of sleep because of it, she’d asked him to move back into the room with her. Of course, even he was hesitant to do so, but she assured him it’ll be okay. She was certain he wouldn’t try to take advantage or anything. Even when after two days of this sleeping arrangement, she’d woken up to his arm casually around her, Kagome found she didn’t mind it at all… thankfully for his frantic relief.

Inuyasha popped his head into the bedroom. “Ready to go?” They had plans to go out for dinner that night to a favorite restaurant.

“Mmhmm,” Kagome replied as she did a quick check of her skirt and grabbed her purse.

The evening was an especially cherished one for two reasons. First, it was their sixth anniversary and second, but most importantly, Kagome was the one who’d remembered it. Three days earlier while going through her jewelry box, she’d picked up her promise ring and the memory of that event hit her like a ton of bricks. Before that moment the ring had just been another ring, but now, it was the latest trigger of a deluge of memories. So strong it was, that it had sent Inuyasha into quite a panic when he’d come home that day from work to find Kagome teary-eyed, but they’d been happy tears very much worth celebrating.

Things had been going so well, that Kagome almost felt back to normal. She was remembering more and more, her home felt like a home, and the hatchet was now buried between she and Inuyasha after they’d agreed to be honest about anything that was bothering them from now on. They talked out the bad and laughed through the good memories as they broke through. That day of coming clean had truly become a turning point for the couple and despite this whole situation starting off horribly, perhaps it will become the reason their relationship could last forever.

The restaurant was crowded that Saturday evening, as it was most days because of its popularity. Kagome and Inuyasha often chose it for special occasions due to the excellent food and service, as well as the reasonable prices. Dinner and dessert, with a glass of wine…

Kagome smiled at her husband from across the table. “You know what would be a nice way to end tonight? Taking a stroll in the park. The moon is really pretty.”

Inuyasha reached over the table and took her hand, smoothing his thumb gently over the skin. “That sounds like a perfect idea,” he smiled back. “Let me just go to the restroom first and we can check out of here.”

“Okay,” Kagome squeezed his hand back. “I’ll call the waiter for the check.”

He leaned down and kissed her hand, before standing up and walking away towards the restroom area, leaving Kagome at the table to watch for their waiter. She looked down and smiled as she rubbed her hand in the spot Inuyasha had kissed. It was silly, she knew, to feel the butterfly sensations over such a small yet sweet gesture, but it was fun to feel so in love again. To feel her skin, heat up when he kissed her or held her hand. The rush of excitement when he’d begun pulling her close at night… Kagome felt a blush blooming on her cheeks just thinking about the intimate moment they’d shared just a couple days ago. She’d finally felt comfortable enough to allow it, or rather had reached the point when her body could no longer resist the urge… and it was so much more than she could have ever hoped for. Inuyasha’s effects on her loins we’re simply supernatural.

A loud tap on the table suddenly jolted Kagome out of her thoughts, and her head shot up to see who was trying to gain her attention. She assumed it might be the waiter because she’d been so lost in thought, but oh… was she wrong!

Kagome’s eye’s flashed wide in a panic. “K-Kikyo?!”

The woman grabbed Kagome hard by the shoulder, digging her nails into the skin, her words seething in a controlled anger. “Get up. Don’t say a word and do exactly what I say if you don’t wanna get hurt.”

“No!” Kagome tried to shake the woman off, hitting at her hand as hard as she could. “Why can’t you leave me alone!” Her screams drew the attention of everyone around them, and the dining room instantly went silent. Her eyes searched frantically for an employee or Inuyasha, but all it found was the staff frozen in place unsure of what to do. “Somebody call the police!” She screamed.

But Kikyo was in too much of a blind rage to stop, knowing she only had seconds before Inuyasha or someone else might step in. So, she grabbed Kagome by the hair and twisted, yanking her with enough force to pull the screaming woman out of her seat or risk getting her hair pulled clean out. “You don’t deserve him!” Kikyo berated. “Why didn’t you just die that night! Why couldn’t you take the hint and just stay the fuck away, you stupid bitch!”

“Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting me! Inuyasha! INUYASHA!” Kagome fought desperately to free herself, but every time she tried, Kikyo would twist and yank harder. “Help me!!”

A couple of male patrons sitting nearby, finally stood up to intervene, but that’s when Kikyo pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to Kagome’s throat. “Try anything and I will cut her,” she spat at the men.

“Ma’am,” a manager stepped forward as well with his hands up as a show of neutrality. “Please put the knife down and let her go. The police are already on their way. You don’t want to do anything rash.”

“Please…” Kagome was sobbing from all the pain. She could feel the cool steel of the knife against her skin. “Please let me go, Kikyo. This has gone too far!” ‘And where was Inuyasha??’ Her mind begged. Surely, he would have heard the commotion by now or had his behavior all been a ruse? What if he’d planned this with Kikyo to get back at her? Kagome’s heart said no, but her mind was such a mess it didn’t know what to think anymore. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, wishing this would all just end… “Inu…”

“Ahhhh!”

The loud guttural scream of a mad woman made Kagome flinch. Was this the end? Her body tensed up expecting to feel the blade slicing into her throat as the woman finished what she’d come there to do… but instead her body just dropped to the floor with a thud. She was— free?! Kagome’s eyes popped open, and as she lay there crumpled on the floor, could only watch in horror and shock for above her Inuyasha had Kikyo’s wrists in a solid lock. She instantly recognized his demon form too, the red eyes and purple stripes along his cheeks. The hanyo was furious!

The manager and another patron quickly pulled Kagome away from the struggle and out of harm’s way. Kikyo was screaming and kicking, fighting against Inuyasha’s restraint but he was too strong. One of the other male diners managed to get the knife safely out of Kikyo’s hand, at which time Inuyasha was able to adjust his grip on the woman and yanked her hands behind her back, keeping her from getting away without breaking her arms.

“It’s been over you jealous, heartless dark bitch! Get it through your head!” Inuyasha roared. “There is something wrong with you! Kagome is gonna be my wife and you’ll never compare to the light she’s brought to my life!!”

“She doesn’t deserve you!” Kikyo screamed. “You should be mine! Not hers, mine!”

“It’s I who doesn’t deserve her, not the other way around you dumb bitch,” Inuyasha growled back. “But you don’t deserve me either!” He tightened his hold around her wrists, purposely digging his claws in to drive his point home as he growled low enough so only Kikyo could hear him. “You ever— EVER come around again, I’ll make you disappear.”

The cops arrived quickly enough to take over and immediately started their investigation. With a room full of witnesses to interview, it would be an easy case to make, just a lot of evidence to process. Kagome had been whisked away by the manager into a back office, away from all the activity so that medical personnel could evaluate and treat her injuries and simply give the poor woman peace to collect herself. Inuyasha was allowed to stay with her, holding her hand while the EMT’s did their job.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Inuyasha apologized. “I shouldn’t have left you alone at the table.”

“You couldn’t have known she’d attack me,” Kagome tried to reassure him that she didn’t blame him. By that point, she’d already learned how Inuyasha had snuck up from behind while Kikyo was distracted by the manager, and that’s how he was able to detain her so quickly.

“It’s still my fault she was in our lives to begin with.”

“Inu,” she sighed, “we can’t change the past, only the future.”

Once the medical team cleared Kagome with just some minor abrasions to her head and hands, a police detective stepped in and separated she and Inuyasha for their interviews. She did her best to recount everything that happened but talking about it also brought back all the emotions with it. Tears gathered in her eyes, and her head throbbed, almost as if re-living the fear of almost being killed. The adrenaline had finally worn down and her heart had stopped racing. Kagome hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but even though everything had transpired so suddenly, it had taken an enormous physical toll on her body and all it wanted to do now was sleep. At the same time, her mind hadn’t stopped working in overdrive, because seeing Kikyo… no, being attacked by the woman triggered an overwhelming flood of memories. It was like a locked door suddenly being flung wide open.

“Are you okay?” Was the first question Inuyasha posed the second he was allowed to return to his girlfriend. His voice carried with it a high level of concern. “Should I get the EMT’s, because you’ve gone pale.”

Kagome nodded as she turned to face him. “I’m okay, it’s just Inuyasha I…” she took hold of his hands in a tight grip. “I remember everything…”

Now it was Inuyasha’s turn to go ashen white. “You… do?”

Tears re-filled her eyes as she continued to nod unconsciously. “Yes… yes… all the things she did to me… all the fights over it… and that night— the accident, I remember everything…” her voice petered out like the ending credits of a movie. “But it’s so weird that… I’m not upset.” Kagome fixed Inuyasha with a confused look. “Shouldn’t I be upset?”

“I-I don’t know,” his voice cracked.

“It almost feels like a relief,” Kagome unconsciously exhaled loudly as if to accentuate how puzzled she felt. “It was such a bad fight… but I just feel relieved to remember it at all.”

“Is that a good thing?” Inuyasha questioned cautiously.

“Yeah— I… You know, it is,” she finally smiled. “I think the nightmare is finally over and that’s why I feel so relieved. But there is one thing I need to ask you about Inu.”

“Of course! Anything.”

“You told Kikyo I’m gonna be your wife.”

Inuyasha’s body stiffened as a smile bloomed on his face along with the coloring on his cheeks. “Oh, yeah that,” he scratched his head nervously, “it just popped out in the heat of the moment.”

“But…” Kagome leaned forward to stop his shaky hands. “Did you mean it?”

“Actually…” Inuyasha reached into his pocket...

**Question for my readers**

What ending would you prefer?

- A regular ending chapter that takes place right after the dinner scene?

- An epilogue of them finally getting married?

* Throw out some ideas in the notes and maybe one (or more) of the ideas) will make it into the final chapter :)

#inukag #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #inukag au #inukag modern au #ch 13 #missing memories #petri808

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szeherezadaa · 4 years ago

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Bakugou HC

We know canonically Bakugou is a good pickpocket (chapter 219). Bakusquad learns about it (and some more) gradually.

(It turned out to be long af and drabble-ish, but it’s basically fluffy Bakusquad shenanigans with Bakugou being talented in yet another field.)

It starts with Kaminari who wants to mess with Bakugou a little. They’re studying in Bakugou’s room, but Kaminari is exhausted and wants a break, so he steals the pen Bakugou marks their mistakes with that is currently laying on the table — alone and unprotected, easy prey. Bakugou is distracted at the moment, he’s explaining something to Sero once again. Kaminari hides the pen in the pocket of his hoodie and shoots a smile at Ashido who’s also low-key dying and has asked for break at least three times already.

“Okay, Sparky, your turn,” Bakugou says and Kaminari slides him his worksheet on the table, and then finally looks at him with an innocent face-

-and sees Bakugou marking all of Kaminari’s errors with the exact same pen he did it all this time. Kaminari checks his pockets frantically, but they’re empty.

“Something’s wrong, Sparky?” Bakugou asks in a daring tone not even sparing him a glance. Kaminari just shakes his head, blurting out one nervous “no!”. It’s too nervous to pretend nothing happened, but Sero is too engrossed in correcting his mistakes and Kirishima looks like he’s fully focused on the textbook but while his body is here, his mind is probably fifty thousand miles away, so only Ashido actually notices.

She’s the next one to try to stea- to borrow something without asking from Blasty. She wants to see if it were Kaminari who messed up or if it’s the case of Bakugou being insanely good at something once again. Honestly, is there anything this guy can’t do? So, she decides to kill two birds with one stone. She has an agenda of stealing clothes from her boys to wear them, but she didn’t try to take Bakugou’s clothes yet. It’s a good opportunity to do so.

She sneaks into his room one day, right after school when barely anyone is back in the dorms yet; the excuse of organizing a movie night later at the tip of her tongue if for some reason Bakugou is already in his room. She’s lucky though, because when she enters his room, it’s empty. She opens his closet, pulls out a black hoodie with some band logo on it — it’s the softest one he has, she knows — and she’s about to put it on and leave, when the doors to Bakugou’s room open and Bakugou himself enters. She hides the hoodie behind her back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Bakugou demands, opening the closet and pulling something out of it. Ashido laughs nervously and avoids looking him in the eye. In this brief second she did, she felt like his piercing gaze reached her soul. She starts to babble — how she was looking for him and about the movie night, it would be great if he joined them — while he goes to the bathroom to change from his school uniform. When he opens the bathroom doors, he’s wearing black hoodie with some band logo on it, the softest Bakugou owns.

Wait.

“Wha-” Ashido checks her hands and sees a dark red jacket she’s not sure she’s ever seen before.

“I’m not gonna be an easy target like Shitty Hair or Tape Face. If you want to have my hoodie, you have to put some fucking effort into it. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Ashido leaves.

Kirishima and Sero know because Ashido barged into Kaminari’s room, when they were playing video games together. She tells them everything. Kirishima isn’t exactly surprised, his bro is amazing after all.

Kaminari decides they should test it. See if there is something they can steal from Bakugou and have him not notice it. Ashido agrees eagerly. Sero shrugs, says he will help if he can, but mostly will be there as a witness. And a reporter, kind of, with his phone always ready to snap a photo or record a video. Kirishima isn’t sure if it’s a good idea — mostly because stealing isn’t manly — but the rest convince him, arguing that they don’t actually want to steal anything from Bakugou, just tease him, mess with him a little- The point is they don’t have any malicious intent, just want to have some harmless fun and judging from Bakugou’s reaction when Ashido tried to steal his hoodie, he knows it and already treats it as a challenge. So yeah, Kirishima agrees in the end, sue him.

The problem is, Bakugou is insanely good at it. He notices every time and it’s almost scary — whenever one of them have their hands on something belonging to Bakugou and are ready to present it to the rest of the squad, it turns out he already pickpocketed it back. He’s quick, and subtle, and efficient, and although two of these things are normal for him, Bakugou being subtle is somewhat surreal. They don’t really give up, but they stop focusing on it. They try to gain the element of surprise back, so they have to stop for a while. Lull Bakugou into a false sense of security.

They are kinda taken aback though, when Bakugou uses his skills out of his own initiative instead of as a mean to get his stuff back.

They’re sitting in cafeteria during lunch break, and Kirishima gets a text that makes his face as red as his hair in a matter of a second. It doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends.

“Who are you texting? You’ve got a crush on someone? Did they agree to a date?” Ashido floods him with questions, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Kaminari and Sero join the teasing, so Kirishima blurts out hurriedly:

“No! My mom was cleaning our attic and found a photo album from my childhood. She just sent me an embarrassing photo.” He hopes it will calm them down. He forgets one thing.

“Show me!”

“C’mon dude!”

His friends are a pain in the ass, all of them.

“No way!” he screams and tries to keep his phone out of his friends’ reach. He picks up his bag, hides his phone inside, zips the bag and holds it close, as if it was his most precious possession. It kind of is in this particular moment.

“Please, bro. I swear I won’t laugh.”

Kirishima knows it’s a lie. He refuses, stares down at Ashido and Kaminari and Sero (the traitor. Kirishima didn’t expect anything else from Ashido and Kaminari, but Sero? He trusted him) and refuses to give in to their puppy eyes. It’s tough, he’s gotta admit it. And then…. And then he hears Bakugou’s voice.

“I thought it would be something more scandalous given your reaction, Shitty Hair.”

No. He didn’t.

Except he absolutely did.

Kirishima glances, panicked, at Bakugou holding Kirishima’s phone in his hand.

“It’s not that bad, don’t be a pussy.” Bakugou rolls his eyes and puts Kirishima’s phone on the table - closest to Kirishima but not out of Kaminari’s reach. Kirishima sees this little smirk on Bakugou’s face that Bakugou always wears when they manage to convince him to some shenanigans he won’t admit out loud he enjoyed. Kirishima knows Bakugou will use his skills more often, now.

They created a monster.

Luckily Bakugou doesn’t really use his powers for evil. Well, he doesn’t use it for evil on Sero, just on Kaminari, Ashido and sometimes Kirishima, and for Sero it’s enough actually. The number of times it happened doesn’t mean they know everything about his skills though, Sero discovers one day. It should be obvious in hindsight, but Bakugou has this weird talent where whatever he does, whatever new thing you get to know about him, you’re both surprised and not at all, at the same time.

They’re doing groceries together, and they’re getting back to the dorms already, when a villain attack happens. The villain in question isn’t really strong, luckily, but has some weird teleporting quirk that moves random people to random places. They help the hero who arrived at the scene and once the villain is arrested, the hero asks them to stay here a bit longer and help people who weren’t hit with the teleporting quirk find their friends and family. More specifically help some kids, who can’t find their parents now. More specifically Sero and Bakugou are supposed to babysit the kids until the hero and his sidekicks find the missing parents.

Sero sees Bakugou frown but he doesn’t argue. Sero knows kids aren’t exactly Bakugou’s forte, especially not crying kids, so he tries his best to calm them down quickly. It’s not that easy. Sero sees Bakugou’s hand sparkle with mini-explosions. It doesn’t really calm the kids down either.

Finally, Bakugou snaps and points at a little girl with a witch hat on her head and a dark blue cape with yellow stars on it on her shoulders.

“Will you shut up if I show you a magic trick?”

The girl doesn’t look even a little bit calmer, but she hesitantly nods her head nonetheless, her lips still trembling and tears still streaming down her cheeks. Bakugou’s roar, although scaring some kids more (or, like, again; Sero actually made them stop crying and it’s all for nothing now, thanks Bakugou), brings all the kids’ attention to Bakugou. He kneels on the ground and shows his little audience that his hands are empty, then proceeds to pull a coin out off the witch girl’s ear. He shows the coin to all the kids, rotates it holding it with his index finger and his thumb, then closes his palm into a fist. When he opens his palm once again, there are two coins — between his index and middle finger, and between his middle and ring finger. He closes his palm into a fist one more time, and when he opens it, it’s empty again. The kids gasp.

“Your other hand!” one kid exclaims.

“Clever little shit,” Bakugou grins, “You thought you’re so smart, huh? Well, not this time.” He shows the other hand too; both are equally empty.

“Once more!” one kid demands.

“Once more!” the Clever Little Shit agrees.

“Once more! Once more!” the witch girl starts to chant. Other kids join her.

“Fine,” Bakugou says, then pulls out the coin again. He moves it on his fingers, throws it in the air, then catches it in his fist. Once he opens his palm, there are three coins, all between his fingers, minus his thumb. He closes his fist again and once he opens it, it’s empty once more. He looks at all the kids, then at Sero.

“Yo, Tape Face, check your pocket.”

There’s no way, is there?

Sero swears if there are coins in his pocket, he’ll start Bakugou’s fanclub. He’ll build him a shrine, because apparently Bakugou’s not entirely human.

His pockets are empty. Kids moan with disappointment (and to be honest Sero doesn’t know himself if he’s more disappointed or relieved he doesn’t have to build the shrine after all), but Bakugou’s not deterred.

“Well, then maybe you check under your hat, brat,” he addresses the witch girl. She looks at him with doubt but also with hope and takes her hat off.

A dozen of coins fall to the ground. Kids scream — excited, full of awe. Bakugou gathers all the coins from the ground, closes them in both of his cupped hands and shakes them.

“Blow,” he says to the Clever Little Shit. Clever Little Shit does as he’s told and Bakugou opens his palms. There are candies in his palms, the ones that Hagakure likes and of which they got three packages earlier, because she asked. Kids squeal, gather around Bakugou, each takes one candy and there is just excited chatter, no wails for lost parents anymore. Bakugou shows one more magic trick before the hero and his sidekicks appear with the kids’ parents.

The police takes Sero and Bakugou to leave their testimonies, and they’re finally free to go.

“So. Magic tricks,” Sero starts, once they’re on their way to dorms again.

“Shut up.”

“No, dude, wait! It was so cool! You should do it more often.”

Bakugou only grunts something that sounds like “fuck off, I’ll do what I want”. Sero knows Bakugou’s just abashed, because there wasn’t any of his usual bite. He smiles.

He has to tell the rest of the Bakusquad all about it.

Their class gets to know how skilled Bakugou is when one evening they’re all sitting in the common room and Bakugou wants to go to sleep but his friends want him to stay for a movie night. Or, at least one movie. They all deserve a break after a long week full of surprise quizzes! The rest of the class tries to respectfully convince him too, some tell him to “live a little” but before Iida, as the responsible class prez he is, manages to tell everyone that they should respect Bakugou’s opinion instead of flooding him with silly reasonings, Bakugou pulls out a sheet of paper, writes “all the fucks I give” on it, shows it to the whole class (they’re all quiet now, curious what he’ll do, although half sure he will just explode it), then proceeds to make it disappear in a true illusionist fashion.

Some of their classmates lose their shit, some stare in awe, some in shock. Midoriya smiles this soft smile of his, with stars sparkling in his eyes.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugousource #apparently only 5 first tags count for the search function on tumblr so i think i'm good now #it'll sound silly given it's my own hc but it's my general tags for hcs okay?#hc accepted #bnha

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

Text

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.6

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.5 - ch.7

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie was wide awake a good hour before the sun would rise, before Clock would wake the whole house, and yet she didn’t have the strength to get out of bed. Her mind was swimming with so many thought she felt like she was drowning.

Last night she had sex with Stanley Pines, her employer and friend. What the hell was she thinking?! She was thinking he was beautiful and smart and kind and everything she had ever wanted she just wanted to hold him forever, and thus it resorted to her losing her white dress to hay and walking out of a barn in Stan’s shirt and being caught red-handed by Ford and Fiddleford. (Thank God Tate was asleep and didn’t ask questions; if he had been awake Jackie probably would’ve killed herself.)

Her mind replayed what Stan had said to her before they got busy. He seemed to have meant those nice things he said to her, not just saying it to get her to undress. Jackie was a pretty decent reader of character, so okay, at the absolute very least Stan liked her. He wasn’t going to kick her out or dump her. But did he want to do it again? She knew she wanted to at some point, but…

Jackie groaned and laid on her stomach as she buried her face in her pillow. Really, would it be the end of the world if they were together? Probably not, but did Stan even want that? Jackie wanted to think so, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her he only saw her as an employee with benefits and to not get her hopes up. And of course there were the other men in the house. Ford was mortified when he discovered what they had done, but Jackie considered that it was only because he did not want to think about his twin having sex. Fiddleford, who had been married and even had a son, seemed a little too understanding and supportive. Jackie didn’t think she could stand to see their faces today, so she made up her mind to get up now, do her chores quickly before anyone else woke up, and lock herself in her room until dinner.

