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fantasyizlife · 6 years ago

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My Savagez pt 10

Paring: Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield x reader (AU)

Summary: Tom, Haz and Y/N are in a loveship built so uniquely by your own three beating hearts no one could break it apart. But what happens when buried past don't stay buried? Will your love survive? Will you survive? How much of their past is going to test and take from each of you? Only time and endurance will tell.

Side note: Loosely based off of the movie Savages

Word count: 11k+

Warnings: fluff angst smut. 18 and older type of vibe

The next few weeks flew by in a blur as I trained hard and built myself into something I never thought I could be, a savage, and I would do anything to protect my family, so I excelled. I was introduced to Zendaya, one of the smartest and prettiest team members. She and I became close as she taught me how to become deadly and lure people of both sexes to my advantage. She had been apart of a secret and highly classified entity called Silky Touch, they trained her in the fine art of lethal seducing, it made me that much more braver in bed with Tom and helped me learn what Haz needed before he knew it. Harry had the most fun with me, always taking me out of my indoor training and letting me get used to looking at dangerous factors around me and how to use some elements to my advantage. He had nicknamed me Crofty after Lara Croft. Sam taught me to use my head to see things in plain sight that others couldn't. Much of our time was focused on evolving my other senses so he blindfolded me, I quickly became second at assessing my environment. Tom was more attuned than any of us. Tom was also the one who was most physical with me. He trained me on self defense and how to kick ass. He never went easy on me either. It hurt like hell but I endured it and as I grew I felt confident and powerful. Haz trained my reflex skills and endurance, he was mentally stronger than any of them and now I knew some secrets in how he had such self control when it came to physical wants and needs.

That didn’t help me in the bedroom because seriously, I couldn't get enough of either one of them. We never got to the part where we had a schedule like Tom had suggested. We just went with the flow. It was natural for us. The only small difference was if Tom walked in on us kissing or any other forms of pda he made it clear for us to knock it off. We respected that. Harrison couldn't care less, he's stayed quite a few times when me and Tom were making out until he was sent away. If I had sex with Tom or with Harrison it was done in the privacy of their own room and they had a floor to themselves. Tom was on the first floor Harrison was on the third. They built me a dance studio and I had my own bedroom in between them. It was the best choice I had made because I swear as the days went by, my libido got out of control. The shift in my attitude and self confidence had me ending any training with Haz or Tom with a encore of them inside me, they had gotten spoiled by it. My breast seemed more sensitive to the touch, my stomach quivered at the innocent of touches. Even my orgasms seemed more powerful, I felt every sensation and if not for the quiet floor between them, I’m 100% sure the other would have heard my cries of pleasure. I can’t tell you how many times I wished I had them both at the same time, I was that out of control. But it was their fault, they spoiled me just as much!

My only demand was that if they wanted to sleep overnight with me I had an open door policy. My room was the safe zone and every night they both made their way next to me. Some nights we went to bed together. Most nights TomTom would come in quietly if I was asleep and hold me close. It's how I learned to know how bad of a trip he had, Tom had become obsessed with finding this leader and taking him out, they were getting so close. Harrison made it a habit to wake me with a kiss and tell me he loved me no matter the time when he returned. It was his way of making peace in his soul so he could sleep. He didn't obsess like Tom did but again, he had the most self control outta all of us. Haz worried on the inside exactly the opposite of Tom. But I could read it in his eyes same as Tom's body language. Being away from them even one at a time was hard. I couldn’t ever imagine living without one or the other. They filled up both sides of my home, my bed, my heart and most of all my soul. We all wanted this to end. They had promised me no more jobs after it was done. We would move and settle down somewhere off the grid and grow old together. At least that was the plan for now. I had opened a dance studio for all ages, I wanted to keep doing what I loved and it allowed me to stay true to my heart. We had all come up with the name Tiny dancerz and Little Savagez to appeal to both girls and boys. It gained popularity quick and before I knew it, I had a full studio every day and night we were open. They had surprised me by expanding it another level making it available for adults who wanted to learn to dance too. Zendaya was really happy to help me out with that. She even opened the doors Saturday nights to adults who wanted to learn the art of pole dancing, needless to say we never taught that class alone. Haz insisted on playing DJ and actually loved it, so did the kids. Tom had become smitten with the ideal of showing these young boys that you could be cool and knowing how to dance just made them coolier for the young ladies. He was roped into teaching his own all male ballet class before we ended our second month of opening. Things were feeling so great in life that the looming threat of danger almost faded out of minds and conversations. We ended our first summer on a high note! Tom and Haz had surprised us all by setting up a talent show for a back to school kick off and the winner of each category would win an all expense paid shopping spree for back to school gear. Little did every smiling child in our studio know they were all winners.

It was Zendaya's birthday and we threw her a party at an exclusive nightclub owned by Jacob. Tom and Harrison had surprised me with a sexy black dress, along with new jewelry and topped off with fuck me ruby red and black stilettos to match. The dress was tight and clung to my curves with designed see-thru patterns. It barely covered the skin they were designed to cover, wearing a bra or panties proved impossible. Part of me wondered if Haz had picked this out, Tom would have never allowed such a risk, especially in public. I completed my look with red lips and dark smokey eyes, giving me that dark sexy edge I was feeling inside. Tonight was going to be different I could feel it as I walked down the stairs to my savagez who were waiting for me. Tom looked me up and down three fucking times, his eyes grew darker each time. His jaw twitched as he eyed the amount of skin that was on display. He bit his tongue as he looked back at Harrison who was eye fucking me with those sky blue eyes that sparkled with a lusty need that instantly heated my core. I felt the energy between all three of us and we were on fire.

“Mine” Tom said at the exact same time Harrison said “Dibs” They looked at each other in surprise and back to me as if I had an answer.

I shook my head and grabbed a glass of ice and poured my Ciroc slowly as they watched and waited. I leaned against the counter and crossed my legs feeling the wetness already brought on by the way they were looking at me.

“Perhaps tonight I get what I want” I said slow with intent looking at Tom first. He shook his head no before the words came out, he always said no “I want you both or I sleep alone” I winked

“Hey that's not fair angel!” Harrison said playfully pouting as he walked over to me in his all black suit. His eyes grew heavy as he traced the tops of my breast with his soft finger tips that sparkled with glitter lotion.

“Perhaps we could just meet Tom at the party, we could be a little late” his voice was laced with desire and it make my sex throb with need.

Tom cleared his throat in an agitated tone. I locked eyes with him as I drank my glass down and Haz refilled it. I raised my eyebrows at Tom letting him know I understood I was pushing his limits. I shook my head as I smiled at him loving the way he just took control of my body as it shifted to wanting rough sex only he could give me. I was dancing on the edge of darkness with Tom and I loved it. He looked away trying to hide his grin as he adjusted his hard on.

“Yeah your right Hazzi, but I have to make it fair and I’m not choosing between my sexy savagez, so we can sleep together as always but you both have to keep your hands off me when I make myself cum, if either of you can’t handle that then, you’ll need to stay in your own big boy beds” I downed my second glass and headed out to the limo as they shook their heads.

It was packed with people we knew and some we didn't. But all were thoroughly checked with tight security. I swear I always felt more guarded than the queen of England herself. But even the queen was visible to the eyes of all that surrounded her and as for me tonight, I felt a lot of eyes on me. The looks I got from eager attractive eyes caused Tom to yank me against his side as we walked straight in and up to the VIP area. I giggled into his neck as held me against him overlooking the packed club. Haz passed us drinks and snaked his arm around my waist pulling me in for a quick kiss. Tom followed with one of his own. They were making it known I was spoken for, as if anyone would even test them. The thought made me giggle again.

“Don't think for a fucking second I won't kill them just for looking at you like that" Tom growled in my ear making me feel that primal beast in him, this mood made him fuck me the hardest. His hands slid down my arms, onto my hips and he gripped them making me bend forward just enough to show me, in these new heelz, I was at perfect height to get fucked right here. I quickly grabbed his hand and pushed it away as he discovered I wasn’t wearing panties.

I moved into Harrisons arms before Tom could take me out of here and punish me. Haz must have known as he shielded me from Toms wrath. I stuck my tongue out at Tom and Haz kissed my forehead, he mouthed MINE to me and smirked. We were surprised from behind as Zendaya hugged Tom tight breaking his controlling glare that was making me melt between my legs. She pulled us all in for hugs and pictures as we started the night off right.

We spent almost the entire time in VIP. It was nearing midnight and it was Z’s pleading that let my buzzed savagez give in to letting us all go downstairs to dance before the foam countdown that started in an hour. If they dance with me, this will go down as the best party ever, and possibly our best night! I had to act quick if I really had any shot of getting them the way I truly craved.

“Let us dance and you men buy drinks, don’t worry, we can handle any trouble” I smiled as we grinded to the beat. Tom shook his head no but at least made a compromise.

One thing was certain. Tom and Harrison would never leave me by myself in this place. Not for a second. They already knew there wasn’t a guy with balls big enough to even try to hit on me me while my possessive savagez were hovering. But they would never risk it.

“Haz you stay here, I’ll grab drinks” Tom gave me a knowing glance. I was drunk and on cloud nine. “I’ll be right back Starling, then we’ll dance” He kissed me slow and deep. I stood there frozen wanting more as he turned and disappeared.

I danced with only Z as poor Harrison stood there like a bodyguard, just watching me. We had been working on his rhythm and I knew he was itching to to dance with me. So I lured him in.

Haz was so irresistibly sexy, my hands reached out to touch every inch of his hard body. We were hidden by the dancing crowd, the bodies moving like waves in a ocean under the pulsating lights. I could feel my body wanting to give in to the sexual tension I have fought all night. My mind, heart and body wanted them both so fucking bad, but knowing it would never happen and it left me frustrated. I had even avoided all contact with them the last hour before we came to the dance floor. I knew this feeling of wanting them both would pass. I just didn’t want to keep tourchericzzhing myself with the thought. Now here I was looking at my Hazzi like a snack after TomTom just reignited the desire, FUCK. Harrison kissed my neck soft and nibbled my ear.

“Shit Hazzi, I can’t stay focused out here, we should wait for Tom” I said as he rocked his hips against mine to the beat. He bit his lip and shook his head no, pulling me into him harder. I pulled back, scanning the sea of bodies for Tom. Haz held my face and tilted my chin towards the far side of the dance floor. Tom smiles at us and mouths MINE, as lifts a glass of beer to his lickable lips. His elbow rests on a table next to him, with two more drinks. His dark ruby red suit is unbuttoned at the neck. If there’s any emotion in his beautiful scowl, I don’t see it. Either i’m really drunk or Tom is truly expressionless, almost stern, he’s so hard to read. I have second thoughts about dancing, he has me disoriented yet again. Then he winks, and everything inside me melts. Fuck, he’s sexy, and he knows it. So does every woman in the club. Two girls start circling, creeping in from both sides, trapping him, so they thought. When they reach him, their lips move at different times, no doubt offering him the best of themselves at one time. His jaw twitches as his eyes never leave mine and Tom doesn't respond to them. So they follow his eyes and frown at me as I mouthed MINE. They must have had something to trigger him. Because the glare he shoots at them widens their eyes. I almost feel bad for them as they turn and stomp away.

“Come on y/n” Harrison raises his voice above the music as (Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande) pumping through the air “Dance with your Hazzi”

I unglue my feet from the sticky floor and follow him deeper into the dance floor chaos. When he slows at the center, I keep going, pulling on his hand and bouncing to the music. I came here with two men, and I want to see them both have fun. So I head toward the far edge and stop a few feet from Tom. My brown curly haired savage licks his lips and gives me a commanding nod that tells me to dance. I find the beat, mentally tapping out the count and moving my drunk and limber body in motions designed to stir both their desires. The movements start with my head and work their way down to my feet. A hair toss, hip roll, and step together. I feel it, work it, and strip the last of my inhibitions beneath Toms heated gaze. Harrison dances around me, keeping it clean as he tries to not be insecure with his newly found ability to dance. He doesn't know that the 10 eyes around us are all women and they are watching him, wanting a shot at catching his sky blue eyes. When it comes to a man dancing in a club, less is more, and he has that figured out. He puts his personality into it, and every move has swagger mixed with a cute shyness. And he gains more attention as he loses himself in the lust he's feeling for me. His soft hands go up my sides and he rubs his fingers on my exposed neck as he moved my hair to the side and kissed it soft. Harrisons mouth licks and bites my flesh in a sensual pattern lick, bite, lick, bite. Every action is delieberte, sensual, and undeniably confident. I close my eyes as my breathing becomes labored. He moves his hips to the beat and l moan out loud at his hard cock. Damn, he knows what he’s doing. Whenever he stops one action, he makes sure he’s touching me somehow, always keeping the connection. He turns me to face him and my eyes fly open as our flush bodies melted together. He grabbed my thigh and lifted my leg. My naked kitty was glistening with my silky wetness and he kissed me as he dry fucked me slowly on that dance floor. I lost all sense of where we were as he held my body hard against him and rocked his cock up and down, making me moan into his mouth. He broke the kiss and set my leg down, making sure he held me up as I gathered myself. I rested my flush face on his shoulder and he kissed my face. I let out a flustered sigh, my body was on fire.

