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softyoongiionly · 5 years ago

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Will You Make a Mess Now?

Jungkook’s never been touched before and, after a hectic end to his semester, he thinks he wants that to change...

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Virgin! Jungkook, established relationship au, college au, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: HELLO YES I MISSED YOU. Guys, I swear i’m working on updating my series (plural) but, I’ve been out of writing for a while and, I needed something to get me back in the groove. What better way than to continue to affirm that my love for Jungkook is unavoidable and, unstoppable. i love youuuuu. This is unedited for now, please forgive any mistakes, I was too excited.

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ only please.

After 4 grueling months of relentless studying and lectures, you can finally say that your second to last semester of university is finally over.

Finals week is still at the entrance of your subconscious as its literally all you’ve been able to think about for quite some time. You haven’t been able to unwind or see your friends and, if you’re being honest, you don’t remember the last time you actually slept for more than four hours at a time.

The good news is…

All of that is now behind you.

The exams have been taken, the textbooks have been returned or re-sold, the mountain of instant meals have been cleared from your kitchen (for now) and, you are currently on the subway headed to celebrate with the only person in the world that could properly bring you out of your post-exam haze:

Your boyfriend, Jungkook.

Jungkook is a kinesiology major, whom you met in one of your labs nearly two years ago. The two of you were friends for a long time before you finally got up the courage to kiss him at a party 5 months ago. And by courage, you mean you had a little too much to drink and, Jungkook looked way too good in his university crew neck so, you awkwardly leaned in to kiss him and he, being the absolute angel he is, pecked you on the lips before explaining to you that he wouldn’t kiss you properly until you were sober.

The next day, you woke up in his bed, alone. Your first response was to panic but, upon slowly sitting up in his sheets, you find Jungkook curled up on the floor amongst a pile of blankets. After a few slightly uncomfortable conversations, the two of you arranged a date and, started…you know…falling in love

Or whatever…

Fun fact: Given the fact that you’ve only been with Jungkook for a few months, the two of you have yet to be intimate. Jungkook stated early on that he wanted to take things slowly and, of course you were more than ok with that.

He’s been more and more comfortable with heavier petting so to speak as of lately but, the farthest you’ve ever gone was having his hand down your panties, and your hand over the seam of his jeans. And you’re fine with the progression of your sex life with Jungkook but, he’s only ever made you cum before and, every time you try and return the favor he politely declines.

“It’s ok, I just wanted you to finish jagi…”

“I’m ok, don’t worry, it will go down soon. Do you feel good though? Did I do it right?”

“Soon baby, I promise, it’s just not the right time yet.”

Once again, you’d never push him into something he didn’t want to do but, you were slightly confused as to why he never wanted you to reciprocate.

Jungkook is quite frankly the best boyfriend in the entire world. He’s all of the cheesy stuff and, more. Things have been progressing slowly but, you didn’t mind. Whatever you have with him, it feels real.

And to be completely honest, you miss him so much that it’s starting to really get to you.

20 minutes later and, you’re in front his place and sending a quick text to let him know you’ve arrived.

You: I’m outside

You: please save me, it’s freezing :’’’(

Not even a full minute goes by before you hear the fumbling of the lock and, you quickly prepare yourself to latch onto your boyfriend like a freaking spidermonkey.

It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen him face to face so, you can imagine your confusion (and disappointment) when you’re met with the face of his older brother instead.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s dimpled smile is a sight for sore eyes but, it does nothing to wane your confusion, “Kook is passed out upstairs but, he told me earlier to be on the lookout for you in case he fell asleep, which he did.”

A smile is passed to Namjoon as he holds the door open for you, “Of course he did, thanks Joon, is it just you guys right now?”

Jungkook has six brothers and, they all live under the same roof, so the rent is split in seven equal parts.

It’s the only way for them to afford a house off campus.

“Nah Jin and Tae are upstairs too, everyone else is out.” He murmurs and, its then you notice the dark circles decorating the space beneath his eyes.

“Gotcha, are you excited to be done with finals? I feel like I could sleep for 15 years…” You jest, nudging him gently, knowing full well that Namjoon was feeling the same sense of exhaustion you were.

He chuckles and nods immediately, walking with you to the bottom of the stairs, eyes flitting eagerly towards his bedroom.

“That is literally my plan for the rest of the day. I have an adjustment on my project and, after I get that submitted, I’m falling asleep and not talking to anyone for at least 24 hours.” He declares, the seriousness in his tone causing you to giggle.

“I’ll make sure to thwart any of the guys that try to fuck with your beauty sleep…” You vow, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re one of the good ones Y/N…” He laughs, jerking his chin towards Jungkook’s door, “he’s missed you a lot.”

Namjoon’s response is unexpected and it warms you from the inside out.

“Yeah? Did he say something to you?”

You feel like you’re in middle school again, attempting to figure out if your crush likes you.

“He was whining about it the other day, he’s really into you.” Namjoon smirks, before sending a pointed look your way, “don’t tell him I told you that though, he’d kill me.”

The smile on your face probably looks a little ridiculous but, you don’t care, you’re only concern is getting up these stairs and into your boyfriend’s bed.

“I wouldn’t want to expose you for breaking the bro-code.” You return his smirk, passing him to ascend the staircase, “Get some rest, thank you for letting me in.”

“You got it. Have a good night.” Namjoon disappears behind his bedroom door rather quickly, eager to pass out and, you suddenly feel your heartrate increase as you grow closer to Jungkook’s room.

You really did miss him and, the urge to jump into his arms is stronger than you’d like to admit.

Especially given that you know he’s asleep and, you’d have to wait for him to wake up. And you would, cause you know, he deserves to sleep as long as he wants.

You’re not certain that you won’t fall asleep with him.

The door to his room is opened carefully and quietly and, shut just the same.

His bedroom is almost too dark due to the blackout curtains that hung over his windows; a birthday present from his brother Yoongi, they are his new favorite thing.

Jungkook must have shut them in a haste however because, there is a tiny sliver of light shining through which thankfully provides you with a clear path way to his bed.

Soft snores emit from the pillow closest to the windows and, all you can see is Jungkook’s mop of black hair peeking out from underneath his covers. The hum of his noise machine is a comforting sound and, paired with the woodsy vapors coming from his diffuser (a gift from Namjoon), you could feel the sleepiness beginning to tug at your body.

With your overnight bag placed on Jungkook’s gaming chair, you make your way to his bed and slowly peel the covers back.

Oh-

Despite the fact that it’s freezing outside, your boyfriend has unfortunately decided to sleep shirtless, his toned body clad only in his favorite grey sweatpants and, a pair of black socks.

He looks like a god but, you know, that’s totally fine and, not at all distracting.

His brows are furrowed in deep sleep, his cherry lips formed into a slight pout, snores still rumbling deep within his chest. One of his arms is bent at the elbow and, tucked firmly underneath his pillow, his other arm stretched out across the expanse of his bed.

Which of course, poses an issue for you since you don’t want to disturb his sleep but, you want nothing more than to snuggle up to him.

(forever)

Jungkook is a pretty heavy sleeper so, the likelihood of waking him is pretty slim and even if you do, you can at least take comfort in the fact that he’s expecting you.

So you slowly lift his arm, quickly tucking yourself into the warmth of his bed and, move the covers back to their original position. It isn’t super comfortable but, you’re afraid to move anymore in fear of waking him up.

Your hands absentmindedly trail over his forearms, admiring the warm, caramel undertones in his skin and, the veins which protrude gently underneath the surface.

His hand is still covered in the temporary tattoos he got nearly two months ago.

Being the Virgo that he is, Jungkook wanted to insure he liked the chosen designs before deciding to get the real thing. You certainly aren’t complaining but, you are secretly hoping he decides to keep them.

Jungkook and tattoos: a lethal combination.

You lay like this for awhile, admiring your boyfriend, listening to the various white noises echoing off the walls, enjoying the scent of his freshly washed sheets.

He washes his bedding once a week.

Sure enough, you feel your lids grow heavier and heavier, the temptation of sleep growing ever so slightly at the back of your mind.

However, Jungkook’s hand twitches at your side and, you feel movement beside you, causing your head to tilt in his direction.

You’re met with a sleepy smile and, a gaze so endearing, you might just die right then and there.

“You’re here…” He murmurs, voice raspy and decorated with sleep.

It doesn’t take you long to get closer to him, his free arm not leaving your body in order to hug you against his bare chest.

“I’m here…” You answer, a smile in your voice, pursing your lips to place kisses on his skin.

Jungkook smiles properly now but, you don’t see it, your face tucked firmly into his neck.

He’s so happy you’re here.

His arm moves out from underneath his pillow to envelope you completely, shy lips pressing a few kisses to the top of your head as he shifts onto his back, taking you with him.

“Missed you..” He mumbles almost, coy and unsure but, genuine.

As he usually is.

A smile erupts on your mouth now, as you look up to face him and, for whatever reason you’re overcome with the need to feel his lips against yours. So you do just that and, secure your mouth to his, letting a deep breath out through your nose. His quick too, big hands sliding down your back to hold onto your hips.

“Missed you more” You whisper against his lips, a little breathless from the depth of the kiss you’ve just shared.

His nose wrinkles in disgust as he shakes his head, leaning in to kiss you again, “No…me…”

The childish nature of his response makes you giggle, accepting another kiss eagerly.

“If you missed me so much, why did you make Namjoon let me in hm?” You tease, still kissing at his mouth, one of your hands sliding over his ribcage.

He nibbles at your lip in retaliation, a slight smirk on his mouth, “Cause I was tired and, you were taking forever…”

Jungkook chuckles at his own whining and, you follow suit whilst shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’re only further proving my point, I rode the silver line to get here, just because it was faster and, I walked through the cold just so I could see your stupid face…”

By stupid, you mean beautiful but like, he doesn’t need to know that.

Jungkook laughs harder this time, its higher pitched and more genuine, his hands that are on your hips squeeze in retaliation.

“My face isn’t stupid….you’re stupid…” He chuckles, teasing you because, its one of his many ways of coping with how he feels for you.

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, your comeback dying in the back of your throat as your hand comes up to rest against his cheek.

The two of you can’t stop smiling and, giggling as you indulge one another, ignoring the clumsy way your lips connect.

“You look so beautiful like this…comfy…” He adds, his tone taking on a shyer tone as he nudges your nose, eyes half open, “I really did miss you jagiya…”

His words send emotion careening into your chest and, you can’t help the way your lips respond more eagerly against his.

“You make comfy look like a Calvin Klein campaign…” You retort before adding, “I missed you too. You’re staying home this winter too right?”

It’s a rarity for both of you stay on campus during winter break but, this year your families had decided to come to you.