While the coffee pot brewed, Jackie quickly mixed together some simple blueberry muffins. While they baked in the oven, she quickly fed the chickens and watered the sheep and let them out onto the field. By the time she re-entered the kitchen the muffins were perfect and she let them cool while she tidied the sheep’s barn and gave them fresh hay. Jackie had just fixed her mug of coffee and plated herself two muffins when she heard footsteps and she hurried into her bedroom to indulge in a book.

It took a hot shower and a few sips of coffee for Stan to realize what Jackie had done. He laughed at himself to find the morning chores done and an easy breakfast laid out on the table. Shaking his head, he happily munched on a muffin on his way to the big barn to milk Luna and brush Truffles and he decided that he would check on her later.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the day wore on, as the sun crept higher and higher up the sky, dark clouds drifted into the scenery and hid the sun. Ford and Fiddleford had just enough time to retrieve their cameras so they could spend the rainy afternoon developing the photos in the thinking parlor before it started pouring down. It never escalated into thunder and lightning, but it was a merciless rain that kept the animals sleeping inside their barns and nests, but thankfully the lack of wind made it okay to sit on the porch and watch the rain, and that’s what Stan did until he fell asleep in his chair.

That left the four-year-old to snuggle up with a blanket on the couch and watch TV, but nothing good was on. Tate huffed and turned it off to try to think of what to do so he wouldn’t be bored no more. He could read a book, but he had done that yesterday. He could play with his toys in his room, but he didn’t feel like it. He wanted to get up and move, but it was raining too hard to play outside, Daddy said so when he came back with Uncle Ford with the cameras, so Tate decided he would do exploring.

He liked this house. It was big but not too big and it felt like home. He really liked it here, and though he knew it wasn’t good to be a sneaky peaky spy, Daddy and Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan and Auntie Jackie never got mad. Tate knew what most of the room were and where most doors led to, but there was one in the hallway that he didn’t know where it led to, so Tate opened it and he beamed to find raincoats, a vacuum, and a box of board games on the floor so Tate could reach.

Tate grinned and decided to pick a game to play. Maybe Daddy would wanna play, or when Uncle Stan wakes up he would wanna play. There was a small box of cards on the top of the stack; Tate thought it would be a good idea to play Go Fish. Tate saw Connect Forty-Four, Don’t Wake Stalin, Battle Chutes and Ladder Ships, but the game on top of the stack and right below the cards a game caught Tate’s eye. He liked the big red dragon behind the funny looking wizard, some kinda monster with big lips, and the pretty elf with the unicorn, all above a table of people playing the game.

Take picked up the green box and smiled. He was only four, but Daddy taught him how to read, so he could read the game and the rules. It looked like fun!

Meanwhile, Ford stretched his arms over his head and left the thinking parlor for a drink of water and possibly a snack. He looked down the hall and smiled when he found Tate in front of the closet where they kept the board games, holding a box he found intriguing. “Hello, Tate,” Ford said and walked up to him.

“Hi, Uncle Ford!” Tate piped and looked up at him and showed him the box in his hands. “Lookie what I found!”

Ford instantly recognized the well-used fantasy-talking, level-counting, statistics and graph-paper involved game from college and grinned. “Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons! That’s my favorite game in the whole Multiverse! I used to play with your father and some other fans of the game back in Backupsmore.”

“Can we play it now?” Tate asked.

Ford held his cleft chin in thought and smiled down at his best friend’s son. Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons was usually a complex and thoughtful game; you had to have a prepared Quest Master for starters, create a character and fill out a character-sheet, and use math and statistics a bit too advanced for the average four-year-old, but Tate wasn’t the average four-year-old. Ford knew he wasn’t good with kids and so he had somewhat kept his distance, but Fiddleford had often said the two were very similar and Ford was quicker to notice the similarities between the father and son, so Ford shrugged and got on one knee to be eye-level with the boy. He might not know much about kids, but he did know a lot about this. “Yes, I suppose we can play. This game involves both math and imagination, so I’m sure someone was intelligent as you will love it.”

Tate grinned at the compliment and watched Ford grab a black backpack from the closet’s shelf and then followed him to the living room to play on the card table. Luckily Ford had what he needed to be a Quest Master and knew the game well enough for the job, so he let Tate use a basic character to learn how to play and to see if he would like it. Ford looked out for any sign that the boy wasn’t having fun, but Tate took to it like a fish to water. The minute he learned he had to fill out a character sheet to play for real, he begged to fill one out and Ford happily showed him how to roll the dice and earn his character’s traits and skill-set.

Soon Ford had Tate the elf go on a magical quest. Tate found a dungeon by a river when he used his sword to cut away some plants, and Tate now had to battle boody-traps and devious gremlins to win the game. Ford started to roll dice in a normal manner, but after a while he reverted to his unique way: weaving the dice in between his fingers and picking it back up with his thumb, starting the cycle all over again. Tate nearly lost his mind and demanded to see it again. With hot cheeks, Ford happily showed the boy his little trick and Tate instantly tried to do it, too, but Ford chuckled and explained that it took lots of practice, and then it was back to the game.

“Alright, you enter the chamber.” Ford narrated, in his element, with the models in front of him and his guide for what to do, determined on what Tate rolled. Tate decided that he liked the way Uncle Ford told stories. “Princess Unattainable beckons you, but wait! It’s a trap!” Tate gasped in horror as Ford wiggled his twelve fingers and imitated an evil grin. “An illusion cast by Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Oh no!” Tate yelled and shook the dice in his combined fists. “I’ll get him with my sword!”

“Hold on, he only has one weakness.” Ford chuckled. “Prime statistical anomalies over 37 but exceeding 51.”

“Oh. Isn’t an anomaly a weird thingy in the woods?”

Ford laughed; of course this kid would first associate the word with Ford and Fiddleford’s field research. “Yes, but… okay, okay, here’s what you do. You see the dice with 38 sides? Roll that with these two, and then I’ll roll these three, and then we get to do some math to see who wins.”

“Yay! Math!” Tate quickly rolled his three dice and Ford rolled his. Ford even took the time to show Tate on his notepad why you should add certain numbers together, and it looked like Tate barely beat Probabilator’s illusion. “Yes! I did it!”

“Good job!” Ford said and ruffled Tate’s hat. “You’ve Probabilitor on the ropes! Now…”

“Oh ho, so this is where you disappeared to.”

“Hi Daddy!” Tate said happily as Fiddleford stood at the doorway, smiling and amused by the scene before him. “Uncle Ford’s teachin’ me how t’play Dungeons, Dungeons n’ More Dungeons n’ be an elf n’ kick Probabilitor’s butt!”

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow at his old college roommate, his smile still standing. “You dug out that old game, then?”

“More like your son was nosy and I couldn’t resist teaching him a trick or two.” Ford answered with a chuckle and ruffled Tate’s hat to show there were no hard feelings.

“Ugh, are you serious?” Tate and Ford looked over to find that Stan had returned, rubbing his eyes with his fists, awoken by the sounds of dorks. “You’re teaching squirt that nerd game?”

“It’s not a nerd game, Stanley, you would like it if you gave it a chance.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas.”

“C’mon, Uncle Stan, don’tcha wanna play?” Tate asked and smiled up at him. “You’re always a lot of fun to play with! You can even pick the weapon I get Probabilitor with!”

Stan couldn’t hide the blush in his face. Before he could answer, Jackie walked behind Stan swiftly for a drink of water, but Tate saw her and quickly said, “Auntie Jackie’ll play, won’t you?”

Jackie jumped and darted her eyes all over the room. She ignored Stan and Fiddleford’s smug looks and tried to piece together what the boy wanted. “Um… what?”

“Dungeons, Dungeons, n’ More Dungeons.” Tate explained and even held up the box’s lid for her. “Can’t we all play together, pwease pwease pwease?” He begged, and even puckered his bottom lip out a little bit to sweeten the deal.

Jackie smiled sympathetically as she exchanged facial expressions with the adults. It wasn’t fair to Tate that there was no one his age to play with or to keep him company. While he had never once complained, it meant a lot of his free time was spent playing alone or helping with chores just so he had somebody to talk to. Just for one afternoon, it couldn’t hurt to give in and do this one thing the child clearly desperately wanted.

“I don’t see why not.” She said with a shrug. “Never played, but I’ve heard good things about it. Why don’t I pop some popcorn and make hot chocolate for a snack?”

“Great idea!” Fiddleford backed up. “I’ll go get my old character sheet!”

“Alright, Stanley come here and I’ll help you create your character.”

“Ugh, do I gotta be some sparkly elf or something?”

“No, you can be whatever you want to be. An ogre, a fairy, a centaur…”

“You had me at ogre! I’m gonna have my own swamp and kick out any annoying fairytale creatures!”

Later that evening, after all the characters had been set and the game was ready to begin, the card table became too filled to function, so everything was laid out on the floor and everyone sat in pajamas and snacked on bowls of popcorn, pretzels, chipackcerz, and mugs of hot chocolate. Clipboards for the players’ character sheets, colorful dice, and notepads also littered the living room, and as the room was lit with candles and the wood-burning fireplace to give it a spooky feel, Ford happily narrated his players through the game. “After your victory against the clan of goblins, you rest at a pub…”

“I’m gonna flirt with the barmaid to get some free drinks!” Stan declared and rolled a 38 sided die; once he understood that this game involved more risk and imagination than math, he started to warm up to it, and though he would never admit it, he had fun playing pretend.

Ford chuckled and looked down at the die. “You’re successful! The barmaid is charmed by your smooth words and strong stature, and slides you a free drink, but unfortunately your score isn’t high enough to earn everyone else a drink. Your players need to recharge from battle, so everyone needs to pay one gold coin for fuel.”

“Imma get chocolate milk!” Tate cheered as he changed the amount of gold he had in his bag on his character sheet.

“Okay, everyone roll your 12 sided die.” Once all the dice were still, Ford winced at the score and said with a devilish smile, “Your cheerfulness over your victory has caught the attention of your worst, and most annoying, enemy: Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Dang it!” Stan yelled as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

“He’s accompanied by his trusty eagle, perfect for capturing victims, a hot elf, and his head ogre. Seeking revenge for taking down his army of goblins, Probabilitor attacks the pub with…” Ford rolled his dice. “... a math ray! Everyone roll your D-38.”

While Stan rolled a 32 and Tate rolled a 28, Fiddleford rolled a 17 and Jackie rolled a 2. “What!?” She shrieked, having been earning low numbers the entire game. “Stan, did you load my dice!?”

“Aw, c’mon, missy,” Stan laughed. “I wouldn’t cheat… okay, but not at a nerd game. It ain’t worth my best tricks.”

“While Goldie and Tate dodged the math ray in time, Hadron and Drizzle are hit, Drizzle left weak while Hadron almost made it to safety. The eagle takes advantage and takes them in his talons, following Probabilitor into the sky as the ogre and hot elf ride on the large bird’s back. Goldie, Tate, what do you do?”

“We go after them!” Tate declared.

“What happens if we don’t?” Stan asked.

“Probabilitor will eat their brains. It’s his thing.” Ford answered.

“Fine, guess we’ll go on another quest.” Stan ruffled Tate’s hat, the two paired into a team, and Ford had them set off into the woods for their team members.

“Alright, meanwhile at the campsite,” Ford went on. “Hadron and Drizzle are tied to a tree while the hot elf readies the brain-cooking pot.”

“Hold on, ain’t there a way we can escape?” Fiddleford asked. “It’s only rope, n’ I got my dagger, remember. If it’s in my belt by my hip…”

“Good ingenuity, let’s give it a try.” Ford cleared his throat and reread the rules to make sure it was fair. “Probabilitor, distracted by picking garnishes for your brains, doesn’t notice that Hadron has a weapon he can use without his hands. Roll your D-12, you have to get a 10 or higher to be successful.”

Fiddleford blew into his fists for good luck and let his D-12 go, but then slapped his forehead and winced at the 8.

“You managed to cut some of the binding holding you and Drizzle captive, but your dagger falls from your belt and lands on the grass and out of reach. Before Drizzle can even try to get it back with her foot, Probabilitor returns to do some more annoying dragging about how he’s going to eat you.”

“If I get my eight-year-old character killed over this, Imma lose it.” Fiddleford joked; there was no way he was going to die like this, right? Right?!

“Ugh, if my hands were free I’d break every part of his face.” Jackie growled.

“Oh ho, Probabilitor is so annoying he has even invoked the wrath of the peaceful druid elf.” Ford chuckled. “Helpless for the time being, it’s up to Goldie and Tate to save them, but first they must travel through the woods and reach the campsite.”

“Okay!” Tate cheered and punched the air, ready to beat up some bad guys.

“You two are getting close to your destination, you can tell by the frequent fairy bites. When suddenly your path is blocked by a huge ogre, armed with an axe!”

“Aw, come on, Manly Dave, I thought we were cool.” Stan said sarcastically and the whole room laughed.

“‘Halt!’ Dave the Ogre says.” Ford was using a deeper, gritter voice for the ogre, making Tate grin as the narrator had a way of making the story come to life. “‘You interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the Wizard! If ye wish to pass, first ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the last…’”

“I bonk him over the head with my bat!” Stan interrupted.

“Okay, one, you have a club, not a bat, Stanley,” Ford explained for the uptheenth time. “And second, you can’t…”

“Sure I can! Our team members are gonna be dead soon, we don’t have time for seven stupid quests! So I use nature’s snooze button and bonk him over the head!” Stan argued and shook his dice in his fist.

“Fine, roll your D-38…” The room gasped as Stan rolled a 36. Ford, chuckling with disbelief, said, “You bonk your club on the ogre’s head and it knocks him out cold. He’s not dead, but he won’t be walking for a long time.”

“There’s no cops in the forest.” Stan hissed to Tate. “We take this to our graves.”

The boy actually pushed his hat and bangs back to show Uncle Stan his trusty wink, making the whole room laugh.

“Very well! You are approaching the campsite!” Ford narrated with wiggling fingers. “As Goldie and Tate hide in the bushes, Probabilitor tackles.” Ford cleared his throat and made the wheeziest, annoying voice he could muster, causing Jackie to snort and cover her mouth to keep from spitting out soda. “‘And now, a little math problem! When I subtract your brains from your skulls, add salt, and divide your team, what’s the remainder?’”

“YOUR BUTT!” Tate cried out.

“‘What?!’” Ford wheezed. “‘My butt isn’t part of this particular equation!’” The whole room laughed loudly and Ford had to wait for everyone to calm down before continuing. “Though your insult may have been funny, your cover is blown. Goldie and Tate now have no choice but to battle Probabilitor for the lives of Hadron and Drizzle!”

“Yup, we’re dead.” Fiddleford said and pulled out a clean character sheet. “Better start creatin’ a new character.”

“Hey! We’ve got this, right squirt?” Stan asked as he wrapped an arm around Tate.

“Yeah!”

“Let the battle begin!” Ford placed two small figures of ogres and said, “The ogres swing first! Roll your D-38s to dodge!” Ford rolled a 13 while Stan rolled a 14.

“Goldie uses a… Shield of Shielding to, you know, shield Goldie and Tate!” Stan made up.

“Probabilitor casts a reversal spell, and…” Ford rolled a 15. “... is successful. The shield disintegrates. The ogres attack! Now you can choose to attack or…”

“Oh! Giggle time bouncy boots!” Tate yelled out. “To jump over the meanie’s heads!” Both Ford and Tate rolled, but Tate’s was higher.

“The boots work!” Ford said. “Goldie and Tate bounce to safety, missing the axes and clubs by the skin of their noses.”

“Now they use flamey swords… no! SUPER hot flamey swords!” Tate declared, getting really excited. The boy rolled a 21, Stan rolled an 18, and Ford rolled a 2.

“Incredible luck!” Ford gasp. “Your swords are so powerful they destroy the ogres in an instant!” And he swiped up the little figures. “‘Drat you!’ Probabilitor screeches. ‘You’ll never outrun my Ogre-nado!’” And Ford rolled a 30.

“Yes we will!” Tate said and hopped up on his feet, shaking the die hard. “Centaur-taur will swoop in and save Tate and Goldie!” And Tate rolled a 32.

“A what?” Fiddleford chuckled.

“A Centaur-taur.” Tate repeated and showed a drawing he had made last night when thinking of weapons and characters. It was both horrifying and impressive.

“Tate, I am so confused n’ so proud right now.” Fiddleford said thickly with shiny blue eyes.

“The Centaur-taur dashes just in time and carries Goldie and Tate to the thick of the trees, where the ogre-nado is broken and destroyed. Goldie and Tate rush back to try to free Hadron and Drizzle, but Probabilitor’s score is still too high to be defeated.” Ford rolls his D-4, D-12, and D-38 to determine which of Probabilitor’s spells or minions to use; the Quest Master’s eyes widened as this specific combination of numbers meant he had to use the most powerful monster is all of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.

Ford grinned sheepishly, and narrates slowly for suspense, “You think all is well and good, but Probabilitor was saving the worst for last. Just before Goldie and Tate reach their team members, they’re grabbed by a huge claw with three fingers and are faced with a mouth inside of a mouth and a fiery red eye.” And Ford slammed down the biggest statue they had.

Fiddleford gasped. “The Impossi-Beast! I thought they banned this character!” He argued.

Ford shrugged. “Sorry, but this is the original 1972 version. They didn’t ban the Impossi-Beast until the second version, released in 1975.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just think of some cool weapons…”

“Ya don’t understand, son.” Fiddleford said as he gripped the boy’s shoulder. “He’s so powerful that he can only be defeated by rolling a perfect 38! If not, then we all lose our characters!”

“Rollin’ a 38?!” Tate gasped. “The odds are…”

“Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re a world-class gambler!” Stan said and took up his D-38. “C’mon, c’mon… Papa needs a new pair of… elves!” And he let go of the D-38.

Tate held onto Stan’s arm as it rolled across the floor. Fiddleford’s knees were bouncing despite being criss-cross. Jackie had her hands in her hair. Ford bit his lip, wanting his first quest with the team to be a success. The little blue die looked like it might fall on 1, but at the last second it balanced perfectly on that beautiful 38.

“WHAT?!”

Tate jumped up and down as he cheered and punched the air. “YES! Yes, yes, yes! We won! We won!”

“What do you say, buddy?” Stan asked.

“DEATH BY MUFFINS!”

“Goldie and Tate then throw magical Death Muffins into the Impossi-Beast’s mouth!” Ford narrated. “The monster explodes and Probabilitor is powerless and pathetic as always. But keeping true to his name, he annoyingly disappears into a cloud of math, promising to be back for another journey, but for now Drizzle and Hardon are free, and Goldie and Tate are upgraded to level 2 and earn twenty pieces of gold.”

“YAY!” Tate quickly scribbled down the changes on his character! “Can we go on another adventure?! Maybe we’ll find a dragon this time! I wanna try to get a Trust Arrow!”

“Unfortunately that’s all I had plan for now.” Ford held his chin and gave it some more thought. “I suppose I could…”

“Not so fast, Sixer, that’s enough nerd-game for me.” Stan stretched his arms over his head. “Ole Goldie over here’s ready for some mindless fun.”

“How about a movie?” Jackie asked and looked under the TV for the box of VCR tapes. “We’ve got The Voyages of Lionclothiclese: Clash of the Genres.”

“Oo! Put it in!”

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!” Fiddleford said excitedly as his son sat in his lap up on the couch.

Ford moved up to the couch and allowed Jackie to put the tape in the machine and soon the TV lit up with the lights and sounds of the old film. Stan had collapsed into his armchair and Jackie held her knees by her chest, sitting between the couch and the chair. Stan noticed this and shook his head discreetly. No way such a pretty woman was going to sit on the floor, even if it was carpet.

Jackie couldn’t help but feel someone’s eyes on her, and when they looked at each other Stan gave his lap a little pat so no one else would notice. The farm-woman hesitated, but being in his hold sounded amazing, and really what did she have to lose, so she slipped up into his arms and curled up in his lap, the gang allowing the old movie to fill the atmosphere and happily distract them from the real world.

#GF #fanfiction #DD&MD #ford pines #stan pines #jackie asante #tate mcgucket #Fiddleford McGucket #farmer au #gravity falls au #gravity falls #someone take my laptop away from me plz #may or may not have borrowed this idea from an old fanfic of my own #it just works SO WELL here!!!#I'm so thankful for all of you #Thanks for reading!#more to come!

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strawberrysoup · 5 years ago

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Let’s Review || Chapter 5

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

Tony looked down at his cell as a text came in from Bucky, that they’d kept Penny busy for as long as they could but Steve had stuck his foot in it and she’d ran off. He definitely Didn’t Roll His Eyes but he did scoff, shoving his phone back in his pocket. It wasn’t a big deal necessarily, just meant their timeline was moved up a bit.

“Rhodey, we should be expecting Penny pretty soon,” he shouted from the Parker’s kitchen to where Rhodey was in Peter’s room, “the Winter Wizards chased her off and she’s probably going to be heading back.”

“Thought she wanted to get her nails done?” Rhodey called back curiously, examining a giant Lego spaceship on the dresser.

“Bucky thinks she’s probably freaked out enough to forgo her original plans, I guess they got a bit handsy.”

“Do you want me front and center or should I stay back?”

Tony hesitated in thought for several moments before sitting down at the kitchen table, arranging the laptop to angle the webcam for the best view of what was to come. Everybody back home would want to watch.

“Stay in the bedroom for now,” he gave a quick thumbs up to the camera before moving to look through the trunks that doubled as an end table and a coffee table near the couch.

Most of Penny’s belongings were in the trunks, several outfits and a few pairs of shoes. She didn’t own very much, just a couple of books on gardening and cooking and a pair of knitting needles but no yarn. A stack of what she probably considered important papers were at the bottom of one, her and Peter’s birth certificates and social security cards, the bill of sale for her car, the scholarship agreement for Peter’s school.

There was also a stack of printed pictures, none in frames, neatly tucked into a corner. They were of Peter and of their family, old photos of their parents and aunt and uncle and what looked like grandparents. He’d seen several of them before, saved on Penny’s Pinterest, but he left them out on the couch to make sure they’d be taken with them upon leaving the apartment. They wouldn’t need any of their clothes, but keepsakes would be important in the coming months. Both for comfort and as incentives for good behavior.

He was still digging through the trunk-slash-coffee-table when he heard the key turn in the lock of the front door. A quick, careful breath steeled his nerves and he sat down on the couch, casually crossing one leg over the other and began flipping through the pictures.

There was a change in the air the moment Penny realized something wasn’t right in her apartment. Tony got goosebumps, the anticipation running through him as he listened to her very quietly set down her purse and keys, creeping through the hallway towards the living room. She stopped in the doorway, a sharp inhale betraying that she’d seen him.