“I’m sorry, I just got lost in the moment y/n” he said rubbing my face as he noticed how far gone I looked. “I can sneak you outta the back, just say the word” he smiled sweetly

“Toms going to kill us” I said peeking over his shoulder in Toms direction. Yep there he was, watching every moment. He was drinking his beer and chewed his lip as we locked eyes.

(Cookie by R Kelly) fuels the room, charging the air with seductive energy. I point my finger at Tom, mouthing, “dance with me” The corner of his frown twists upward, but he doesn’t move. Stubborn man. He can fight it if he likes, but I’m going to lure him in. I turn around, find his dark eyes over my shoulder, and worked my ass just for him. That earns me a real smile, inspiring me to work my ass to the floor, low, lower. Then I slide back up. And come face to face with Harrison.

Perspiration glistens on his forehead, his breathing is heavy and his body is burning with hunger. I rock my body up against him and he put his hand on my ass. He grips it hard, grinding with me in time with the music. Bump, bump, bump, we’re caught in it. Contagious, suggestive, the bumps roll into waves that ripple down our bodies. My hand falls to his shoulder, and his arms hang at his sides and slightly behind him, giving me full access to his hard sexy body. I indulge, drifting my other hand down his abs, tracing his muscle through the shirt, and lingering on the button of his pants. I bite my lip looking at his cock at full attention, SHIT, I want him right here. He leans in, leans out, putting a sexy roll into it. With each movement forward and back, he grows closer, smoother, sliding up against me. Then we’re grinding again, feeling the same rhythm and motion, and dancing as one. This is where it’s at. The sizzling burn. The fire and thunder that started before we had left for the club. Our hips locked together. Our eyes connect, and I’m buzzing, lost in the lusty blue of his gaze. He doesn’t just look at me. He eats me alive with his eyes. My pulse quickens. My blood pumps, hot and fast, beneath my skin. The rock of his pelvis controls the pace of my mine, and his hands caress my back, molding around my waist, and slipping down inside my bare thighs, I toss my head back welcoming the touch. Then there are four hands. My gaze flies to Haz, but I don’t need to see his relaxed expression to know who’s behind me. I’m intimately familiar with the touch of those fingers, above where Harrison has his hands, stopping the free show of my naked skin with dominating pressure. The scent of my TomTom warms my senses as he slides up behind me, gripping my hips and taking control. He slows it down. Sets the pace. Pulls me closer. Grabs me a little tighter. And lets me feel his rhythm. And his hardness. I tremble as my breaths grow faster. What are they doing to me? Harrison moves in, pressing his chest to mine and holding my face in his hands. His gaze is electric, sparking with desire. As hard as I look, I don’t see jealousy or frustration. His smile’s too bright. But those blue eyes are deep orbs of trouble. Doesn’t matter that I’m with both of them tonight. He’s going to tease me until I’m dripping, and it’ll run down my legs because FUCK, I’m not wearing panties. He rocks against me, sandwiching my body between him and Toms. His rhythm is faster, like the beat but not like the hips crushed against my ass. Tom tightens his grip, tries to take back control. But Harrison changes it up, drops it here, stops it right there, and returns to a slow grind. They go back and forth, fighting for the lead in our erotic dance. Pushing and pulling. Slowing down and speeding up. Until a beautiful thing happens. Our rhythm syncs, and our hips grind in unison, as if connected, like our souls. They stop fighting and work together, falling into the perfection that was us. I’m in heaven. Nothing is sexier than dancing between my savagez who want me as much as I want them. Harrisons smile. The press of Toms hands. The heavy sounds of their breaths. The sexual way they move against me. I could do this forever. Tom maintains the connection by leaning around me to see my face. I lean back, keeping my hips pinned between theirs and holding his gaze. We dance like that through several songs before taking a break to catch our breaths and drink. Then we dance some more. The longer I’m held between them, the bolder my hands become. Strong necks, hard pecs, muscular forearms with pulsing veins, swollen cocks. I touch them everywhere, rubbing, caressing, stroking. I’m burning up, soaked between my legs, and shaking with the impossible need to fuck them. Their own arousal vibrating through their bodies doesn’t help. They seem to have forgotten each other, their mouths and hands aggressively focused on me. When Harrisons lips capture mine, I tense up and try to pull back. He grips my neck and deepens the kiss, chasing my tongue and going wild. Then Tom is there, taking my mouth from Haz and stealing his own kiss before Haz takes it back. They pass me between them, over and over, controlled by a desire that grows greedier by the second. We continue to dance, three souls spiraling in a private world of kissing, neck licking, lip biting, and ass grabbing. Whatever this is, it’s reckless, carnal, dangerous, just like our love for each other. And we don’t seem capable of stopping. It’s too powerful, too deliciously tempting as it wraps around us and attempts to break every rule. The energy between us crackles across my skin, turning the longing inside me into a physical ache. I’ve never experienced sexual tension like this. It seethes and growls like a wild animal, as it follows us off the dance floor and stays with us during the ride home.

Harrison opens the door for me and Tom climbs in first pulling me next to him as the door closes. I squirm between them, clenching my thighs together and seeking relief. The only release for what I need is in the form of two tense men next to me. Neither of them speak or make eye contact. The phone sounding breakable beneath Harrison’s grip, and I’m not sure Tom is even breathing. I’m too drunk and hot for this nonsense.

“Is it just me, or is there a lot of tension in here?” I giggled. Silence. More tension. Then Harrisons eyes find mine in the flashing lights from the street. “I call dibs on the cold shower.” I arch my brow. He returns his attention to the road and tightens his grip on my now bouncing knee. I need one of those sweet hugs from Haz that turns into a primal fucking against the wall that Tom loves to give me. I want their hands on me, pulling my hair and forcing my legs open. I want them to fuck me like they hate me. It’s physically painful to just sit here, staring at their rigid bodies and breathing in the testosterone too thick for this confined space.

By the time the limo pulls into our driveway, my face is flushed and my thighs are drenched. Leaping out of it, I dart toward the door with thoughts of self-pleasure in a cold shower. When I step into the kitchen, an arm grabs my waist. My feet lose contact with the floor, and I’m tossed over a hard, broad shoulder. “Harrison!” I grip the back of his shirt and squirm to get free. “What are you doing?” He carries me through the living room, caressing a hand up the back of my thigh. With my head hanging upside down, I watch us fly up the stairs to the hall outside of my bedroom, the one we all share. I’m straining my head up to look for Tom. He’s going to be heated. They might even fight..FUCK ME..not that, anything but that!

“Not cool Hazzi” I take in a sharp breath as Harrisons fingers sink into my sex, sliding through my wet silk and pinching my clit. “Fuck, angel” he whispers in a half moan “You’re so wet baby”

I brace my hands on his back and lift my head, meeting sinfully dark brown eyes. “Tom?” His scowl is deep, but I can’t read its meaning. Harrison’s fingering my pussy right in front of him, and he’s not stopping it. Instead, he slowly trails behind us and unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt with methodical flicks of his rough fingers. I narrow my eyes at him, and he narrows his right back. Something shifts, in the depths of his eyes and the tick of his perfect jaw. Something carnal and tameless. His expression darkens, and he is loving that even though I’m being fingered by Haz, I’m waiting for him to tell me it’s okay. He smirks as he storms past Haz and leads the way to the bedroom. SHIT, my head spins as I feel a slap on my naked ass. They laugh together.

I know things got out of hand on the dance floor. Wild and uncontrolled, we worked ourselves to a feverish ache. As I hang upside down over Harrisons shoulder, my fingers tingle with the need to touch. A fluttering ache persists in my chest, and there’s another, more demanding beat thats throbbing between my legs. But Haz and Tom can’t possibly intend to do anything about it. Not in the ways I fantasized during the ride home. Right? Right. They don’t share, TOMTOM don’t share. Haz carries me into the bedroom and drops me on the bed. I land on my back, and he follows me down. His expression is pure needing lust, I’ve never seen this look from him, his hands move like charged static as he pulls on my dress and hikes it up my hips. I twist my head, seeking Tom, but he’s already here, falling on me with ferocious caresses and a starving mouth. “You’re not..” I gasp at the sharp scrape of Toms teeth against my ass. “We can’t..” Haz devours my words, plunging his tongue past my lips and swallowing my air. I squirm and writhe between them, clamping my legs together, desperate to be fucked while struggling to slam on the brakes. Haz works my dress over my chest, my head, and off, leaving me completely bare, except my heels. Then his hands are everywhere, stroking my hips, my thighs, and between my legs while Tom kisses me breathless. Their hot mouths and impatient fingers flood me with warmth and loosen my knees. I want this but we can’t do this. Tom will resent it the most. They’ll hate each other, most likely me. I try to break the kiss, but it’s Tom who presses closer, harder, tangling our tongues. I try to wriggle away, but I’m out matched, overpowered. Four hands. Two mouths. One of me. Harrison moves down my body, licking and nuzzling my hips as he caresses me from chest to toes as he removes my heels. When Tom releases my lips to bite my neck, I find my voice. “Why are you doing this? You’ll regret..” Tom grips my throat in a familiar iron fist. “Shut the fuck up.” His tone and the heat of his command, I’m a slave to it. I quickly use our safe rules from our private moments when Tom’s being too rough as I scratch his wrist that holds my neck too tight and he lightens the pressure just enough to allow me to breath again.

“Do something for me y/n.” he said in a seductive tone and I look away feeling so confused.

Harrison climbs over me, his fingers sliding down the zipper of his pants, next the button. I whimper, flicking my gaze between him and Tom, I almost want to panic. Toms eyes are serious.

“Get out of your own damn head y/n and enjoy this” he demanded “Nod if you understand” Toms jaw tightens as he waits for me to respond. I nod franticly once I know he’s really okay with this.

Haz yanks off his shirt and attacks my breast with tongue and teeth. Tom releases my throat and moves to my chest, licking and sucking my other breast. My hands fly to their heads, holding them to me and pushing them away as my entire world comes undone in a crashing wave of need. Enjoy this. That isn’t the problem. What freaks me out is the regret I’ll see in their eyes tomorrow morning. They are polar opposites in the bedroom and we have never once discussed what happens between me and Haz or me and Tom. When I’m with them, I’m only with them, they give me what I need and I give them all of me. SHUT UP BRAIN..my body screams! I truly have a war going on inside my head without one of them to keep reassuring me.

But Tom don’t share, he loves that he has always been my first of everything, it was never planned that way. He glows with pride that he can control me with his eyes and words alone. This man has given me multiple orgasms every time he’s inside me, hell sometimes when he’s not inside me. Tom fucks me, Tom fucks me hard and with each thrust I feel the love he gives only to me. He is the air I breathe and he would give me his last breath. Tom is cold metal on my hot flesh that he makes burn for him. I belong to him in ways I don’t with... Harrison...SHIT HAZ!

Harrison makes love, he don’t fuck. In fact he shuts down my body when it goes into that primal fucking frenzy mode. He’s an expert at calming my soul and making my body feel our connection before I even have an orgasm. Haz cherishes my body and soul in a way Tom can’t compete with. In his arms I feel like I’m his everything and he is mine. There has been times when Harrison has had me so completely lost in him I didn’t want to be let go. He is warm wood to my cold soul. He is the first one I fell in love with, noone but me knows that, but it’s true. I’ll take that to my grave.

How will Haz feel tomorrow after he sees how much Tom can control all the pieces of me. And how will Tom feel after seeing Haz bring me to tears by the way he looks into my soul? Yeah, just enjoy this.