He nods, eyes still soft as he tucks your hair behind your ear, lips pouted that you stopped kissing him for a moment, “Mhm…we’ll be here together…”

Jungkook has his moods like most people do but, there is a certain way he gets that you swear he reserves only for you. Being the youngest of seven boys, he’s used to being the source of a lot of banter and, teasing so, being with you is no exception but, recently he’s been getting softer and softer.

Sweeter and sweeter…

And you’re not complaining…

“We will.” You affirm, pecking his lips again, “we can go on all those dates we’ve been promising eachother.”

He nods, pulling the duvet up higher over the two of you, “Yeah, I have a lot of ideas but, I want to hear your ideas too…but I’m excited for mine…”

Another giggle leaves your lips at his almost jovial tone, his competiveness sneaking through a bit.

“I’m happy I get to spend the night with you more, you keep me warm.” You hum, delighting in the fact that Jungkook blushes at your statement.

“I keep you warm?” He checks, securing his teeth to his bottom lip, nibbling on it nervously.

With a nod of your head, you snuggle into his body, taking in the scent that was uniquely Jungkook: woodsy and clean, free of any harshness.

“So warm.” You whisper against his neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

Though, as gentle as the kiss was, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from immediately plumping up from within the confines of his sweatpants. His neck is his weak spot.

You don’t feel him yet but, you do notice a reaction from him: his head tilts back ever so slightly, feet rubbing together at the end of the bed. The teasing words stay trapped in your throat as you decide to push your luck and, kiss him there again, letting your lips linger longer than before.

He doesn’t stop you when you place a third kiss into the sweet spot on his neck, or a fourth or a fifth but, soon enough he feels his dick filling out the empty space in his sweat pants, the sensation of your lips beginning to get to him.

“Jagiya?” He croons into the darkness of the room whilst his heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands sort of fidgeting against your hips.

“Hm?” You hum, kissing up his neck towards his lips, “Are you ok?”

He isn’t, he’s hard and, there is four months of stress sitting on his shoulders that he is certain your lips will melt away but, he’s so nervous.

“Uh…I’m…” He stutters for the right words but, you already know what he’s trying to say because, you can feel him now, pressing into your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” You place a gentle kiss to his stuttering mouth, wanting to check with him before you continue.

“No…yes, shit I-“ He looks torn, glancing down towards his dick before looking back at you, “I don’t know jagi, I’m sorry…”

Immediately, you shake your head, pulling back to look at him, “Hey…hey it’s ok, you have nothing to be sorry for ok? We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. I should have asked you if it was ok to kiss you there…”

He shakes his head now, pulling you closer, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I want you to kiss me and…touch me, I just wish I wasn’t so…” He sighs, biting his lip, dark eyes flitting nervously around, “I’ve just never…let anyone make me cum before…”

You have to admit, this shocks you.

Jungkook was obviously a campus heartthrob, literally everyone had a crush on him, even the Dean and, while you didn’t think that made him into some kind of Casanova, you had been certain that he had some sexual experience before meeting you.

But clearly, you were wrong.

Reaching out to touch his cheek, you pull his gaze back to yours, “There’s nothing wrong with that babe. We all do things at our own pace. The two of us have all the time in the world, you can wait as long as you need to…”

His fingers curl slightly against your hips, shifting you until your sitting in his lap, causing you to ignore the way his length feels pressing into your core. A deep breath is needed but, it doesn’t last long because, Jungkook speaks again, surprising you.

“Noona I-“ He kisses you again, trying to focus on anything other than his throbbing dick, “I don’t want to wait anymore though…I’m just really nervous.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks but, you remain focused, allowing him to take all of the time he needs.

“That’s ok, it’s ok to be nervous.” You assure him gently, kissing between his eyes, “Can I ask what you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t know what it’s going to be like and, I don’t know…my hyungs say it feels amazing but, I don’t want to do the wrong thing or what if you use your mouth and, it tastes bad or something, fuck I sound really dumb, I swear…I’m ….”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling fondly into his skin as your hands come up to rub tenderly at his back.

“Slow down for me baby.” You whisper and, the words along with your touch are enough to calm him slightly, “you say you don’t want to wait right? So, what would you be comfortable with us doing right now? It doesn’t have to be all at once, we can take things slow.”

His fingers explore the skin on your hips, as he wears a nervous but eager expression, “I don’t want our first time to be…here or like…after all of this. I don’t think I’m ready for the way you’ll make me feel, I can barely hang on when you’re sitting on me like this but, I…”

His eyes flit down to your center for a moment, as if the thought of being inside of you overwhelms him. He looks back up at you, lips swollen from all of the kiss, his timid expression tainted with lust.

“I wanna feel what it’s like to have someone touch me…I want you to touch me really bad.”

The world could be ending beyond Jungkook’s blackout curtains and, it still wouldn’t be enough to stop you from honoring his request.

Your finger tilts his chin towards your lips, “I want to touch you too. Can I touch you right now?”

He nods immediately, swallowing around a dry throat and an unsteady heartbeat. To soothe himself, he kisses you again before, nudging your nose playfully, trying to ease the tension he feels.

“Ok, I’m going to get behind you alright?”

Your response confuses him and, you can tell but, you know he’ll catch on soon enough. He leans forward, allowing you sit directly behind him, your legs on either side of his silhouette, your body encircling him with your warmth.

“Lean back against me…” You whisper in his ear, causing him to shiver as he obliges, his bare back now flush against your chest. “Comfy?’

He chuckles, his cheeks on fire at the position you’re both in but, he nods none the less, his hands moving to the outsides of his thighs and, then to tops of your knees, rubbing the skin there.

“Now, I want you to show me how you touch yourself ok? So I can see what you like and, then, whenever you’re ready, I’ll touch you.” You explain gently, kissing around the shell of his ear, your hands coming to brush over his hips.

Jungkook already feels like he could cum, he just can’t believe you’re about to touch him.

He has no idea what to expect.

“Ok…” He tilts his lips to mumble against your mouth, his tone boyish and jovial, “ You promise you won’t laugh right?”

At his question you giggle, kissing him and shaking your head, “Of course I’m not going to laugh babe, I’m here to make you feel good.”

He chuckles too, relishing in the way you make him feel: comfortable and comforted.

“OK, I’ll uh…I’ll start now…” He whispers, his shaky and quite frankly clammy hand leaves your knee and, slowly travels to the band of his sweatpants, tucking underneath for a moment before bringing his dick out from it’s confines.

It’s bigger than you anticipated and, as hot as any dick can be. Swollen and curving slightly at the reddened tip, it makes your mouth water; literally every inch of your boyfriend is beautiful.

Jungkook takes a shaky breath in through his nose as he encircles a hand around his length, squeezing tentatively right underneath the tip, the sensation makes his head spin.

He stays silent as he finds a rhythm his comfortable with and, you admire the way his toned stomach trembles with his own ministrations. You take note that he pays careful attention to his frenulum, his thumb rubbing over it continuously as he strokes himself.

After a few moments, you start pressing kisses into his neck, allowing your hands to wander over his hips, tracing patterns into his skin.

“Jagi…I-“ He mutters before his words catch on the softest moan, the sound of course caused by you nibbling on his neck, “You’re making it so good for me…”

He sounds helpless, like he knows that you touching him is going to ruin him because, you touching on him whilst he jacks off is already fucking him up.

“Yeah? It feels good?” You reaffirm before sucking gently on his sweetspot, a motion that causes his hand to stall right underneath his tip, his head falling back against you.

“Mhm…” He hums and, if he wasn’t reigning it in, he would be whining but, he stops himself, trying to gain some sense, “Do you know how to touch me now?”

He’s starting to feel impatient, because he knows the way your hands feel on him now and, his dick is so hard he feels like he could burst.

You smirk fondly against his neck as you nod slowly, your hand trailing over his wrist which is still working on his length, “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” He answers immediately, letting his hand fall to the side, his eyes closing tightly as he prepares himself for your touch.

“Just relax for me ok? I’m going to make you feel so good.” You coo into his ear before slowly resuming the touch on Jungkooks length.

At the first squeeze of your hand, he’s quite certain he has never felt more pleasure in his entire life, as you slowly drag your fist up his aching dick, his mouth falls open in complete awe but, when you begin the same rhythm he had just performed on himself, Jungkook swears his going to melt into a puddle on the bed.

“Oh-“ He huffs, his eyes popping open to zero in on your hand because, watching you touch him is enough to fill up his spank bank for the rest of the year. “Oh my god…Noona…you’re touching me…”

He’s in disbelief. In 22 years, his never let anyone touch him like this before and, although he can’t believe he ever lived without it, he’s glad it was you who touched him first.

“Mhm…” You hum in his ear, kissing gently on the side of his face, “Does it feel good baby?”

As your thumb repeats his early movements, his brown eyes roll to the back of his head, his adams apple jumping around his throat as he swallows.

“I can’t…feel anything else but, your hand on my dick I-oh my fucking god…” He whimpers, his eyes popping open again to watch your pace increase.

His words surprise you, he’s never been so vulgar before and, now you know why but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hear more.

“Nothing else huh? Do you think you’re gonna cum for me baby?” You’re egging him on, wanting him to cum his brains out for you.

You gotta make a good first impression after all…

He nods, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his abs trembling even more so with your motions, his toes curling painfully against the sheets.

“Yeah…really soon…for you..” He gets out, not thinking clearly enough to form full sentences.

“Yeah? What if I went a little faster hm? Would that do the trick baby? Will you make a mess now?”

Oh he’s fuck now.

As your pace increases on him, you focus more attention on his throbbing tip, pulling and squeezing him to the point of no return. Jungkook feels nothing but, pleasure as he starts to rock his hips up into your touch.

“I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum…oh my god you’re so good…” He mutters before a whimper takes over his speech, eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back against you once more, “fuck….thank you Noona…god thank you so much…”

Those are his last words before his release comes, the sweltering pleasure consuming his entire being, starting up from his balls and, shooting up his length. Jungkook knows in his heart he’s never cum so hard in his life. Nothing could ever compare to the way you make him feel.

“There you go…let it out baby…” You whisper, kissing at his cheeks as you stroke him through his release.

Once his hips begin to twitch with sensitivity, you slow your pace on him, easing off his dick.

Jungkook’s breathing his erratic and, he feels drunk off of the pleasure he’s just received but, he knows for a fact that he came all over himself and, all over your hand.

You wait for him to open his eyes so, he can watch you lick his release from your fingers, taking time to show him the skills of yours he’s yet to experience.

“holy shit…” He mutters, eyes completely glazed over before leaning in and capturing your lips between his and, kissing you with everything he has.

You giggle against his lips before, squealing unceremoniously into the kiss as Jungkook turns quickly in your grip, falling back towards the foot of the bed and, taking you with him. He just chuckles, kissing you harder as he lets his hands run a little more freely over your body.

“I’m guessing you liked it?” You tease into the kiss before he leans back, his expression completely offended.