“Why don’t you come sit down with me sweetheart,” he called without looking over his shoulder, curious to see how jumpy she would be after her run in with the soldiers.

“How did you get in my apartment?”

“I’m willing to answer all of your questions if you come sit down.”

The hesitation was obvious, he imaged he could almost smell how scared she was, but in the end she came shuffling around the side of the couch. She stopped again, hovering for a moment before pulling one of the chairs away from the kitchen table and sitting down a fair distance away from him.

He snorted slightly but nodded, “I guess I didn’t specify that you had to sit by me, did I?”

Penny didn’t move a muscle in response, she was hardly breathing with how stiffly she sat. Tony sighed and stood up from the couch, one hand going into his pants pocket while the other still held the pictures.

“I got into your apartment by picking the lock,” he stated, answering her earlier question, “Even the new deadbolt you bought is pretty easy to pick, sweetheart. Although that security bar sitting next to the door would’ve been effective if I tried to break in while you were home. How much was it, $20? $30?”

A moment went buy before she realized he actually expected an answer and Penny inhaled rather sharply, “$50.”

“Ah, you must’ve splurged then, hm? I know an extra 50 bucks probably wasn’t easy to come by,” Tony deliberately looked around the sparse apartment, “but I know Peter’s safety is your top priority, right?”

“Always,” she sounded on the verge of tears and Tony smiled softly, crossing to stand directly in front of her.

“Take deep breaths, baby, we still need to talk,” he took her hands into his and pulled her up off of the chair, leading her to sit on the couch, “now, that’s more comfortable, isn’t it? Well, not by much. This is probably the most uncomfortable couch I’ve ever sat on. That’s why you make Peter sleep in the bed, right? Because the couch isn’t good enough for him.”

Penny didn’t answer, her pretty face was pale and frightened and Tony sat next to her gently so she didn’t startle too much. Her muscles tightened in response, especially when he dropped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer to his side. She was smaller than he remembered when he first saw her, smaller than she looked on the webcam footage. She fit perfectly under his arm and if she’d just relax a bit, she’d tuck right against his chest with her head under his chin.

“You know, Peter lied to me, when I first met him,” he stated quietly, turning his head just enough to brush his nose against her temple, “he told me that he didn’t have any family. No parents, no siblings, he lived on his own after his aunt died. When I saw that he actually did have a guardian, I was furious that he lived in such a shit hole.”

He hadn’t really thought it possible, but Penny stiffened up even more under his arm. It might’ve been anger or discomfort or sadness, he didn’t know, but he did know she bit down on her lip, hard, to stop from responding.

“I figured that anyone who made him live in a place like this must’ve been a monster. Who would let a kid live in this drug den? Did you know that the week I saw you for the first time, there had been 23 drug related police calls to this location? In just a week! Knowing my boy was—”

Penny broke away from his grasp swiftly and with more strength than he’d anticipated, launching herself off the couch to stand in front of him, “He’s not your boy! Peter isn’t your anything, you fucking pedophile—”

“I’m almost glad I won’t be the one teaching you your manners,” a low, dark chuckle escaped his lips and Tony stood up, causing Penny to stumble back several steps towards the window, “but only almost, baby, I promise. I think the freezer burned beef-cakes are going to take good care of you, but if they don’t I’m gonna steal you back in a heartbeat, I promise.”

“Get out of this apartment,” Penny thrust her arm out, showing her cellphone with 911 dialed but the call not yet placed, “I swear I’ll call the police if you don’t get out, I swear—”

“I’m actually positive that you would, if you didn’t already know that I have 99% of the NYPD on my payroll,” he reached out and plucked the phone from her hand gently, shutting it before turning it around in his hand curiously, “this is ancient, sweetheart.”

Penny’s back was nearly pressed against the wall beside the window but Tony continued to approach, his steps slow and methodical. The goal would be to herd her back towards the hallway, where Rhodey could approach from behind. It would be the best way to get her carefully drugged without too much of a struggle, but Tony was fully capable of subduing her by himself if necessary.

“You’re upset and I understand why, I just want you to understand that no harm is going to come to you or your brother,” Tony stopped a few paces away and put his hand back into his pocket, along with her phone, and gestured around with the other one, “all I wanted to begin with was to get Peter out of this hell hole, he deserves so much more, don’t you think? Peter deserves everything, doesn’t he?”

“P… Peter deserves to grow up, l-like a normal kid,” she stuttered after a moment, her feet shifting unconsciously away from the man in front of her, “he deserves to graduate high school a-and go to college and be whatever he wants, he deserves to live in p-peace, without being stalked or—”

“You’re not very good at manipulation, are you sweetheart?” Tony smiled, watching her gear up to run from him, “That’s okay, you don’t need to be. I know that all you want is for Peter to be safe and happy. You want him to have all of the opportunities you and the rest of your family didn’t get.”

“L-Look, you’re right, okay?” Penny once again found herself putting her hands out in front of her, palms out as she tried to discourage the man from coming any closer, “I just want Peter to be safe. I just want him to be h-happy. So please, please leave him alone. I would do… I would do anything if it meant you’d leave him alone. Please, Mr. Stark, please leave my brother alone. H-He has so much potential. He’s going to go on to do… to do amazing things. He’s so smart, he can do anything he wants. Please, tell me what I can do to make you go away? To leave him alone? Please.”

A small sigh escaped Tony’s lips as he reached out, grabbing her hands as he stepped closer and tugging her into his chest. Her muscles pulled so tight she started to shake. Three men in one day had laid their hands on her, had thought they had the right to touch her when she didn’t want them to. Tony’s grasp wasn’t as tight as Steve or Bucky’s had been, but it was somehow firmer. It was scarier, there was more potential for violence in this man’s arms.

“You’ve spent a pretty long time giving up everything for Peter. I looked into you, you know? I saw when you dropped out of high school because your aunt didn’t make enough to support you and Peter without your uncle. You had to settle for a GED so your brother wouldn’t go without. Started working dead end job after dead end job to support him. And then when your aunt died, you dropped your classes all over again, and picked up even more work. Everything you do is for him, huh?”

He rested a hand on the back of her head, making her lean her forehead against his shoulder and tugged out her hair tie. The waves of dark brown hair spilled down over her shoulders and brushed against his suit. He slipped his fingers into the dark locks, gently rubbing over her scalp and sighing. Penny felt so small, trembling against his chest.

“You’ve taken such good care of my baby boy, Penny,” he tilted her face back slightly with his thumb, making her meet his eyes, “you did such a good job, keeping him safe and happy for me. But now its my turn to keep him safe and happy, and I promise I’m going to do my best.”

“N.. No, please, no, listen to me,” Penny pushed against his chest in a panic, trying to twist out of his arms but only succeeding in twirling them both around, “Please leave Peter alone, please don’t take him from me, I need him, I love him, please—”

“You’re so precious baby, so sweet,” all of a sudden, his grip around her shoulders and on her face tightened, slowly and carefully forcing her to bend her neck to the side, “I’m not taking him from you, I’m taking both of you. Now stay still, sweetheart, take a deep breath.”

“No… No, no, no, please—”

Rhodey pressed himself against the young woman’s back, one arm coming around her torso to help Tony steady her attempts at thrashing. They had expected a fight, but Penny was surprisingly tough to hold. Maybe it was her adrenaline, the combination of thinking she’d gotten her wallet stolen, what happened with the Ancient Aliens at the coffee shop, the whole situation with Tony Stark overall.

Penny Parker had been gearing up for a fight for a solid month, whether she realized it was going to come to physical blows or not. A full fucking month of anticipation and fear and fury.

“No!”

Neither of them had expected Penny to drop her weight. Both ended up fumbling, trying not to let her hit the floor but in the process, she kicked her leg out and up, nailing Tony directly in the junk. Rhodey was suddenly left with all of her weight in one arm and shifted to the side to compensate, putting himself off balance only to have Penny suddenly regain her footing and force them back. They both fell into the trunk in front of the couch, Rhodey breaking Penny’s fall.

Both men were winded, left gasping, as Penny shot to her feet and went to jump over the couch. Rhodey just barely managed to reach out and grab her ankle, his grip slipping almost immediately but it was enough to keep her from landing on her feet on the other side. She hit the floor with a bang, having tipped head first over the couch. There was a low groan but they knew she wasn’t down for the count despite the fact that they couldn’t see her; she was crawling across the floor, towards the hallway that went to the front door.

“Penny,” Tony forced himself to move despite the almost nauseating pain, she’d kicked him hard enough he’d be sore for days, “don’t make this any harder, sweetheart.”

The brunette didn’t respond, instead focusing on using the wall to pull herself to her feet. She hadn’t locked the front door behind her when she walked in, if she could open the front door it was a straight shot to the stairs, she could run to her car, go pick up Peter—

Tony grabbed her tightly from behind and pressed her face first against the wall, one foot stabilizing his balance while the other locked around her own. Rhodey’s back was on fire from hitting the trunk dead on, but he quickly crossed the living room.

“Shhh, princess, calm down,” he used his own weight against Tony’s back, pressing both of them harder against the wall and almost completely immobilizing Penny, carefully forcing her head to the side once again.

She was screaming again but neither paid any mind, knowing that any calls to the police at this location would go unanswered for at least the next several hours. With careful, steady hands Rhodey adjusted the already prepared needle and slid it gently into Penny’s neck, her screams reaching a crescendo of terror and pain for several seconds before she began going limp.

“There you go now, baby,” Tony murmured quietly as Penny slumped heavily against the wall, “you go to sleep and when you wake up, everything will be better.”

Tony pressed a careful kiss against the top of her head and turned her to face him, sighing at the tears running down her face as she fought the drug coursing through her system. She’d put up a hell of a fight, had injured both of them in her escape attempts, but he couldn’t be mad. Poor thing was terrified of them, scared for her brother and herself. No amount of reassurance would do anything until she experienced her new life.

“You okay, Tones?” Rhodey couldn’t help but laugh slightly as his friend swept Penny up into his arms, reaching over to adjust her head against his shoulder, “she got you pretty hard there.”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on making any babies,” Tony snorted fondly, leaning down to brush his lips against her forehead, “she’s a fighter, Old Man 1&2 are gonna have their work cut out for them. Your back alright?”

“Gonna have some real fucking bruises,” he stretched his back with a groan and a wince before shaking his head, “little lady tried to take me out there. Naughty thing.”

A laugh escaped Tony and he nodded in agreement before adjusting her in his arms slightly, “let’s get her back to the tower, Peter won’t be home for several hours. She’s going to be pretty uncomfortable when she wakes up, we need to at least make sure she’s in a nice bed.”

“Surrounded by super soldiers?”

“Honestly I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold them off, so probably.”

#steve rogers x oc x bucky barnes #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!mcu #let's review #lets review chapter 5

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just-call-me-johnny-archive · 4 years ago

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The following contains mentions/implications of abuse, attempted sexual harrassment, mentions/implications of past sexual abuse/assault, graphic depictions of homicide/torture, mentions/implications of past suicide attempts, implications of police/military violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Johnny didn't learn for a while what the house wanted from him. It was clear that it demanded something of him. The ceiling seemed too low, mold-ridden even if he couldn't see any. The floors were freezing- wooden and splintering, but he hadn't bled once despite getting some shards embedded painfully into his hands when he searched the ground for his pencils after the moon went down.

Every number he called about the electricity going out lead to a dial tone. His phone was strangely the only electronic- the only appliance- that still worked in the house. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been left in the bathroom to die and woke up with stark scars on his forearms, the shower curtain draped over his body, and the bathtub dry as a bone. And Vargas gone. For good it seemed.

He almost wanted to believe it was a nightmare- that it all was a nightmare. So he tried to pick his life back up as he stepped out of the bathtub and went to find clothes and the thermostat.

One day, he found a bill on the table in front of the TV. He couldn't remember when he'd received any mail recently- let alone opened it. Even stranger than the bill was the message that had been printed on it. There wasn't any amount under 'AMOUNT DUE.' The only other print on the paper was red text reading 'UTILITY SERVICE TERMINATED DUE TO NONPAYMENT. REMIT PAYMENT TO CONTINUE SERVICE.'

There wasn't an address or a phone number to contact regarding the bill. Johnny was left confused over how to alleviate this debt. He didn't know who, when, where, or what. The only thing that he still had control over was the 'how.' He needed a job.

After digging around for a week or so, Johnny managed to uncover his portfolio that he'd submitted copies of alongside Edgar. He was not about to go back there- they loved his boyfriend and always doubted Johnny's judgment.

There was a new comic publishing company; a start-up with a promising, rich CEO that was recruiting new styles. Macabre. Gothic. Grotesque. Mindfuck. It was perfect for Johnny.

He put on the best outfit from his closet, something with a blazer and no rips in the jeans. He'd done his hair until the two antennae that hung over his face were hidden amongst the rest of his combed blue hair. Johnny walked into the office feeling confident that his second chance at life had been a blessing or a reward for surviving.

Everyone working at the company currently was skinny, wired, and brutal. Nobody seemed to actually be creating anything- instead, they were all busy working on photo manipulation and advertisements. There also seemed to be someone altering a passport photo meticulously.

Johnny's meeting with the CEO started off alright enough. The man listened to the artist speak about his work and he even asked a few things here or there. He asked something about the paint choice and Johnny responded in a way that he hoped didn't sound too try hard but also genuine. In truth, Vargas didn't let him use anything else.

Maybe he could sense that. Maybe the man could tell that Johnny was an easy target. Maybe Johnny had painted 'patsy' on his forehead in asshole-vision invisible ink.

Whatever had caused the conversation to turn towards Johnny's personal life- particularly his relationship status- was unimportant. He wanted to leave, but he figured that the man would probably ask that for reference purposes or perhaps personally-identifying information. Johnny told the CEO that he was single, recently left a relationship with his ex-fiance. The way that the man reacted should have said enough to him, but he tried to reason with his brain; he was overreacting.

But to put it crudely, the CEO wanted fresh meat and Johnny was a free-bleeding fresh cut. Eyes still clear. Silent like a fish out of water, when he moved over and started massaging Johnny's shoulders, saying how awful that must have been. That he was there for him. That he was recently divorced himself. He understood.

Johnny felt his hand being moved, heard a zipper being pulled down, and when the CEO moved his mouth to press against his ear, all Johnny remembered was that he had the other man's letter opener embedded in the space directly below his eye socket. He registered the crack of bone giving under unforgiving metal. The burst of red sprayed across his face and his shirt. The screaming. His screaming.

He was on his knees over the blubbering, defaced CEO shouting out as if he was emptying every last moment of anger or shame or hurt into the puncture marks that kept adding up. Johnny wasn't sure if he was crying or that his body was finally catching up- maybe he was having a heart attack.

He has no idea how long he kneeled on the grimey black floor of the CEO's office before he realized that nobody was coming. Surely, someone must have heard them. Was the police waiting right outside the door- bullets trained on him- ready to shoot to kill? The man who was under Johnny's blade was miraculously still alive- dying- but still actually alive and he only then heard the tiny whimpers of 'please, don't kill me' 'I'll change.'

Johnny grabbed the man's stripped, bloodied face, digging his fingernails into the wounds, and his heart sung with the screeches that rung throughout the office. There was nothing else there except for Johnny and the filth disguised as a human being.

He listened to him plead, held his face in his hands as the man continues to plead pathetically. Johnny's heart nearly jumped this time when he claimed 'he'd change'.

"No; you won't." His voice was venomous, low and angry in a way that sounded calm. "You will never change. You know what happens when I give people like you the opportunity to change? Do you? They stop for a little while, sometimes days, sometimes decades, because they're so fucking scared for their life. For jail time, for repercussion, Hell maybe for the Devil himself coming to fuck them up the ass for what they've done. But when the Devil doesn't come, when the tabloids remain silent, when the name becomes deceased or missing or disappears completely, you go right back to what you'd been doing before. You put your fingers or your face or your dick wherever you want because you think you're untouchable. You think you are above the lives that you've ruined. You think that they deserve it- or maybe that you deserve it for being so good for so long, right? Well, guess what?"

"You won't get to do that because I'm going to end your life right here, right now. I'm going to end whatever cycle of abuse that may or may have swept you up and corrupted you - brought you to believe you somehow are entitled to this pain that you inflict on others. And I'm going to enjoy it."

The man was able to only let out a sharp 'please, no' before Johnny grabbed his skull and twisted it until he heard a snap and the person below him had turned into a corpse. Into a past tense.

He was coated in blood.

Johnny dropped the body unceremoniously before he shakily got onto his feet. It was copious. It was gruesome. He threw up into a potted plant near the door. He gathered his portfolio into his arms and picked up his application from the CEO's desk. Johnny slipped the single piece of paper into the paper shredder, watching it turn into dozens of tiny bits of future bunny bedding.

He braced himself before he stepped into the workplace. He expected a lot of things. He expected to see a huge stack of chairs and terrified workers huddled behind them like frightened raccoons. He expected SWAT, FBI, CSI, NCSI, the Navy, Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and the Marines. He expected to have a bunch of horrified, traumatized faces staring back at him.

Instead, they looked annoyed. And the only people who were annoyed were the ones whose desks were closest to the CEO's office door. They glared at him, sneering like he was covered in shit and not in blood. Then they were completely disinterested. He was just some freak. They gossiped amongst themselves, but otherwise didn't approach Johnny.

The man tore out of the comic publishing building and ran all the way home. It was midday- in the middle of December or January, where the sun was absent and the wind was unforgiving. Johnny had sweat through his stained clothing and the temperature change between the outside and the inside of his house was minute. The only shelter he had from the Winter chill was just covering from the elements.

Johnny walked into the bathroom and over to the bathtub and tossed the downed shower curtain out of the way. The water was freezing and felt like needles against even his clothed skin as he attempted to wash away the blood. It streamed down, staining the white porcelain as it streaked off of him and into the drain.

The man had put his head against the tile, directly under the showerhead as he held himself. His eyes were shut tight, so it took him a moment of brief confusion before he opened his eyes to the bright lights of the bathroom and a gradually increasing warm shower.

The water was perfect now and after getting past the initial shock, he undressed and continued to clean himself off the best he could. All that remained after he finished was the blood caked under his fingernails. He would cut them later.

Johnny dried off using a somewhat warm, scruffy towel, it had been hanging there on the rack since he first awoke in the bathroom. He wrapped it around himself before he explored the rest of the house. It was warm, and the lights were all on. The electronics were all buzzing in a way they hadn't unless in memories. He opened the fridge and found that the food in there had not rotted. He picked out some lunch meat from a drawer and savored the usually incorrigible processed salty ham. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. Or the last time he slept.

He needed clothes. He needed to get rid of the clothes at the bottom of his tub. Johnny went over to the bedroom where he hadn't tread since awakening. The light was on. The bed was still done but looked slept in. He went and grabbed the first shirt and pants and underwear that he found and then quickly went to clean up the mess in the bathroom.

He wrung the blazer out, pink-red water had poured and then streamed and then dribbled. He repeated this with the pants and then the shirt and his underwear and socks. His boots were not salvageable. That's fine. It was all fine.

At least for now he did not have to immediately worry about paying the bill. In fact, the house felt warmer when he returned inside after he buried the clothes under the dirt of his dead front lawn. Johnny found a new paper attached to his freezer. He figured he'd missed it when he first went for the ham.

He took it down after he grabbed a bag of microwavable pizza pocket bites. Johnny didn't know what it meant and how it happened, but he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was given another chance for a reason. He gnawed at his fingernails as he watched the plate spin in the microwave and the house hummed with life as it was finally fed.

'PAYMENT RECEIVED.

UTILITY SERVICE WILL RESUME AS NORMAL.

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.

THANK YOU.'

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danyka-fendyr · 5 years ago

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Absence of Good - 5

Chapter 5:Head Above Water

Hey everybody guess who’s back from hiatus! Okay, so this is a bit of a long one, which I’m actually rather pleased about. I took a break to let my creative muse simmer, and I think it turned out pretty good! Hotch kind of gets more of a spotlight in this chapter, which is important to me because I want to emphasize reader’s connection with the other characters and not just Spencer. What can I say? I’m a sucker for slowburn. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait! (This hasn’t been proofread so it might not be.)

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake @prettyboyspenerrr

Wordcount: 3844

Warnings: Generally disturbing themes. Mentions of death, sexual assault, drowning and other dark themes.

“War is what happens when language fails.”

-Margaret Atwood

You had never been more terrified of an assignment than this one. And that was saying something.

Through everything that had happened to you in your line of work, there had always been an element of a safety net. Despite all the danger, despite the horrors you saw every day, there was some comfort in the knowledge of two things. The first was that you would get to go home at the end of the day to your loving bed. The second was that you were not the target. You were not the target.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked Hotch, trying to hide the slight wavering in your voice.

“You’ve seen the pictures, Agent Y/L/N. I don’t think I need to tell you how sure of this I am.”

You swallowed thickly, holding the glossy images between your fingers. You hated the texture of them between your hands, had never liked the sticky grip of a fresh printed photograph stealing your fingerprints, so easy to mark up. It stressed you out. These photos did a little more than stress you out though.

“How…this is…”

“Uncanny,” Hotch finished for you.

You two were alone in his office, which should have meant bad news to you on any day, but you had hoped for the best. You had thought maybe he was going to tell you off for helping Reid prank Morgan. Perhaps he had actually called you in to tell you some good news. That had been too happy to hope for though.

“Yes. Uncanny,” you echoed.

“The message seems clear enough though.”

“Say it,” you whispered.

Hotch looked reluctant, like the words would sound almost as bad coming from his as they would from you.

“This unsub is obsessed with you.”

Every girl looked exactly like you. Some of the more recent kills had even been made to look more like you. Hair dyed, styled. One with colored contacts to turn her eyes your same vivid hue. No one could blame you for the single tear that slipped down your face and landed on the dark, lemon scented wood of Hotch’s desk. No one could blame you for your complete inability to look away from all of your dopplegangers.

No…not dopplegangers. Replicas. Created to be perfect mirror images of you.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Who-“ You cut yourself off.

“We don’t know.” You had never heard Hotch speak so softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “Agent Rossi and myself are the only two who know about this right now. We thought we should tell you before the rest of the team. We’ve been looking through old cases trying to find someone who escaped but we haven’t met with any luck. Which leads us to believe…”

“That it’s someone I know in my personal life.”

“Most likely.” Hotch’s face was grim, his mouth a thin line.