There are so many conflicting thoughts pounding in my head, but I need to remember we’re all adults. No one is here against his will. They’re controlling this, and whether or not they thought through it, they’re committed to it. Inching down my body, Harrison palms my ass, squeezes my thighs, and slides his hand between my legs, spreading the moisture. Tom tears off his shirt and returns to my mouth, kneading my breasts with strong rough fingers. Then he lifts on his knees, and I watch with ragged breaths as he unzips his pants and strips the last of the clothes from his body. His cock springs free, inches from my face, and my mouth waters with a rush of saliva. He’s beautifully blessed, both thick and long. His tip is beading with pre-come. Kneeling beside my head, he angles over me and rests the tip against my lips. I don’t wait another second. I stick out my tongue, savoring his salty taste as Harrison grips my thighs and places them around his shoulders. Then he lowers his head and buries his tongue, licking me aggressively. “Fuck!” My back arches, and my heart slams out of control. The instant my mouth opens on a choked gasp, Tom shoves in his cock. No way. NO WAY! This is happening. I open my throat wide and he pushes deep, staying there as he pumps hard. I grip the base in my fist. I could tell by his thrust he was in a different zone and not holding back, this was my way to keep him from fucking my mouth too hard. Then we’re rocking, grinding, licking, and groping. They are muscle and flesh, passion and sin, flexing and burning beneath my greedy fingers. They surround me, consume me, twisting us into a tangle of sweaty limbs and shameless self indulgence. There are so many hands on my body I’m delirious beneath the sensations. I’ve never seen them this worked up, this desperate to fuck me, not even alone. They don’t look at each other, yet somehow, they avoid each other’s touches. As I swallow and suck Tom’s cock, Harrison’s blonde head moves between my legs. He closes his eyes and groans as he taste my sex. I grow wetter with each thrust in my mouth and his jaw grinding against me, his face is soaked, tongue so deep his nose is rubbing my clit into a frenzy as he tongue fucks me with deep strokes, his tongue is wide and long, he always has me cumming in moments, I’m so close. Tom shoves a hand in my hair, gripping my head almost sensing it. Then he rolls to his back and takes me with him. I fall to my side, curled around Tom’s leg with my cheek on his abs as he drives himself into my mouth. My legs tangled around Harrison’s shoulders, and he repositions, running his hands up and down my thighs and lifting my ass toward his face. Restraining me in his unbending grip, he spreads me open and sinks his fingers deep inside. I freeze against the penetration, moaning around Toms cock in my mouth. Tom growls and reaches for my chest, pinching the fuck out of my nipple. With an anguished moan, I lick up and down his shaft. Suck hard on the head and break away for air to tell Haz no! Tom grips my face to his. No way will he let Haz have the first of this! Will he? I watch wide eyed as Tom looks at Haz and Haz looks at him while eating my pussy and carefully playing with my ass. The wetness on his face makes me moan FUCK. I’m going to explode. My eyes roll into my head and Tom grips my throat letting me know I better not. I watch as Tom clears his throat and Harrison stops working me, looking at Tom.The heaving of their breaths vibrate through the room. Their hands are rough and ruthless, their bodies hard and demanding. They can seduce my mind, make love to my flesh, and enslave my soul. I’m already theirs. Affectionate fingers stroke through my hair, tangling and straightening, Harrison. A thumb finds my clit, circling and pinching without apology, Tom. Together, they ignite a trail of fire from my head to my toes, making me restless, fevered, and insanely more turned on. Harrison leans up and removes his pants. I watch him over my shoulder as he kneels behind me, his long cock standing from between powerful thighs, his pre-cum is dripping, he’s ready. I meet his smoldering blue eyes and shiver. Is Haz going to fuck me or will he make love? And SHIT! Right now... while I’ll be sucking off Tom! Tom gives Haz something that's round and sparkling like a diamond, I barely catch the clear nub attached to it. My eyes widen as Harrison dips it into my dripping sex and circles my anus, slowly he pushes it in. I freeze and grip Toms damp skin.

“Breath sexy girl, it will help you be ready for me, I promise” Tom says holding my face, for the first time he can’t control my rampant thoughts. Tom nods for Haz to come to me. I’m on the verge of panic. Haz kisses my hot face and forces my eyes to find his sweet sky blue eyes.

“I love you angel, Tom loves you and you love us, please let us give you what you want. We want this just for you, right TomTom” he says soft looking at Tom. I look at Tom an he smiles big trying not to laugh and wreck the sexual mountain we have climbed to get here. He winks at Haz and locks eyes with me “I love you starling same as Haz does, let us give you this, just once, how can we prove to you this is what we want?” he begs..Tom never begs. My head and heart has just aligned with my physical needs and my body is grateful. I pull his lips to mine and kiss him passionate, I fist his curly brown hair as I fist Harrisons blonde hair and kiss him the same. I pull Toms hair with dominance, shocking him and bringing his gasping open mouth into mine and Harrisons kiss. Our tongues dance wild and unsure at first, each of them pulling away but being held by my pleading moans and tightening grip in their hair. Just like our dancing earlier that night we found our rhythm just like our bodies did on that dance floor. I clenched my sex as I nearly exploded when I backed away and they kept kissing. FUCK, they were beautiful. I let go of their hair and started to stroke them slowly. Both of them moaning into each others mouths as I rolled the pre-cum around their heads and applied pressure. They opened their eyes in shock and looked at me smirking at my slickness. “That was fucking hot” I moaned.

Toms eyes flashed primal as he slapped me hard on my ass and Harrison twisted what he had inserted inside my ass just moments ago.”WOW” I cried out loud, it felt fucking amazing.

Tom lifts me, adjusting my body on hands and knees between his legs. Then he caresses my face and holds me with his gaze in the space of a breathless moment. Tom isn’t a lover like Harrison, but Tom does love me. And in this moment I’m reminded of our first time, and the few times he’s softer in the bedroom, he’s vulnerable for me, only me. Seduction isn’t a kiss or a touch. It’s this. The mystery and intelligence in his eyes. Our connection it reinforces. The intoxication of feeling the depth of Toms emotions. He undresses our skin and strips us down to our souls until we’re bared to each other in every way, until his love fills me completely, it becomes the life force that pumps my heart. Then he blinks, breaking our spell and lowering his attention to my lips. “Open up, my tiny dancer.” he growls as he twists my hair in his hand on my head, he guides my mouth onto his waiting cock. Sliding past my lips, he sinks slowly, hot and heavy on my tongue, tasting so good. He pushes deep, deeper, and holds me on him as my throat relaxes around the fullness of him. I breathe through it, my thoughts drifting to Harrison right before he cups my breast and squeezes my pebbled nipple. I groan for more and lift my ass, spreading wider in inviting Haz to take me. On his knees behind me, he fits himself against my opening and rams, hard and mercilessly, inside me. FUCK! I feel that...the stretch, the savage burn as he pulls out and slams my pussy again. Harrison has never fucked me and DAMN, this change is erotic and shocking. I’m having an out of body experience thinking of the switch these two just pulled. Harrison gives me a few seconds to adjust. I hover my mouth over Tom’s cock, afraid I might bite him as I brace for the way Harrison fucks. With a sharp exhale, Harrison lets go, pounding deep against my core, fucking me hard, gripping my ass, twisting and pushing the toy in my ass, panting, and moaning my name something fierce. Tom sits up and shifts to his knees, same position Harrison is behind me. With a hand gripping my throat, he shoves himself into my mouth, thrusting slower than Harrison but no less hard. I suck him with everything I have while reaching up his chest toward his face. He clamps his fingers around mine, holding our hands against his heart. Then they fuck me, tugging at my hair and pinning my body between the force of their need. It’s carnal, filthy, perfect. Everything I imagined it would be. Harrison picks up the pace, holding tight to my hips as he pumps into me, over and over. Licking up and down Tom’s length, I stare up into fathomless eyes and melt beneath their scorching heat. My eyes glaze over and Tom tells me to cum on Harrisons cock as he slips out of my mouth. I scream out Harrisons name as he fucks me even harder. My arms give out from the power of the orgasm as I come down he stops and pulls out. “Be right back.” Harris says and leaves the bed. I turn my neck to watch him walk gloriously naked toward the bathroom.

Tom pushes my face back to his and pulls me up his chest. “Show me how perfect we fit together.” he says softly as he adjusts my legs to straddle his hips. I move without hesitation, positioning his cock and sliding down slowly, loving every long thick inch. His bigger cock is still a force I have to adjust to, but he lets me adjust, he’s being quiet and his rough hands touch me slowly as he waits to be all the way connected. I force my pussy to take him all in, feeling the stretch around his savage cock and the toy still in my ass, I feel fuller than I ever felt with this position. His mouth falls open silently, and his chin lifts, the veins in his neck stretching against his skin. I roll my hips slowly, and he groans, eyes closed as pleasure sweeps across his face. He’s fucking beautiful. I feel like I’m making love to him now for the first time he’s ever made love. Tom has forgotten his need for control and is lost on the way he feels inside me. I feel the tears prick my eyes when he opens his. “I love you y/n” he croaks with emotion as he wipes my face and kisses down my neck as I cum again “I love you too TomTom”

Harrison returns from the bathroom with a tube of something and pauses beside the bed, watching Tom move inside me, making love to me, more..me making love to him. My nerves creep in, coiling my stomach. Harrison won’t stop looking at us. I can’t deal. I press a hand against Tom’s hip and he slides out. The air shifts again and I push through my own thoughts

“Harrison?” I say trying not to over think this “We can stop. We don’t have to...” the panic rises.

“Lie back down angel” Harrison winks as he grips his hard cock and strokes it from root to tip.

He lays on the bed and pulls me gently on top of him adjusting my legs around him. I stair in his eyes and feel relief as he smiles. “I love you /n” he says kissing me quick. “I love you too Hazzi”

Tom clears his throat and I lift my eyes to his..oh shit..that look, that dark swirling storm is heading straight to my core. That's Toms look when he’s about to fuck me until I can’t be fucked anymore look. “Ass in the air y/n” he commands showing me the tube labeled Back Door. My eyes go wide and Tom bites his lip before moving onto the bed with us. My heart hammers in my chest, both excited and scared. I knew we were going there..but..but is he going to take me there while Haz is inside me? We should have a conversation about this, but as Harrison rubs his head on my silky sex and pushes himself all the way in and pumps his hips slowly, Tom seems to be more interested in the conversation between that toy and my back door. His touch presses it in and swirles it in bigger circles as he adds more pressure, I shock myself with a loud moan, and I gulp down a breath when he removes it, leaving me shaking on Haz. I can’t breathe...did I just cum again? Shit, I did and they know it “You’re so fucking wet” Tom slides his thumb toward my pussy, gathering my sex and smearing it over my anus. “I don’t even need lube.” he says so sexy and dark “Yes, you do!” I glare at him over my shoulder and soften my voice. “I’ve never done this…” double penetration. My face reddens. I can’t even say it out loud. “Have either of you?”

Tom shakes his head no, eyes on his prize as he slips in a wet finger working slow past my fear. What else can he see down there? Harrisons cock stretching me open? His balls against me? “What about you?” I turn back to Harrison. “You’re my first and last” He holds my face with both hands, searching my eyes. My chest squeezes. If I could have one wish, it would be to wake up tomorrow to the sound of their hearts beating happily against mine. “Please, don’t regret this” My breaths quicken as the lubed crown of Toms cock nudges against me, seeking entry. “I would never regret being inside of you,” Harrison says “Me either y/n, now breathe, baby trust us” Tom leans over my back and trails kisses up my spine, his voice thick with hunger. “Push against me.” I let my lungs do what they’re supposed to do and crane my neck to check out the positioning. Harrisons legs are together behind me with Tom and me straddling his hips. They look comfortable…considering the circumstances. I turn back and press against Tom, without taking my eyes off Haz. Pressure ignites a dull ache in my back opening, stretching and filling. Tom sinks deeper with a hiss of self satisfaction, his fingers biting against my hips to stop his instinct to thrust hard into me. I know how long he’s wanted this. It doesn’t take long before the sting ripples into the most erotic pleasure I’ve felt.