“Liked it? You’re guessing I liked it???” He blazes dubiously before, pinching your sides and, suddenly leaning into kiss all over your face, nibbling on your cheeks, “You almost made me cry…”

“You cry all the time…” You point out, pinching his side back, causing him to gasp in mock horror.

“Shut upppp…” He whines, smirking as he tucks his face into your neck, nibbling on the skin again and, while it seems innocent, soon enough Jungkook’s nibbling turns into kissing and, his playful touch on your hips turns to caressing.

“Noona?” His tone has shifted lower, it shoots straight down to your core.

“Yeah?” You breathe, eyes shut against the sensation of his lips.

“Will you make a mess now?”

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cherrybracelets · 4 years ago

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dance in the dark (one)

words: 4.5k | warnings: 18+ content. smut, drugs and alcohol mentions. mentions of blood, weapons, serial killers, cults, etc. DO NOT interact with this fic if you are under 18

masterlist | requests

pairing: professor!spencer reid x student!reader

an: this is part one of a continuing prof reid fic, i have no update schedule for this so please bare with me lmk what you would like to see also send more prof reid requests i wanna do little non plot side blurbs to this fic with your ideas!!!!

What do you think the crowd at a sleazy downtown bar on a Wednesday night looks like? Here’s a hint- it’s pretty pathetic. If you’re at this place on a week day, really any night at all, you’re probably not in the best place. And that was true, for you. Although from the outside it appeared you had everything completely together, the truth you tried so desperately to lock inside was clawing it’s way out- and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold yourself together.

Tomorrow was the start of your last year in grad school, something that should be a major accomplishment. But you were transferring here, after some unfortunate events that happened last semester. You’re not talking about that, though, remember? It’s a new year, a new city; you had the chance to move on from your past. But the only way you could do that is if you... kept it locked inside.

But you’d been doing that all summer, pretending to be someone you’re not, even using a fake name with strangers. You could completely reinvent yourself, and no one would ever know. And as you downed another jack and coke, you stared in curiosity at the lonely man on the other end of the bar, flipping through pages of what seemed like an exceptionally boring book.

He caught you looking at him, to which you quickly glanced away to pretend you weren’t, but you caught a slight smile out of the corner of your eye. You stared at the rows of alcohol behind you, avoiding looking in any direction, especially his. But you felt yourself smiling, a handsome man who had no idea who you were. Who didn’t know your name. That was something you couldn’t say before you were here.

“That guy down there bought this for ya,” the bartender huffed, his deep and raspy voice perfect matching his large and intimidating exterior. You smiled down at the glass, a perfectly mixed Jack & Coke with a lime. You raised the glass up to him and shook it, letting the ice clang against the glass.

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, raising your voice so he could here you.

“I’m not... super great at the ‘walking up to a pretty girl and saying hi, thing’. So I figured that was my best bet.” He smiled, taking a slow sip of his own drink, which looked like scotch.

“Can I come sit with you?” You asked, looking at the empty seat next to him.

“Of course,” he grinned, clearing his papers and readjusting himself in the seat. “I’m, uh, Spencer, by the way.”

(Y/N),” you responded, playing with the straw in your drink.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?” He asked, a serious tone to his voice.

“Of course,” you replied, hesitantly.

“Are you having an exceptionally bad day?”

“Hmm,” you thought, your eyes locked on the handsome man in front of you. “I think I’m having an exceptionally bad year, maybe years plural.”

He laughed quietly, a deep chuckle, a relatable response. He knew more than anyone how miserable life could be. But this week, and most specifically today, has been exhausting for him. And he saw you, he saw the perfect way to relieve some stress.

It didn’t take much longer until you were back at his place, making out on the overly expensive leather couch in the living room. His hands climbing up your body, nails digging into your flesh each time he grinded himself into you. Your hands were tangled in his hair, the smell of fresh strawberries and a hint of coconut from his shampoo.

By the time you were both completely naked, he already had his mouth exploring your clit, his tongue playing games with you. He bit down on your inner thighs, sucking and nibbling at your lips. He added two fingers into you slowly, curling them perfectly to hit the right spot every time.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, your body writhing with pleasure, his mouth and fingers still taking care of you. He quickly stopped at your words, sitting up and pulling his fingers out of you. He licked his hand, tasting you, a devilish grin on his face.

“You can cum when I tell you to cum. Turn over.” He commanded, grabbing your hips and flipping you over to him. He pushed on the center of your back and you arched, pushing your ass up for him. You could feel him position himself at your entrance, and slowly sliding himself in. You were surprised by his length, a slow whimper escaping your lips.

“Am I too big for you, baby? Can you handle it?” He sounded concerned, but an underlying tone of sarcasm and gloat in his voice.

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, determined to take him. You felt the palm of his hand on your ass, rubbing the cheek slowly. It quickly lifted off, and came back down hard, a loud slap as his hand hit your bare cheek. You whines loudly, a mix of pain and pleasure overcoming you as he started to fuck you faster and deeper.

You felt him deep inside of you. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and with ever pump into you he seemed to climb deeper. The feeling of being under him, his length fully overcoming your body- you felt so submissive, you belonged to him. His hands gripped tightly into your hips, pulling you back into him as he pounded in and out.

“Can you handle this baby girl?” He yelled out, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back towards him. You yelped as he did that, the feeling of your hair being pulled sending shivers down your spine.

“I fucking love it,” you responded, feeling the need to praise the man who was in charge of your body right now.

“I want you to cum,” he instructed, his voice stern. You worried about what he’d do if you didn’t follow his instructions. You let yourself succumb to him, giving him full control of your pleasure. You started to feel a warmth spreading through you, preparing your body for a high of pleasure. After a few more seconds, you finally reached your peak, loudly announcing it to Spencer and whoever else could hear.

The sound of the pleasure he brought you, Spencer came quickly after that, pulling himself out of you at the last minute and cumming on your back. He pushed you down flat afterwards, and you laid there with him for a moment. He stared at you, covered in him, his property. In that moment, you belonged to him.

After you cleaned yourself off, you threw your clothes back on and got yourself together.

“I gotta go, I’m starting class tomorrow,” you explained, trying to sneak out without being awkward.

“I’ll see you again soon. Our story isn’t over,” he muttered, pointing towards the door and winking. You laughed initially, but realized how weird the comment actually was as you were walking out.

Luckily, your Uber only took a few minutes, and didn’t force you to talk. You scrolled mindlessly through instagram, thinking about classes, the thought of Spencer still stuck in your mind. As weird as it was to say, you truly didn’t think it would be the last time you saw it. You had a weird feeling deep inside that he was a very important person.

But, it didn’t matter, because you lived in a city with 700,000 people, and the chances of seeing him were slim to none. You didn’t even have a last name to find him on socials. You didn’t know his job, if he was even from here. In fact, you were quite surprised to realize you had just let a man you barely know fuck you like that. But damn, you did not regret it.

You crashed as soon as you got back to your apartment, setting your alarm for class tomorrow and passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. You had your usual string of nightmares, waking up every few hours, covered in sweat, your heart beating through your chest. You took a few sips of water and fell back asleep, only for the whole cycle to repeat a mere hour later. When your alarm finally woke you up, you were groggy and nauseous, another night of no sleep taking effect on you. You dragged yourself out of bed, silently hopped in the shower and let the hot water cleanse the night away from you.

You brewed a weak cup of coffee, poured it into a travel mug and headed out the door. You were terrified of today, a heavy pit sitting in your stomach. You kept your headphones in the entire commute to the school, drowning out the conversations of others around you. There was no possible way they could know you here, but you still always felt that the whispers were about you. You avoided as much eye contact and interaction as you could, walking through the campus.

Luckily the building where your class was wasn’t too far, and you got there relatively quickly. Your first class was called Mass Atrocity: Early Warning and Prevention, technically and elective course, but something you were extremely interested in. Your program was called Conflict Analysis and Resolution. You wanted to be badass, take down cults and serial killers, talking them off a ledge. You wanted to go back in time and prevent Waco. You knew you could do all of these things, you knew you could be the best, because your brother was a killer.

It was why you moved from your hometown. After he was found out, it was unbearable to be around people who knew you. You couldn’t escape the hate, the public humiliation. You hated him just as much as anyone, but that didn’t matter. People were convinced you two were killers together, especially since everyone knew what you wanted to do with your life and knew you to be a huge true crime junky.

You had to get away from there, escape your past identity. You could’ve stopped him, if you knew what was happening. But the truth was, you had no idea. And you hated that, you shamed yourself every day for not catching on to him. You, of all people, should have known. But now, you will spend the rest of your life stopping anyone you can. You had too, you couldn’t let them hurt their families the way your brother hurt yours.

So here you were, in a brand new city, a new last name, a new life. You had a chance to start over, be a new person. You could learn from some of the best professors, at one of the best schools in the country, only a few miles from DC. Homeland security, the FBI, CIA… everything you had ever wanted, right here. Sitting in this classroom, people filling in around you, you had your whole life ahead of you. Your future was unfolding itself right in front of you.

And then he walked in. A brown leather briefcase to match a blue suit, his hair sloppily pulled behind his ears, a tie loosely around his neck as if he got ready in a hurry this morning. He probably overslept, since he was out late at a bar and brought a girl home. You stared at him, your stomach flipping as he took his laptop out of his bag and began to set up for his lecture. You tried to get up and leave, turn around and pretend you never saw him, but you were trapped on either side, unable to escape. You slouched in your chair, hiding behind your laptop.

“Good morning everyone,” he said, his voice raspy and low, a clear sign of exhaustion. “I am Dr. Reid, although I would prefer Spencer. I teach a lot of the courses for Conflict Analysis, so you better get used to seeing a lot of me.” Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes scanning the crowd to see his new students. He looked approving, nodding over the people, and then his eyes caught you.

He stopped in his tracks, locked on your face, your eyes moving quickly in random directions to avoid his gaze. You finally caught him, and he furrowed his brows at you, a look of disappointment. He looked away quickly and scanned the rest of the crowd, still looking discontent as he tried to shake the confusion away and begin his lecture.

He didn’t look at you once through the entire class. You were smart and took your notes silently, not asking questions or making a sound. He was an extremely captivating person, his stories and the way he taught so encapsulating. He was brilliant, by far the smartest person you ever had the pleasure of meeting. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know the answer too, and you had so much you wanted to ask. You knew he could answer so many questions for you, specifically about your brother. But you vowed to never speak of him again, especially to a professor that you not only admire, but recklessly fucked just the night before.

Spencer wrapped up class, giving everyone a few final notes and instructions before saying his goodbyes. Before everyone was out of their seat, he interrupted the shuffle to say one final thing.

“Miss. Isaacs, could you speak to me for a moment regarding your registration?” He looked up at you for the first time in ninety minutes, and looked desperate. Your fake last name still rang odd in your ears, and it took you a moment to realize that he was asking for you. You nodded to him submissively, walking out the aisle and down the stairs to meet him at the podium.