It aged him, you realized. Every time one of the members of his team was in mortal danger, the years seemed to pile on, making him seem 10, 20, 30 years older than he was. It was jolting to realize that Hotch was not all that old, not in the grand scheme of things. That to Rossi, he was young, comparatively. For a moment you felt you were closer in maturity to Jack, his son, than you were to SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“I’ll go tell the rest of the team,” you whispered.

You tried to move, but you couldn’t seem to do it. For a moment you simply did not have the willpower to rise up out of that chair, an island keeping you afloat just off the continental shelf of the ocean that was Hotch’s desk, a buffer between you two. The terror held you in place, eyes still glued to those pictures, to the broken bodies in them.

“You don’t have to,” Hotch offered, throwing you a lifeline. “Agent Rossi and I can handle it.”

You should have taken it. Should have fallen to your knees and blubbered out your gratefulness. That’s what any sensible person would do. Anyone who had not read too many fantasy stories of heroines who put on a brave face and too many textbooks about how the shock could make you numb to things. If there was anyone willing to play their own brain it was you, and right now you were ready to play it like a fiddle that would be too shocked to process your own grief and terror.

“No. I can do it.”

You wiped your face clean, unashamedly whipping out a compact mirror to make sure you still looked presentable. You didn’t have to bother hiding anything from Hotch. He could care less how much or how little you cared about your appearance, as long as you remained professional. You had always liked that about him. How comfortable he was to be around when it came down to it. How trustworthy.

You didn’t look like you had been crying. That was good. You would lose the respect of 75% of the office if you did, and that was a convenient thing to have sometimes.

“Let’s go,” you said, finally finding the willpower to stand.

You didn’t look at the photos. You couldn’t. Not if you wanted to hold on to the shellshock, the numbness that would buoy you through this briefing.

The bullpen wasn’t ready for your announcement. You could see them all gathered around Spence’s desk, speculating. You knew what they were doing because you had done the same thing on a few occasions. They were trying to figure out why Hotch had called you in, laughing to themselves, smiling. You almost couldn’t bear to tell them, to wipe the smiles off their faces.

You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Spencer was the first to notice. To see the stone look carved into marble features and to freeze, his amber eyes going dark. It didn’t take the others long to notice, to put together your clenched jaw and Spencer’s tense posture. If there was one thing they knew better than serial killers, it was the face of a bearer of bad news.

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“We have a case. Briefing room, now.” You got there before Hotch could.

There was no hesitation, only an icy edge to the air as you all headed to the briefing room, closing the door behind you. You let Hotch do the setup, the man knowing you well enough to know that you wanted those pictures behind you. You couldn’t look at them while you told the team. It was bad enough seeing Garcia’s gasp as she pieced it together, and Spencer…You could barely look at Spencer, first to pick up the pieces, first to figure things out, first to have a thousand emotions flicker across his face. He was angry, he was sad, he was sick, he was terrified.

You tried to start, but the words stuck in your throat, so Hotch gave you a push.

“We’ve all dealt with unsubs of a more personal nature in the past. As you can all see, this is, unfortunately, one of those times.”

“This unsub has a connection to me. Obviously.” You tried to keep the words from shaking, gripping the edge of the table to hide the tremors running through you while coaching yourself to get a grip. “At first, he chose victims who look like me. He’s become more manic though, with less time between kills. It’s no longer enough to wait for girls who look like me. He’s desperate enough that he doesn’t care what they look like, but meticulous enough to model them after me. Additionally, he is still careful enough to pick girls with similar lifestyles. Low-risk victims with strong educational backgrounds, all the same age as me.”

The words were starting to run dry as it felt like the world might slip out from under your feet. You were sure your legs were going numb, sure that someone was freezing all the blood inside your body in some kind of twisted science experiment. You knew he had frozen the bodies, kept them for a while to do things you didn’t want to think about right now. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh, you had to make it through this briefing, had to make the words keep coming, but how.

“We believe this unsub is obsessed with Agent Y/L/N, and knowing this we can only assume that as his cooling off period decreases the danger to Y/N increases. There is some good news though. The unsub seems to be deteriorating, which could lead him to make a mistake.” Hotch took over.

“How did so many of these bodies turn up without us noticing?” JJ asked, horror in her eyes.

“The unsub crossed state lines. He’s clever, very much so. Medical reports indicate that he keeps the bodies frozen for a period of time before dumping them, and there are signs of sexual assault, though it appears to have been done with a blunt object. Some of the bodies he brought across state lines, which only further complicates things.”

“But we’re going to catch this psycho, right Hotch?”

Morgan’s righteous anger was normally calming, but now not even he could reach through your panic.

“We’re doing everything in our power to track down this unsub now that it has been brought to our attention. I fought for them to let our team have this case, so I expect you all to be at the top of your game. Agent Y/L/N, for obvious reasons, will not be apart of the investigation, but rather will be in protective custody.”

You swiveled, your legs nearly giving out beneath you but not quite.

“No she will not be,” you protested.

“This unsub is targeting you directly. The safest place for you to be is-“

“Surrounded by my team. At best, cooped up here. But I refuse to be sidelined and tucked away in some safehouse Hotch. You said I probably know this guy. So who better to help track him down than me?” You appealed to Hotch’s sense of reason, that sense that always won out with him. “You need me for this Hotch. You can’t find this guy without me.”

Just when you thought Hotch would agree, Spencer stood from the table, slamming a hand down with more aggression than you thought him capable of.

“Absolutely not!”

You felt the blood rush back to your extremities as it rose to color your face, Spencer’s protest bringing you back to yourself. You clenched your fists, turning the full might of your own fury on him even as he stared at you with eyes that seemed to blaze with fire.

“Reid, she has a point. She’s the only one who knows the unsub-“

“So we’re just going to use her as bait?” You had never seen Spence so livid, his eyes tearing up with the emotion. “I won’t let you put her in danger like that, Hotch. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this case.”

“I’ll be wherever I need to be, and right now that’s here, Spencer.”

There were few people who could match Dr. Spencer Reid. His mother was one of them, an unstoppable force. The eccentric, immutable Gideon, you had heard, was another. You were the third, fire rising to meet fire, washing out any trace of ice, any danger of drowning that might have existed before this moment, this challenge. There were a lot of people Spencer Reid was good and entitled to boss around, but you were most certainly not one of them.

“It’s too dangerous, I won’t let you-“

“Won’t let me? Well I’ve got news for you Spencer, you’re not my boss. You have no claim over me, no say in what I do or don’t do. I’m helping with this case because if you ever want to find this guy, you need me.”

Spencer looked like he was going to say more, but Rossi interrupted him. A dangerous thing to do for anyone other than Rossi.

“She’s right, kid. I hate to say it almost as much as you do, but she’s right. A case like this, could be anyone. You know that. You also know it’s entirely possible that she’s the only person in the entire world who can connect the dots. We’re not just throwing her to the wolves though. We’ll keep her safe.”

You had never seen Spencer looked so betrayed as he had now, looking first to Rossi, then turning to the rest of the table in a silent plea for support. He found none. Reluctant as the team was, you had made your point.

Turning on his heel, Spencer stormed out of the room. You had half a mind to follow him, but it was Rossi who held you back.

“Let him go. He’ll come back soon. He won’t be able to leave you alone at a time like this.”

You didn’t know where Rossi’s certainty had come from, but you could hear it in his voice, and you decided to trust him on this. After all, you would have to trust your team on a lot until this guy was safely behind bars.

The next few days were taxing, to say the least. You had gone through just about every person you had ever met trying to figure out who the unsub was. People you were close to, people you had barely known, and everything in-between. You were about ready to give up, nearly asleep with your head on Garcia’s desk as she cast her sympathetic gaze your way.

“Honestly, it really could be anybody. Sometimes these guys just see you smile at them once in the street and they’re insane for you. They’re wacky.”

“You can say that again.” You sighed.

You were in an extra bad mood tonight. You and Spencer hadn’t been talking lately, not since your fight over whether you should be involved in this. Despite the fact that you were confined to Garcia’s office and that Hotch wouldn’t so much as let you go home, Spencer’s vow of silence did not lift. It seemed as though he was refusing to condone your involvement in this with words.

Which was just as well, you didn’t need him. That was what you were telling yourself. You were just cranky and on edge because of everything else going on in your life. Heaven only knew you had a right to be.

“Boy genius still not on speaking terms with you?”

To add to your stressors, Garcia had been getting unnervingly good at guessing your thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now. Any activity from the unsub?” You quickly changed subjects.

“Well I haven’t heard from them in a while, but let me ask my brown sugar.”

Deftly pressing buttons, Garcia dialed Morgan, putting him on speaker so you could hear too.

“Hey baby girl.”

“Hello my gorgeous chocolate thunder. I was wondering, could you perhaps update me on the situation?”

“For you? Anything. We just got done talking to the M.E. about the newest body. Apparently he’s now taken to dressing them up as cheerleaders, presumably in reference to Y/N’s high school cheerleading career. Anyway, not much else has changed about his M.O., nothing we’ve noticed yet anyway-“

“Wait…Morgan…did you just say he’s dressing them up in cheer uniforms?” You asked.

“I sure did. Why? Does that mean something to you?”

“Morgan…I was never a cheerleader.” You felt like all the air had been swept out of your lungs. “I don’t think this is about me.”

The team had all headed back to Quantico at record speeds, made faster by the fact that the unsub had been getting closer and closer to Virginia in his killing sprees. They were now assembled in front of you in the briefing room, but this time you hoped to shed more light on the situation.

“When I was 16, I fell in with a bad crowd. Well, not a bad crowd, but you know. Not my kind of people. I was a quiet book nerd and they were party people. Anyway, I was going through some things and I wanted to be cool, so I let them convince me to go to this party. Long story short, it wasn’t fun. The highlight of the night though, I remember, was this girl. Amber Melfort. She and her boyfriend got into this big fight, and it was obvious he was drunk. He hit her, hit her pretty hard, and she fell. Fell into the pool, and didn’t get back out.

Her boyfriend, as you may have figured out, was not a class act. I think he thought that if she really was dead then if he left her there nobody would know it was him. I don’t really know what he thought, to be honest. Don’t really want to know. Anyway you slice it, that didn’t sit right with me. He walked away, but I dived into the pool, fully clothed, and managed to drag Amber out. Did CPR, got somebody half-sober to call 911. At the end of it all, Amber pulled through and her boyfriend, Matt, got kicked off the football team.”

“No offense, but I’m not sure I see how this is related to the case.” Emily’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Amber was a cheerleader,” I said. “Whatever this is about, it isn’t just about me. It’s also about Amber.”

Emily’s eyes widened in understanding, as did everyone else’s at the table.

“It’s certainly worth looking into. Reid, you and Dave go interview Amber Melfort, find out whatever you can. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to find the boyfriend and make a house call.”

You all collectively scattered, and you and Garcia went back to researching whatever else you could.

“Alright, looks like Amber lives alone not far from here. Apparently she’s been dating a life guard, irony of all ironies, and according to her social media…Oh, major bummer. Turns out up until a couple months ago they were engaged until she broke it off because he was cheating on her.”

“Poor Amber,” you said.

The girl deserved a break.

“Yeah. Okay, so anyway, she hasn’t had any contact with the boyfriend, Matt, in years. He doesn’t live too near here either, which might be why the killings started further out but seem to be circling in.”

“Any stressors in Matt’s life?”

“Oh beautiful baby doll you know that I already looked and weirdly, I have not come up with much. It would seem that, to all appearances, Matt is living the perfect life. In fact, he even just got married. And other than their status as Facebook friends, he and Amber no longer have any kind of connection. He hasn’t even liked any of her posts in over a year.”

You felt the wind get knocked out of you. “I guess my theory was wrong then.”

“Seems like that might be the case. I’m sorry angel cakes.”

You were more than ready to give up. You had been ready to give up for weeks, but now? Now you were convinced you were going to be drowned and buried in a cheerleading uniform.

It didn’t make sense. All of the signs had pointed to a connection to Amber, right down to the drownings which you hadn’t been able to connect before the cheerleading outfit. You were at your wit’s end when your cellphone began ringing.

You did a double take when you saw the number. Spence rarely called, but right now he was angry with you. It didn’t make any sense for him to call. Unless…maybe he had found something. Heard from Amber that there was someone else who was a potential danger.

You picked up the phone, hoping against all hope, only to be filled with cold fear.

“Y/N, it’s Dave. My phone is dead, but we’re on the way to the hospital. Spencer’s been hurt.”

“I’m on my way.” Screw the unsub, you were not leaving Spencer alone in some stupid hospital.

“Okay. Let me know when you get here.”

When you arrived at the hospital, you found Dave quickly and he explained everything that had happened to you. Amber had been the unsub all along, dealing with her trauma the only way she knew how.

Her fiancé cheating on her had been the stressor. Apparently Matt had been cheating on her way back when and that was what they had been arguing about at the party just before he struck her, nearly dooming her to a watery grave. In a twisted reenactment, she had been playing out her memories by killing not herself, but the girl who had come to save her, all in the hopes of gaining your attention. She had become obsessed with you and with your work, and ultimately it led to her revealing herself and having a shoot-out with Spence.

“Is he okay?”

“The doctors think he’s going to be fine. She only grazed his arm,” Rossi reassured.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I go see him?”

“Yes, I think they’re allowing visitors now.”

You didn’t stay behind to listen to Garcia’s speeches about charts before charging ahead.

“Spence.” You breathed a sigh of relief seeing him awake.

He looked towards you and for the first time in days, a hint of a smile pulled at his mouth.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you bring me Jell-O?”

“No. But I can,” you said, turning to go get some.

“No! I mean, that’s okay. Don’t leave yet.”

He looked so pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. A white bandage wrapped around his arm and nearly matched his skin as well as the sheets. The dark marks under his eyes stuck out even harsher for it.

You drifted over to his bedside, taking a hesitant seat in the hard, alcohol scented chair next to his bed.

“Listen…Spence…I’m sorry,” you confessed. “I’ve been stupid. When I heard you were hurt, all I could think about was how if you died I wouldn’t have gotten to tell you…Well, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that I’m an idiot. You were only trying to protect me, and I’m sorry for not seeing that and respecting it.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you, shouldn’t have wasted all that time being mad at you for being right. In the end, you were the one who solved the case and the one who saved the day. Even when you aren’t in the field you’re a brilliant agent, and I…I was just worried. I thought maybe I could lose you, and if I did…I don’t want to think about what would happen. So please forgive me for being so selfish and stubborn.”

You smiled softly at him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Forgiven.”

He smiled widely at you, a smile you hadn’t seen since before the threat to your life. “I’ll take that Jell-O now.”

“Coming right up.”

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

-G.K. Chesterton

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #tw:sexual assault #tw:death #tw:body horror #tw:selfharm #???#tw:panic attack #tw:drowning

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captainofthebrokentides · 5 years ago

Text

Briefcases and Bloodsplatter: Chapter 4 : Revelations Benny Colon x OC

Thank you all for waiting so patiently for chapter 4. Hopefully it’s good and not too rambling for you. Unfortunately I am a trainee nurse, and so I’m finding it very difficuly to find time to write between working ridiculously long hours and sleeping. But I’ll do my best to get them out as much as I can. Enjoy! 2694 words.

Liv’s eyebrows raised as she scanned through the menu. She bit her lip and glanced at Benny over the top of the folder. He looked relaxed and in his element, jacket off and sleeved rolled up to his elbows. He had barely even glanced at his menu, and was watching her in amusement.

“What?” He asked her, humour present in his voice.

“So … do you come here often?” She grinned sheepishly when he laughed at her unintentional joke. “I mean to eat, not as a chat up line … although…”

He gave a loud laugh, tipping his head back slightly and his shoulders shaking. “Aha, yes. Bull and I come here a lot.” He said when he finished laughing, “It’s the perfect place to bring clients.”

“It’s an impressive place to bring clients.” She eyed the prices again, $30 for a basic spaghetti alfredo, it didn’t even come with salad, or bread. She daren’t even think how much the glass of rose in front of her had cost. “Is all of New York this expensive?”

‘Well done Liv … now you sound cheap!’ she thought to herself, mentally faceplanting the table in front of her. ‘you really need to learn to control your verbal diarrhoea.’

Benny didn’t look offended at all, he shrugged “We’re a bustling metropolis, you get used to the prices being sky high. It’s not as expensive to live here though. You know, if you decide you like it here.”

Liv smiled at him and sipped her wine. “I guess there could be a few things that might persuade me to stay.”

“It would be good to have you around more …” He looked sheepish and took a mouthful of his own drink, fingers fidgeting, “you know, we could do with a permanent forensic expert” his words were sputtered and quick.

Liv, who’d had a rush of warmth through her body listening to Benny’s words, felt her heart drop through her stomach. She had only been in New York, and working for TAC for a couple of days, but she’d felt an immediate connection with the dark haired lawyer. He’d made her feel at ease, and made her knees feel weak. He was her idea of a perfect man – kind, passionate, intelligent, dedicated and easy on the eye.

And he’d flirted with her … right? She chewed her lip, silently questioning herself whether she’d misread his attitude towards her.

The waiter beside her cleared his throat and made her jump, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“You alright Liv?” Benny’s brow was furrowed and his eyes were filled with concern. He reached out and laid a hand over hers. Her skin felt tingly at the contact and she smiled at him weakly, nodding her head.

“Yeah, sorry, spaced out there for a second.” She turned her hand over in his, so they were palm to palm. He smiled and nodded at her, but his eyes still held a little worry.

“What can I get you Miss?” the waiter asked.

Liv pulled her attention away from Benny and smiled at him. “The spaghetti Alfredo, please. Nothing else. Thank you.”

The waiter wrote down her order and nodded, collecting up their menus.

“You sure you’re ok? You left me there for a minute.” Benny asked again, his eyes holding hers with intensity.

“Not intentionally, sorry.” It was her turn to fiddle with her cutlery uncomfortably. “My thoughts got away from me for a second. I’m back now, I promise, I wont disappear on you again.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I like having you here with me.”

‘There he goes again … that’s flirting right?’

“So tell me more about you Olivia Byrne” Benny took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair watching her.

“You really want me to bore you with my life story?” she joked.

“I don’t think you could ever bore me, Liv.”

****

“Thank you again for lunch Benny, you really didn’t have to pay for me too.” You said, as the pair of you reached your little lab.

“It was a pleasure to spend the time with you.” Benny leaned against the door jamb as you unlocked the glass panel. “The first of many, I hope?” the relaxed Benjamin Colon that Liv had had lunch with was gone, he was back to being the perfect pristine lawyer, without even so much as a wrinkle in his jacket. His eyes though, his eyes were the same, somehow a captivating mixture of soft and intense all mixed into one.

Liv tried to hide the blush that peeked onto her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He smiled wide, dimples in his cheeks and showing off his perfect pearly whites.

“Aha” Liv laughed and let them into her office, dropping her bag down onto her desk. “I’m surprised I didn’t bore you to death with my life story.”

The TAC fairies had been in again and the makeshift morgue had returning to being a regular lab again. Liv shook her head in disbelief, how long had they been at lunch? She swore they’d only been in the restaurant an hour and a half tops.

“Never.” Benny said seating himself on the edge of her desk. “Someone loves you, you’ve got a parcel here.” He nudged the large yellow padded bag.

Live rolled her eyes and sat down, quickly opening the package. She pulled out a little note card, two vacuum sealed bags filled with clothing and a wrapped pair of test tubes. She studied the note, and laughed out loud. Benny peered over her shoulder, also scanning the writing.

You asked for semen! Have fun! But not too much fun!

Marissa x

He chuckled and shook his head. “The body fluid work never stops for you, does it?”

“What can I say?” She countered, grinning, “Who doesn’t like getting a little messy?”

“I completely agree.” His eyes held that fiery look again, the one that flooded Liv’s skin with goose bumps and made her jig her thighs together to create a bit of friction.

‘Do you now?’ Liv asked seductively her voice, thick as honey. She licked her lips, and pushed all the items from her desk, not caring about the bangs and crashes. She kicked her chair back and climbed up onto the table, kneeling beside Benny, who was still watching her intently, with a cocky smirk on his handsome face.

“Want me to show you how much?” his voice was husky and low as he deliberately looked her up and down, as if she was something edible.

She didn’t give him an answer. She just grabbed him by his lapels and pulled him flush against her, their lips slamming together in a heated, passionate kiss. One hand kept him pulled to her, while the other ran through his silky black hair. He ran a warm hand under the hem of her black blouse, the contact a burning tease.

“Liv, you’ve gone again.” Benny roused her from her trance with an knowing grin plastered on his handsome face. “What are you thinking about?” his voice had dropped an octave and was oozing anticipation.

Liv swallowed hard, well aware that her face was probably as red as a phone box. She looked him in the eye and laughed – there was no point playing coy – “Messy things.”

She picked up the packages of clothes and stood up from her desk, walking with purpose over to her work bench. She could still feel his eyes on her, drifting down her back and pausing briefly on her backside. She grinned in victory. She didn’t know what it was with this man that made her feel like a naughty twenty something again, but she was enjoying every minute of it.

He made a noise in his throat that she wasn’t sure whether it was a sigh or him clearing it.

“I should get going Liv, before Bull comes looking for me.” He stood up and straightened his jacket.

“Mmm I’m sure you have boring legal work to do, you can’t stay and play mad scientist all day.”

He smirked and raised and eyebrow, watching her as she put on her lab coat and gloves. “Is that what you do in here really? Pretend you’re helping us, but really you’re plotting to take over the world with chemical warfare?”

Liv laughed and waved the material she had just taken out of the bag at him. “That’s right, you caught me. And I’m starting this experiment with these … lovely semen stained jeans … mmm” they both pulled a face and laughed.

“Well, it’s a starting point.” He made his way towards the door, but stopped in the doorway. “You know where to find me if you need anything … or a sidekick … if you can steal me away from Bull.”

“I do. See you later Benny. Go, before I get you or I in trouble.”

He nodded and left the lab, but ducked his head back in a couple of seconds later.

“Oh and Liv …”

Liv looked up from her task, and smiled as she saw him grinning at her.

“You look good in a white coat.” And with that he was gone, not even leaving her time to reply.

She swore her face was going to split in half with how wide she was smiling.

****

“Good god, what are those?” Liv asked Cable, her mouth hanging open a little as she took in the black and white photograph on the cyber whizz’s screen.

“I know, they’re racy, right?” Cable agreed. Flipping through the files to show the rest of the set to Liv, who’s eyebrows were climbing ever higher into her hairline. “I found them in the snapchat ether.”

“I’m guessing they’re Brandon’s right? They’re pretty severe.”

“Yup, see his monogram, here?” cable pointed to the little embroidery on all the pillows.