Tom bears down with gentle, shallow strokes, shooting tingles through my sensitive tissues. It feels so damn good it’s almost too much. Too many sensations. Too much fullness. Harrisons eyes tell me he feels it, too. He brushes the hair from my face and traces his fingers down my neck, rocking against me in a hypnotic rhythm. They’re inside me. Both of them. Physically, and emotionally. The mattress beneath me disintegrates and time ceases to exist. I only feel. Them, us, joined in a way I never thought would happen and may never happen again. “How are you doing sexy girl?” Tom brushes his lips against my back. “I might die if you don’t move faster TomTom” I don’t have to ask twice. He rolls into a swift grind, sliding his cock in and out and matching the rhythm of Harrisons thrusts. Trembling and boneless I cum hard, I lean forward and rub my hands over the hard body beneath me. My hair falls around my face hiding the fact I don’t know whose name to scream out in bliss, it steals from my pleasure. Haz pulls me into him and his mouth sucks my breasts as Tom fucks me slowly, teasingly, like he doesn’t want to rush it. Focusing my attention on Harrison, I memorize the sharp angles of his clean-shaved face. Blonde messy hair, perfect nose, kissable lips, he’s beyond beautiful with his soulful blue eyes studying me the way I study him. “Are you good?” I pant breathlessly, gripping his shoulder against the next orgasm. “Trying not to cum.” he moaned, a muscle flexes in his cheek. “You need to hurry, baby” Tom hooks an arm around my waist and yanks me to a sitting position. With my back against Toms chest and my legs spread around Harrisons hips, my clit is exposed and throbbing. Tom presses a thumb against it, rubbing circles and applying precise, consistent pressure. My head falls back on his shoulder, his mouth at my ear, letting me feel every hot moaning gasp as he strokes his cock in and out of me. Then he grips my jaw and yanks my mouth to his. The kiss is hard, wild, and all-consuming. It’s more than I can handle. I plunge fast, breaking the kiss and screaming out. Powerful and violent, the orgasm rips through me as I scream both of their names, the pleasure splitting me open and moving me in a state of oblivion. Stars blot my vision as they grind their hips, speed up the pace, and join me. Panting breaths, moans of my name together from their lips, and fingers bruising my flesh, they cum together, apart, whatever they may be. It’s music to my ears. Unforgettable. A dream in the flesh. I collapse on Harrisons chest, light-headed and spent. Tom falls on his back beside me and drops a forearm across his eyes, breathing heavily past parted lips. Haz cradles my cheek with a warm palm and strokes his thumb across my mouth. I kiss it, grasp his wrist, and hold on. I don’t want this to end. I’m afraid of what comes next.

“I hope you didn’t do this for me…” I glance at Harrison and return to Tom. “Did you plan this?” “No” they say together. Harrison untangles his hand from mine and rolls us to our sides. “It wasn’t planned” My head jerks to Tom. Mr. control freak Holland just engaged in an impulsive, unintentional threesome? How very free spirited of him. Tom shifts to the edge of the bed and grabs his shirt from the floor. With a hand on my shoulder, he pushes me to my back and uses the shirt to clean between my legs. He does the same with himself and tosses it. Not once does he glance at Haz. Maybe I’m imagining it, but the awkwardness is already creeping in.

“When we got home tonight, you both seemed to be on the same page.” I rest my head on Harrison’s chest and hook a leg around Tom’s thigh as he lays back down, desperate to keep us joined. “But you didn’t talk about it beforehand?”

“Not exactly.” Harrison pets my hair, his breathing returning to normal.

“I made the decision in the car,” Tom says in an icy tone, at odds with the soothing way he caresses my thigh. “Same.” Harrison’s hand tightens in my hair. They didn’t even look at each other in the car. Did they have a telepathic conversation? I have so many questions, but if I start interrogating them, this delicate peace between us will evaporate. I lie still, absorbing the touch of fingers on my skin, the rasps of sated breaths, and thrum of love beating between us, knowing I’ll never find this with anyone but them. Too soon, Tom lifts my leg off his, sits up, and captures my gaze.

“This was a one time thing, y/n” His eyes turn to frozen glass. “It will never happen again.”

My breath hitches, and I feel attacked “I didn’t ask for it. In fact, when I opened my mouth, you told me to shut the fuck up” I say feeling more pissed than anything

“You didn’t have to ask for it.” He rises and strides toward the bathroom. “You wanted it.”

“Don’t do that to her,” Harrison shouts, launching off the bed. “This isn’t her fault!”

Tom closes the door behind him and locks it, freezing us out. Fault? There can only be fault if a mistake was made. The shower sounds behind the door, and my chest turns to ice. I cover my mouth to stop the quiver in my lips. Don’t you fucking cry! I tell myself. All the tears in the world won’t fix this. “How did this happen?” I ask, more to myself than to Harrison.

“That?” He points at the bathroom door and returns to the bed. “I don’t have time to list all his problems, but the one he suffers from the most begins with ass and ends with hole.”

“I’m serious, Harrison.” It feels like my heart is sinking into my stomach. Lying on his back, he pulls me into his arms and wraps the sheet around us. “Let it go.”

“No.” I snap my head up, glaring at him. “I can’t just…just let this go”

He returns my stare for a long moment before releasing a sigh. “I’m pretty sure he thought I was going to break your rule tonight”

“Were you?” I felt sick “it was meant as a joke. Tom took this to heart?”

“Yes.” He looks at me with unflinching eyes. “He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

“If you can’t beat them, join them,” I mumble sadly. “Or control them. He participated because he couldn’t fathom me making love to you without his almighty hand involved.”

I love Tom’s almighty hand and his control, but not at the risk of hurting him. “Did he tell you this?” I choked out trying to hold in my tears

“I know him, baby. Better than you do.” As I turn that over in my head, I kick myself for not being as perceptive as Harrison. If I’d known Tom wasn’t acting purely on passion, I would’ve stopped it from happening. Or at least tried to stop it more than I had. I have a hard time saying no to them when it comes to sex. It’s just not in my DNA. I bend, yield, surrender, and they shine in the power it gives them. That’s why we’re so good together. Braced on an elbow, I trace a finger along the ridges of his abs. “Did you want the threesome?”

“No.” His muscles tense beneath my touch. “I had to block him out of my mind the entire time, actually seeing the way he handled you so rough pissed me off, it made me want to claim you in front of him, which is why I fucked you like I never have or will again.” He runs a hand down the length of my spine. “I do agree with him on one point. I’ll never do this again.” he kisses my face

He doesn’t say that he regrets it, but it’s there in the creases around his mouth. It feels like a slap in the face. Maybe I’m just emotionally and physically drained, but I can’t hold the dam on my tears. They rise fast, spilling down my cheeks, but I keep the sounds trapped beneath rapid swallows. “Why did you do it?” I whisper. “Because I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“I don’t understand why you want anything to do with me. I’m a mess.” I say sitting up

“I’ll take you messy and crying and in love with Tom in his asshole state, over not having you.” He hugs me against his chest and rests his lips on my head. “Besides, we offered the BOTH of us TO you on that island and promised forever, I’m not breaking that promise,ever angel”

“Either am I y/n” Tom says soft from the bathroom door before he walks over to us. His eyes look at Harrison first than to me “I’m sorry, I’m a selfish asshole with you y/n and I’m sorry that I treated you the way I did Harrison, I’d never trade our life together for anything. Please forgive me” he asks looking up as the tears fell from his face. My heart ached for him.

I look at Harrison and we both knew this much...Tom don’t use the words I’m sorry unless he really feels he was horribly wrong about something and Tom don’t cry unless he’s hurting.

“I forgive you mate, we both know how protective you are over her, just don’t ever take your hot temper out on y/n like that again, I will protect her too Tom” Haz smiled pulling Tom into me and me into him. We laid just like that as we drifted to sleep, a few bumps didn’t destroy us.

We made plans to get away from life and spend two weeks traveling by ourselves. We were packing the last of our bags when Toms and Harrisons phones started to ring at the same time. Tom hit the answer button and Harrison followed him inside with a look of concern as he held me close. Tom scribbled some notes down and what look like cordiance to a location and showed it Haz. I watched as Harrisons eyes went wide in disbelief. Tom was beyond excited as he paced back and forth wanting off the phone but still needed to hear whatever they had to say.

“Fuck yes, I’ll be there by sun rise tomorrow, get the team ready and no, Haz is staying here” Tom said holding his hand out to stop Haz as he protested it was too dangerous. My eyes flicked back and forth between them. Tom could only endure so much before he shut the conversation down “We are wasting time, I’m on the way see you in 20” Tom slipped his phone in his pocket and came over to where I had sat on the couch watching this unfold.

“Starling, I’m sorry to have to leave right now but trust me, it’s for the best” he said with kind eyes as he kissed my hands. I felt the wave of nausea hit me. But I swallowed it down.

“Haz will be here to keep you safe y/n and I’ll be back in time to go on holiday as planned, we will just push it back a little, yeah?” he half smiled kissing my frown.

“Tom it’s way too dangerous for you to go alone, no way are you taking down number three without..”Harrison was cut off as Tom stood abruptly in his face.

“She is our number one Harrison, you will stay with her and it’s final. I’m not going alone mate, it’s you who will be alone with her, so keep your head straight and keep yourselves safe.” Tom looked Harrison in the eyes and from my point of view Haz was not happy but understood. He nodded at Tom and hugged him in a tight grip.

Tom rushed out of the room and returned with too many black bags to count. Haz helped him carry them to a car I hadn’t even notice pull up. Tuwaine got out and hugged me as the world started to spin and reality came into my vision and formed words.

“Number three, isn’t that the leaders brother?” I said with widening eyes. Tom held my face and struggled to stop his racing thoughts to try and focus on my fear. I had forgotten my training in the face of this. “Tom, don’t..don’t” I begged starting to see this in the worst of ways. My gut was screaming at me and that instinct has never failed me.

“Y/N, shh baby don't do this, I will be fine and back before you can miss me” he kissed my forehead and held me tight. “Haz will keep you safe for me and trust me I won’t let him have you to himself too long” he smiled kissing my lips. He locked his eyes with mine

“Promise me then Tom, promise me you’ll be back soon if your so sure” I said feeling sicker

“I promise Starling, and have I ever broken a promise?” he winked at me. I choked out no as he wiped my tears.”Then you have to trust me on this, both of you” he said looking at Haz as he stood next to me and Tom put my hand on his heart “I love you y/n, I’ll always come home to you, just like I have been baby” he was waiting on me to give the okay.

“I love you TomTom” I said kissing his lips quick and he turned to go. He was on high alert and I know calling him that would offset his focus and I wanted to do it. I wanted him to remember this promise. As the car left the driveway and sped down the street I couldn’t hold it in anymore and vomited my guts out. Haz held my hair and rubbed my back as I let my emotions and my breakfast go in our flower bed.

I spent the first two days and nights in bed not feeling so good. Haz stayed at my side and just laid around with me. I wasn't sure if it was a bug or just nerves from the fear of what Tom was facing on his own but I hated that this was going to be the longest time I had to go without talking or seeing Tom. This mission was the deadliest they have ever taken on and the fact he was out there without Harrison was not settling with my soul. By the third day I felt good enough to eat something and let Harrison and Z take me out to the movies. Everything was fine until we walked up to concessions and the smell of popcorn made me instantly hurl, I was lucky to have made it to the garbage can. Haz looked terrified as Z yelled at him for not taking me to the doctors. I just grabbed the edge of it trying not to pass out. Z rubbed my back and wiped my face with cool napkins as Haz got the car pulled around to the doors. I made it safe to the back seat before I fainted.

When I woke up I was blinded by bright lights and closed my eyes again. I could hear beeps and quiet noises all around me as Harrison held my hand loosley. I slowly adjusted my eyes to look at where I was. I froze in place and gave Harrisons hand a tight squeeze to wake him as I started to panic at the fact I was in a hospital bed in what sounded like the ER. I hadn’t been in a hospital since the night my mother had died, it quickly brought back feelings I wanted to never feel again. My heart monitor started to beep faster as Harrison stirred from his half sleepy state. He was slumped over in a chair, his blonde head on the bed next to me, he started to smile as he opened his eyes. Then he noticed the alarm in my expression and stood up to calm me.

“Shh y/n, it’s okay, everything is okay, you are...hum..dehydrated from all that vomiting you’ve been doing, they are just keeping you here for a few to get fluids into your body and now that you’re awake, they want to run one test” he said looking into my eyes and away again as I picked up on his half truth, what was he not telling me? I pulled his worried face back to me.

“Hazzi, what kind of test? What are they looking for that I need to be awake?” I asked slowly

He shook his head and his face flushed red as he let out a small laugh meeting my eyes

“Your pregnant angel, and they want to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are”

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fanatic-writers · 7 years ago

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New Kid in Town: Welcome to Hell

A/n: So I got this request awhile back, and I adore it, so I decided to make a series based on it. I’ve seen High school AUs done and since I am an official high school student, I thought it’d be fun. I have no idea how long this will be or how regularly I’ll update it, but in honor of my first fic coming out around Thanksgiving, I thoughtI’d double post. (Don’t get used to it) -G

Request: Loki, Thor, Frigga, Odin, a family story about Loki's first school day! They live on earth, they are mortals not gods, Loki's best friend could be one of the Avengers!

(I’ll get to the other Avengers and friends as the series goes on)

Pairing: as of rn all pairings are platonic, but that is likely to change.

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He hated it here, granted he had only been here for a few weeks, but he already wanted to go back home. He supposed this was his home now, but he didn’t think it would ever feel that way. It had taken him awhile to make friends of his own back home, and here he figured he’d be stuck in the same l pace as he used to be. Friends with people who were idiots because his brother was friends with them.

“Loki,” his mother called “you’re going to be late and how would that look? Late on your first day,” she trailed off

The boy pulled on a green jumper and made his way to the kitchen quickly grabbing a piece of toast and heading out the door, his brother was already waiting and as always socializing with some girl.