“Do you mind if we go to my office?” He asked loudly, making sure the other students heard him speaking normally to you.

“Sure,” you whispered, following him out the door and down a hallway of offices. He stopped at his, fumbled with the keys, and opened the door to a very tidy office. You closed the door behind you and sat on one of the two chairs that were for visitors. He walked behind the desk and sat in his chair, a frustrated groan as he sat back.

“We need to talk about this.” He snapped, knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about. “I can’t have slept with… a student.”

“Listen, I promise I won’t say a word, okay? I can transfer out of your class too, make it not an issue…”

“You have to take my classes to graduate. I’m…” he softened, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath. “I’m not gonna ask you to do that. You’re extremely bright… I remember getting your application. You deserve a spot here… I just don’t want you to lose that because of this…” He rubbed his hand over his chin, trying not to raise his voice too loud.

“Thank you for saying that. You were brilliant out there today… I was completely enamored by you. Why did you leave the BAU to teach?” You asked abruptly, only realizing how inappropriate it was to ask that after it had already come out of your mouth.

“You know, that’s probably pretty personal, you don't have to answer that.” You covered your face awkwardly, wishing now you could just leave and not make this interaction any worse.

“No… it’s okay. There was just… so much pain all the time. And most people take that as ‘I couldn’t handle that pain anymore,’ but truthfully, I had become so numb to it, it scared me. I needed to get out so I could learn to feel again.” Spencer looked at you, his heart feeling a thousand times lighter after speaking his truth. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not quite sure why I told you.”

“I… I’m really sorry. Sometimes it is really easier to pretend things don’t affect you than deal with your true feelings. I can really relate to that,” you laughed, remembering all the pain you were currently trying to escape.

“You are very, very beautiful,” Spencer interjected, his eyes exploring you, his mouth slightly open in concentration as he focused on your almost perfect facial features.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, feeling a creeping heat on your face as your cheeks began to blush.

“I’d appreciate it if you called me Spencer.” He moved his eyes from your body to your own eyes, staring right through you. You felt completely unlocked in that moment, like he could see right into your brain and read your thoughts and secrets like a book. You knew you could close yourself up, hide away from him, but a part of you didn’t want to. The exhaustion of holding a heavy secret around ate away at you, and it would be more than nice to have someone who could carry that weight with you.

But not him, he was your Professor, and this was your future. You broke your gaze with him and sat up straight, looking away. You scanned through pictures on his wall, the same group of people in multiple photos. He had many books on the wall, some in languages you didn’t even recognize. There were piles of magazines and papers on the floors, a layer of dust on the frame of the floor, and a fireplace that was littered with ash. The air held a musty stench, with a hint of air freshener trying desperately, and failing, to make the room smell good.

At first glance, this office seemed tidy, that of a person with their life together. But the details were where that theory fell apart. He was holding on to his exterior, pretending he was okay, but inside this man was a mess. He was exhausted, overworked, and due to the multiple empty scotch glasses lying around, heavily drinking.

“You alright?” Spencer asked, his voice breaking you out of your own thoughts.

“‘Sorry. Zoned out for a second…” you muttered, still looking around the room, trying to notice any other displacements. “I should probably get going.” You stood up quickly, grabbing your jacket and bag and heading for the door.

“You’re in another one of my classes tomorrow. I checked your schedule,” he hesitated, looking at his computer for confirmation. “Will I see you?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice, right?” You raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for another comment, but he had none. You left after a few seconds, closing the door behind you as you left. You leaned up against the wall outside of the office, trying to ground yourself. You took a few deep breaths and checked the time, realizing you needed to get to your next class soon. You quickly walked to the stairs and headed towards your next class, your head still buzzing from Spencer that you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to comprehend anything. You took a seat in the next room, putting your head down in embarrassment as you waited for class to begin.

The next day you got to sleep in a bit more, but it didn’t make much of a difference. You still spent most of the night dealing with nightmares of your brother, but you had a new dream that scared you more than any of the others. You were sitting in one of Spencer’s classes, taking notes casually as he lectured. As he continued his powerpoint, the lights went dark and the slide changed to a picture of your brother. Everyone started pointing at you, calling you a killer, screaming profane things about your family. A light shined on Spencer, who was pointing and laughing with the rest of the crowd, walking towards you and pointing a gun to your head. Right before he pulled the trigger, he whispered “No one will ever love a killer.” His finger pressed down, igniting the gun, and…

Bam. You woke up. You felt sick, your heart racing and the contents of your stomach lurching around. You ran to the bathroom, vomiting as soon as you reached the toilet. You sat back against the cool tub, the cold feeling amazing against your hot flesh. You checked the time- 2:43 AM. You walked back to your bed and grabbed your phone, scrolling through instagram and twitter, trying to calm your mind. You had made brand new accounts with your new persona, paying bots to follow you so it looked legit. You didn’t want to post anything anyways, but you did love looking at baby animal pictures on the internet.

You were still feeling kind of out of it, and you reached onto your nightstand to grab your bowl. You smoked a little bit, trying to calm your body down enough to fall back asleep. Sometimes the marijuana and sleeping pills are the only things that calm you down. But you were feeling a little loopy tonight, and as you stared at your phone and tried to shove your anxiety deep down, you made a fatal mistake.

New email:

To: Dr. Spencer Reid, PhD

Subject: Empty

What do you do make the pain go away?

Sent from my iPhone.

You locked your phone and placed it down on the nightstand, curling up in your bed and falling asleep. You surprisingly slept through the rest of the night without issue, waking up from a deep sleep as your alarm went off a few hours later. You had effectively forgotten about the email, and didn’t have any reminder of it since Spencer had yet to respond. You casually made yourself breakfast, preparing mentally to see Spencer in class again this morning.

You left promptly after cleaning up, making sure you wouldn’t miss your bus to campus. You rode the commute with your headphones in, still ignoring the conversations of the strangers around you. You felt better today, at least knowing you’d be more prepared to see Spencer today than yesterday. All of that confidence immediately drained from your body as your phone vibrated, alerting you to a new text. Who the hell could be texting you? Almost no one knew this number.

Maybe: Spencer Reid

In regards to your email- you can never get rid of the pain. I wish I had a better answer.

You stared in awe at your screen, rereading the message a thousand times. At first you were confused, what email? But then you remembered, the fuzzy letters on the screen as you emailed him last night. Fuck. This wasn’t good. You opened the message, but didn’t respond, hoping he would see that if you read it and didn’t respond he would get the hint. There was no way you could go walk in class right now and go see him. But your bus stopped, right where you needed to get off, and although you desperately tried not to, your body got up and walked off the bus.

You continued to walk all the way to your classroom, sitting suspiciously close to the front. A part of you wanted him, the part of you that craved destruction and drama, the part of you that you saw your brother in. It scared you, because each and every day you felt that part of you come to the surface a little more.

Spencer walked in shyly, immediately scanning the crowd to find you. When your eyes locked, his face read a bit of relief, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come. He, too, wanted to see you. In all honesty, he couldn’t stop thinking about you since that night you spent together. He didn’t look at you long, realizing he had to start class at some point. He went through a similar introduction as yesterday, changing up a few things to meet this course’s curriculum.

When he started teaching his content, you became just as lost in his words as you did yesterday. You listened intently to every word, felt the emotion as he did, even found yourself on the verge of tears as he wrapped up his lecture. You were stuck in awe, unable to move from your seat as he finished up class. He didn’t ask to speak to you this time, he just walked out the door without another glance in your direction.

You needed to speak to him, at least to explain the late night email. You left the room and headed in the direction to his office, hoping you could catch him before a mob of other students. You could imagine you weren’t the only one who was engulfed by him. He was hot, and there were plenty of other girls in your class who would have their eyes on him. You started wondering how many students he’d fucked before you and felt sick, a wave of green envy washing over you. It was weird, how hurt you’d been at the thought of him with someone else, considering you aren’t even together.

You made it to his office, and luckily there wasn’t anyone else around. You knocked lightly on the door and heard a muffled “Come in.” You opened the door to Spencer writing on some paper, his demeanor slightly surprised as you came through the door.

“Mind if I close this?” You asked, motioning to the door. He nodded and put down his pen, sitting back in his chair.

“What can I do for you?”

“The email… and the text…” You looked down at the ground, now feeling embarrassed in his presence.

“Sorry to have texted you out of the blue… I got your number from the student directory. All the, uh, staff emails are monitored, and I figured it would be best if we kept our conversation… private.” He bit his lip submissively, playing with his nails.

“Why does it need to be private? It was nothing bad…” you enticed, watching the small smile on his face as you spoke.

“I’m afraid that it might end up there.” He dragged his eyes up to yours, meeting your gaze, seemingly digging into your soul once again. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Tell me.” You waited for his response, trying yourself to now see through him, read what he was thinking.

“I don’t think I can stay away from you. Something is drawing me to you and I can’t pull away anymore.”

You stood up from your chair, walking slowly behind his desk and standing in front of him. He uncrossed his legs and looked up at you, your head tilted down as you looked at the man in front of you. You bent down on your knees between his legs, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. He kissed you slowly at first, surprise lingering in his lips, before embracing you, moving with much more aggression as he pulled you into him.

You broke away from the kiss, leaving him confused as you stood up and walked to the other side of the desk. You sat back in your chair and stared at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Of course. 8PM work?”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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roccinan · 4 years ago

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1/? simply because you have the most galaxy brain thoughts ever,,, what do you think would've happened if they waited until s5 to reveal sergio and andrés were (half)brothers?

i do know that when my fam started watching lcdp at first i was so put off. like i watched ep 1 and the prof creeped me out. ""berlin"" creeped me out. e v e r y o n e creeped me out. and i was cringing so hard becz of the short lived romance angle with alison parker. i literally did not watch s1 at all xcept for like sneak peeks. highlights being the scene where berlin discovers monica is alive and does his dramatic door by door thing? that was so SUSPENSEFUL even tho i had no idea what was going on. DOMINGO DE RESURECCION remains forever iconic.

2/? And OF COURSE the group bella ciao dance when they hit earth (hahah i thought the banda were actually like a "found family where they all love each other LOL") i am a SUCKER for found family. but anyhoo when i properly got intrigued was s2 when tokyo was kicked out (the music from that scene is still my favourite) it's just so dramatic..!! why am i telling u all this again? right, i haven't slept a wink and it's nearly 7 am pls forgive me if these rambles make no sense. i have a point with this.. i'm going somewhere

RIGHT. so when the fam actually rewound the ep cz i wanted to know WHY berlin did that (didn't fully realise how batsht crazy he can be), the russian roulette scene played. and pedro's acting. MAN. and like just that ep they made a point of showing us these flashbacks where sergio and andrés hug....