Liv rolled her eyes and made a noise of disgust, “ugh rich kids.” She studied the photo closer and furrowed her brow in confusion. “That’s not Alyssa Yang. The bone structure is incorrect, and those are definitely not Alyssa’s nails, she bites. Any idea who it is?”

Cable shrugged “I think Bull has an idea. Brandon says they’re not even sexual. Boss is convinced he’s lying about something.”

“Well, he can’t deny he had sex, and a lot of it. There’s enough semen on his clothes I swear I could fill a pint glass.”

Cable wrinkled her nose “That’s gross.”

Liv nodded, “Mhmm, I never said my job was glamourous.” She handed Cable a USB drive that she’s plotted all the DNA strands from the clothing and samples onto, as well as the skin and blood samples from Alyssa’s body. “Could you do me a favour when you have a minute? I know you’ll do it ten times faster than I will.”

Cable shrugged and popped the USB into her pocket “Sure, what can I do for you?”

“Can you match these DNA markers to any records or files or strands available on the internet? I’ve only got access to the police and medical databases.”

“Sure, no problem Liv, I’ll get on it for you later.”

“Thanks honey.” Liv squeezed her shoulder and looked towards the glass wall that was the front of Benny’s office. It was empty, and the lights were off. Her brow furrowed, he hadn’t even stopped into the lab to say good night.

Cable caught Liv’s gaze and smirked knowingly. “You looking for Benny?”

“oh, uh, no, not especially.” Liv felt the skin of her cheeks burn in a hot blush as she tried to cover her disappointment. ‘is it really that obvious.’

“He and Bull got pulled out to have a late meeting with Rutledge and Peters. They’ll be out pretty late. They kind of left in a hurry.”

Liv hummed an acknowledgment and looked at her phone. the happy face of her puppy on her background told her it was 6 30 pm. “there’s nothing much else I can do with my day, so I’m going to go back to my hotel, have a glass of wine and read a book in the bath I think. Will you tell them I said bye when they get back.

Cable nodded and turned back to her screen. “Sure thing. Sounds like a solid plan, enjoy it.”

Liv gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “Night Cable. Thank you. And that you for running those for me.”

The younger woman smiled warmly. “No problem, good night.”

Liv made sure her bag was on her shoulder and left TAC, heading into the elevator and out into the buzzing New York night.

****

Liv had decided she was going to have a relaxing evening. She’d ordered some fancy chicken dish for dinner and a bottle of white wine, along with the chilled chocolate mousse for dessert. It was an evening for decadence. The only thing she was missing, she thought to herself, as she lowered into a hot bubble bath with the bathroom lights dimmed to a warm golden glow, was having someone there to share it with her.

She eased into the water and shut her eyes, imagining that she was not alone. That her back was pressed against Benny’s hard chest and her head rested on his shoulder. In her mind he was drawing delicate little circles on the flesh of her arms with his fingertips, and murmuring things in her ear, occasionally pressing kisses into her hair, and soothing her into a relaxing sleep.

Liv woke with a bit of a start as her email tone chimed loudly from the other room. She grumbled and pulled herself out of the tub. She’d been enjoying that little fantasy. She wrapped a towel around herself and sat cross legged on her bed, pulling her laptop to her.

She opened the email from Cable.

‘Hi Liv, Sorry it’s taken a little bit of time for me to search them up for you.’

Liv glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen. 21:44. It hadn’t taken her long at all. It would have taken Liv easily a day to search the information Cable had in a couple of hours.

‘I’ve managed to match up the semen from the trousers and tests. I’ve packaged the results up for you. I’m still running the matches from Alyssa’s body. Hope this helps a bit! C 😊’

Liv opened the attached documents and scanned her eyes through the matching results. As she thought, the majority of the DNA strands found in the semen from the tubes, Alyssa’s body and the clothing matched Brandon Peter’s DNA profile. But one set of DNA stood out massively, and Liv’s jaw dropped. The matching profile could be a huge break in the case.

The revelation completely made Liv forget her state of undress, the towel being the only thing covering her naked body, as she dialled the first number she thought to call in a video call.

The phone rang for a few seconds, and Liv bit her lip while she waited for Benny to answer.

After a couple of rings he answered the video call. He looked exhausted, but still well turned out. His hair was messy, and he’s swapped his three piece suit for a deep blue work out t shirt that clung to his muscles. Beads of sweat lined his forehead and black gloves covered his hands as he waved at her. She’d clearly caught him in the middle of a work out.

“Benny, I’m so sorry, am I disturbing you?”

He smirked at her and took a seat on a near by chair. She caught a glimpse of the surrounds around him and realised he was still at the office.

“Dressed like that? Not at all.”

Liv’s eyes widened in horror as she realised she was still only in a towel.

“Holy fuck. I’m sorry I should have put clothes on. I can do that and call you back?”

“And spoil my fun?” He was grinning at her, enjoying the situation. “What’s up Liv? You look frazzled.”

“Benny, I need you to come here, I’ve had an unexpected breakthrough.”

@reelovesbennycolon @thesleepyproducer

#benny colon x reader #benny colon #benny colon x oc #bennycolonxreader #benny #bull2016 #jason bull #freddy rodriguez

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mildredisabella · 4 years ago

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Assignment 2: Storytime!

A Remote Stand-Off

Starting the assignment

In this assignment, we were tasked to create a storyboard. Firstly, it started conceptualising the simple narrative that I wanted to tell using the 3 act structure (Setup, Confrontation and Resolution). Afterwards, I went ahead to sketch these stories out to make sure that they represented the vision that I had and then took the photos to bring it to life. Hence, the gist of the story that I was trying to tell was about 2 friends who were bored in quarantine and just turned on the TV and having a debate about what to watch on Disney+. Heavily inspired by some of the conventions and cinematography of the Spaghetti Westerns i.e. the duel scene and the ECU shots of the eyes etc, I decided to have these 2 girls (my friend and I) fight over the remote to see who gets to decide the show they will be watching: High School Musical or Lemonade Mouth. If you’re wondering if this was inspired by a true story, it was but don’t worry we were still friends after this as you can guess from the selfie we took midway because we decided to give ourselves a 5 minute break in between shooting scenes.

Storyboarding

Fig.1: Storyboard Part 1 (Drawing)

Fig.2: Storyboard Part 2 (Drawing)

The storyboard first starts off with a wide shot (WS) or establishing shot (ES) of Disney+ being featured on a TV screen. The scene then cuts to 2 girls, Layla and Isabella, on the couch looking bored and figuring out what’s good to watch. This is the set-up of the scene which leads onto the rising action when both of them spy the remote on the table and reach forward to grab it. These 2 scenes are being shot in close up (CU) and mid-shots (MS) respectively. That’s when both girls grab onto the remote at the same time (shot in CU) which leads to the stakes getting a little tense as it cuts back and forth to an extreme close up of Layla’s eyes first and then Isabella’s, both of them refusing to let go of the remote. This action results in the biggest crisis or confrontation, the duel for the remote and its shot in a MS. In this scene, it is also when the girls started screaming High School Musical and Lemonade Mouth respectively. This then brings us to to the resolution and last shot of the storyboard which is Isabella managing to triumph over Layla and manages to get ahold of the remote as Layla rolls her eyes in defeat. This is shot in an MS so that you can see Isabella raising her hand with the remote in it so she can pick the movie.

Below is the storyboard but in picture form.

Fig.3: Storyboard Part 1 using pictures

Fig.4: Storyboard Part 2 using pictures

Pre-Critique

To further prepare for the assignment, I attempted to make my narrative foolproof and cutting out the unnecessary scenes I may not have needed. I also went a step further to try and edit some pictures using Photoshop by playing around with the settings that it had to offer. For the first picture, I decided to make the TV stand out a bit more from the background and to do that, I went ahead and selected a new curve layer and using the brush tool, I masked it with another layer where I inverted the masks and modified the layer again. This effect overall did help as the TV is now slightly brighter than the rest of the objects in the background (Fig.5). For the rest of the shots, I mainly played with brightness/contrast to get achieve the desired effect that i wanted as the light source was to my right in the picture (as you can see from the windows), I wanted to make sure everything was brought up to ensure the white balance is there. I also cropped some images like Shot 7 as I wanted to bring out the ECU and the MS shot as I felt it was better in that size than a WS. Moreover in Shots 6 and 7 (Fig.6 and 7), I also played around with the spot healing brush tool to get rid of the pimples that plagued our faces which we were not excited for the world to see although we are still coming into adulthood. After all these pictures have been edited, I layered them all out on InDesign (Fig.12) and used a western background to further bring out the mood of what I was trying to go for which was a story inspired by Spaghetti Western conventions.

Fig.5: PS work area for Shot 1.

Fig.6: PS work area for Shot 6

Fig.7: PS work area for Shot 7

Fig.8: PS work area for Shot 3

Fig.9: PS work area for Shot 5

Fig.10: PS work area for Shot 8

Fig.11: PS work area for Shot 9

Fig.12: InDesign workspace for storyboards (drawn or photos)

I left shots 2 and 4 unedited as I thought they perfectly captured the essence of the story I am trying to portray on their own.

To sum up the shots in the assignment:

Shot 1: WS of the television featuring Disney+

Shot 2: MS of 2 girls staring at the TV pondering what to watch

Shot 3: CU of the TV remote

Shot 4: MS of 2 girls reaching for the remote at the same time

Shot 5: CU of the 2 girls grabbing the remote at the same time and refusing to let go

Shot 6: ECU of Girl 1 (Layla) staring at Girl 2 (Isabella) intensely

Shot 7: ECU of Girl 2 (Isabella) staring at Girl 1 (Layla) intensely

Shot 8: MS of fight for the remote

Shot 9: MS of Girl 1 smirking happily as she emerged triumphant while Girl 2 is rolling her eyes

Pre-Curation

Before achieving the images that I needed to place in my storyboard, I did have some shots that I was not as satisfied with such as these 4 examples below.

Fig.13: Shot 5 of the remote that did not make the cut

In Fig.13, this was meant to be for the 5th shot and I personally thought was not suitable. This is because according to the rule of thirds the remote is off centre and towards the centre right of the photo which is very uneasy on the eyes and puts the remote not as the focus of the photo as in the left third, Layla’s leg is showing which brings in a lot of elements and the viewer would not be sure as to what to focus on if this image was presented instead of the final one that’s being shown.

Fig.14: Attempted CU of the remote

For this shot, I wanted it to be used for the 3rd photo where the remote is in focus which was why I attempted to try for a CU shot. Even though the remote is placed in the foreground of the photo, it is not as sharp as the people in the background. As our eyes are naturally more drawn to the object that stands out, the remote in the foreground which is not in focus would lead audiences to think that the focus is the person in the background when that is not the case. Hence, this shot was a complete fail and did not make the storyboard for its shot size and depth of field.

Fig.15: Attempted Shot 4 (reaching for the remote scene)

This shot though emphasising the point that I was trying to make about the 2 girls going for the remote at the exact same time is very uncomfortable to look at as there is no headroom for the girls and even cuts out some of the features of the girl on the right. Therefore, this does not make for a good scene as there is no room for your subject to breathe (cropped head) and the framing is just very awkward and aesthetically unpleasant.

Fig.16: Attempted Shot 8 (duelling for the remote)

This shot was one of the many outtakes that did not make the cut as it was very obvious that Isabella has already gotten hold of the remote. Hence, this was a fail on the misc-en-scene and character behaviour where Shot 8 was meant to be the 2 girls struggling for the remote. A challenge while shooting this shot was actually getting the timing right as we needed to time it perfectly so that it showed the struggle of the 2 girls grappling to see who gets hold of the remote. Therefore, to overcome this obstacle, I decided to film us doing the action instead and then revisiting a few frames to get the shot that I needed so that it was timed perfectly which is being shown in the final submission.

Critiques and Edits

During the critique session earlier, I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out I did not have to reshoot any of the scenes and that my narrative was easy to comprehend (thank you film school for making me a film school brat) i.e. Shot 1 of the TV was good at establishing the setting and the rest of the events to follow. However, I do realise that I could have experimented with the angles a little more if I did have a tripod but I made do at my friend’s apartment.

Hence the main feedback I got was to work on the formatting of the storyboard. For example, I should not include the captions that I had previously as this is meant to be a photographic storytelling not a storyboard that I was used to in film classes and to also put the shots that I had into 1 page so that it was easier to see the flow.

Final Versions

After listening to the critiques, I made the adjustments accordingly so that my photos and sketches in my InDesign layout (refer to Page 3-5) are put in the 3,3,3 format. I have also removed the text from the bottom and decided to feature it in the blogpost instead. I have also added in the pre-curated images that did not make the final cut.

Fig.17: InDesign layout

Overall, this assignment really tested my creativity and allowed me to incorporate some of the film conventions I already know and put it into modern day context. This was a fun assignment that I got to do with friends as I felt that it made the story more realistic and it is a first world problem that we face today as well.

#nm3217 #storyboard #assignment

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myforeverforlife · 5 years ago

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familiar stranger (part three).

Jongdae had come around to your side of the car, an arm offered out to you. He raised an eyebrow, waiting with a smile.

You took it with a smile of your own, letting your hand curl around the crook of his arm. Walking together like this, it was easy to forget about everything that had happened to you, all of your worries that had been plaguing you for weeks.

To pretend that you were a woman, out with her husband.

Word Count: 6,108

Masterlist

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( Final )

In almost no time, you were just as comfortable around Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as you were with Jongdae. They were also helpful in filling in the blanks, restoring what had been lost in your mind.

“And when we got to the beach, we found out that we left all of our food back at the apartment!” Baekhyun exclaimed, recounting a summer trip your group of friends had taken a few years ago.

“No!” you gasped out, just as engrossed in the story as he was.

“Yep, all of our barbecue stuff, the smores, everything. We thought someone had taken the food stuff and put it in one of our cars, but it was all still packed up and sitting in our kitchen.”

“And that’s why we always triple check before we go on trips,” Kyungsoo added with a wry smile.

“Or make sure that there’s a good restaurant in the area,” Jongdae piped in. He picked up a forkful of toast laden with whipped cream and bananas, popping it into his mouth before sighing in content.

You were just as satisfied with your own food, thick slices of toast topped with strawberries and melted chocolate. When you had ordered, the other three men exchanged a look, something you questioned them about after the waitress left.

“You are starting to remember,” Jongdae said, eyes wide and full of hope.

“What? What do you mean?”

Jongdae grew confused, tiny wrinkle lines appearing on his forehead. “It’s your usual order. Either that, or the toasted BLT.”

“Oh. I just picked it because it sounded good,” you mumbled, unable to meet Jongdae’s gaze. You felt bad for raising his hopes for nothing.

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun watched as Jongdae’s face softened, one of his hands coming to rest over your own. “I’m sure you’ll love it. And even if you don’t, I’ll share my food with you.”

Jongdae wanted to fawn over how cute you were as your face pinked, both touched and shy at the same time. Sure enough, when the food arrived, you loved it just as much as you did before — if not more. Jongdae still offered to share his food with you, but you declined. “I don’t want to take your food,” you explained.

“It’s not taking if I’m sharing it with you.”

You hesitated before leaning closer, letting Jongdae feed you the forkful he had been holding out to you. “This one’s really good too,” you said, amazed by how delicious everything at the cafe was.

“I’m glad you like it.” Jongdae watched fondly as you continued to enjoy your food. The way your lips curled in delight with each bite, the crinkling of your eyes as you smiled at something the others said — it all felt like another normal day out to Jongdae. He flinched upon hearing Baekhyun calling out to him, an impish smile on his face.

“Like what you see?” Baekhyun asked, winking in your direction.

Jongdae immediately struck out with his foot, bumping into Baekhyun’s underneath the table. Much to your confusion, the two men were soon caught in a staring contest, Jongdae’s eyebrows drawn low while Baekhyun continued to giggle to himself.

Kyungsoo sighed, ignoring his other friends as he turned to you. “Have you thought of coming by April & Flower? Not to work,” he added quickly upon seeing your worried expression. “Just to see your workspace. I’m sure you’re gonna love it.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons in your mind. Yes, you were nervous about meeting your coworkers and your boss for the first time all over again, but at the same time, you had been itching to jump back into a restaurant kitchen and to feel at home in your element. Plus, you had heard nothing but good things about your job.

“Okay,” you agreed, courage rising when Jongdae nodded at you reassuringly. “To be honest, part of me has missed being at work too.”

“She’s still been cooking,” Jongdae added, eyes shining with pride. “Her food’s just as good as before, if not better.”

You shook your head, embarrassed by the sudden praise and yet still thankful for Jongdae’s sweet words. “You’re exaggerating.”

Jongdae captured your gaze in a fixed stare, eyes brimming with a sudden warmth. “It’s true,” he said enthusiastically, his hand coming up to rest on top of yours. It only lingered long enough to squeeze your hand before slipping away, much to your disappointment.

“Feel free to drop by whenever you can,” Kyungsoo spoke up, startling you out of your stupor. You had been so caught up in Jongdae that you had completely forgotten where you were. “I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you there.”

Your smile mirrored that of your friend’s, although nowhere near as heart-shaped as his. “Thanks. I’ll definitely be there.”

The rest of your meal was filled with cheer and endless jokes, easily making your table the brightest spot in the cafe. By the end of it, your sides were sore from laughing so much.

You wore a grin on your face even as you got into Jongdae’s car, waving to Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as they headed towards their cars. “If every outing with them is like this, I might end up losing my voice,” you told Jongdae.

He chuckled as he got his seatbelt on, waiting for you to do the same before he started driving. “Keeping up with Baekhyun does take some getting used to. That kid can talk for hours on end.”

“It was fun though. I hope we have time to do this more often.”

Jongdae spared you a quick glance, corners of his lips lifting as he continued to drive. “Of course. I’m sure they’ll be glad to hear that too.”

You stared out the window, relieved to find that you could recognize some buildings and street names. Driving around with Minseok during the past week had helped you to familiarize yourself with the city, although there were still many areas that you couldn’t remember. “Where are we going?” you asked Jongdae, squinting to get a better look at the street sign up ahead.

“Home. Did you still want to pick up your cookbook?”

In all of the excitement in the past hour, you had forgotten about going back to “your” place. Home, Jongdae had called it.

“Yeah,” you answered. Your fingers lay restlessly in your lap, tapping against the fabric of your jeans while Jongdae drove. It was only now that you realized that you would be going back not just to Jongdae’s place, but to the place that both of you had stayed in together. In the past, you had also called it home.

But what was it to you now?

You waited, unsure of what to do while you stood in the living room. Jongdae had gone to search for the cookbook, an adorable pout on his lips after he failed to find it in the kitchen. “That’s weird. Maybe it’s in the office?” He disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone.

You wondered if you should follow him or not. This was your equally your house, after all. But at the same time, you felt like a guest in your own home. You drank everything in, studying everything that you could see from the CDs in the shelf beside the TV, to the framed photos on the wall. A tall, wooden bookshelf was almost completely filled with books and other knickknacks. You shuffled over in your cat-print adorned house slippers, hand reaching up to run over the spines of some of the titles. It reassured you to see that you could recognize almost all of the books that you saw there. Many of them were longtime favorites, the spines well broken in.

Further search ended up with no sign of the cookbook anywhere, although you did find a good handful of other cookbooks that you remembered flipping through. The sound of Jongdae shouting in excitement startled you, moving you from where you had been sitting on the floor to study the bottom shelf.

“I found it!” Jongdae exclaimed, holding it up high in one hand as he came back into the living room. He placed his free hand on his chest, slightly out of breath from searching so fervently. “God, I was starting to worry. It was under a pile of notebook paper,” he told you, holding the book out.

Your eyes raked over its appearance, more of a journal than a cookbook. For a second, you could only stare at the leather cover of the journal. Your hand came up slowly, fingers trembling until it touched the spine of the book. Taking it from Jongdae’s hand, you opened it up to the first page.

A comprehensive table of contents greeted you, numbered and even color-coded. It was honestly funny to see that you still had tendencies to go all out when it came to organizing, much like Minseok.

A quick turn of the page brought you to recipe number one: “Minnie’s Coffee Crumble Cake”. Underneath the recipe was a picture of Minseok, posing with a plate of cake in his hands as he grinned. A corner of your lips lifted involuntarily at this, your brother’s cheerful expression instantly brightening your own mood.

You flipped through the rest of the pages, finding recipes that you remembered making even from your early days in culinary school. There was one you had learned from Kyungsoo, something you named “Soo’s Spicy Spaghetti”. The picture for this recipe got a small giggle out of you, your smile growing wider. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, another friend from culinary school, sat side by side at a table. Kyungsoo eyed Chanyeol warily while the other held a glass of water to his mouth, pain visible in the curve of his eyebrows, eyes screwed closed. Even the recipe for the green tea cheesecake that Jongdae had mentioned was there, inciting curiosity and an urge to try it out when you had time.

The next page caught you off guard, titled “Jongdae’s Favorite”. Your eyes skipped over the picture, focusing on the list of steps instead. Skimming through them, you discovered that this was a recipe for a type of kimchi stew that you had no recollection of making. You had made other variations of this before, but this particular recipe failed to ring any bells. You let out a small gasp once you took a closer look at the picture on this page, fingers running over the surface of the photograph. In it, you and Jongdae sat side by side at the dining table. Jongdae was kissing you on the cheek, a smile on his lips as his eyes twinkled with mischief. You had a spoon halfway to your mouth, even as you appeared to be laughing. Both of you looked so happy, like neither one of you had a single care in the world.

Why did everything have to change? “Are you okay?”

You looked up, so lost in the contents of the cookbook that you had forgotten Jongdae was only a few feet away. He watched you worriedly, hand instinctively coming up to your cheek before he paused, painfully pulling it back.

“You’re crying,” he whispered in horror.

One of your hands shot up to your face, only to find a couple of tears beginning to trail down the surface. Your eyes widened in disbelief — when did you start crying?

“Let me grab some tissues.” Before you could protest, Jongdae was gone once more. You hastily wiped your tears away, furiously trying to blink away any remnants left lingering in your eyes.

Jongdae came back, trusty box in hand as he pulled a few tissues out. You took them with a small mumble of thanks, wiping the last traces of tears away and rubbing your nose.

"Sorry," you mumbled, sniffing as you dabbed at your face. "I don't even know why I'm crying." You laughed, the sound dry and self-deprecating.

Jongdae pried the used tissues from your hands, exchanging them for a couple of fresh ones from the tissue box. You were taken aback when he got up, briefly disappearing into the kitchen to dispose of your tissues. He came back to find you sitting on the couch, knees brought up to your chest while your cookbook lay open on the cushion beside you. Jongdae hesitated, unsure of where to sit.