“Wait, so your name is Thor?” she held in a laugh “I’m sorry I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“It’s fine it gets weirder,” Loki heard his brother say

“Our mother’s name is Frigga, and our father is named Odin,” Thor informed her

“And you control thunder and hit things with hammers?” she asked, “Also, our?”

“Ready to go Thor?” Loki piped up joining the two despite not wanting to

“Let me guess your name is Baldr?” the girl said turning to Loki

“No,” he replied, annoyed by this new girl

“His name is Loki,” Thor said

“Well I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” she informed him “You two want a ride? I usually stop for coffee, and I wouldn’t mind getting you something as a welcome to the neighborhood thing.”

Loki looked over to see his brother with a wide grin and rolled his eyes, he’d much rather freeze on the walk to school than go and get coffee with their neighbor. She walked them over to her car which to Loki’s surprise looked like shit. She looked like the kind of girl whose parents would buy her whatever she wanted but instead she had an older car marked with a few dents. As she opened her door, she climbed across the seat to unlock the other door and slip up the front seat to let Loki in.

“It looks a bit cramped, but I have short legs so. Oh, and if there's any garbage back there you can just… throw it somewhere. Sorry, it's kind of a shit hole, but it wasn’t too expensive, and my parents made me buy my own car after I accidentally hit one of theirs while trying to park my other car.”

“It’s alright,” Thor replied sliding into his seat.

Loki tucked his legs to his chest in anticipation of having his feet crushed but was surprised when the seat only slip back half as far as Thor’s was.

Y/n turned around and smiled at him “Told you, short legs.” and with that, they were off.

After hearing about the story of how she got her car and seeing the dents on the side, Loki had to admit he was a little afraid for his life but, for the most part, the drive was boring and safe. The girl pulled up to the drive-thru for their coffee and despite the large bill paid for the three of them. The only complaint was the lack of cupholders. They even arrived at school 15 minutes early which was great because the brothers had to meet their ambassadors aka an over glorified student that probably didn’t even want to show them around.

“You guys need help finding lockers or anything?” she asked when they got into the school. Loki immediately darted off hoping that was enough of an answer. After a few minutes to get his bearings he made his way to the office and was face to face with the girl that had brought him here.

“You’re in luck,” she smiled as she showed him a slip of paper with his name on it “I give the best tours.”

Loki rolled his eyes but followed her around the school as he was told.

“So you probably got the run down the other day like most transfers, so I’m basically going to tell you who to avoid and what classes are the worse, which is all of them let's be honest. You’re in math and chem with Tony so if you have trouble you can always copy his work, he also does homework for kids but he charges, and it’s not worth it. And you have English with Nat and me so that should be fun, Wanda is in our class I think you’ll like her.” she lead him from class to class, and as much as Loki tried to not like her it was reasonably hard considering they were more alike than he initially thought.

“Question,” she stopped in the hallway “do you hate this place? And be honest.”

He hesitated slightly “yes.”

‘Good,” she smiled “you’ll fit right in.”

His first class wasn’t so bad he had to take a mandatory art class and their was a quieter girl that he sat next to, despite not being able to draw at all he couldn’t help but try when sitting next to someone who seemed so naturally good at it. Per her duties Y/n was waiting for him after every class, they had English together right before lunch.

“You’ve got a few options,” she told him “sit with me and my friends which I can almost guarantee you’ll hate considering my friends are ass holes, sit with the other transfers or go and talk to Wanda and sit with her and her friends. I know it sounds like I’m pushing you out but she is actually one of the most interesting people I’ve met she’s from Sokovia, her accent is beautiful, and she is honestly the smartest girl I’ve ever met.” Y/n pointed out the girl that was in Loki’s art class, and he nodded.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he walked over to the girl “mind if I join you?”

She was nose deep in a book “go ahead,”

“We have art together, you’re an amazing painter,” he commented trying to break the ice, but it seemed Wanda was more interested in her book than him. He looked over to see Y/n and her friends laughing, he should’ve sat with them, there was still one open seat he could still infiltrate their group. He sighed and moved to the seat which was taken by Thor just before he got to it.

“Brother,” Thor smiled “I didn’t realize you were going to sit with Y/n.”

“I didn’t realize he was either,” A redhead piped up

“Oh shut it, Nat,” Y/n said, “you were a transfer once too, and the only reason we’re friends is because Wanda introduced us when you moved here.”

“Yeah well, I was a cool transfer,” Nat smirked “He’s from England,” Y/n countered

Loki rolled his eyes “I could just go sit with Wanda,”

“Oh please that’s social suicide,” Nat said

“Clint sits with him, and that doesn’t stop you from liking him,” another boy came up to the table and sat in his seat.

“I don’t like Clint,” she said “It’s common knowledge, and the new kid is going to have to figure it out.” the boy replied

Y/n sighed as the conversation carried on and moved to stand beside Loki. “What do you want to do because I can pull up a chair or I can introduce you to Wanda or Clint or whoever else you want to sit with.”

“You run this school doesn't you?” Loki asked

“No that would be Skye and Maria,” the girl said pointing to a table filled with more jocks and cheerleaders “my group is full of the outcasts, the jock that is a senior but didn’t make team captain or varsity, the girl that’s good at art but not good enough, the math nerd who’s loaded and is entitled af, and the musician who isn’t going to pick up a violin after she graduates.”

“And Wanda’s group?”

“They’re the artists, the nerds that are actually nice, and the people who actually have talent.” she informed him “They know the way this school works better than anyone else because they’re able to watch everything from the sidelines. Some see joining their group as social suicide but really if you want to fit in with a group theirs is the place to be, not ours.”

Loki nodded and walked back over to the table which had a few more people sitting at it now.

“If it isn’t richy-rich,” one of the boys at the table chimed in

“I’m just here to introduce one of the new students,” Y/n said visibly tensing at the nick-name

“Not good enough for you like the rest of us?” the same boy said

“Clint,” Wanda muttered, “not now.”

“This is Loki, he’s from England. I figured he’d prefer your group to mine.” the girl said like nothing was wrong and left, Loki could still feel the tension as he took a seat. “It’s nice to meet you,” the other boy said “I’m Bruce, and that’s Wanda, and if you hadn’t figured out, he’s Clint. Scott should be here soon.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Loki said

“It’s really not, don’t pretend it is,” Clint said

“Clint,” Wanda said again

“What, we all know he’s only here cause Y/n doesn’t want to ruin her perfect group. They’re the ‘cool’ outcasts, and we’re the other ones, the leftovers. The ones who don’t have enough money or street cred to be with her and her friends.”

“She seemed nice,” Loki muttered

“She is,” Wanda spoke up “she just has funny ways of showing it. I wouldn’t tell you to avoid her but,” she sighed “like she said you’re probably better off here.”

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

A/n: I hope you guys like this series idea, I have no idea where it’s going so if you have suggestions let me know! -G

tag list: @17marvelousfreak @error-404-found @r-alexandra01

(If you’d like to be added let me know!

#tony x reader #tony stark #loki #thor #wanda maximoff #bruce banner #steve roges #natasha romanoff #loki x reader

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trueloveseyeroll · 7 years ago

Text

When The Tide Turns (13/16)

Summary: The plan was to go to England, finish the case and head back home in a matter of days. Of course, nothing in Emma’s life ever goes according to plan. Not only does she end up travelling across Europe, looking for a Liam Jones in order to finish her case, she ends up travelling with Liam’s brother - an annoyingly handsome Killian Jones. And she doesn’t trust him one bit.

Rating: T, for language and some violence later on

Beta-reader: I can’t thank Aina enough for being so helpful and kind! Shout-out to @forget-me-not-s !!

Artists: these artists are seriously such talented and amazing people, and they deserve so much praise!!! @theblacksiren - check out her beautiful artwork for chapter 1 here, chapter 7 here and chapter 12 here! @optomisticgirl created the awesome banner - and soon you’ll get to see the amazing masterpiece created by @fairytalesandtimetravel

Word count: ~4425 (68k+ in total)

AO3

“Swan?”

Emma’s eyes were just cracking open, disturbed by the sudden light blaring through the window. It must have woken them at the same time. Since when was sunlight so sharp?

In a few seconds, Emma’s brain caught up, forgetting the way Killian’s voice sounded when he’d just woken up. She barely took in how close they’d been sitting to each other, all but tangled up together. Normally, it would have freaked her out, but something else made her jerk upright.

That wasn’t sunlight.

“Shit.”

In the few seconds Emma had taken to process everything, Killian must have come to the same conclusion. They ripped off the blanket, scrambling to get their belongings. The fire had died out, only ashen embers left. Would there still be smoke? Would the newcomers have seen it?

Emma mumbled a series of curse words as she fumbled through the blanket to find her beanie. “What the hell are we gonna do?”

“Sneak out a window and make a run for it?”

“Killian, there’s snow - we’ll leave footprints and they’ll get us in their car in no time.” Something else hit Emma. “We’ve already left footprints. Shit, they’ll know someone was in their house straight away.”

“I think the smashed window would have been a dead giveaway anyways, love.”

She glared at him though he had a point. Shit, what were they going to do?

Emma looked out of the window as the car finally pulled to a stop, the headlights going out.

“Perhaps they’ll be understanding folks.”

“Killian, we smashed their window.”

“Aye, ‘cause we were desperate. We’ll pay for it and hope they can sympathize with a couple lost and near freezing to death.”

Now was not the time to stress over the way it sounded when Killian called them a ‘couple’.

The car door to the driver’s side opened, the light inside the car turning on. Emma couldn’t help but look.

Her stomach flipped when she did.

The woman driving - red, wavy hair - wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Emma and she could take a guess at her name from the red-hatted man with a bruise on his face sitting next to her.

“Bloody hell,” Killian said, just as she said “fuck”.

Smee and Zelena were right at their heels, and Emma and Killian had nowhere to run to. They could probably take them down in a fight though, Emma mused.

“They might not know it’s us in here,” Killian said. “Could be they’re just looking for a place to stay themselves.”

“Do you really think that’s true?” Emma asked, doubtful.

Killian shrugged. “We could take a shot. Hop out of the bedroom window and hope they don’t follow us.”

“Or we could wait behind the door and knock something over their heads.”

“Rather violent, aren’t you, Swan?”

The grin he sent her way made the whole thing seem that much more bizarre to her. They’d kissed only two hours ago - yeah, she wasn’t forgetting that anytime soon - they were about to face someone who’d been following them for the past week, and had far from pure intentions, and somehow Killian found the time to grin at her like there was nothing going on but a chance to flirt.

As for her suggestion, well, Emma knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. A blunt knock on the head didn’t have to be lethal, but it would usually leave a bit of damage - not that Emma minded much with these two. She’d still rather not get herself into some big mess though. Breaking and entering was already enough. She was a lawyer for god’s sake!

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

“Actually love, I think you’ll find my way much more preferable,” Killian said, nodding at the car as Zelena and Smee stepped out of it. “She left the key in the ignition - we could end up benefiting quite nicely from this situation.”

Why the hell would she have left the key in the ignition?

Emma didn’t have much time to ponder that, too busy heading for the bedroom with Killian as Zelena and Smee neared the front door. Killian propped open the window with a bit of difficulty due to the frost and the window not having been opened in who knew how long. With a grunt, he managed to slide it open enough for them to pass through. He let Emma go first.

“We can’t take the car,” she said as she landed on the snow.

“We can’t take the car? Swan, don’t tell me you’ve gone all righteous on me now,” Killian said, crawling out of the window.

“It could be a trap,” Emma explained. “Why else would she leave the key in the ignition?”

“Because she doesn’t expect anyone to steal her car out in the snowy Norwegian wilderness?” Killian suggested as if it were obvious. “Or she’s just forgetful.”

“It’s a trap,” Emma upheld.

“What trap could possibly be worse than leaving us to run in the cold of the night while they’ve got a car?”

Emma thought of that for a moment, hating that he was right.

The front door clicking open sounded through the window, and both knew they hadn’t the time to stand there and argue.

“The car it is.”

While Smee and Zelena checked the inside of the cabin, Emma and Killian rounded the corners of the house, careful to duck under the windows.

“I’ll drive,” Emma whispered. They didn’t waste any time checking to see if Zelena and Smee had noticed them- they just ran for it.

Emma’s heart raced for a very different reason than it had two hours ago. She ripped open the car door and jumped in as Killian did the same. The slamming of the doors surely gave them away.

Just as well, as Emma turned the key and the car roared to life, Zelena came running out of the front door, Smee behind her. The woman looked absolutely murderous.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked as Emma started backing out of there. “You filthy thieves - you will pay for this!”