Hi anon! Thanks for stopping by- sorry took me a while to get back to you, will do my best to answer this string of messages (got all 4 parts)! Glad you like my thoughts XD

Firstly, I believe Andres/Sergio would be the biggest LCDP ship if the writers were evil enough to wait until s5 to reveal that they’re brothers asdfasdf. They’re already the two most popular male characters anyway.

It’d be especially crazy because it’s not like they tell the actors these things beforehand either. So that means there’d probably be a Serdres vs Berlermo vs Serquel fight every 5 minutes. I mean, even if not everyone agrees on everything in the lcdp fandom, it’s the most “peaceful” one I’ve ever been in because no character really gets in the way of any other ship (like even with helermo and berlermo there’s no true conflict since Andres is dead). But with Serdres in the mix?? CATASTROPHE. Everyone out here writing essays about how much of a bastard/bitch/homewrecker/motherfucker that Andres or Sergio or Martin or Raquel is. Never a moment’s peace!! so basically, a regular fandom lmao.

Then when we find out they’re brothers, it goes from catastrophe to Apocalypse. Suddenly serquel and berlermo have the upper hand. Everyone would double down and harass the crew/cast into whatever’s going on. Plot-wise, everything is the same though, just without Andres calling Sergio “hermanito.” Fandom however, would be a minefield! And I’m glad that’s not the case because I’d probably be an unfortunate serdres shippers XD No joke, my mother and I thought they were a couple in S1. So bullet dodged!

Secondly: haha, everyone creeped me out in S1 too, especially Berlin, I hated him, but thinking back, I think I mostly hated the fact that I didn’t hate him as much as I should have. I’ve made peace with it now but oh boy, was he a controversial figure in my head. I actually like the professor on sight though! IDK why, maybe because I thought his plans were cool or because of Alvaro’s delivery. I was afraid of an Alison Parker romance thing too- like, I do feel like she had a storyline that got dropped, but that part was quite cringey and overall unnecessary to the plot. Same with Ariadna, which was even cringier and even Less necessary to the plot.

Domingo de resurrecion was iconic though yes! And even with all that said, I genuinely enjoyed parts 1 and 2 because it was so different from anything else I’d seen. Not content wise, but maybe tonally? IDK, they were just really bold with a lot of things, like being objectively unafraid of having the protagonists (plural because all of them did LMAO) do objectively shitty things. Really kept me in suspense from beginning to end!

I’m usually a big fan of found families too! The funny thing is, then banda never struck me as a “family” until season 3. In 1 and 2, I was wondering what felt different about this show; then it hit me that these people remained colleagues to the end. Like, they backstabbed each other (repeatedly) and everyone was quite selfish, and only the bonds that were already there stuck. They were the opposite of a found family LOL But I think by S3, they went down the found family route and I didn’t mind because it makes quite a lot of sense for them to feel that bond after the Mint heist and almost dying/living together (and having witnessed 3 deaths together on the team). But I still doubt Berlin and Palermo were ever really part of this found family, with good reason XD

LOL the scene where Tokyo got kicked out is also among my favorites!! It was so funny and dramatic, and it was like, wow we can go anywhere with this now! Don’t worry- your rambles and thoughts are always welcome :D

I’m rolling over how you watched the Tokyo expulsion scene before the Russian Roulette scene haha. Also yes, PEDRO. Berlin may have been “controversial” to me at first, but I became Pedro’s fan from day one! Also the Hug is probably what made me like Berlin (despite my determination to hate him rip) in the first place.

3/? ... and like now that i think about it... tokyo had real guts huh. like she KNEW berlin was close enough to el prof to know his name (fhshshs imagine if she'd heard andrés saying 'hermanito' it's unrealistic that she didn't TBH. i mean obviously they decided to make them brothers only towards the end but like in canon universe. how tf did andrés de 'i raised my bby brother since he was 12 and i'd actually die for him and his stupidly brilliant plans' fonollosa go 5 months without slipping up once and calling sergio hermanito. or like,,, i like to imagine sergio kinda gave him lots of leeway(?) sergio's a lil oblivious too but like i'm sure half of it is.. that's my dumbass older bro shut up i'm not being partial you all have city names .. andr-berlin, pass the salt. like OOF. + sergio also knew his big bro was dYiNG so like. i'm sure they were sneaking in some quality time (i hope they did 😭 gosh imagine if sergio really did not ever consider the possibility of andrés dying in the heist so he'd tell himself he needs to perfect the plan now & anyway he'll have enough time to spend w/ his brother post heist in philippines. and then ... that happened :/

Tokyo has guts in place of braincells you bet that she’d do something like this, consequences be damned XD I also think it’s unrealistic for Andres not to slip up, but I have a feeling nobody besides Tokyo really tried to spy on them in private. I headcanon that Andres instead slips up and does things like ruffle Sergio’s hair or adjust his tie when other people are around. I also think Tokyo was convinced that they were a gay couple when she saw them hug XD And if Sergio never went on to tell the banda that Berlin was his brother, everyone would be giving Palermo such awkward looks after Nairobi accused him of being in love with Berlin LMAO.

I agree! I also imagine Sergio giving Andres leeway because he’s just so used to interacting with his brother that way haha. So either he’d go out of his way to ignore Berlin in front of everyone else or IDK, borderline telepathically communicate with him. Not even “pass the salt” has to leave his mouth- Berlin just puts salt into his food and cuts it up for him, in front of everyone who’s just staring like O.O

I actually do think Sergio never considered the possibility of Andres dying in the heist because he was just that confident in his own plan. Plus, Andres was probably the one person he expected to survive. And a lot of it has to do with Sergio’s attachment to him + Andres’ own habit of downplaying any illness/injury over the years, which I think is safe to believe canon. He was really in no condition to be in the heist, let alone lead it. Just the fact that he needs to take those injections is a big sign that he shouldn’t be there, but Sergio didn’t catch it because he’s human and blinded by faith :’) So yeah, I think Sergio was planning to spend proper time with Andres in Palawan and at Toledo, they just settled for those little moments by the fireplace.

4/? what always also just GETS me in the feels is that el prof was shown to be this in control creepily calm dude who is miles ahead of everyone. + in the 1st Toledo class itself we see how detached,, like how impersonal he is, how professional - choosing frickin CITY NAMES?! no 'personal relationships' ? (after recruiting his older brother, a father son pair, and war cousins... oh sergio 😂 he's such a frickin nerd and i love him) but like the earlier seasons really emphasised how robotic and down right COLD he can be. it still sometimes bothers me that he put the button in the car. he lead the police to his own damn brother, his blood, who took care of him and adopted him and was terminally ill and like - UGH i try to rationalise that sergio is that cold and unbothered. or that he has strict morals. but it still bothers me becz that button really sort of tipped andres' already unstable sanity. like andrés tells denver someth like you've robbed my future and after that he just seems so much more suicidal and accepting that he can't get out of the mint alive - WHY SERGIO WHY. I KNOW THAT AT THAT POINT YOU BASICALLY DIDN'T KNOW ANDRÉS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR BROTHER YET BECZ IT WASN'T WRITTEN IN THE SCRIPT BUT WHYYYYY

That’s so funny to me too LMAO No personal relationships, then he recruits these guys. Sergio, hello?? Also can’t forget how he just recruited his own girfrleind in the second heist too. Buddy! Love this nerd.

I don’t think that cold aspect of Sergio went away in later seasons either; he just had more opportunity to show a more open side of himself + without Andres, he had to metaphorically leave his comfort zone without a safety net. But in earlier seasons, he really did seem heartless at times XD Then again, we can argue that the same goes for Andres.

To be fair, I didn’t feel sorry for Andres over the button thing lol, but once the brothers reveal happened and all of Alvaro/Pedro’s headcanons came out and we know everything Andres did for Sergio, it makes what Sergio did REALLY harsh. We really just have to explain it through Sergio’s strict morals and him believing this to be the best non-fatal punishment for Andres, who at that point had convinced him he killed a hostage. And because he knew the television interview was coming up, maybe Sergio assumed Andres would use it to “clear” his name anyway. And empathy isn’t one of Sergio’s strong suits either, so through that lens, I can rationalize it.

Also it was lowkey funny to me how Andres was there like DENVER MUST DIE until he found out Sergio put the button there, then he was like “oh hermanito, you and your practical jokes <3″

Still, like you said, Andres and Sergio weren’t brothers yet at this point. They were probably supposed to be lovers lmao and had a dysfunctional Hannibal Lecter x Will thing going on. But because they made #hermanos canon, that button moment just feels very out of place now, especially given how much the two genuinely love each other.

Guess we could also say that Sergio’s just generally kinda bratty with Andres XD Like, he knows no matter what, Andres would forgive him anything. That’s how I see it anyway!

#anonymous #thanks for stopping by!#royalpaperhouse is this you my friend? :D

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cake-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Compromise (Part Three)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Interlude #1 / Master List

To say you slept terribly was an understatement.

You were too nervous, too keyed up to sleep. Not only were you worried about Winnie, but the prospect of car shopping with Bucky was an additional stressor. Why had you even agreed to it in the first place? Yours was just fine. A beater, sure, but it still ran. Kind of.

Deep down, you couldn’t help but appreciate that he cared about Winnie’s safety. You just didn’t like the nagging. He’d been on your case for the last few months about your car, ever since you got into an accident on the way home from the grocery store. A fender bender, nothing serious. It wasn’t even bad enough to warrant repairs – just a few dents and scratches on your rear bumper. The other driver gave you a couple hundred bucks for damages, which you used on birthday presents for your little girl.

That said, you weren’t poor, just frugal.

Most of Bucky’s child support – a couple thousand dollars a month – went straight into savings for Winnie’s college fund. The rest was used on doctor’s appointments and medicine. Despite the fact that she also had the serum in her veins, she still got sick like a normal child. Between croup and colds and ear infections, you’d dealt with it all; even her asthma, unpredictable as it was. It flared up at the strangest times, not from overexertion or allergies like one might expect, but randomly and you hadn’t yet figured out the cause. Neither had her doctor, let alone Bruce for that matter.

Of course, the serum did affect her some. She grew slightly faster than her peers; although she was a little over three years old, now, physically she was more like four. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise, as your pregnancy only lasted eight months instead of nine. Technically she was a preemie but she certainly didn’t seem like one, having been born at a standard six pounds, five ounces.

Standard. Normal.

When she ran, it was at a normal speed too, and she definitely couldn’t lift anything heavy. She had a tendency to trip and fall flat on her face, so her reflexes weren’t exactly enhanced like Bucky’s, either, though her skinned knees did seem to heal faster than the norm.

To you, Winnie was a normal little girl through and through. She played with dolls and stuffed animals, drew with crayons and markers, and had temper tantrums on a regular basis. She liked to dress like a princess, watch Disney movies, be tucked in and read to. She even snuck into your bed at night when she had a nightmare.