You looked up, feeling his eyes on you. With a wobbly smile, you patted the free spot on your other side. "Come sit. I don't bite."

Smiling with relief, Jongdae was more than happy to comply. If you were still able to crack a joke after crying, Jongdae knew that you were feeling better. He sat down gingerly, licking at his lips as he struggled to find words sufficient enough to sooth you. Thankfully, you were the one to break the silence.

"Are there more of these?" you asked, a hand running down the open page of your cookbook.

Jongdae shook his head. "This is the only one that I've seen."

You lifted the cookbook, resting against your knees as you stared down at the pages. It was still open to the picture of you and Jongdae, a blissful memory preserved forever in the confines of a small photo. "Do you cook too?" you asked, eyes drinking in the photo one last time before glancing up to look at Jongdae.

"A little. Mom always says I add too much salt, though." Jongdae fiddled with his ear in embarrassment, a soft rumbling of laughter masking it.

The sounds of your giggles interwove with his, a familiar melody to your ear. You took so much delight in this, warmth blossoming in your chest and soothing the turbulent waves of anxiety.

Both of you went through the rest of the book, Jongdae pointing out little details here and there. None of the pictures took you off guard like the one of you and Jongdae had, but there you still felt a pang of guilt and sorrow when you came across something that you couldn't remember.

A picture of Baekhyun with whipped cream on his nose smiled up at you on the page for strawberry shortcake, another of Minseok blowing on a spoonful of seafood stew.

"Thank you for this," you told Jongdae once you reached the last page, shutting the notebook.

Jongdae shook his head, unwilling to take all of the credit for this. "You have yourself to thank too. This wouldn't exist if you hadn't started writing in it in the first place."

Your eyes dropped down to the cover, fingers running along the notebook's spine as you shrugged bashfully. "Still, I appreciate it. I really had fun today. A couple of times, I even forgot about everything that's going on."

It was easy to notice how your face fell, the glow of your face dimming as you felt the full weight of your troubles again. Jongdae couldn't help himself — moving closer and wrapping his arms around you before he could help it.

He could feel you freeze against him, and was about to pull back when you returned the hug just as tightly. Your hair tickled the side of his neck, and while Jongdae would have played around and pretended to be annoyed in the past, he simply closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

He really missed this — not just having you in his arms, but having you, the real you around. It was almost a month since the accident, and while Jongdae had grown more acquainted with living in a home by himself, he still missed you. He missed the light you radiated, no matter what you were doing. He longed to hear your voice fill up the empty space in the apartment, to roll over in bed in the middle of the night and fall back asleep to the sound of your steady breathing.

"Jongdae?" you said, voice muffled from where you spoke against his shirt.

"Yeah?" One of his hands came up to stroke the back of your head, a content smile appearing on his face at the familiarity of it all.

"If... if my memories don't came back, would you be disappointed?"

Jongdae paused, pulling back slightly so that he could look at you. He still held onto you, hand cradling the back of your head lovingly. "Not in you. I could never be disappointed in you. I can't lie and say that I wouldn't be sad, but I wouldn't want it to get in between us. We can't make those same memories again, but we can make new ones. You're still the same Y/N."

Throughout all of this, Jongdae stared at you so tenderly, gaze full of trust in you and what the two of you had that you knew if you stared at him for too long, you'd only end up in tears again. You buried your face into the crook of his neck again, not missing how Jongdae gasped in surprise.

You only squeezed him tighter, arms latched around his waist as Jongdae picked up where he had left off on stroking your hair.

It didn't matter that you couldn't remember anything about the place you had once called home, about the a good chunk of the things that made up your life. Here, in this moment, in the arms of the person you had once loved, it was as if nothing had changed at all.

You hesitated, staring through the restaurant windows at the scene within. Although you had decided to come near the end of the day, there were still a substantial amount of people eating inside April & Flower.

Your old workplace.

Irene, the restaurant manager and your boss, had been calm yet friendly when you called her. She encouraged you to come and drop by, "whenever you were free", in her own words. You didn't want to inconvenience the staff by showing up during the busiest time, so you held off on arriving until an hour before closing time.

Further inspection showed a few faces going back and forth throughout the restaurant, a couple of young men that you didn't recognize. Kyungsoo was hidden away in the kitchen, the only person you knew.

Maybe it would be better to just come back at the end of the shift, you thought to yourself. Just as you were about to walk away, one of the men inside spotted you, a grin breaking out on his face as he waved in your direction. Tentatively, you waved back, watching as he dashed off.

Taking in a deep breath, you forced yourself to walk to the entrance, hand lingering over the door handle before it swung open. Lucky for you, the door swung inside, revealing a petite woman and the man you saw earlier.

"Y/N!" she greeted you. You relaxed upon recognizing the voice from your phone call.

"Hi, Irene, right?"

"Yes! I'm glad Mark spotted you."

Mark, the man beside her, only smiled wider. Upon closer look, he appeared more like a boy than a man. "You could've come in instead of watching us through the window," he said frankly.

You blushed, feeling the heat warm up your face while Irene reached up to tweak Mark's ear lightly. "Don't embarrass her on your first day back." Turning back to you, her smile was more gentle. "Come inside." You let her take you by the hand, pulling you into the noise and bustle that made up April & Flower.

Irene began to lead you on a tour of the restaurant, introducing you to the rest of the staff there. You met Junmyeon, the assistant manager, as well as Lucas, a busboy like Mark who looked just as young. The waiters for that day, Jaehyun, Johnny and Ten were too busy to do much but say hi and tell you how glad they were to see you again before they got back to their tables.

"And now for the part I'm sure you've been waiting for," Irene said as she led you to the kitchen. She pushed the door open, an assault of fragrances and sounds attacking your senses.

It was easy to spot Kyungsoo, cheeks pink from standing over the stove for extended periods of time. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open, nodding to you with a smile before turning his attention back to the food.

Irene introduced you to the other line chefs, Taeyong and Mingyu before pulling the head chef over. The man beamed down at you, hands coming up to rest on your shoulders as you stared back at him in surprise.

"Y/N, we missed you! God, this place has been crazy without you." He pulled you close for a short hug, patting your back briefly before letting go.

"Kibum, you need to introduce yourself to her, remember?" Irene watched both of you with an amused smile, noticing how you were left at a loss for words at this warm greeting.

"Oh, right. Don't listen to her, the only people that call me Kibum are my parents, although I guess I'll make an exception for you, Boss." He winked at Irene before fixing his gaze on you. "You can call me Key." He wiped his hand on his apron before offering it out to you.

You didn't know anything about Key, but from what you had gleamed in the past couple of minutes, you liked him already. "Nice to meet you again, Key," you said, shaking his hand with a grin.

"Likewise." He pointed to the bustling area behind him, one eyebrow jumping up. "You wanna come try it out?"

It was tempting, but you also didn't want to mess up any orders. "I'm not ready, I don't know anything about this menu," you replied, although you couldn't look away from the preparations.

"She's right," Irene spoke up. "But if you want to, you can shadow them for today." When you didn't respond, she patted your shoulder lightly, a knowing smile on her face. "Go ahead."

Key found a spare apron for you, and immediately jumped back into work. You watched from a distance, keeping an eye on the other men more than Kyungsoo. Having known him for a while, there wasn't much that surprised you when it came to his technique. The other men, however, were complete strangers. It was mesmerizing to see how skillful they were, knives easily cutting through meat and vegetable, quick fingers adding finishing touches to the plates before they were sent off.

Taeyong smiled to himself when be noticed how your eyes couldn't leave the plate of braised beef he just handed off to Ten. "Do you want to try some?" he offered.

"Are you sure?" Just at that moment, to your mortification, your stomach grumbled.

With a chuckle, Taeyong waved you over to the pan he had been using, scooping up a spoonful of the sauce and offering it to you.

You took the spoon gratefully, eyes squeezing shut in joy as you let the rich flavor wash over you. "This is so good," you gushed, eyes opening to see how proud Taeyong looked.

"Thanks. But hey, you've learned how to do this too. With some time and practice, you'll have these recipes down like the back of your hand."

"He's right," Mingyu chimed in from where he stood cubing a slab of beef. "It's still with you, in your head. Your brain just has to retrace those pathways again.” He paused to point to his head with a gloved hand, winking in your direction.

"Hey, who do you think you are, Einstein?" Taeyong asked, laughing as he pretended to shove Mingyu. "Where did you even hear about that?"

"Lots of documentaries," the other man replied breezily.

The rest of the dinner hour passed by smoothly, only a few minor hiccups here and there. You got to see how Irene and Junmyeon managed the restaurant, constantly in awe at how much trust they placed in their employees — including you.

It was nearing the end of the restaurant's hours, and you were preparing to go home. They wouldn't let you go without feeding you, and all for free, no matter how much you protested. Much to your delight, Taeyong set a plate of braised beef on the counter before you, the same dish he had seen you staring at earlier. Kyungsoo had sneakily slid a small bowl of mashed potatoes beside it, beaming proudly when you gushed over how buttery they were.

Irene came over while the rest of the staff started to close up, chin resting on her hand as she watched you eat. "How are you doing? Jongdae doesn't tell us much, and Kyungsoo says even less when we ask him. But you seem like you're doing okay." Her voice trailed off, waiting for you to refute or back up her statements.

You swallowed the bite of sauteed vegetables in your mouth, nodding in response. "I'm doing better everyday. Coming here helped a lot too. I feel antsy just waiting at Minseok's house all day, looking through old photos and trying to remember everything. Even though I didn't do anything here, just being around everyone while they worked made me feel like I was a part of it."

A sudden yell from beyond the kitchen doors startled both of you, Irene sitting up and peering out the window in the door until turning back to face you. "You know you're always welcome here, whether you're working or not."

"I want to work," you said enthusiastically. "I just don't want to slow anyone down."

"Trust me, I think you'd get the hang of things pretty quickly." She reached out to pat your hand before standing up. "Just keep it in mind."

You nodded, watching as she pushed open the kitchen door and headed out onto the restaurant floor. Little glimpses of your past like this, like your outings with Jongdae or Minseok helped to ease you back into this lifestyle, like getting back on a bicycle after so many years.

Although you couldn't remember these little details, everything that you did just felt right, like pulling on a well-loved sweater that had been hidden in the back of your closet, or falling into bed at the end of a long, long day.

Like coming home.

Over the next couple of weeks, on the days that you weren't shadowing and learning from your co-workers, you met up with Jongdae. In this past week, you had spent a day at the movies with him and Minseok, another afternoon with him checking out a tapas place that Kyungsoo had recommended. One night, he had even fallen asleep on Minseok's couch while both of you were watching a movie. He slumped down in his spot, head leaning against the couch back as his mouth fell open, a thin trail of drool threatening to slide down onto his shirt. You tried to stifle your giggles, cooing over how slumber made him look five years younger. Minseok found you still staring at Jongdae when he came out of the kitchen from washing dishes.

"What are you doing?" he whispered. Both of you froze as Jongdae snored lightly, but still remained still.

"Nothing," you whispered back. "He just looks so... so peaceful like this."

"Want me to wake him up?"

You glared at your brother over your shoulder, eyes narrowing as he grinned devilishly. "Don't even dare."

"Alright. I'm just saying, he's gonna hurt his neck sleeping like this."

Minseok did have a point there. But you hated to wake Jongdae up when he looked so adorable in this state. Sighing in defeat, you shook Jongdae's shoulder gently. "Jongdae?" you said, voice hushed. "Wake up, you're going to hurt yourself like that."

With a reluctant groan, Jongdae stretched his arms out and straightened up. He rubbed the trail of spit on his face away with the back of his hand, ears turning pink when he realized that he had been caught sleeping and drooling in front of you. "Oh god, how long have I been asleep?" He fumbled over his words, still groggy and out of sorts.

"Not too long." You smiled sympathetically, already attuned to how embarrassment looked on Jongdae's face. "You can stay the night if you want to."

Jongdae's face lit up briefly before a worried furrow found its way between his eyebrows. "I wish I could, but I can't. I have to head in early to work tomorrow."

"It's fine, don't worry. Will you be okay driving?"

"Yeah." Jongdae let out a long yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked much more awake after this, although his shoulders were still hunched over with fatigue. You eyed him skeptically.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"She's right. I can drive you home, Dae," Minseok offered.

"I'll be fine you guys, really." Jongdae stood up, wincing at the exertion on his legs after sitting for so long. He met your eye, sending you a reassuring smile.

Still worried, you insisted on walking him out to his car, even when he protested. "It's too cold outside," he argued.

You rolled your eyes, slipping your shoes on as Jongdae finished tying up his laces. "I'll be fine, I'm not that fragile."

Jongdae smiled to himself at your words, watching fondly as you rummaged through the closet for a spare jacket. "You're right," he said to himself.

The hallways of Minseok's apartment complex were empty, save for a couple walking their dog. Jongdae had managed to snag a spot on the street right in front of the building — usually coveted by visitors. He turned towards you, hands in his pockets and nose beginning to turn pink from the frosty air. "I'll be okay, Y/N. I don't want you to catch a cold."

"It's gonna take a lot more than that for me to get sick." You giggled softly, soft puffs appearing in the air before you. "Drive safely, okay?"

Jongdae nodded, unlocking the car and slipping into the driver's seat. He glanced over when you knocked on the passenger side window, rolling it down and leaning over.

"Sweet dreams, Dae."

He was stunned, both by the soft request and the unexpected use of his nickname. Ever since you had awoken in the hospital, you had stuck to calling him by his first name. He didn't mind, but it was much more touching to hear the well-loved nickname falling from your lips after so long.

"Good night, darling," he replied, eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't place.

You thought back to the home videos you had watched, of hearing that same word in your voice whenever Jongdae's face came into the camera's view. Shellshocked, you could do nothing but nod dumbly before stepping back, watching as Jongdae gave you a final wave before driving away.

Darling. Such a simple, old-fashioned word. And yet, it held so much meaning for both of you.

Minseok watched this small exchange with a knowing smile on his lips from his window, arms crossed over his chest as if he were observing a baseball game. He couldn't hear anything, but he had his guesses about what happened.

"They're still the same as ever," he chuckled to himself, leaving his perch as you began the trek back upstairs to the apartment.

Neither you nor Jongdae spoke about that moment afterwards, but it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you. Dr. Suh was quick to point it out during your sessions, gleaming a subtle change in your relationship from the way you talked. You were more vivacious, more animated when talking about Jongdae. Your praise for him came easily, adoration for his sweet manners and bubbly demeanor always bringing a glow to your face.

There was no doubt now that these outings you two shared were dates, especially when Jongdae spent more time in front of the mirror trying to fix his hair while across the city, you searched for the perfect outfit.

The first time that you held his hand, you were positive that there couldn't be any other person whose hand fit so perfectly with yours. Jongdae had been surprised when you reached out for him after a walk home from a shopping trip, eyes going repeatedly from your face to your joined hands as if he worried that this was an accident. You merely squeezed it lightly, swinging your joined hands back and forth until he was giggling that infectious laugh of his.

Both of you were waiting for the next milestone, the next big change in your relationship. Jongdae was cautious about being too forward, and you never seemed to have good timing on your side.

You flipped through the pages of the hardcover in your hand, closing the book with a satisfying thump and returning it to its spot on the shelf. Today, you and Jongdae were browsing through the small shops on the street not too far from Dr. Suh's office. Jongdae had offered to pick you up after your session, and seeing as it was an unusually bright winter day, both of you wanted to spend as much time out of the apartment as possible.

One of the bad things about losing six years worth of memories meant that you forgot about all of the new books you had read during that time. But on the plus side, it also meant that you got to experience them for the first time all over again. You had a list on your phone compiled of recommendations from friends, family and of course, the internet.

Jongdae wasn't as much of an avid reader as you, but he enjoyed the occasional paperback every once in a while. He sat on the floor, back against a shelf with a pile of some of your books stacked up beside him. With his phone in hand, he would giggle to himself occasionally while reading a webtoon. Every so often, you would look over to see his eyes crinkled up and lips pressed shut to try and keep the laughter at bay.

Giving up on your search for now, you found your way back to Jongdae's side, resting your head on his shoulder and peeking at his phone. Immediately, he shifted it so that you had a better view of the screen. Soon both of you were trying to keep your laughter down, scrolling through the rest of the webtoon's latest installation.

"My reading list is gonna take forever to complete," you mused when you caught sight of your forgotten pile of books. Jongdae handed them over to you when you asked, whistling at the sheer height to your pile.

"Then it's a good thing we've got plenty of time." Jongdae smiled at you before looking over the titles printed on your books. You never got tired of watching Jongdae's expressive face, enamored with the way that smiles just managed to easily find their way there, only adding to the radiance there. As of late, you found it more and more difficult to part ways at night, and to go back to your bed alone. Your heart tightened at this realization, unaware of how you had been longing for this for a while.

"Dae?"

"Hmm?" His head perked up, waiting curiously.

"I want to come back. I want to come home, with you."

Jongdae's mouth fell open, eyes staring at you blankly before he surged forward, almost knocking the books from your lap as his lips found their place against yours. The sudden kiss awakened something deep inside you, and soon you were scrambling to hold him as close to you as physically possible. Jongdae seemed to favor small nibbles at your lower lip, grinning when you gasped in surprise at the sudden sensation. One skimmed down your back before coming back up to your face, thumb caressing the soft skin there as you continued to kiss him. It felt like too soon when you were forced to pull away, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.

"You mean it?" Jongdae asked, just as out of breath as you were.

Nodding, you reached up to cup his face with your hands. "It doesn't feel like home when you're not with me."

Jongdae's eyelids fluttered shut, the weight of your words touching the depths of his heart. "You’ll always have me, no matter what. Home hasn't been the same without you." His eyes opened, brown pools of color full of adoration as he stared back at you.

Everything was falling back into place.

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( Final )

A/N: one of the hardest things was trying to figure out who the hell works at april & flower LOL like somehow in the back of my mind I always knew that I wanted some of the nct kids there, but it took a bit of rearranging to see who seemed to fit where. i just love the idea of irene being in charge of the place 😎

also, god I love old fashioned terms of endearments and it just grew even bigger after jongdae’s “dear my dear” release. you know, like sweetheart, darling, my love, etc.

there’s only one more chapter left to update in this series! thank you to everyone who’s been reading so far! ❤️ also happy holidays!!

Tag list: @khelmatic (I know it’s been a while since I updated, so thank you for waiting!)

#exo #jongdae #jongdae scenario #chen scenario #jongdae fanfic #chen fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 years ago

Text

Happy Together : 2

Small World

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Chapter Summary: The reader sees a familiar face.

Notes: For reference to setting, see the previous chapter. As for this one, I hope you have patience. Now, Witness kinda took a few chapters to get to the crux, but this one might take a little longer. ;) But I promise, it’s going to be some very fucked up Steve eventually. In advance, I thank everyone for following along and soon I will start adding to other WIPs one Witness is finished (maybe finally start that Medieval AU lol) <3

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

You were annoyed that you had wasted time at that restaurant waiting on yet another unreliable and selfish man. You could’ve used the hour finishing your latest commission but instead you spent your Saturday morning on the project. You usually tried to save that day for yourself. Self-employed, you made it a priority to work at least six days a week. You were paid well enough, quite successful as it was, but you liked the security of having a little extra under your belt. Besides, it always made you anxious to think that you could be actually doing something instead of lazing around on your couch watching Netflix.

Plus, you needed the distraction from your self-pity. The humiliation lingered for a few days after and even your work couldn’t erase it entirely. Why hadn’t he come? Was it an innocent case of forgetfulness? Or maybe he had changed his mind after seeing you. Tandi had exchanged your information via Facebook and he had seen your photo the same as you had his. Perhaps he hadn’t been as pleased at the prospect. Ugh, you didn’t even know him. Just forget it!

It was Wednesday and the disappointment was still a speck at the edge of your mind. It was sunny for once, a light jacket over your blouse and jeans as you basked in the warming spring air. You walked merrily to the park, happy to be outside, refreshed almost. You found a place on one of the bench, the melody of birds and interspersed voices of people filling the flowery air. You pulled your tablet and pen from your leather tote and opened up your program, working on the outline of the geometric logo you had started the night before.

Every now and then you looked up from your work and admired the serenity nestled amidst the chaotic city. You crossed your legs, resting your tablet against your knee and continued to draw, the sunlight hugging you. A blur moved across the top of your vision and paused, looming closer and you slowly looked up. The tablet nearly slid off your knee as you spotted the man approaching you. It couldn’t be.

“Hey, it’s you,” Steve greeted, his perfect smile shining brighter than the sky. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name the other night.”

“Um, Y/N,” You answer, shading your eyes from the sun beaming over his shoulder, “You remember me?”

“A face like yours is easy to remember,” He replied coyly, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Yeah, I uh...know,” You admitted shyly, “Thanks again…”

“Oh, it was nothing,” He waved away the gratuity, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” You shrugged, steadying your tablet across your knee.

“Are you drawing something?” He asked, your tablet half-dimmed as it threatened to lock.

“Yeah. Working actually,” You explained, clicking the sleep button and shifting the screen against your thigh. “I’m a graphic artist.”

“Ah,” He nodded, “Makes sense. It must be fun. Doing something creative like that.”

“It can be,” You answered, “I…” You paused, his eyes never leaving yours. He was so intent on you, as if no one else was in the park. How had he picked you out among the crowd? Half of New York had probably been in his restaurant. You shook away the overly paranoid questions and continued. “Depends on the job, really. I mostly just do corporate logos and designs. Can’t really get paid for what I want to draw.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He stretched his arm over the back of the bench, you almost didn’t notice as it slid behind you. You were sure it was just a casual gesture, a habit he didn’t give much thought to, but it felt entirely too intimate.

“Life, I guess. People, animals, trees. I just like to create scenes, not just...symbols,” You said, nervously twirling the pen between your fingers. “I prefer to paint, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Do have any of them on that thing?” He pointed to the tablet, “Anything you’re willing to show me?” You blinked as his tone caught you off-guard. He was talking about your art and yet it seemed like he meant something more. You could’ve sworn his eyes had strayed from your face for just a second. God, you were crazy. After being stood up and nearly two years by yourself, you were growing delusional.

“I might, I, um...one second,” You unlocked your tablet and saved your work. You opened your gallery and flipped through your files, settling on a quick sketch you had done of a sparrow that had built a nest outside your building. “It’s just a drawing, but, um, here.”