“Some other time maybe,” Emma muttered, turning the wheel and stepping on the gas. Hell, it felt good to be in a warm, moving car again. She almost forgot her previous suspicions.

A few seconds down the road, the cabin lost behind a hill, Emma’s face broke into a huge grin.

She’d stolen a car. She’d punched a man and locked him in at an airport, broken into a stranger’s house and now she’d stolen a car. A small laughter spilled from her lips, partly from the adrenaline and partly from the total craziness her life had become.

Killian joined in on the laughter, a deep and warm sound. Emma almost lost control of the car, laughter rolling through her to the point where a few tears were about to form.

This was crazy.

She had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation. This entire trip had to be a dream. Especially the part about her kissing Killian and that kiss being the best one she’d ever had. Yeah, now probably wasn’t the best time to think about that.

The laughter died out, and Emma would have expected some sort of panic to settle in, but in a few words, Killian had her grinning all over again.

“Commandeering a vessel, Swan? And you said you weren’t a pirate.”

While they neared the small harbour, Swan keeping a fast and steady speed, Killian finally got some reception on his old phone. They’d made a deal with Kristoff’s cousins to be there at half past eight, lend two mattresses for the night and then sail off in the early morning. That plan had obviously been derailed - it was now 11:23 in the evening.

Killian called the number Kristoff had given them. His cousins - two brothers - lived together in a small apartment by the seaside. They owned a few boats and liked to tinker with them and rent them out or sail with tourists, aside from going fishing. So far, they’d promised Emma and Killian they could borrow one of their oldest yet still functioning boats for a small price - they didn’t use it much anymore anyway. Killian hoped to push the deal so they could leave tonight, rather than the early morning. The less time Smee and Zelena had to catch up with them, the better.

“Is no one answering?” Swan asked after Killian had held the phone to his ear for a while without anyone picking up.

“Afraid not.” They were probably asleep. As much as Killian hated the thought of disturbing them, he knew they’d have to drive to their door and ring the bell until they woke. What else could they do?

Before he could pocket his phone, it started ringing. Killian flipped it open to see the number he’d just been trying to reach calling him back.

It seemed they weren’t that unfortunate after all.

Kristoff’s cousin was quite understanding of the whole car-breaking-down-situation, joking that of course Kristoff would lend them a terrible car. Killian wasn’t sure how much he should tell the fellow about them being followed, but he stressed that if they could sail tonight, it would be highly preferable.

The fellow didn’t mind at all.

“I trust you know how to sail in the dark - you said you’d been sailing most of your life, right?”

“Aye. It shan’t be a problem. Thanks again, mate.” Killian hung up and turned to Emma. “Looks like we’ll be going straight to Neverland tonight.”

---

Feeling more alive than he had in a long time - despite the late hour and the cold air - Killian steered the small sailboat out of the harbour. Kristoff’s cousins waved them off for a few minutes, but when Killian looked back to check a second time, the two men were gone. They deserved to go back home and sleep - they were bloody saints in Killian’s eyes for helping them like this. If - no, when they got back, Killian would be sure to give them a fine bottle of whatever-they-pleased to thank them.

“Could you fetch the compass, love?” Killian asked, keeping both hands on the ship’s wheel. Emma had never sailed before - not on a boat such as this at least. He didn’t need much help sailing such a small vessel, but Swan was quick and able to follow the simple requests he gave her. Provided he didn’t use too many “fancy ship words” as she put it.

Emma found the compass in his satchel which was secured in a small compartment by the helm. She studied it herself before handing it over to him. “It’s definitely pointing somewhere,” she noted.

“Aye - let’s hope it’s not merely due north, or we’ve got the wrong compass on hand.” Killian had his own small compass in the pocket of his leather coat for that exact occasion. He compared the two, quickly seeing that his uncle’s compass was faulty when it came to pointing north. Hopefully, it wasn’t just faulty.

Killian turned the wheel, setting their course.

“How long until the next step?” Emma asked.

“Haven’t a clue.”

Out on the open water at last, winds in their sails and moonlight shining through the clouds, Killian felt like he could finally breathe properly again.

Emma settled in on the built-in bench in front of the helm, looking out over the prow of the boat. Killian’s eyes were set forward as well, but they kept flickering down to Emma.

With all the rush of Smee and Zelena finding them, stealing their car, and racing towards the harbour, Killian hadn’t had the time to really think about what had happened in that cabin. It lingered in his mind the entire time, pushed back by what Killian deemed more important matters at the moment. Now, out on the open sea, nothing was stopping the memory of that kiss from flooding his mind.

She had kissed him. Emma Swan had kissed him. He’d imagined what it would be like several times before, looking at her mouth and noticing just how delectable her lips looked. No dream could ever compare to the real thing.

Bloody hell, he couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had gotten his heart racing like that, every nerve alighting. Since Milah, he hadn’t thought he’d ever end up feeling like that again. There’d been a few girls here and there, during lonely nights in low-lit bars, but to have a simple kiss make him feel so alive... he could hardly remember feeling that way, even with Milah. He and Milah had shared something special too; a fire in itself, but there was something about Emma that he just couldn’t describe.

It was a miracle he had fallen asleep at all on that couch, Emma right next to him.

Killian licked his lips, imagining that intoxicating feeling that hadn’t gone away until he fell asleep, but all he tasted now was the salt of the sea.

Emma sat in silence, perhaps grabbing the chance for a bit of rest. All Killian could see was the beanie covering her head, and the fur of her borrowed coat warming her neck. The wind caught a few strands of her hair; in the moonlight, the usually golden colour shined silver.

She’d entranced him. One kiss, and Killian knew there was no going back from the way he’d started to feel about Swan. One kiss wasn’t enough to find out what exactly it was that she did to him, how she made him feel more alive than ever. One kiss wasn’t enough for him at all.

Aside from the wind blowing in the sails and the waves lapping at the boat, the night was dead silent. Emma was tempted to fall asleep, the few hours she’d gotten earlier not at all enough. It was just so peaceful, despite the cold wind and the uncertain purpose of their moonlight sail-trip. She’d found a blanket to snuggle in, feeling a bit guilty for not doing much work. Killian didn’t seem to mind though. And in the end, knowing that he was right behind her, making sure they kept their course, was the very thing that kept Emma awake.

She’d gone several days without many hours of sleep before anyway. She could handle this.

Her thoughts kept returning to that heat-of-the-moment kiss. Except it hadn’t just been a heat-of-the-moment-thing, as much as she claimed it was. She couldn’t deny she’d been thinking about kissing him for the entire day (there’d also been that night when she’d first met him on the train in England, unaware of how much he’d come to mean for the case. He’d played a big part in keeping her awake that night too, but Emma chose not to think of that).

In the end, the moment had definitely turned heated, but Emma was fooling herself in thinking she hadn’t wanted to do it. Because she very much had. Now that she’d done it, she could put it past her though. The itch had been scratched (somewhat), the curiosity satisfied (again, somewhat). She was sure now that she meant it when she had said it was a one-time-thing.

No matter how much a part of her wanted it to be a several-times-thing.

At least Killian had seemed rather stricken as well. What was he thinking about, standing silently behind her? Was he having as much trouble forgetting everything as she was?

“Swan!” As if he’d known she’d been thinking of him, Killian blurted her name, startling her from her thoughts. “The compass - the needle’s started spinning.”

Emma whipped her head around to look at the compass for herself as he held it up for her to see. As he’d said, the needle had started to spin in circles without pause. Both knew what this meant.

Emma reached to open the small compartment wherein Killian’s satchel and the backpack with snacks lay. She found the sextant in his satchel, carefully wrapped in multiple layers of cloth.

“The sextant’s next right?” Emma asked, standing up. She kept the blanket around her shoulders, clutching it with one hand while holding the sextant out for Killian in the other.

“Aye, thanks love,” Killian said, taking the sextant.

“So I’m kinda trusting you know how to use that.”

Killian gave her a look as if offended she’d ever doubt him. “Of course I know how to use a bloody sextant, Swan. And fortunately for us, the skies have cleared up - although that may just be due to the magic of the compass. This sextant shows markings unlike any I’ve ever seen.” Killian studied the surface of the unwrapped sextant before looking up at the night sky. Emma followed his gaze. The skies had certainly cleared - Emma could have sworn there were clouds obscuring the moonlight just a few minutes before. “Aye, look there, love.” Killian pointed at a certain part of the sky.

Emma wasn’t sure what to look at. She’d never known much of constellations - the big dipper was about as far as her knowledge spanned - and all she saw was a group of stars, uncertain which belonged to each other. Who decided that anyways?

“That constellation there,” Killian said, pointing out the exact stars and the invisible lines between them as Emma stepped closer to him. She shouldn’t be able to feel his warmth through her jacket and the blanket, right? Emma ignored that for the moment, concentrating on finding the constellation. “It’s not a part of the sky as we - or anyone else in the world - knows it,” Killian continued.

Emma needed a second to process the exact meaning of his words.

“So it just doesn’t exist anywhere else than here? How’s that possible?”

“I think we need to re-evaluate our perception of what’s possible and what’s not if we want to go to Neverland, Swan.”

He had a point.

“So what’s next? Second star to the right and then straight on ‘till morning?”

Killian chuckled, eyeing the sextant again. “Not quite, but almost actually.”

He tried to explain how the sextant and everything worked, and were it not for the obvious passion he spoke with, which completely captivated her, she might have learned something. She listened, she really did, but her brain was too busy admiring the glow in his eyes. Killian really loved sailing. Just being out here, he almost seemed like an entirely different person; more relaxed. Like he was at home.

Emma finally understood what he meant when he said he wasn’t afraid of flying - that he just preferred other methods of travelling.

(Though she was still convinced he was afraid of flying.)

They sailed on for a while, minutes or hours, Emma wasn’t sure. At some point, she checked her phone for the time; it wasn’t even four in the morning yet. During the winter season, she knew the sun was late in rising in Norway - certainly not before seven at least. Yet stripes of red and yellow started to appear in the sky, like someone had painted over the black night with a thin brush.

Well, if the night sky was different from the rest of the world, Emma supposed they weren’t even in Norway anymore. They were in their own little bubble, like something out of a dream. Appropriate, Emma thought, since Neverland was supposedly the island of dreams.

Only then did it start to dawn on Emma that Killian really had been telling the truth - not that she’d ever doubted that he believed it was the truth. Emma only believed in what she saw. She wouldn’t believe in Neverland, wouldn’t believe in magic until she had actual proof.

Well, the proof was beginning to pile on, it seemed.

Emma turned to Killian. He had let her try out steering the wheel while he focused on the sextant. It was quite exhilarating really, steering the boat on her own, wind blowing in her hair. She felt like she should be in a movie or something.

Killian had turned his head towards Emma just as she turned hers. They didn’t need words to communicate the thought in both of their heads when they saw the rising sun.

They’d reached the final step.

While Emma kept her hands on the wheel, Killian went to exchange the sextant for the spyglass. She expected him to look through it straight away, but - ever the gentleman - he held it out for her to look through it first.

“You sure you don’t want the first look?”

“I’d rather you found out first and let me know what to expect.”

She knew he wasn’t entirely honest, but let it go anyway.

The winds weren’t strong anymore and Emma could easily let go of the wheel for a moment to take the spyglass.

She twirled it in her hands for a few seconds. All around her, nothing could be seen but open water. It felt silly to look through a spyglass - she wasn’t even sure where to look. Towards the sunrise she supposed.

Anticipation raced through her and she tried to calm herself down, preparing herself for the likely event that she wouldn’t be able to see anything once she lifted the spyglass. But everything else had turned out to be true...

Here goes nothing, Emma thought, raising the spyglass to her eye.

“Bloody hell.”

Killian spoke just as Emma felt like her heart might stop. Through the lens, right there on the horizon, an island that hadn’t been there before loomed as if it had never been anywhere else.

But why was Killian the one swearing?

Emma lowered the spyglass, turning to question Killian. Not before taking one more look at the horizon though. And even without looking through the spyglass, Emma saw the island with her own two eyes - no tricks, no illusions.

“Do you see it?” she asked, confused because the way Killian looked at the horizon spoke clearly that he saw the island as well.

“Aye - what, do you not?” Killian met her gaze, suddenly worried.

“No, yes, I see it. I just, I thought you had to look through the spyglass to see it.”

Killian thought of it for a second, then gave a small shrug. “Perhaps it’s enough if only one on the vessel looks through the spyglass.”

She nodded, satisfied with his answer. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the island again; just to be sure it was still there. It was just... it was unbelievable.

“We found Neverland,” she whispered, as if to assure herself that her eyes weren’t lying to her. Louder, she repeated it, “Killian, we found Neverland!”