She was normal. Mostly.

The fact that her Mommy and Daddy were separated made her a target in preschool, and you hated it. Her friends often babbled about their parents, plural, whereas Winnie usually only got to talk about you. You knew how much it bothered her.

It bothered you, too.

Morning came before you knew it, and you were anything but bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. By the time you left for the compound, it was a little after nine and you’d already downed about a gallon of coffee. Even though you’d been a barista for almost a decade, you never really used to drink coffee much until you had Winnie. Then, all of a sudden, you completely understood why it was so popular.

There were no hassles at the gate this time. Bucky’s name held enough sway that you didn’t have to repeat yourself after yesterday. You kind of liked it – always had, if you were being honest. Not that you’d ever admit it. Especially not to yourself.

Yawning, you made your way up the handful of steps and through the glass doors. You’d texted Bucky right before you left and although he wasn’t there to greet you this time, you vaguely remembered where to go. At least you could take the steps more slowly this time, now that you weren’t being watched.

The compound was incredibly quiet for a Sunday morning in comparison to the tower. There was never a dull moment there, but here, even with all the buildings, it wasn’t noisy at all. Instead it was tranquil – relaxing, almost. You could even hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside as you knocked on Bucky’s door.

On the other side, you picked up the deep rumble of his voice. It wasn’t quite loud enough to make out, but you could easily assume what he’d said when Winnie asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mommy,” you answered cheerfully.

You heard her squeal, and then she relayed the information like Bucky had no doubt asked her to do. “Mommy’s here! Can I open it now?”

He spoke again – louder, this time, closer to the door. “Sure, princess.”

There were a couple seconds while she fumbled with the handle; she was barely tall enough to reach it at home, and this one was the same. Bucky might have tried to help, you weren’t sure, but soon enough the door was pulled open and a little brunette blur promptly attached itself to your leg.

“Mommy!” Winnie said happily, peering up at you with her big blue eyes. “You’re back!”

“Of course I am, sweetpea! Did you miss me?” you asked with a smile.

While normally you would have ruffled her hair, you noticed that she had two braids on either side of her head, secured by tiny pink elastics you didn’t recognize. They were very cute, but who’d done them up for her? Natasha? You were sure that none of the boys knew how to French braid. Why would they?

That particular thought made you wonder if there was something going on between her and Bucky. She was here yesterday, too. She’d tell you if there was, though, wouldn’t she?

“I missed you lots, Mommy,” Winnie told you, letting go of you to hold her arms up in the air. She wanted to be picked up.

You, of course, hoisted her up with ease and propped her against your hip, holding her little body just a smidge closer than yesterday – not tight enough to hurt, but you were ecstatic to have her in your arms again. “I missed you lots, too, baby.”

Then you finally looked over at Bucky and found him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. The way his tight black t-shirt strained over his biceps made you feel a little hot under the collar, but what really caught you off guard was how his lips were just slightly curled up at the corners, like he was trying not to smile.

You made a joke in an attempt to distract yourself from the fact that he was always too damn attractive for his own good. “So can I come in? Or do I have cooties?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, then, blinking like hadn’t really thought of it – and then he stepped aside to allow you entry. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“If anyone has cooties, it’s Daddy,” Winnie made a point of saying. “He’s a boy.”

You let out an undignified snort as you crossed the threshold. “Is that right?”

“Yeah! Boys are yuck.”

“Boys are yuck, huh,” Bucky remarked, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Then he muttered under his breath, “Sure hope it stays that way.”

That comment coupled with the suddenly wary look on his face made you laugh outright. Bucky hadn’t made you laugh in a long time; you were too busy arguing with him to do much else. “Isn’t it a little early to be worrying about that?”

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you’ve already got her college fund set up. Don’t talk to me about ‘too early’.”

You huffed, but it was in jest. “That’s different.”

“Yeah?” At that, he offered you a roguish grin that made your heart skip a beat. “How’s it different?”

Now, it wasn’t witty banter, per se, but something was different for sure. The dynamic had shifted between the two of you, somewhere between the time you told him goodnight and your mid-morning arrival. It was a small change, but you could feel it in the air: a distinct lack of tension.

Unfortunately, it also made an indignant flush come across your cheeks. He was teasing you. He hadn’t done that in a long time, either.

“It just is,” you responded unhelpfully, setting Winnie down on the sofa before you sat down next to her. You purposely kept your back facing him to conceal the fact that you were blushing like an idiot and you didn’t even know why.

No, that was a lie. You did know why.

This felt entirely too familiar.

Thankfully, Bucky seemed to pick up on your change of tone and let it go in favour of asking, “Have you eaten? We only got up a few minutes ago.”

By ‘we’ you assumed he meant Winnie, because he never used to sleep well. Nightmares usually kept him awake, and while you knew he wasn’t a morning person, he got up at the crack of dawn anyway. Bucky told you once that he liked to watch the sun rise. The peace and quiet helped him think.

“Not yet,” you answered, fussing with the wrinkled collar of Winnie’s dress. Another distraction. You’d dropped off a few different outfits for her in an overnight bag last night, along with her inhaler, some toiletries, and of course Mr. Squiggles. Now she was dressed in her Sunday best, but in all actuality, she probably just wanted to wear a pretty dress.

“Daddy said he wanted to make Mommy’s favourite pancakes!” Winnie piped up, and you instinctively tensed at the admission.

That’s right. It was Sunday.

Bucky awkwardly cleared his throat, but made no attempt to correct her.

There was a brief pause – stunned silence – until you regained your bearings enough to ask, “Did he, now?”

“Uh huh!” Winnie told you, nodding excitedly. “Blueberry!”

Your brows rose as you turned to him. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Why do you think I used to make them?”

Your heart instantly warmed at his admission – and ached, because of the memories. He was on missions more often than not when the two of you were together, but without fail, whenever he was home on a Sunday, he made blueberry pancakes. His Ma’s recipe, he said.

They were the best pancakes you’d ever eaten.

“Well,” you began nervously, “it is Sunday.”

He met your eyes, then – gentle, warm. Just like how he used to look at you.

“Daddy,” Winnie whined. “I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you chimed in, feeling a little lighter than before. “I’m hungry, too.”

Bucky grumbled an easy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he got to work, but his tone didn’t match the amused expression on his face. You didn’t fail to notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

That was when Winnie started to tell you about the show she was watching on Netflix, the same cartoon you’d glimpsed yesterday. You were interested in what she had to say, of course you were, but not as much as you normally would have been because her father looked so fucking good right now.

He’d remembered. As innocent as that was, your body’s reaction to it absolutely wasn’t. Call it Pavlovian conditioning, but the first time he made those pancakes for you was the morning after you first slept together. That was the same night Winnie was conceived.

When Bucky pulled out a frying pan from one of the cabinets and set it on the lit stove, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt stretched over his muscles underneath, not to mention those sweatpants which did nothing to conceal his fantastic ass.

You’d already seen and sampled what he had to offer, but hell if you didn’t want to have another taste anyway. Not that you ever would.

He started to lay out all of the ingredients on the counter, including a punnet of fresh blueberries but you were more focused on the way he worked with such finesse, like making breakfast for the three of you was a normal, everyday thing for him to do.

It was, once.

Then, as Bucky mixed everything together in a large bowl, he finally glanced up only to catch you staring.

Shit.

You immediately tore your eyes away, heart pounding a frenzied tattoo within the confines of your chest and you made sure not to look back again. Instead, you feigned interest in the show Winnie was babbling on about, squeezing your thighs together to alleviate the sudden ache in between.

You needed to stop.

He wasn’t good for you. He wasn’t good for Winnie.

Right?

But your thoughts just kept drifting back to him anyway. You couldn’t help it. It was during times like these that your memories got the best of you, because you knew he was more than capable of being a good father if he wanted to be. You’d seen it not only while you were pregnant, but during the first couple of months after Winnie was born.

What’s worse was that Bucky was capable of so much more, too. He could be downright wonderful. A good boyfriend. A supportive partner. An attentive lover. He was all of those for you once upon a time.

It wasn’t until the pancakes were done and you finally met his eyes again from across the kitchen table that you knew you were in too deep. You’d never gotten over him, not really – and being here with him and your daughter, so sweet and domestic for the first time in years, was what made you finally realize that.

You still wanted to be with him.

You wanted to be a family.

Part Four

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #captain america #avengers #mcu

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marauderssequels · 4 years ago

Text

the petunia timeline

petunia evans is a character that I think had a lot of potential. I cannot at all commend the person she became as petunia dursley, and I wish so much that she had looked just a little harder in her heart to find space for harry. I can’t forgive her for the nearly two decades of abuse and neglect she inflicted on harry. still, like peter pettigrew and severus snape, she was a child once, before she grew into the horrible woman harry knew. so, who was petunia evans?

Part One: The Evans In Canon

the evans family is a difficult thing to find canon information on. the best we’ve dug up so far is a statement from an interview rowling made when answering if harry’s grandparents were killed. her exact words about the evans were, “...because I do like my backstory: Petunia and Lily’s parents, normal Muggle death.” now, kindly prepare for some english-major bullshit.

death. not deaths, plural. (yes, obviously this is a minute detail, but there’s really not much else to go on.) if the parents had suffered separate deaths, it should’ve been plural. keeping this noun singular suggests that one event took both parents out at once, leaving them both to experience one collective death.*

so, what collective death might they have suffered? well, considering that petunia wasn’t the most imaginative person, let’s remember that the explanation that she gave harry for his parents’ death was a car crash. that certainly fits our requirements for one event taking two people out at the same time, and it qualifies as a “normal Muggle death”. it’s not a far stretch to assume petunia took her answer for harry straight from the way her own parents died.

we know they were dead by the time lily and james died, due to petunia being lily’s only living relative for harry to go to. the conclusion we’ve drawn for petunia’s birth year (which we’ll explain in a later addition to this post) is 1957, three years before lily’s birth. going by british law, if lily’s parents had died before she was eighteen, she would’ve required a legal guardian until she was of age. (remember, 17 is only considered “of age” for wizards, something the muggle government wouldn’t be taking into consideration). since I cannot imagine rowling made the question of legal guardianship a part of lily’s narrative, we’ll set the parameters of her parents’ death for sometime after she had come of age in the eyes of muggle britain but before lily’s death.

lily would turn eighteen on january 30th, 1978, during her final year at hogwarts. her death occurred on october 31st, 1981. that leaves roughly three years for the accident to take place in.