You handed over the tablet and he tilted it so he could see the screen, his brows lifting as his eyes ran over the lines and shadows done in monochrome, splashes of auburn here and there to give a hint of life to the sketch. “Wow, that’s really good.” He looked up, holding the tablet out to you, “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks,” You looked away shyly, “Really, it’s just a sketch. I’ve seen way better.”

“No, no, what you do is amazing. You shouldn’t compare yourself to others,” He smiled as you took the tablet, your fingers brushing his by accident. “You’re you and that makes it more than a sketch. It’s art.”

You allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you,” You locked your tablet again and set it on your lap, resting your pen beside it.

“Well,” He slowly pulled his arm out from behind you, his warmth releasing you as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it. I’d hate to keep you from you work.” He checked his watch as he spoke, “And I’ve got to get to the restaurant for dinner service.” He looked back to you, his blue eyes searching you, considering you closely as he measured his next words, “You should definitely come back some time. You know, no date required.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” You nodded evasively. You didn’t really want to admit that you couldn’t go back not because you were dateless but because you had bills. “It was, uh, surprising to run into you.”

“You, too,” He grinned, his golden brows twitching, “The special tonight is salmon. You should give it a try….have a good one.”

He turned away, strolling across the park and onto the street. You drew your brows together as you saw a silver car pull up and he got inside. Why would he be walking through the park if he had a town car? You shook your head and readjusted your tablet across your knee. Maybe he had just gotten out to stretch. You doubted he had gone out of his way to bug you.

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

You balanced the mugs, careful not to spill any of the foam as you walked between tables and found your seat by the window. Tandi was sat with her phone out, grinning at the screen like an idiot. You set her latte in front of her and cupped your own warm mug as you sat down. She finished typing and relinquished her phone on the table. She looked up at you, starry-eyed over her latest fling. Well, they’d been seeing each other for a couple months so maybe it was getting serious.

“I’m real sorry about Danny,” She said. She had arrived as you were waiting in line, grabbing a seat as you bided your time in the queue. Your mouth twitched and you looked away. The heat still rose in your cheeks whenever you thought of the painful hour spent in the restaurant. It had been more than a week.

“It’s not your fault,” You grumbled, “It was just embarrassing...I can’t believe I sat there that long. It was like everyone was staring at me.”

“I’m sure they weren’t, but it was a dick thing to do. I’ve blocked him on Snap, Facebook, and Twitter.” She smirked, “So yeah, fuck him.”

“Ha, thanks,” You scoffed, raising your mug to sip from it, the foam cooling the espresso. Your eyes wandered out the window as you leaned back in your chair.

“You know, not all guys are like that, Y/N,” She trilled, “Carson’s a nice guy and he has lots of friends.”

“I don’t want to date any of your boyfriend’s bros,” You protested, watching the passerbys through the glass. “Carson’s nice but not my type and I can’t imagine his friends are of a different cut.”

“Well, you should at least consider someone. Anyone!” She said dramatically, but before you could chuckle it caught in your throat. You swore you recognized that blonde head across the street. You couldn’t say for sure as it quickly ducked into the suit shop and you blinked as the mug in your hand wobbled. You steadied your grip and turned back to Tandi. Right, you were going crazy.

“I will. One day. But I’m fine right now. Work’s good and steady and I feel pretty good. I can do what I want when I want...Living with Mike was difficult and I didn’t even realize how much I hated it til he was gone.” You stopped yourself before you could get too emotional. “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m working on it, a little at a time.”

“I know…” She reached over and touched the back of your hand, “I just want you to be happy; healthy.”

You smiled. A genuine smile. Not the one you put on for strangers or when you were anxious. A real one and it felt good. You took another gulp and waited for Tandi to begin her usual train of gossip. She always had the messiest stories about her workplace; she was an actor and had garnered many a theatre job, enough at least to keep her studio apartment. Once she began, it was hard to stop her and your latte was drained by the time she finished.

Her phone shook the table. She flipped it over and checked the notification, her face shone. “Carson’s back from his trip,” She almost sang. You stared at her and sighed as her eyes rounded brightly.

“Go on,” You relented, “You’re free to go. I won’t keep you. Just call me when you get a chance...if you get a chance.”

“Thank you,” She stood so quickly she hit the table with her hip. She pulled on her thin trench, pulling taught the belt around her thin waist. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go,” You crossed your arm, “Just let me know you’ve arrived safely. You know I’m paranoid.”

“Sure, sure,” She leaned down to give you half-hug, “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” You patted her lower back in return, “Bye.”

You watched her go, content at least with the hour shared with her. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold because you had. You weren’t bitter but you mulled her words. Just because one jerk had stood you up didn’t mean they all would. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but you’d be ready to start again one day. For now, you wanted to pop into the used bookstore just across the street. You always found something interesting there.

You stepped out into the cool spring afternoon, the evening looming as a hint of rain floated in the air. You ran across the street and hopped up onto the curb, your focus solely on the book shop. You entered with a ring, the small bell above the door announcing your entrance. The storekeeper was sat at a desk stacked with book, the daily newspaper held aloft like a shield. You headed for the back shelves where vintage magazines were kept in old filing crates. You liked to use them for inspiration.

As you picked out decades-old issues, the bell jingled again but you didn’t pay much heed to the arrival of another. You continued to thumb through the magazines until you had half a dozen, content that they would last you a while. You stood and looked along the shelf, walking parallel to it slowly as you read the titles of ancient odes and medieval limericks. You stopped to pull out a collection of Wordsworth, the spine thin and worn, easily falling open in your hand.

“Excuse me,” The voice interrupted you before you could finish reading the title of the first poem. It was oddly familiar. Your lashes fluttered in disbelief, “You dropped…” Steve’s voice died and he chuckled as you turned to him slowly, “You again.”

“Uh-huh,” You mumbled warily. It had been him on the street retreating into the suit shop. That would prove he had been in the area for more than an hour but why? He held no wares from his visit to the tailor’s. Another coincidence? Surely, you weren’t that special.

“As I was saying, you dropped this,” He held up the white pen you used with your tablet. It had likely slipped out as you knelt at the crates.

“Thanks,” You accepted it and tucked it snuggly in the side pocket.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked, nodding at the book in your hand.

“Nothing,” You closed it and placed it back on the shelf. “I was just wasting time.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, resting his hand on the shelf as he leaned on it casually. “I just kinda stumbled in. Saw this copy of Dante’s Inferno,” He held up the painted cover which depicted an eerie cave spiralling ever downward, “My mother used to keep a copy but I never read it. Thought maybe I could give it a try.”

“Cool,” You hugged the magazines to you chest. Something about him being there at that exact moment was off. The unease was stronger than it had been at the park; his spontaneous visit had been more believable then. You tried to smile. You were being dumb. And what were you even afraid of? He used to be an Avenger. He was good guy. “I was actually just about to head--”

A clap of thunder shrouded your next words. You looked past the bookshelves as the light rain you had failed to notice through the window began to pour down in sheets. Your distress must have been plain as your lips parted slightly.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked, shaking you from your despair. You looked back to him and tried to think of something. Anything.

“I’ll catch a cab,” You shrugged him off, trying to seem unperturbed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t waste your money. You can share my town car. He’s just outside. I’m sure you don’t live too far out of the way.” He smirked, his hand shifting along the shelf as he edged closer. You almost didn’t notice the subtle movement.

“Really, I can’t. You’ve already done enough. I really should, um, go.” You back away only to find the corner at your back.

“I won’t let you say no,” He asserted, “Come on. Just a car ride. That’s it. I mean, do you really wanna stand out in this and hail a cab?”

You stared up at him as you considered the invitation. Why were you so reluctant? He had done nothing to earn your distrust. If anything, he had only done you favours. But why? Oh, shut up brain, he wasn’t Mike. Or Danny. He actually seemed like a decent human being so why were you being so dumb?

“Okay,” You relented, “Sure. Why not.”

****

tags: @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel @grayxswan @iheartsebastianstan @myboyfriendgiriboy @tanelle83 @patzammit @phoenix21love @they-call-me-le @iheartsebastianstan

#happy together #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #fic #steve rogers fic #au #series #mcu #marvel #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve #dark steve #dark steve rogers

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years ago

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Of Family and Unexpected Friendship (Part 2)

Story Summary: It’s Christmas break and Harry is having a difficult time sleeping in the silence of the boy’s dorm, so he goes down to the Common Room where he can better relax. There he finds a third year student named Leona Black, who surprises him with the knowledge that their parents were best friends when they attended Hogwarts. He latches on to the chance to learn more about his mom and dad, and the foundation of a new friendship is born.

Chapter Summary: Hermione returns from Christmas break and learns that something has changed since she last saw Harry. It’s a welcome change, which opens the door for her to learn something new.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

A/N: I had the idea to write a chapter from Hermione’s POV, so now I guess it’s a three-part fic. The next (and last) part will be from Ron’s POV, once I get around to finishing it. If you like this fic and want me to continue, please let me know either here or on AO3.

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Part 2: Hermione

Spending Christmas with her family had been wonderful, even if they didn't fully understand all of the things she told them about learning at Hogwarts. Her parents still sat and listened, asking questions in an attempt to follow along a little better, but there was a distance beginning to grow.

Hermione knew without a doubt that her parents loved her and were trying their absolute best to support her, but it wasn't easy. It was so new for all of them and it would take time for them to adjust.

Still, returning to Hogwarts brought a rush of relief for her. She was back with people who understood and could answer all of her questions if she could find the right way to ask. She was back to her new friends. And most importantly, she was back to a place with a library with more books than she could ever read, though she was determined to try.

Dinner was arranged in an odd buffet-style, as she was among the first students to return from break. The others would return over the next two days and after that, classes would resume. Hermione grabbed a few easy things to eat and then set off for the library for a little last-minute research.

She hadn't found a thing on Nicholas Flamel during her time at home – not that she expected to – and there were a few more books she wanted to look into before she saw Harry and Ron again.

At the library, she found something unexpected.

Sitting at a table near the window, with a pile of books within arms reach, was Harry. He was bent over a piece of parchment, scribbling furiously as he referenced an open book in front of him.

The sight was so odd that Hermione froze in her steps, her lips slightly parted in surprise. She quickly collected herself and walked over to join him, rapping her knuckles against the table to get his attention.

“Hermione!” He sounded surprised but also pleased to see her, and it left Hermione's heart feeling warm and fluttery. (She had a friend. She really had a friend who liked her and was happy to see her.)

“Did you have a good Christmas?” she asked as she sat down, glancing curiously at the title of the nearest book. She wasn't sure what she expected, but The Basics to Understanding Tradition of Pureblood Society was not one of them. As she took a closer look at the stack of books, she found them to have similar titles.

Introduction to the Wizarding World, Celebrating Magical Tradition, and The Four Elements and You – A Guide to Understanding the Magic Within were all books Hermione had glanced at in Flourish and Blotts, but had been advised against buying.

“You'll have plenty of reading and studying to do once you reach Hogwarts, dear,” was the excuse her magical adviser gave when she asked about them. Hermione hadn't been terribly fond of the witch who guided her family around Diagon Alley, but seeing the books again refreshed her memory of how little she liked her. She'd all but blocked the encounter from her memory.

Harry had been speaking, likely telling her about his time over Christmas break, but stopped when it was apparent her attention was elsewhere. When she looked up, he was grinning at her without a trace of resentment or frustration.

Hermione flushed. “Sorry, Harry. What's all of this for, anyway?”

And so Harry told her about how he met a third year named Leona Black, whose parents had been friends with his during their Hogwarts years. She even had a photo album with pictures of all of them, which she let him look through whenever he wanted. He glossed over his letters to Leona's mother, who wrote back with stories about both of his parents, and then jumped into what Hermione was really asking about.

“Leona said something about etiquette lessons that she wasn't staying on top of and when I asked about what those were, she figured out that no one has mentioned any kind of lessons to me,” Harry said with a shrug. “I thought it would be nice to learn more about my family, so when she volunteered to help me, I agreed.”

He lifted his current book so she could see the title – Notable Magical Families of the Modern Era – and set it down once she nodded. “Did you know my grandfather was a famous potioneer?”

Hermione smiled at his enthusiasm. It was so rare to see him genuinely excited about something. She was pretty sure the happiest she ever saw him was when he was on a broomstick, soaring through the air, so it was especially nice that he found something she could relate to. “I didn't know that.”

“Fleamont Potter was the genius behind Sleekeazy's Hair Potion,” cut in a new voice.

Hermione looked up as a girl with brown hair added two new books to the pile before pulling out a chair and plopping down next to her.

The girl smiled at Hermione and held out her hand. “Leona Black.”

“Hermione Granger,” she replied, taking the offered hand for a shake. Her eyes were drawn to the new books, her curiosity winning out. Tales of Beedle the Bard and The Journey of Lady Birchwood sounded so out of place among all of the others that she couldn't help but remark on them. “What are those about?”

“Children's bedtime stories. Beedle the Bard is a classic for all wizarding children, and I thought Harry might like something a little lighter to read. It's still a pivotal part of magical education in my opinion,” Leona said with a smile. “Lady Birchwood is a newer series, but no less interesting. It's written by a muggle-born witch who wanted to give other muggle-borns a story of their own to relate to.” She picked up Lady Birchwood and handed it to Hermione so she could take a better look.

It had been a while since Hermione last held a work of fiction in her hands. Ever since she learned she was a witch, she'd thrown herself into studying all of the course material and hadn't thought of much else.

She cracked open the book to the first page and soon lost herself in a familiar magical world. It wasn't until she finished the first chapter that she realized it was designed with the intent to introduce new ideas and subjects to young muggle-borns; things she wouldn't have thought about on her own.

There was so much more Hermione wanted to learn.

Why weren't muggle-borns encouraged to read more about the world they were about to enter? Why were they expected to jump straight into lessons without any guidance on how to channel their magic? Had things always been that way and why hadn't anyone tried to make things better?

Hermione snapped the book shut harder than she meant to, her thoughts running rampant through her brain. She wrangled them into boxes, cataloging which ones were most important, and then addressed Leona.

“I'd like to learn too.”

“Sounds like you have a study partner now, Harry,” Leona said, sounding approving. “I'd recommend starting with Introduction to the Wizarding World. It's a bit dry but informative, and there should be a few more copies on the shelf. I'll help you look if you'd like.”

Harry stopped writing as Hermione nodded and stood up. “You should make a list for her, Leona. Hermione loves to read.”

It was teasing that she was most familiar with. Words she heard her entire life, usually spoken with disdain and a generous eye-roll from her peers. But from Harry, the words had a soft fondness to them. It was still teasing, but it came from a place of friendship.

“I will happily make a list, if that's what you want,” Leona told Hermione. “For now, we'll start with a few books and see what you think. Once I know what you want to learn more about, I can make a better reference list.”

As much as Hermione's gut impulse was to say she wanted to learn everything, there was a logic to picking a few to focus on at first. It was hard to say what her second semester of school would bring in terms of classwork, so limiting extra research was probably for the best. She nodded in agreement and then followed the older Gryffindor to a corner of the library she hadn't gotten around to exploring yet.

Leona had a thoughtful expression as she gazed at the rows of books.

“Thank you,” Hermione blurted out when she realized she had yet to express her gratitude for Leona's help.

The thoughtful look was replaced by a beaming smile as Leona redirected her attention to Hermione. “You're welcome! Actually, I'm really glad you're here. I know after talking to Harry that his introduction to our world was... a bit lacking, and I was wondering what yours was like?”

Hermione grimaced as she tried to recall the witch's name. “They sent a ministry witch to deliver my letter and explain things to my parents. I remember thinking that she sounded like she didn't want to be there and just wanted to get it over with, but I suppose I did learn a lot, even if she wouldn't let me buy the extra books I wanted to.”

“Did you know they sent Hagrid to fetch Harry?”

“I think he mentioned something about that,” Hermione said with a frown, not seeing what the problem was. But then she thought about what Leona was saying; They sent the Hogwarts groundskeeper to pick up someone who was raised by muggles and knew nothing of the magical world. His fondness for Harry aside, he was vastly unqualified for such a thing.

“It's been bothering me ever since I found out,” Leona admitted quietly. “It's why I offered to tutor Harry. There's so much he hasn't had a chance to learn and... and now I'm finally starting to understand what Ted was saying about muggle-borns not being welcomed into our world. Oh, Ted's my cousin. Well, he's married to my cousin Andy, so more like a cousin-in-law? It's complicated.”

There was a determined gleam in her gray eyes as she resumed her search for the right books.

“I didn't realize until the train ride just how different everything is,” Hermione admitted, speaking slowly so she could choose her words carefully. “But anyone born into magical families does have an advantage. It seems unfair to send us to school with limited knowledge.”

“Are you sure you weren't meant to be in Ravenclaw?” Leona teased.

Hermione felt her face flush. The Sorting Hat had suggested Ravenclaw, but it wasn't the House she wanted.

“It's not unusual for the Hat to suggest another House before settling on which one to sort you into. It wanted me for Ravenclaw as well, but I wanted to be in the same House as my parents, and here I am,” Leona said. She pulled out one book and handed it up to Hermione. “This version of The Witches Craft is a bit outdated, but it gives a good look at the role of witches throughout history and how it's changed. I've been told that it is a bit of a culture shock for anyone raised in the muggle world, but I think you can handle it.”

Hermione eyed it with curiosity, itching to open it up and take a better look, but Leona had found what she was looking for and handed her one book after another, giving a brief explanation for each.

“Wizarding Culture – oh, it's the newest addition! It's a good beginner's book and it's written by a half-blood who grew up around muggles.”

“And this is Introduction to Magical Society. Callaway isn't a name I'm familiar with, so I believe she's a muggle-born. This one's different from Introduction to the Wizarding World which is... here. Pureblood author, lots of big words. I told Harry he should use it as a reference for anything he doesn't understand because I get the feeling he won't read a word of it otherwise. It has one of the best indexes I've come across.”

“There's a few others I gave Harry that you might be interested in reading, so the only other one I'd recommend to start with would be Understanding Tradition. It's a book written specifically for muggle-borns by muggle-borns. I read it out of curiosity one day but found the comparisons they make hard to follow. There's also an entire section near the end with their personal recommendations on what else to read. You may not even need me to make a list if you go through that.”

They returned to the table after that, and Hermione dove into the book on top of her own pile, which was Understanding Tradition. She was aware of Leona and Harry quietly talking and the scritch of a quill against parchment but was otherwise immersed in her reading.

All too soon, they had to pack up in order to make it back to their common room before curfew. Harry and Hermione both checked out their books under Madam Pince's watchful eyes and Leona cast her a winning smile as she checked out her own – A Study on Natural Runes.

It didn't take long for them to make the trek back to Gryffindor Tower, and once they were there, Leona parted from them with one final word: “Don't stay up too late.”

“No promises,” Harry called after her.

Leona laughed and disappeared up the side stairs leading to the dormitories.

Hermione stared at him, wondering at the changes she saw in her friend in such a short amount of time. She wasn't going to complain.

The lack of people in the common room was a novel experience, but it gave them more options for places to sit. Together they carried their stuff over to the sofa in the corner and set the books down on the two end tables.

“Sorry you got roped into all of this,” Harry apologized once they were settled.

Hermione blinked at him, unsure of what to say.

“Leona started to tell me about all of the wizarding families I'm related to and I just... I wanted to know more. No one else wanted to tell me, but she did,” he explained. “Her mum is cool too. She's been sending me stories about my parents and all of the things they did when they were in school. They were in the same year.”

“That's wonderful, Harry,” Hermione said, genuinely happy for him.

Harry smiled. “I think I'm starting to like reading. Don't tell Ron I said that.”

Laughing, Hermione promised she wouldn't.

Neither of them opened their books again that night, spending time chatting instead. When Hermione crawled into bed over an hour later, she felt warm and comfortable as she thought about how wonderful it was to find an interest in common with Harry.

#harry potter #canon divergeance #fanfiction #hogwarts first year #OC - Leona Black

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oliviakongbcu · 5 years ago

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Researching Oliver Bonas’ Competitors (part 2)

I realised after posting my research I forgot to explore The White Company as one of Oliver Bonas’ competitors. So I decided to solve this problem by creating a new post, that not only explores The White Company but also expands my research further.

Competitor 4:

(Source:https://www.thewhitecompany.com/uk/)

The White Company is a retailer of linens, home decor, dinnerware and furniture, based in England. They focus on producing mostly neutral coloured products. In my opinion, I believe they aren’t a major competitor because The White Company has a different focus compared to Oliver Bonas. They focus on creating elegant, neutral coloured products that are of the highest quality but at an affordable cost. Whereas Oliver Bonas is focused on creating luxurious items that have, bold colours and patterns to create joyful moments and a cause for optimism.

The layout of the website is similar to Anthropologie and Oliver Bonas. They all have a minimal navigation bar and the top section of the website. The white space around this area helps to ensure that the viewer can take in all the information presented. However, the logo is boxed off, separating it from the rest of the top section of the website. This creates a frame around the logo which acts as a focal point to immediately draw viewers to the brand and what they have to offer.

The bar above the logo and the search options area put me off the minimal design because it’s not aligned with the navigation bar. This makes the design feel unbalanced taking away from the elegance of the brand. This implies that The White Company doesn’t have a keen eye for detail as they didn’t pick on this mistake. To fix this I would move the elements to align with the start and end of the navigation bar to produce a consistent design to showcase the focus of the brand, elegance.

Unlike the other websites, they showcase their newest offers/options underneath the navigation bar. By doing this it ensures that the viewer is immediately aware of the potential advantages of shopping with the brand. This could be the encouragement needed for customers to shop with the brand as there is more of an incentive to do so. For each offer, they have boxed the information in a light grey box which helps to contrast with the white background and the elements of black. This helps to emphasise the key information, making it easier to navigate through the website to the areas they require. They have also changed the colour of the information to a dark grey. This produces a strong contrast between the other information presented, helping to emphasise the offers and options. By considering the background and colour of the font it implies that this is the main focal point of the website as a lot of elements where considered to help bring more attention to them.

The main graphic on their website helps the viewer visualise using the candles as it shows the environment they work best in, which is home. I think the meaning behind the image is to highlight that home isn’t complete without a White Company candle. My favourite part of the graphic is the white gift tag because the colour of the tag creates a strong contrast between the image, emphasising the offer on candles and fragrances. I think the positioning of the tag is perfect because it’s directly centred against the image while being off centre compared to the website. By not fitting with the regular alignment it helps to catch your attention, making you want to explore the graphic further. The first impression I get from looking at this website is that the brand is very minimal and elegant. The layout of the website and the style of their products suggests that the brand loves stripping back on colour as well as details to create greater attention to the quality of their products. This implies that The White Company is more focused on creating high-quality products then decorative features. They would rather have a simple and elegant product then over-dressing it to fit with other brands.