A grin threatened to split her lips, still cracked from the cold. Killian wore a matching grin on his face. “That we did, Swan.”

Both broke into a chuckle, still not sure whether to believe their eyes or not. Emma felt that pull again, to reach for Killian and throw her arms around him. To hold him close and let the laughter tumble out of them as they realized - fully realized - that Neverland was real.

She didn’t though. Instead, she let the blanket fall off her shoulders. With the rising sun, it seemed the cold had disappeared. In fact, Emma felt like she would melt if she kept her jacket on for one more second. She took it off, along with her beanie, as Killian unbuttoned his own coat, commenting on the sudden warmth.

“I guess we’re definitely not in Norway anymore,” Emma said.

“Either that or we’ve lost our minds.”

“That’s probably more likely.”

They shared another grin, and Killian held his hand out towards the steering wheel. “Would you like the honours, love?”

She was about to take the wheel again when she realized the sudden warmth brought another factor with it. She looked up at the sails and sure enough -

“There’s no wind.”

Killian seemed to have realized it on his own as well.

“Fortunately for us, there’s an outboard engine for this boat. It’s not the best, but it should do the job.”

Killian went to open a larger compartment in the boat, and Emma helped him settle the engine in its place. Killian took over the wheel after the engine had roared to life and Emma tried to judge the distance to the island. About five miles? She couldn’t be sure.

After a while though, Emma was almost a hundred percent sure that the distance hadn’t changed.

“Is it just me, or are we not getting any closer to the bloody island?” Killian asked, voicing her exact concern.

“No, it’s not just you.”

Emma heard him mutter “bloody hell”, but he didn’t give up. Kept sailing straight towards the island - and never got any closer.

A few minutes more, and the engine started tutting. Before long, it died out.

Emma wanted to scream. The island was right there - it shouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to sail up to the shore. What the hell was going on?

“Are you sure we did everything right?” she asked. “There’s not some other object we need or some stupid ritual we need to preform? We don’t have to wait for Peter Pan to come and get us? Or Tinker Bell maybe?” She was beyond frustrated - and Killian was too.

“No, we’ve done everything right - there are no more objects according to the legends, nothing else that needs to be done.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Swan!” He didn’t exactly shout, but Emma couldn’t describe it any other way than a growl. Why was he being angry with her? Okay, maybe she didn’t need to sound so doubtful of him, but what else could she do? Clearly, they were missing something.

Emma dropped to sit on the planks, folding her legs underneath each other, all but glaring at the island on the horizon.

Killian dropped to sit beside her. She knew he wasn’t angry at her, just as he knew she didn’t doubt him. Both were just entirely too tired to deal with this.

A strong drink would have been wonderful right then. Too bad they’d already drunken all of the rum.

“Perhaps we’re meant to swim?” Killian suggested as a last hopeless resort.

“I don’t think it would help much.”

“Probably not... We’re missing something.”

#csbb #my writings #cs ff #cs fanfic #when the tide turns #chapter 13 #things are about to reach an end!!!!#but of course nothing gets to be too easy in this story....#enjoy!

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theinquisitivej · 7 years ago

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‘Murder on the Orient Express’ (2017): A Film Review

This review is dedicated to Sarah; the greatest Agatha Christie fan I know.

It’s difficult for me to describe an Agatha Christie murder mystery to people who have never experienced one. For one thing, I’m not sure that I, having only ever seen her stories depicted in TV series and specials, can say that I qualify as an expert on her novels or the main themes and characteristics of her writing. But from what I understand, these adaptations are pretty faithful to the plot of each respective story, and the performances and presentation on display is often done with great respect to the characters of the source material. Watching those same TV adaptations is also something that I love to connect with other people over. My family have always enjoyed watching episodes of Poirot and Miss Marple, I’ve gone to a few murder mystery parties with a Christie-esque flavour, I’m a sucker for the board game Cluedo (which owes a lot of its content and style to the Christie template), and my girlfriend enjoys the aesthetic and framework of Christie murder mysteries immensely. Familiarity with Agatha Christie’s stories practically existing as their own subgenre in the field of murder mystery in the same way Film Noir does feels second nature to me by this point. That’s why providing context for this film feels difficult. How do you describe something you take for granted will be familiar to the person you’re speaking to?

Agatha Christie stories typically focus on crimes committed in the 1920s and this early part of the 20th century. More often than not, these crimes are murder, and there is a particularly gifted individual who is on hand to assist the police in their investigations. Given the sheer number of stories Christie has written, the setting of these stories has spanned the globe, but they most often take place in England, Europe, or, in a few well-known examples, Egypt. A collection of upper class socialites gather together for some occasion before one person ends up dead, murdered in some head-scratching way. It’s up to our lead detective to work out the hows and whys, and uncover the lingering pain of the past that motivates the darker urges hidden just beneath the surface of a society presenting itself as dignified and refined.

In Murder on the Orient Express, our lead detective is Hercule Poirot, an older, well-mannered man from Belgium with impeccable standards of excellence in all things and a sharp eye for inconsistencies. He is kept busy through his work as the cleverest man in the room whenever a crime unfolds, so he takes up an offer from an acquaintance to travel on the luxurious Orient Express and take a holiday. The train of course encounters some problems, and one of the passengers turns up dead, resulting in a ticking clock for Poirot to see if he can solve the case before help arrives, and certain matters about the case lead to the police making a rushed, incorrect arrest.

The decisions the cinematography makes when it comes to how settings are presented in Murder on the Orient Express (2017) are ingenious. The shots of the mountain are, of course, all impressive enough and are filled with awe at the serene beauty of a snow-covered landscape. It would make for an enjoyably seasonal film to watch at Christmas. Admittedly, some of the steps taken to justify a striking shot containing both the characters and the setting are a little silly and difficult to reasonably justify. A flair for the dramatic that goes far enough to start feeling superfluous is to be expected whenever Kenneth Branagh directs a film, from his adaptations of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Hamlet, to Thor, where I’d argue the inherent humour of an over-dramatic approach is used to best effect. Here, however, I would say it comes across as a flaw, at least when it comes to shots of the surrounding landscapes.

But it’s not the mountain or the snow that hooked me, but the interiors of the train. The typical opulent dressings of a Christie mystery are here, and they make for a classy mise-en-scene that is enjoyable to sip away at, as always. But it is how the cramped layout of the inside of the train is shown to us that impresses me most. The cinematography is varied, and often turns the comforting warm rooms on their head to feel like a threatening confined space in which a dangerous killer certainly resides. Interrogations are framed as intimate and dangerous affairs, but they are also shaken up through a mixing of camera angles and skilful use of every part of the train, so Poirot asking his questions never feels repetitive. An extended shot featuring Poirot’s first steps on the train, which acts as our introduction to the Orient Express, is notably effective. It starts with the camera moving right with Poirot as he walks through the station, only to double back on itself as he boards the train, and awkwardly makes his way down the narrow corridor to his space all the way to the back of the train. The setting is established as a claustrophobic space by this long, awkward journey through a busy passageway, the tightness of which is emphasised by the camera staying outside and tracking Poirot as we see him move from window to window. It’s an inspired way to introduce the main setting of a story, especially for a murder mystery.

Finally, the way we experience the discovery of the body is one of the most memorable visual sequences I’ve seen this year. It’s viewed from above, with the audience being able to see the rooms and the borders between them as they look down onto the heads and shoulders of the actors. Essentially, our characters are moving around to different rooms like pieces on a game board; the moment the body is discovered, it becomes a game of Cluedo. What’s more, by not seeing the body, the brutality of the scene and the horrified reactions we see somehow feel so much worse. Despite being given this overhead view that provides us with an omniscient understanding of the layout of this scene, the film denies us the knowledge of what the most important room in the sequence looks like. We are depowered, intrigued, and unnerved at the implications of this ghastly development, even with the knowledge that a murder has to happen on the Orient express.

So how is Branagh’s Poirot? This was always going to be a talking point for many people; Poirot is a rich character, first and foremost, so we like to see how different actors play him, especially if we’re familiar with what that actor has done in the past. But although there have been a surprising number of people who have played Poirot in films, TV, and radio (including Ian Holm and Orson Welles, if you can believe it), it is very difficult to think of him as anyone other than David Suchet. He played the character on Agatha Christie’s Poirot for 24 years, and the composure, sweet lightness of touch, and demanding presence of his performance made Poirot a character we loved to watch. It’s safe to say that, for multiple generations, Suchet IS Poirot. So, seeing Branagh take up a role that a lot of us are very used to only seeing one person play is going to take some adjusting to, no matter how you frame the movie.

In all fairness, however, it has been four years since Suchet finished with the role, and classic literary characters deserve to be interpreted and reinterpreted for as long as their stories matter to us. And honestly, Branagh does very well in the part. Yes, he has once again cast himself in a movie he’s directed as a character renowned for the magnificent grandness of their persona, meaning this feels at times like the classiest excuse for an actor/director to toot his own trumpet on camera. But it honestly works in this case, because Branagh ensures that it’s all in keeping with the character. Poirot is well-mannered, but he is always a straight-talker, and when he talks about his considerable intellect, it’s not all ego; he has good reason to see that as the honest truth. The balance between his generally humble disposition and the matter-of-fact certainty with which he discusses his infallible mind is unique, and very funny. Branagh’s performance walks this line with commendable balance. When asked who he is, his answer “I am Hercule Poirot, and I am probably the greatest detective in the world” is a fine example of that, showcasing that Poirot is very sure of himself, but is also polite enough to add that he is only “probably” the smartest man in the world. I also appreciate how Branagh emphasises the more vulnerable aspects of Poirot’s character. His remembering of a lost love he misses dearly and looks to for guidance, his dignified sadness over the fact that he will never be able to stop noticing the things about the world that seem out of place, and the profound challenge the implications this case and its resolution has on his philosophy are all compelling directions to take the character, and Branagh has the skill to back it up. This is certainly a worthy adaptation of a character with a long history attached to it.

The rest of the cast is an interesting case, because it’s filled with a lot of recognisable, talented faces who would be the main attraction in any other film, but they’re used here to fill out the numbers on the suspect list. You need enough time dedicated to each character so that it becomes feasible that anyone could turn out to be the murderer, and you wouldn’t feel cheated of the proper explanation or build-up of who they are, where they come from, and why they did this. But you also can’t spend too long on any of them, because you run the risk of running out of time to develop one of the other suspects if you don’t properly balance your screen time allowance. There are a few cases where that occurs, especially the male ballet dancer who appears near the start, overacts, reappears much later in the movie, overacts again, and then Poirot resumes his investigation, making him the weak link in the cast. But by filling the suspect list with as much talent as it could get its hands on, the film ends up making every second count. This is a story about pain and heartache, and how, although we often keep it private and hidden away from the wider world, it is also a humanising factor that unites us. As difficult as that emotion is to sell, this accomplished cast manages to display convincing vulnerability again and again. Derek Jacobi, Judi Dench, and Willem Dafoe are all masters that can fill a handful of seconds with more heartfelt emotion than you can deal with without shedding a tear or two yourself. I’m a big fan of Olivia Colman, so it was awesome to see her stand alongside all these greats and show just as much skill at doing an awful lot with very little. Of all of them, the biggest surprise was Josh Gad, as this actor usually known for comedy commits to his character with a firm grasp on how to handle the more demanding moments, making me curious to see what else he can do with drama. There are many others, and they all at the very least do well in their part. As casts go, this is a strong bunch that all understand the shared tone of the movie.

I’ve been curious about Murder on the Orient Express (2017) for most of this year, and while some were underwhelmed, I was really impressed by it. It has inventive cinematography, a cast that work well at showing believable heartache, and a version of Poirot I’m eager to see more of. It’s a classy, sumptuous murder mystery, and tells its story well enough that I wanted to sit and reflect on it for a long while after it had ended.

8/10.

A few characters needed more screen time, and its visual flair occasionally goes one step too far. But this is still a cleverly made film that tells a powerful murder mystery story, and doesn’t disappoint fans of Agatha Christie stories, even if we all know there’s no knocking Suchet from his throne as Hercule Poirot.

#The Inquisitive J #film #films #movies #film review #film reviews #movie reviews #movie review #film critic #movie critic #critic #film critique #film criticism #agatha christie #poirot #kenneth branagh #murder on the orient express #murder on the orient express review #the inquisitive j reviews

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ntrending · 5 years ago

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Why the smartest people can make the dumbest mistakes

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/why-the-smartest-people-can-make-the-dumbest-mistakes/

Why the smartest people can make the dumbest mistakes

A high IQ and education won’t necessarily protect you from highly irrational behavior—and it may sometimes amplify your errors. (Pexels/)

It is June 17, 1922, and two middle-aged men—one short and squat, the other tall and lumbering with a walrus moustache—are sitting on the beach in Atlantic City, New Jersey. They are Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle—and by the end of the evening, their friendship will never be the same again.