this understanding is important to petunia’s story mainly because these parameters mean she would not be pulled into any sort of court situation regarding lily’s legal guardianship status. her story, according to pottermore, is that she left cokeworth behind forever, which suggests to us that she never once returned. obviously in the real world, this could’ve meant that she moved out permanently but still returned for visits. considering this is coming from rowling, a woman who tends to write in absolutes, it’s more likely to be the “never returning” option. this means that dealing with funeral arrangements, identifying bodies, and putting her parents’ affairs in order were not responsibilities she handled, since that would’ve entailed a return to the town she detested. instead, by the time lily turned eighteen, petunia was already married to vernon dursley and had decidedly left her life there behind. for all intents and purposes, she would’ve considered herself a dursley first and an evans not at all.

we’ll discuss this chapter of the sisters’ lives later; for now, it’s enough to have a rough idea for when petunia’s parents died. not much other information was ever provided about the parental evans, but here’s what we know:

initially, when the girls were younger, mrs. evans told lily she wasn’t allowed to use her magic. after the revelation that lily’s magic made her special, entitling her to attend a wizarding school and study to become a competent witch, both parents were thrilled. the magical world enchanted them both, and lily receives nothing but support from her parents after her acceptance to hogwarts.

young petunia could already identify class, drawing contrasts and divides between her family and the snapes. one of the first insults she punished severus with was a comment on his poor-quality clothing. she knew he came from an impoverished neighborhood and that hers was better, even if not by much. she used that information to immediately cast him in a negative light. she also had the social awareness to ensure no one was around to see lily’s magic, and to detect the insult in the word “muggle” without understanding what it meant. lily being nine years old, petunia would’ve been around twelve, so this social awareness and prideful classist view likely came from her home environment.

while the evans are hardly likely to have been as bad as the malfoys, this is evidence that petunia’s parents placed a great deal of importance on social status. lily only ever mentions her friends questioning her friendship with snape, not her family, so her parents weren’t so extreme to the point of outright forbidding her association with people of a lower status. it’s possible petunia’s younger years saw an economical shift downwards for her parents, leaving her with great pride and a snobbish attitude even once her circumstances turned less fortunate, while lily only ever remembers those circumstances.

moving forward to the next canon information we have concerning petunia, she left cokeworth for london, where she took a typing course. our assumption here is that she left after graduating secondary school, around the age of eighteen or so. once she had her diploma and was a legal adult, she would’ve moved out as soon as possible, to escape the life she hated and the family that favored lily and her magical gifts. assuming she and lily are three years apart, she would’ve left most likely the summer before lily’s fifth or sixth year at hogwarts.

from there, she found an office job, likely at grunnings, the drilling company where vernon was a junior executive, since they met at work. he proposed while lily was in her seventh year at hogwarts, so the engagement took place after lily left for school on september 1st, 1977. they were married by the end of the year and settled into a house together (as petunia tells harry in the first deathly hallows movie that she’s lived in that house for twenty years, during the summer of 1997). this is another part of her story that makes knowing the date of her parents’ death important; because we’ve determined they didn’t die until after january the following year, we know mr. and mrs. evans would have attended petunia’s wedding.

at some point before the wedding but after the proposal, petunia told vernon about lily’s magic. the couple met lily and james for dinner at a muggle restaurant, though the meeting didn’t end well. still, both were invited to the wedding, despite lily pointedly not being made a bridesmaid. afterwards, petunia appears to have sent a present for christmases, and likely birthdays as well, considering that she and vernon generally gave harry at least some type of horrible present for his birthdays. it’s probable lily returned the favor, sending christmas and birthday presents to petunia.

despite being invited, petunia and vernon didn’t attend lily’s wedding. around the autumn of 1979, both evans sisters became pregnant. petunia’s son dudley was born on june 23rd, 1980, just a month before harry’s birth on july 31st. harry’s birth announcement was the last communication petunia ever received from lily (besides the christmas presents they exchanged) before lily’s death the following year on october 31st, 1981. petunia wasn’t aware of her passing until november 2nd, when she discovered her sister’s son on her doorstep along with a letter from albus dumbledore explaining the circumstances of lily’s death and harry’s need for her as his guardian.

this is where the story picks up ten years later in the original series. this is also where our understanding of petunia’s life turns entirely from evidenced speculation and canon to headcanon and theory, unfortunately. in later additions to this post, we’ll explore our theories on petunia’s parents, as well as how her dynamic with lily changed through the years and how her character serves as a mirror to severus’s. already, we’ve made a lot of speculations based on british law, rowling’s writing, and petunia’s character, as well as lily’s, but this first part of her timeline will serve as the canon upon which we’ll be building the rest of her character. any ideas and suggestions for the evans family are more than welcome!

*obviously, this interpretation leans heavily on two large assumptions. firstly, we’re relying on the transcription of the interview having correctly recorded her words, as the link to the original video source is broken. secondly, this conclusion also requires trusting that rowling implements this basic rule of grammar into her everyday speech. any native speaker of english could probably tell you that in day-to-day language, we don’t tend to follow every single rule 100% of the time, as long as our basic meaning can be understood. considering our other deliberate deviations from her canon, however, I think it’s enough to acknowledge the reasoning behind our interpretation of her words and move on.

#petunia evans #petunia dursley #lily evans #vernon dursley #james potter #evans family #potter family #hp canon #hp meta #harry potter #hp fandom

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queerlilacroses · 4 years ago

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Nothing to fear but fear itself (TW Blood, Murder, Biphobia)

Richie had always been afraid of werewolves, ever since he was a little kid the thought of them sent shivers up his spine. He didn’t know if it was the sharp claws, the big teeth or the fact it could be anyone, watching waiting to turn him into his worst fear. It has also been theorised that werewolves are a metaphor for a specific sexuality, bisexuality, not many people believe that bisexuals exist, at least that’s what Richie hears when he attempts to come out.

“There’s no such thing dear, I mean you can be gay or straight I don’t mind I know you’ve always been an odd child but there’s no such thing as both”. He had lamented over that loss for a while, honestly he know lots of people wouldn’t understand but his own mother! That was his biggest disappointment.

So he ran out on her, hiding in the Clubhouse™ that his good friend Ben had built, waiting hours until his best friends Bill, and Bev came frantic down falling down the hole of the clubhouse, “why didn’t they use the stairs”, he wondered aloud forgetting that he had disappeared without letting anyone know and it had been all day since he had ran out on his mother.

“WHY DIDN’T I… I was looking for you you’ve been missing for 6 hours you dummy”

“I’ve been wounded Bev darling, I…wait SIX HOURS”

“Yea is s-something wrong”

Whilst his friends had accepted him all those years ago Richie was still paranoid about his bisexuality despite knowing he wasn’t gay or straight there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind watching, waiting to creep up on hm like a horror movie jump scare that made him spill popcorn all over the floor like an idiot.

The problem with horror movies is they are real; Vampires, Zombies, Witches and of course Werewolves which are the worst of them all. The first time Richie had seen a werewolf had been in a stupid movie , a teen movie, “supposedly a romance” Bev had mentioned nonchalantly as they walked past it at the Aladdin and well it was, for the first 20 minutes or so then it turned out the lead had a secret…the movie plagued him for months after that day after day, night after night all he could see was the male lead chasing him waiting to turn him into a werewolf. He never knew what to do or where to go Richie was traumatized.

Eddie, had been a new confusing figure in his life, they had met at gig which Eddie had helped organized and hit it off but there was something about him Richie wasn’t so sure of. Was it the smell of wet dog despite Eddie claiming to be allergic? Was it the fact that he refused to wear the silver chain that Richie got him as a present? Was it his oddly hairy body? Or was it the fact that anytime a full moon was around no matter what Eddie would make and excuse and disappear so nobody would see him for days. It confused and scared the hell outta him so he had to confront his ‘boyfriend’ he isn’t sure honestly they haven’t labelled what they are yet and Richie’s kinda nervous that’s because Eddie doesn’t wanna be with a bi man and whilst all these thoughts are in his head he’s overthinking again and he needs to talk to Eddie.

“Eds,” “Urgh what?” “Are we like?” “Like what Richie use your words” “Are we boyfriends?” “no we’re Italian farmers who love growing tomatoes of course we’re boyfriends” “Geez okay I’m just making sure”

“Especially cause you’ve been acting so weird, I mean I hardly see you, anytime you stay it’s daytime and the two occasions that we’ve stayed together you’re like a magician here one minute and then disappeared the next like some cruel trick it’s not fair Ed’s, I wanted to move forward with this relationship but it’s so hard when I can’t, don’t, know? Do you understand what I mean?

“Uh no? Why would that ever make sense babe” sighed Eddie although he understood Richie well and knew him inside and out he didn’t understand how his brain worked? His ADHD flickering from thing to thing topic to topic and although Eddie could sometimes be known to ramble he couldn’t keep up.

“Well I mean with you? Why are you avoiding me at night? What’s the big secret?” Richie teased.

“I’m a werewolf”

“WHAT”

“I’m one of those creatures you know the ones that come out on the full moon I turn into a wolf howl at the moon y’know all those stereotypes”

“WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THAT! YOU KNOW ABOUT MY FEAR OF WEREWOLVES”

“I’M SORRY BUT YOU ASKED. THIS IS WHY I’VE BEEN AVOIDING YOU! I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO BE SCARED OF ME YOU ASSHOLE”

“I…what”

“Yea I remembered you saying that you were terrified of werewolves since you were 12 so I’ve been trying to avoid transforming and all the side effects around it whilst I’m around you so I guess that seems like I need to avoid you and I mean there’s the murder”

“MURDER”

“Well I mean it’s not exactly murder more people get in the way of me as a 7 foot tall wolf and unfortunately I think my instincts kick in? Although it could be deer, but there’s been bodies found and I…”

“BODIES!!?! BODIES AS IN PLURAL !!?!”

“Richie can you stop yelling, it’s been a long night I’m tired and sore, honestly I just want to rest…”

“WAIT WHAT, YOU WERE OUT LAST NIGHT? Like it was a full moon ? I’m sorry I have to go call Bev or something, I-I can’t.

“WHERE ARE YOU- it’s your never mind” Eddie sighed as his voiced tailed off his head in his hands. This hadn’t been the way he wanted Richie to find out, honestly they’ve only been together for a few weeks and as soon as they talked he found out about his fear of werewolves and was horrified, he knew it might potentially be a dealbreaker and although he didn’t want to lose Richie. He had known that at one point that he’d have to sit down and tell him the story of the doctor, decided that his mother, who was a maniac bringing him to the hospital every time he even touched the ground too hard convinced he’d broken or dislocated his ankle needed something to worry about properly and turned him into a werewolf whilst he was at one of his many stays when he was eleven. His mother had been far more protective when she had found out, it was as if she had been normal beforehand, complete and utter curfew (“back straight after school Eddie-bear don’t talk to anybody, you don’t want them to find out!”), bars on the windows and even restraints at night as she was too paranoid, which wasn’t fun, especially as every night he just kept breaking out of them which in turn scared his mother more and more.