The website uses a serif and sans serif typeface to contrast with each other. By using this combination it implies that the brand is well-established and professional. This suggests that the brand looks trustworthy, creating more comfort to the viewer, that their money is being well-spent. Another benefit of this combination is that it helps to define job roles for both typefaces, making it easy to distinguish the information presented. This makes navigating the website easier.

Development:

I decided to continue my research into Oliver Bonas’ competitors by exploring how they sell their candles. I wanted to investigate if brands used narrative to add meaning to both the product and packaging. I would be breaking down the language used in each of the descriptions. By doing this I would gain a better understanding of how I would need to accurately communicate my message to ensure that the product is marketed to the correct target audience.

I decided to look into all four of their competitors by breaking down their cheapest to most expensive candles. I felt the language would vary depending on the price point because with a bigger price the language would need to justify the cost to the viewer. Also, I will be focusing on the packaging used for each candle to gain a better understanding of the potential options I could use to approach this brief.

The White Company:

(Source: https://www.thewhitecompany.com/uk/Pure-Luxury-Medium-Pillar-Candle-/p/PRDST?swatch=No+Colour)

This is ‘Pure Luxury Medium Pillar Candle,’ which is one of their cheapest candles they sell. From the photos, the candle looks like it’s wrapped in either white paper. The brand is displayed through a grey label on top of the white wrapping. I think they did this style of packaging because the range is called ‘Pure’ so they wanted to showcase the actual product without overdressing it with decorations. I believe it works with the range name but I would take off the paper as I think it takes away from the focus of the range. When I think of the word ‘pure’ I see raw materials and the bare product with no unnecessary packaging. This would suit the name more in my mind but I’m assuming they wrap it in paper to guarantee to their customers that the product is new and without any damage.

The label design is perfect because the minimal style fits with the imagery of the word ‘pure’. When thinking about the word you see very simple, bare and natural objects or products. The design has only the necessary information that the viewer requires, which is the name of the collection, the scent of the candle and the company behind it. By nailing the design it sets the stage for the product and gives an accurate first impression of what the user can expect. The use of the colour grey creates a strong contrast between the white wrapping paper. This emphasises the name of the collection ensuring the viewer is immediately aware of the product they are holding. The texture of the paper looks quite glossy. This texture could make the product feel luxurious and one of a kind. This fits with the brand as they focus on creating quality products at an affordable price. However, this could be the reason people buy this particular candle. This is because of the answers I received from my target audience interviews. The answers showed that the feel and interaction is the main selling point because it allows them to gain a better understanding of the product to make an informed decision.

The candle is unscented to avoid masking the smell of food. This is a clever idea as it would be overpowering if the scents of food mixed with another powerful smell. It ensures that the users would not be put off by their food. This candle has a specific time and place for the use which highlights that candles have specific purposes to fit with the scent and atmosphere of it. This highlights that I need to consider if the candles I’m designing will have a specific time or purpose as this will be crucial to the scent and how I would communicate the meaning behind them.

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‘A must-have for any dinner party, this Luxury Pillar Candle is unscented, so it won’t confuse the aroma of your food. Made from high-quality mineral wax and boasting an extra-large size, this candle will provide an especially long, clean and even burn. Style down the dinner table, mantelpiece or fireplace inside one of our striking lanterns.’ - extracted from The White Company.

The phrase ‘must-have’ suggests the importance of the product and the urgency to get it. The word ‘must’ implies that it has to be a part of your household, highlighting that the product adds the final touch to your home.

The use of the word ‘aroma’ suggests that it should be used to compliment pleasant-smelling food. It creates delightful imagery of home cooking, making you feel warm and happy. If this word wasn’t used it wouldn’t have created such a powerful image that brings back fond memories of families dinners and celebrations. Nor would it express how elegant the brand/products are. This word ensures that The White Company creates a consistent image that showcases its focus as a brand as it resembles the language used throughout their website.

I believe 'style down the dinner table, mantelpiece or fireplace’ creates a vivid image that seals the deal on the sale of the candle. The use of the list of three suggests the different places that this candle would suit. It helps the customer visualise how they would use it and how it would integrate with their home. By providing them with three potential locations it implies that the product is multi-functional, justifying the purchase of it. The use of the phrase ‘style down’ suggests the simplicity of the product, implying it will not be difficult to find a location where it will fit in.

I think the language used is very descriptive as it creates several images of how the product would fit in your lifestyle, highlighting the simplicity of the product. The wording used is simple and not overly complicated. This suggests that the brand gets straight to the point as they haven’t overly described how it will benefit their lives or selling them the brand story. It shows that they rather focus on the actual product than anything else.

(Source: https://www.thewhitecompany.com/uk/Winter-Signature-Candle/p/WNDCX?swatch=No+Colour)

This is the ‘Winter Signature Candle,’ which is one of the middle-range options they sell. From the photos, the candle is in a glass jar with an illustrated outer packaging. The illustration looks to be a storefront during the Christmas rush, shown through the scattered placement of Christmas decorations in the windows. This suggests the brand associates winter with the Christmas season. The placement of the ‘Winter’ label on the outer packaging is in the perfect position to mimic storefront signage. By placing the label here it suggests that the storefront is the embodiment of the candle. This is how the brand visualises the candle, the late minute rush to buy presents for your friends and family. The happiness and jolly feel you get when decorating for the season. This is the candle. However, the placement of the label helps to draw customers to the product as the box surrounding the body copy creates a focal point. This helps to lead customers to the product and the meaning behind it.

The label design on the packaging uses two different typefaces to emphasise the product name and the scent. The product name is indicated through the use of a script font. This creates a personal touch to the product as it feels like the brand hand wrote the product name. However, the scent is indicated through the use of a simple sans serif. This helps to contrast the detailed script font, emphasising both pieces of information presented. This contrast ensures that the viewer is fully aware of the scent and the name of the product. By adding a block of colour underneath both pieces of information it acts it further. However, the label design changes for the candle holder, as the design becomes very minimal, with only the brand’s logo and the product name presented. I think the brand has done this because it keeps the way they normally brand their products. From briefly looking at their other ranges, they typically just have the logo and product name on their actual product, whereas the outer packaging holds all the information relating to it. By displaying all the information about the said product on the packaging, it allows the viewer to fully understand how to use it before purchasing it.

The scent of the candle is cinnamon, clove and orange. This combination creates warmness as you can visualise smelling the cinnamon and the spice that comes along with it. With this scent, it feels like winter as it makes you want to curl up on the sofa and be cosy. I feel like this candle is designed for this season in mind as the warmness created won’t be needed in the warmer months. This highlights that I need to consider the season that I indent the candles, I’m designing, need to be used in. This is because the scent and the feeling created will be specific to that time so I must carefully design with that in mind. I could create a neutral scent but will it create a powerful emotion like this candle? --------------------------------

‘The inviting aroma of stepping in from the cold, Winter will instantaneously wrap your senses with its warm, spicy scent. Curl up on an armchair as notes of cinnamon and clove add warmth to your room, while a dash of fresh orange rebalances your mood.

Like all our signature candles, this one is filled in the UK using high quality mineral wax to achieve a long, clean and even burn. It comes in a new, beautifully illustrated festive gift box, making it a special treat or gift.’ - extracted from The White Company’s website.

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The word ‘inviting’ suggests the candle creates a welcoming feeling to your home. It implies that it creates a pleasant moment that melts the winter blues away. By using the word ‘aroma’ it emphasises the meaning behind the word ‘inviting’. This ensures that the viewer can visualise the fragrance and imagine vividly how it would interact in their home.

The phrase ‘wrap your senses’ creates the visual of being cosy and warm after a long day out in the cold. This imagery lets the viewer visualise the warmth the candle would create and how they would feel after smelling it.

I believe the statement, ‘curl up on an armchair,’ creates a vivid image that seals the deal on purchasing the candle. It creates an image that we all desire after a long day at work, but the added descriptions of being warm and cosy makes you want that feeling more. This is clever as it creates a visual we all know very well, that it’s easy to imagine using a White Company’s candle the next time you do so.

The use of the phrase ‘rebalances your mood’ suggests the candle will make you feel relaxed and in control of your day. It implies it warms the blues of everyday life and the winter weather, making you feel on top of everything.

The language is very descriptive at setting the scene of how the product would better your home and your day. It creates visuals that we all want after a long day, implying the brand understands their audience’s needs and wants from their products. However, it does feel different to the cheaper candle as I feel there is more language used at describing how it would be used within your home. Also, the length of the description has increased. This suggests that with a larger price more needs to be said to encourage customers to buy the said product as the brand needs to justify the cost of it. Although, the longer description could be because of the more detailed scent and packaging that comes along with the product.

Cath Kidston:

(Source: https://www.cathkidston.com/candles-and-diffusers/gardeners-club-set-of-5-hedgehog-tea-lights-1035901)

This is the ‘Gardener’s Club Set of 5 Hedgehog Tea Lights,’ which is one of the cheapest options they sell. From the photo, the set looks like it doesn’t come with any packaging. This wouldn’t make sense as it would make taking their product home difficult, as there is nothing to stop them from getting damaged on the journey. I think they left out the packaging on their website to showcase the products more as nothing will distract from the details of the candles. This allows the customer to see all the details and make a rational decision about the gift set. However, I explored the website further and realised they do show the product in packaging, but it doesn’t show on the page explaining it fully. From the small photo, it indicates that the gift set comes in a clear plastic box with an illustrative background. This simple packaging solution allows the product to be the main focus when a customer interacts with it, letting them fully focus on the product without after any distractions.

I think the idea of this candle is clever because it adds a playful touch to the Christmas season. I see this being a very simple decoration that people could place in their homes. However, I think that this product isn’t used for its indented purpose as the hedgehog seems too precious to hurt. I would feel awful for actually using the candle as I would have to watch the hedgehog melt away with time. For this reason, I would probably just keep it as a decoration for the season and reuse them every year.

There isn’t a description of the scent that comes with the candles. This highlights that the fragrance isn’t the main feature of this set. This implies that the candles are more decorations as a key feature of a candle is the fragrance created when it burns. This is the main reason people buy candles. I’m assuming the scent would either be quite neutral or resemble elements of nature to link back to the hedgehog theme.

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‘Shine a light with Christmas candles. This set of five adorable tea lights is inspired by the hedgehog stars of our Gardener's Club print, and we've given them the Christmas treatment with Santa hats and presents’ - extracted from their website.

The phrase ‘shine a light with Christmas candles,’ suggests that these candles with brightening up your home from the blues of the holidays. The word ‘light’ implies that the holiday needs something to bring cheer and happiness into our lives with the rush to be prepared for the big day.

The phrase ‘inspired by the hedgehog stars of our Gardener's Club print’ highlights that this range is a part of a bigger collection that the brand has. This suggests the Santa hat and present are only featured to make the range sellable during the Christmas season. Therefore, the main purpose of this range is to support their print and the products that use it. By making the print holiday-ready it will bring more attention to the rest of the gardener’s club print. This will increase the sale of their main collection.

The language used is descriptive towards the product but it doesn’t set the scene of how the product would fit within your home. The text extracted from the website describes the candles and sort of explains the background behind the product. This extract isn't persuading me into purchasing the range. I think Cath Kidston has done this as they want the product itself to encourage you to buy from the brand. By letting the product speak it lets the viewer make a rational decision on if they need it or not, without being persuaded by a sale pitch from the brand.

(Source: https://www.cathkidston.com/candles-and-diffusers/crisp-cotton-single-wick-candle-1027046)

This is the ‘Crisp Cotton Single Wick Candle,’ which is one of their more expensive options. From the photos, the candle is in a glass holder with an illustrated outer packaging. The illustrations are based on sailboats and the sea, implying the scent is somehow relating to both. The illustrations resemble watercolour paintings because there's a grainy texture running through each drawing. This implies the outer packaging is made using a textured material, creating a rough feel to it. This could pay homage to the sea as the texture resembles the movement created from the waves. However, this texture could be the result of a poor quality image. This is suggested through the outer packaging image stretching and distorting on the right side of the box. This implies that Cath Kidston doesn't proof check their website accurately. Websites are crucial to brands as shopping has become more online-based, so if a customer views this poor quality they might be put off shopping with the brand. The website is an outlet of a brand, it must reflect the values and the focus, consistently to link to all communications. This will suggest how the brand operates and express themselves accurately to fit with what they say they do.

The label design on the outer packaging is located directly in the centre. This position works because our eyes naturally move towards this direction. This ensures that the viewer can take in all the information relating to the product, allowing them to make a rational decision on whether to purchase the candle. The brand has used colour effectively because they have highlighted the most crucial parts of the information presented. They have foil embossed the candle name and the brand's logo in bright gold colour, creating a strong contrast between the body copy. This contrast helps to emphasise the most important pieces of information, ensuring that the customer navigates the design effectively. However, the layout of the body copy puts me off the label design. The right-hand side makes the design feel unbalanced as there is significantly less body copy. This takes away from the clear minimal design and the look of the brand. I think if they aligned the 'weight 180g' sentence with the last line of the left-hand body copy as well as, aligning the 'burn time' sentence with either, the centre or start of the left-hand body copy, it would feel more balanced in my mind. The way they originally spaced out both sentences helped but something felt off with the layout the more I look at it.

The scent of the candle is sea notes, sage, cypress, iris and lavender. This combination creates a feeling of freshness and relaxation. This shown through the elements of iris and sea notes. This implies a damp and earthy smell, suggesting a natural smelling candle. This could create an atmosphere of being outside while being in the comfort of your home. I originally couldn't see the link between cotton scent and the sea until I research further into the materials used for the sails. I think this subtle link is clever because it adds meaning to the illustrations as well as linking back to the scent. By having elements that fully link together it helps to build a consistent design that suggests the brand creates thoroughly thought out products.

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‘Scent your space with our ready-to-gift home fragrance collection. The scent of Crisp Cotton is created with fresh sea notes, aromatic sage and green cypress softened by delicate iris and lavender. This candle will burn for 45 hours,’- extracted from their website

The phrase 'scent your space' catches my attention because it effectively uses alliteration. The repetition creates an 's' sound which suggests a soft and calm atmosphere, implying that the candle has this effect on you and your home. The benefit of using this type of language is that the sound created makes it difficult to forget, making the reader focus on this particular section of the text. By using this as the starter of the description, it ensures that the customer is fully engaged. Another example of alliteration is presented, in the description through the phrase 'crisp cotton.' By including another example of this type of language, it creates a focal point for customers to be reengaged to the description.

The phrase 'fresh sea notes' suggests the natural feel to the scent, implying the direct link to the packaging and the name of the actual product. The word 'sea' implies that the aroma will refresh our minds and our senses, as we naturally feel relaxed when staring or being near to the sea.

The phrase 'softened by delicate iris' catches my attention every time I read the description. The word 'softened' suggests that the scent soothes your mind and senses, implying how relaxing the candle makes you feel. The word 'delicate' highlights how fragile the flower used is, implying the level of detail Cath Kidston is willing to put into their candle range.

The language used is very descriptive as it goes into detail on the scent and the elements that make it up. However, this description differs from the cheaper option, as it uses more persuasive language to ensure engagement with the customer. This type of language is used to sell products or sevrices. This suggests that the brand wants to encourage customers to try out their more expensive option rather than the cheaper one. I think the brand has changed the style of language used as the cheaper option is more of a seasonal item, so encouraging customers to try out an expensive option will, in the long run, make them more willing to shop with them in the future.

Laura Ashley:

(Source: https://www.lauraashley.com/en-gb/en/laura-ashley-kitchen-blackberry-candle/3730629)

This is the 'Laura Ashley Kitchen Blackberry Candle,' which is one of their cheaper options. The photos show that the candle is contained in a transparent jam jar with a closable lid. This type of packaging works well because it's easier to envision this candle sitting in it's intended space, as the style reflects the normal items typically found there. To me, this candle resembles the typical jars and pots found within a kitchen. By using a jam jar as the packaging I think it would be easier to reuse the item, as you can use it for storage, once the wax burns out. This is a clever idea because it allows the users to not waste the packaging once the candle burns out.

The label design on the outer packaging is located directly in the centre, ensuring that the viewer is immediately aware of the candle name and it's intended use, as our eyes naturally gravitate towards this position. The label is surrounded by negative space, which helps to emphasise the design. Space creates more areas to draw viewers to the product while letting the design elements breathe, giving you time to take in the information presented. This ensures the viewer is immediately aware of the candle's name and it's intended purpose. By adding a coloured background and a frame around the label it creates a focal point, as the shape of the label is different in comparison to the illustrative background. The label is more visually dominant, capturing the viewer's attention and interest, ensuring that they will explore the product.

The illustrations behind the label are leaves and berries, highlighting how natural the candle is. They could suggest how natural smelling the scent is or the feeling the candle creates around your home.

The scent of the candle is blackberry but it is very vague on if there are other defining aromas created. When thinking about blackberries, the freshness and the sweetness of the fruit first comes to mind. This aroma suggests that the candles create the beauty of nature in the comfort of your home

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‘Our Kitchen Fragrance range is designed to bring kitchen garden scents to your home, no matter where you are. This candle is presented in a classic preserve jar, and is scented with mouthwatering blackberry,’ - extracted from their website.

The repetition of the word 'kitchen' in the first sentence reminds the viewer of the intended location of the candle, ensuring the viewer is fully aware of the purpose of the product. This single word repetition could be a mistake as Laura Ashley didn't full proof check the description. However, this type of repetition can draw viewers' attention to a certain part of the body copy, while hammering a message/ point to the viewer.

The phrase 'kitchen garden' suggest the candle relates to the idea of having an area to grow plants for domestic use. The scent of the candle could be a plant that people often grow in their garden to cook with. This adds meaning to the candle, as it has a reason for being located within your kitchen.

The phrase 'mouthwatering blackberry' suggests how realistic the scent is. This implies the candle brings to life the realistic delicious aromas of the berry, making you want to eat the fruit in real life.

The language used is descriptive, as it showcases the purpose and adds meaning to the candle. The description effectively uses repetition to engage the viewer's attention, ensuring they are taking in the information presented. However, I think the description doesn't fully persuade me to purchase the candle, as I feel it is still vague on the scent. The scent brings alive the realistic smells of a kitchen garden and blackberries. But it doesn't suggest how I would feel or how it would benefit my home, which many of the descriptions does effectively. This is important as it implies how that particular candle is needed in your home, persuading the viewer it's something they require.

(Source: https://www.lauraashley.com/en-gb/en/citronella-extra-large-cream-candle/3725974)

This is the 'Citronella Extra Large Cream Candle,' which is one of their more expensive options. The photos show that the candle comes in a creamy ceramic dish. There isn't any evidence of outer packaging on the product, which would not be a good idea because if the dish is made from ceramic, it would be highly fragile, making it difficult to transport home. So having packaging for the product would ensure that the candle is fully protected. However, Laura Ashley may have avoided including the packaging to fully showcase the product without anything distracting the viewer. This ensures that they can engage with the product and make a rational decision on whether they need it or not.

There is no label design visible on the dish. This can be a good thing because of the minimal style of the product fits with the luxurious feel of the brand, helping to link the products with the company's focus. This ensures consistency with their messaging and the products they produce. Also, it lets the viewer focus on the quality and touch of the physical product, implying they want to persuade customers to buy from them using their products alone, not fancy branding. However, without a label design, it means the customer will become unaware of the name of the product or brand that makes it during the usage time. After use it would be difficult to rebuy the product, meaning the customers may shop with other brands, which prevents building customer loyalty and a relationship with them. I would hope there is some information about the candle hidden at the base of the dish, to ensure the brand is known to the customer at least.

The scent of the candle is citronella, which is a naturally occurring insect repellent, as it's a type of lemongrass. This suggests that this type of candle is perfect for hot summers when bugs are more likely to attack. However, it would be useful for the indoors in bug-prone areas to ward them off. This implies that this type of candle is multi-functional, suggesting value for money.

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‘Let the zesty scent of our Citronella Candle in classic cream become your scent of summer. Perfect for outdoor get togethers, or a pretty addition to interior looks, this candle is extra large for a longer burning time,’ - extracted from their website.

The phrases 'citronella candle' catches your attention immediately because of the effective use of alliteration. By using alliteration in the first sentence, it helps to engage the viewer with the product, as the sound created gets stuck in their heads. The alliteration creates a 'c' sound that suggests a harshness, abruptness and authority. The candle is implied to be important as it effectively helps to prevent bug attacks indoors and outdoors. By also, using alliteration on the product name, it helps to ensure that customers will remember it after reading the description. However, the description uses another example of alliteration, to describe the colour of the product. The phrase used is 'classic cream,' which suggests the colour never goes out of style, so it will fit with most spaces and locations. By following an example of alliteration with another, ensures that the viewer is fully paying attention to the product and the description.

The phrase 'your scent of summer' suggest the season the candle is intended to be used, adding meaning to the fragrance of the product. The phrase catches your attention, as it's another example of allieration. However, it creates an 's' sound that suggests smoothness and quietness. The candle is highlighted to create a relaxing atmosphere, with it's even finished.

The language used is very descriptive as it effectively portrays how and when to use the product. It helps the customer to visualise the product in their space, letting them make a rational decision on whether they need it or not. However, the description differs from the cheaper option, as there is more persuasive language to describe the product. By using this language it encourages the customers to buy products, suggesting Laura Ashley wants their customers to try out their more expensive options.

Evaluation:

I decided to look into the language used in product descriptions, of Oliver Bonas' competitors, to understand how they communicate with their audience. By understanding this element, I can better approach how to describe the collection I create, as I know how the market and other brands approach this. The description is the main part of the candle as it adds the meaning to the product that ultimately makes the customer want to purchase the product.

From looking into these four brands I have learnt that descriptive language is the most important element. By creating a vivid image of how the candle fits within your space, it encourages customers to purchase the product, as they can visualise it within their own space. Also, persuasive language is useful in the description, as it can ensure engagement with the audience while providing, the final sale points to seal the deal.

I have found that if the packaging reflects the focus of the brand and links to the scent it adds more meaning to the physical product. It makes every element link together, creating a consistent outlet of the brand that the audience can fully engage with. This is the main aspect I need to focus on when designing the collection, as this will ensure it ties together with the brand while creating something unique to other candle collections.

#viscom #L5 #graphic communication #graphic design

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