It ended as it began—with a séance. Spiritualism was all the rage among London’s wealthy elite, and Conan Doyle was a firm believer, attending five or six gatherings a week. He even claimed that his wife Jean had some psychic talent, and that she had started to channel a spirit guide, Phineas, who dictated where they should live and when they should travel.

Houdini, in contrast, was a skeptic, but he still claimed to have an open mind, and on a visit to England two years previously, he had contacted Conan Doyle to discuss his recent book on the subject. Now Conan Doyle was in the middle of an American book tour, and he invited Houdini to join him in Atlantic City.

The visit had begun amicably enough. Houdini had helped to teach Conan Doyle’s boys to dive, and the group were resting at the seafront when Conan Doyle decided to invite Houdini up to his hotel room for an impromptu séance, with Jean as the medium. He knew that Houdini had been mourning the loss of his mother, and he hoped that his wife might be able to make contact with the other side.

And so they returned to the Ambassador Hotel, closed the curtains, and waited for inspiration to strike. Jean sat in a kind of trance with a pencil in one hand as the men sat by and watched. She sat with her pen poised over the writing pad, before her hand began to fly wildly across the page. “Oh, my darling, thank God, at last I’m through,” the spirit began to write. “I’ve tried oh so often—now I am happy…” By the end of the séance, Jean had written around twenty pages in “angular, erratic script.”

Her husband was utterly bewitched—but Houdini was less than impressed. Why had his mother, a Jew, professed herself to be a Christian? How had this Hungarian immigrant written her messages in perfect English—“a language which she had never learned!”? And why did she not bother to mention that it was her birthday?

Meeting these two men for the first time, you would have been forgiven for expecting Conan Doyle to be the more critical thinker. Yet it was the professional illusionist, a Hungarian immigrant whose education had ended at the age of twelve, who could see through the fraud.

While decades of psychological research have documented humanity’s more irrational tendencies, it is only relatively recently that scientists have started to measure how that irrationality varies between individuals, and whether that variance is related to measures of intelligence. They are finding that the two are far from perfectly correlated: it is possible to have a very high IQ or SAT score, while still performing badly on these new tests of rationality—a mismatch known as “dysrationalia.” Indeed, there are some situations in which intelligence and education may sometimes exaggerate and amplify your mistakes.

David Robson’s new book <em><a href=”https://www.amazon.com/Intelligence-Trap-Smart-People-Mistakes/dp/0393651428″>The Intelligence Trap</a></em> is on sale now. (Courtesy of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc./)

A true recognition of dysrationalia—and its potential for harm—has taken decades to blossom, but the roots of the idea can be found in the now legendary work of two Israeli researchers, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, who identified many cognitive biases and heuristics (quick-and-easy rules of thumb) that can skew our reasoning.

One of their most striking experiments asked participants to spin a “wheel of fortune,” which landed on a number between 1 and 100, before considering general knowledge questions—such as estimating the number of African countries that are represented in the UN. The wheel of fortune should, of course, have had no influence on their answers—but the effect was quite profound. The lower the quantity on the wheel, the smaller their estimate—the arbitrary value had planted a figure in their mind, “anchoring” their judgment.

You have probably fallen for anchoring yourself many times while shopping during sales. Suppose you are looking for a new TV. You had expected to pay around $150, but then you find a real bargain: a $300 item reduced to $200. Seeing the original price anchors your perception of what is an acceptable price to pay, meaning that you will go above your initial budget.

Other notable biases include framing (the fact that you may change your opinion based on the way information is phrased), the sunk cost fallacy (our reluctance to give up on a failing investment even if we will lose more trying to sustain it), and the gambler’s fallacy—the belief that if the roulette wheel has landed on black, it’s more likely the next time to land on red. The probability, of course, stays exactly the same.

Given these findings, many cognitive scientists divide our thinking into two categories: “system 1,” intuitive, automatic, “fast thinking” that may be prey to unconscious biases; and “system 2,” “slow,” more analytical, deliberative thinking. According to this view—called dual- process theory—many of our irrational decisions come when we rely too heavily on system 1, allowing those biases to muddy our judgment.

It is difficult to overestimate the influence of this work, but none of the early studies by Kahneman and Tversky had tested whether our irrationality varies from person to person. Are some people more susceptible to these biases, while others are immune, for instance? And how do those tendencies relate to our general intelligence? Conan Doyle’s story is surprising because we intuitively expect more intelligent people, with their greater analytical minds, to act more rationally—but as Tversky and Kahneman had shown, our intuitions can be deceptive.

If we want to understand why smart people do dumb things, these are vital questions.

During a sabbatical at the University of Cambridge in 1991, a Canadian psychologist called Keith Stanovich decided to address these issues head on. With a wife specializing in learning difficulties, he had long been interested in the ways that some mental abilities may lag behind others, and he suspected that rationality would be no different. The result was an influential paper introducing the idea of dysrationalia as a direct parallel to other disorders like dyslexia and dyscalculia.

It was a provocative concept—aimed as a nudge in the ribs to all the researchers examining bias. “I wanted to jolt the field into realizing that it had been ignoring individual differences,” Stanovich told me.

Stanovich emphasizes that dysrationalia is not just limited to system 1 thinking. Even if we are reflective enough to detect when our intuitions are wrong, and override them, we may fail to use the right “mindware”—the knowledge and attitudes that should allow us to reason correctly. If you grow up among people who distrust scientists, for instance, you may develop a tendency to ignore empirical evidence, while putting your faith in unproven theories. Greater intelligence wouldn’t necessarily stop you forming those attitudes in the first place, and it is even possible that your greater capacity for learning might then cause you to accumulate more and more “facts” to support your views.

Stanovich has now spent more than two decades building on the concept of dysrationalia with a series of carefully controlled experiments.

To understand his results, we need some basic statistical theory. In psychology and other sciences, the relationship between two variables is usually expressed as a correlation coefficient between 0 and 1. A perfect correlation would have a value of 1—the two parameters would essentially be measuring the same thing; this is unrealistic for most studies of human health and behavior (which are determined by so many variables), but many scientists would consider a “moderate” correlation to lie between 0.4 and 0.59.

Using these measures, Stanovich found that the relationships between rationality and intelligence were generally very weak. SAT scores revealed a correlation of just 0.19 with measures of anchoring, for instance. Intelligence also appeared to play only a tiny role in the question of whether we are willing to delay immediate gratification for a greater reward in the future, or whether we prefer a smaller reward sooner —a tendency known as “temporal discounting.” In one test, the correlation with SAT scores was as small as 0.02. That’s an extraordinarily modest correlation for a trait that many might assume comes hand in hand with a greater analytical mind. The sunk cost bias also shows almost no relationship to SAT scores.

You might at least expect that more intelligent people could learn to recognize these flaws. In reality, most people assume that they are less vulnerable than other people, and this is equally true of the “smarter” participants. Indeed, in one set of experiments studying some of the classic cognitive biases, Stanovich found that people with higher SAT scores actually had a slightly larger “bias blind spot” than people who were less academically gifted. “Adults with more cognitive ability are aware of their intellectual status and expect to outperform others on most cognitive tasks,” Stanovich told me. “Because these cognitive biases are presented to them as essentially cognitive tasks, they expect to outperform on them as well.”

Stanovich has now refined and combined many of these measures into a single test, which is informally called the “rationality quotient.” He emphasizes that he does not wish to devalue intelligence tests—they “work quite well for what they do”—but to improve our understanding of these other cognitive skills that may also determine our decision making, and place them on an equal footing with the existing measures of cognitive ability.

“Our goal has always been to give the concept of rationality a fair hearing—almost as if it had been proposed prior to intelligence,” he wrote in his scholarly book on the subject. It is, he says, a “great irony” that the thinking skills explored in Kahneman’s Nobel Prize-winning work are still neglected in our most well-known assessment of cognitive ability.

After years of careful development and verification of the various sub-tests, the first iteration of the “Comprehensive Assessment of Rational Thinking” was published at the end of 2016. Besides measures of the common cognitive biases and heuristics, it also included probabilistic and statistical reasoning skills—such as the ability to assess risk—that could improve our rationality, and questionnaires concerning contaminated mindware such as anti-science attitudes.

For a taster, consider the following question, which aims to test the “belief bias.�� Your task is to consider whether the conclusion follows logically, based only on the opening two premises.

All living things need water.

Roses need water.

Therefore, roses are living things.

What did you answer? According to Stanovich’s work, 70 percent of university students believe that this is a valid argument. But it isn’t, since the first premise only says that “all living things need water”—not that “all things that need water are living.”

If you still struggle to understand why that makes sense, compare it to the following statements:

All insects need oxygen.

Mice need oxygen.

Therefore mice are insects.

The logic of the two statements is exactly the same—but it is far easier to notice the flaw in the reasoning when the conclusion clashes with your existing knowledge. In the first example, however, you have to put aside your preconceptions and think, carefully and critically, about the specific statements at hand—to avoid thinking that the argument is right just because the conclusion makes sense with what you already know.

When combining all these sub-tests, Stanovich found that the overall correlation with commonly used measures of cognitive ability, was often moderate: on one batch of tests, the correlation coefficient with SATs was around 0.47, for instance. Some overlap was to be expected, especially given the fact that several of the rationality quotient’s measures, such as probabilistic reasoning, would be aided by mathematical ability and other aspects of cognition measured by academic tests. “But that still leaves enough room for the discrepancies between rationality and intelligence that lead to smart people acting foolishly,” Stanovich said. His findings fit with many other recent results showing that critical thinking and intelligence represent two distinct entities, and that those other measures of decision making can be useful predictors of real-world behaviors.

With further development, the rationality quotient could be used in recruitment to assess the quality of a potential employee’s decision making; Stanovich told me that he has already had significant interest from law firms, financial institutions, and executive headhunters.

Stanovich hopes his test may also be a useful tool to assess how students’ reasoning changes over a school or university course. “This, to me, would be one of the more exciting uses,” Stanovich said. With that data, you could then investigate which interventions are most successful at cultivating more rational thinking styles.

If we return to that séance in Atlantic City, Arthur Conan Doyle’s behavior would certainly seem to fit neatly with theories of dysrationalia. According to dual-process (fast/slow thinking) theories, this could just be down to cognitive miserliness. People who believe in the paranormal rely on their gut feelings and intuitions to think about the sources of their beliefs, rather than reasoning in an analytical, critical way.

This may be true for many people with vaguer, less well-defined beliefs, but there are some particular elements of Conan Doyle’s biography that suggest his behavior can’t be explained quite so simply. Often, it seemed as if he was using analytical reasoning from system 2 to rationalize his opinions and dismiss the evidence. Rather than thinking too little, he was thinking too much.

Psychologists call this “motivated reasoning”—a kind of emotionally charged thinking that leads us to demolish the evidence that questions our beliefs and build increasingly ornate arguments to justify them. This is a particular problem when a belief sits at the core of our identity, and in these circumstances greater intelligence and education may actually increase your foolish thinking. (This is similar to Stanovich’s concept of “contaminated mindware”—in which our brain has been infected by an irrational idea that then skews our later thinking.)

Consider people’s beliefs about issues such as climate change. Among Democrats, the pattern is exactly as you would hope: the more educated someone is, the more likely they are to endorse the scientific evidence that carbon emissions generated by humans are leading to global warming. Among Republicans, however, the exact opposite is true: the more educated someone is, the less likely they are to accept the scientific evidence.

This same polarization can be seen on many other charged issues, such as stem cell research or evolution and creationism, with more educated individuals applying their brainpower to protect their existing opinions, even when they disagree with the scientific consensus. It could also be observed in beliefs about certain political conspiracy theories. When it comes to certain tightly held beliefs, higher intelligence and knowledge is a tool for propaganda rather than truth seeking, amplifying our errors.

The unfortunate conclusion is that, even if you happen to be rational in general, it’s possible that you may still be prone to flawed reasoning on certain questions that matter most to you. Conan Doyle’s beliefs were certainly of this kind: spiritualism seems to have offered him enormous comfort throughout his life.

Following their increasingly public disagreement, Houdini lost all respect for Conan Doyle; he had started the friendship believing that the writer was an “intellectual giant” and ended it by writing that “one must be half-witted to believe some of these things.” But given what we now know about rationality, the very opposite may be true: only an intellectual giant could be capable of believing such things.

David Robson is a senior journalist at the BBC and author of The Intelligence Trap: Why Smart People Make Dumb Mistakes (WW Norton). He is @d_a_robson on Twitter. His website is www.davidrobson.me.

Written By By David Robson

#DIY

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