Shakily Richie reached into his pocket for his phone that he’d grabbed in his haste to leave the apartment building, as it rang the word murder went in his stomach over and over again. “Hello?” Oh good she answered he wouldn’t have known what to do with himself otherwise I mean…. “Helloooo??” Oh right yeah she’s still on this phone.

“I-I Eddie, and…”

“What’s wrong with Eddie, depth breaths calm down and try to try me what happened.

“He.. he.. he’s a monster, a werewolf a murderer I don’t know if I can do this” sobbing he knelt on the pavement holding the phone thinking about how he didn’t want to lose Eddie, the problem was that he loved the shorter man despite them only dating a couple of weeks and he knew about the dangers of dating a monster.

They had learned about it in school which only fuelled Richie’s fear further the teachers explaining about scientific experiments gone wrong and turning ordinary people into creatures that could climb into his slightly opened window in the dead of night and maim them or if they were dating whilst in transformations they would completely forget their partner, ending up harming them. Listening to this had made him scared to moved his bed and slept under his window to make sure nothing got in, freaking out anytime a bug crawled on him.

“A werewolf? Yea probably. A murderer? Probably not and an I mean a monster definitely not. Don’t you love him? Don’t you want the chance for him to prove you wrong, honestly you’ve been scared for far too long. All this time people have been putting ideas into your head about ‘this that and the next thing to do with monsters and no offence Richie but I’m sick of hearing about it, time to march back to your apartment and make your own decisions about Eddie.

“Yea, yea I guess you’re right, I should maybe go back? I.. okay Bev darling I’ll speak to you later”.

Sitting up he decided that it was time to get back, not realising it was getting darker and darker as a full moon approached.

Waiting for Richie made him terrified he was transforming in an hour and he had no idea what would happen. Would they break up?? If they did it would be so much worse, the adrenaline in this body taking over, making him more angry and upset and he knew his wolf side would harm anything that got in his way, which could include his caring but stupid and scared boyfriend. Hearing the door creak open his head perked up realising that Richie hadn’t let for that long and that probably meant bad news, knots grew in his stomach as he waited in anticipation for Richie to say something, anything whilst looking at the clock ticking on closer and closer to his time of transformation.

“I’m home babey! I wanna talk to you, my love” he said in a singsong voice. This wasn’t good, he honestly knew Richie’s speech patterns very well and he almost never called him babey unless there was a big problem or something was wrong.

“Yea I’m in here what’s happening”

“I just wanted to say, I talked to Bev and she put things into perspective, I think I love you and I shouldn’t judge you based on what happened when you were younger and I should try to get over it, I wanna keep dating you so I think it’s a good idea to see you at least once.

“Wait wait you want to stay with me? HOLD UP YOU THINK YOU LOVE ME”

“Well yea, I guess? I know we’ve only been dating for a few weeks and technically I only found out a few days ago but I have really strong feelings for you and I think I love you”.

“ I … okay… really don’t know what to say I love yo…” but before Eddie could finish off his sentence something happened, it was supposed to be a strange scary thing but Richie didn’t feel scared all he felt was concerned H could see the pain manifesting on Eddie’s face as he twisted and turned and hair grew from his body turning him taller, more muscular and then into a wolf.

Werewolves, although potentially not less dangerous were smaller than the stories, and Eddie didn’t seem to want to attack him honestly? Richie was very confused and conflicted between everything he had ever heard and feared vs the man who was his boyfriend who had just turned into what looked like a slightly taller dog still vigilant just sitting there. Well until it started talking, but you never hear about things like that when people are attempting to scare you.

“Well aren’t you going to say something? You’ve been looking at me in a daze for the last five minutes like I get the idea of you being scared like yea but can you please snap out of your like -why are you- dude why are you laughing?” Forgetting he was a wolf he attempted to walk over to Richie and ended up falling over four paws”.

Doubled over in laughter Richie realising his boyfriend was an idiot as a wolf decided that there something they needed to talk about “Eddieeeeeee we need to talk soooo I also have a secret”.

“Okay, and it is?

“I’m boisexual, well actually I’m bisexual but we both know I couldn’t come out without a pun”

“And an awful one at that I mean, what does that even mean rich? But honestly I know you told me about the time you dated Bev before she started dating Ben so I just assumed, why is that like a problem?”

“Oh…I- forgot about I just -I assumed like most gay guys you wouldn’t be down to date a bisexual guy I mean most of my life I’ve been told I don’t exist and-“

“Wait who told you this, how many people told you this? You know they’re wrong right I mean you’re bisexual”,

“thanks I means it was mainly my mum and a couple of ex-boyfriends, some teachers and stuff you know”

“Do you want to get your own back?”.

Richie looked at the small wolf in surprise thinking about how he could play pranks and stuff or what they could do in order to get his own back but Eddie had something else in mind.

“Do you want to come with me to kill them”

Maggie Tozier, was baking in the kitchen humming a light tune whilst taking a pie out of the oven, she hadn’t spoken to her son since he turned sixteen and came out as bisexual for the third time to her disbelief that it wasn’t a phase and after she decided not to accept him they both just stopped talking to each other and then a year later he up and left.

As Richie made his way to his childhood home with his boyfriend in tow he looked at his mom and realised there was no turning back, it was now or never, he could talk to his mom get clarification? If it all went wrong Eddie would be there to make sure he’s okay. Walking in announced he saw he face drop and her mouth open, unfortunately it didn’t seem to be in a nice way. “What are you doing here” her voice laced with disappointment at seeing her thirty-odd year old son standing in front her for the first time in years waiting for her approval or acceptance at last, but that would never come. “Do you still think you can live in cloud cuckoo land and date both boys and girls, I hate to tell you baby but people are going to take advantage of you, I don’t see a ring if you’d just stop all this nonsense I could-“

Before anyone knew what was happening Eddie had lunged at Maggie and grabbed at her arm to bite her, Richie frozen in shock and horror couldn’t do anything except gape at the site as he could see she was losing more and more blood out of her arm, thinking realising he didn’t have many options his adrenaline kicked in, he pondered back to all the times he’d been told he was invisible, bisexuality didn’t exist or he was a monster for trying to invade both communities and he snapped. Grabbing a butcher’s knife from the kitchen he could see his mother attempting to back away muffled screaming, and stabbed her stomach, hearing the organs squishing made his feel better so he did it again and again until he was cover in a pool of blood, surrounded by his mother whilst he was sobbing, Eddie in a corner waiting on him.

“I just murdered my mother”

“Well yea, I just thought you’d hurt her a little honestly but that was a full on murder, but I think she had it coming? Do you want to get cleaned up?”

“Mhmm, that’d be nice, but the problem is I liked it, I enjoyed stabbing her, is that weird?

“Weeelll that depends on who you ask, me, I’m fine with it I mean I enjoy maiming people as a wolf but to normal person I guess?? Hey do you wanna murder people when I’m in my wolf form”.

“You mean people who deserve it right? Not just random people on the street because I don’t know if I enjoy it that much”.

“Yep yea sure of course I won’t pressure you it’s only been your first murder after all”.

That next night was the final full moon for the month and Richie was trying to think who he would want to murder next, one of his teachers who made him terrified of werewolves, one of the executives who said he’d never get a job in comedy (look at him now!) or one of his biphobic ex-boyfriends who made him feel so disgusting and pathetic that he decided not to date for six years and when he at last did date ‘forgot’ to disclose his sexuality every date he went on.

Tracing down his ex-boyfriend wasn’t as difficult as it seemed just follow the scent of disappointment and go to the nearest seedy gay bar. Julian, who was happily walking towards his car according to the police report, was ribbed in the heart with a duller kitchen knife as if to mimic a broken heart. One arm was ripped off and had teeth marks in it as if it was created by both man and dog.

Waking up next to Eddie, was one of the nice things about existing having had one of the weirdest dreams of his life, although as the blood dripped from the mattress that he couldn’t see he did know one thing though.

He wasn’t frightened of werewolves anymore.

#reddie #reddie au #fanfic #writing #it chapter 2 #hallowren's spooktacular it project #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #tw murder #tw blood #tw biphobia #tw gore #ask me if there's anything you want me to tag #this is my first lil writing project #werewolves #some of my formatting is awful but i copy pasted from word and i I don't care I'm just proud to have finished!

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rosedavid · 5 years ago

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Tyrus First Meeting AU // Haunted House

“Remind me again why I was forced against my will to come here?” Cyrus complains, tapping his fingers restlessly against his thigh.

“Because it’s a fun, Halloween group outing!” Andi exclaims. “It’s a bonding experience.”

“Say that when I’m crying out of pure terror.”

It’s a week before Halloween, and the group decided that they needed to do something together to get into spirit of the holiday. Cyrus suggested plenty of great, not terrifying ideas, such as carving pumpkins or baking. Unfortunately, Buffy and Andi agreed that this year, they wanted to go to the scariest haunted house attraction in Shadyside. Being a proud scaredy-cat, Cyrus vehemently opposed this idea, yet somehow here he stands, waiting in line to enter.

He remembers Halloween back in elementary school where the haunted houses were just spooky lights and ominous voices. Even back then, he was scared to no end! He had to get his mom to pick him up from school that day because the Halloween décor for their party was so intimidating.

“I think you’re overreacting, Cyrus,” Buffy says, “You’ll be fine. You watched that scary movie with us the other day.”

“But I hid my face in my hands for most of it,” he retorts.

“You still did it, though! Plus, the two of us will be with you the entire time,” Andi reassures him with a steady hand on his shoulder.

Cyrus sighs in defeat, realizing there’s no way out of this. They’re almost at the front of the line, and he can’t think of any good excuses that Andi and Buffy would believe. He comes to accept his fate, hoping that Andi and Buffy are right; maybe this won’t be as bad as he thinks. After all, he saw a few elementary school children come out laughing a couple minutes ago.

Soon, it’s their turn to enter the haunted house. Buffy nudges him forward when he stays stuck to the spot, forcing him to follow behind Andi. It’s dark and chilling, even more so than waiting out in the frigid fall air. Goosebumps run down Cyrus’s spine. He glances around nervously, shrinking in on himself. Suddenly, something falls from the ceiling. He jerks but calms quickly when he sees Andi laughing in front of him, holding out a bunch of fake spiders and webs. Cyrus can’t help but laugh along with her, tensions easing just a bit. That first scare wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected.

They continue through the haunted house, seeing a few actors with zombie makeup walking in place and groaning off to the sides, but none of them interact or seem that terrifying, really. Cyrus even finds himself chuckling along with Andi and Buffy most of the time. In fact, it isn’t until they get about halfway through the haunted house that things start to go awry.

The first sign that something bad is going to happen is that Cyrus gets separated from Buffy and Andi somehow. They must have turned the corner up ahead without realizing he wasn’t following behind. He can hear the quiet chattering of the group a bit behind them, but otherwise he feels completely alone.

The second sign is that all the actors appear to have vanished, and only spooky music and creaking noises in a darkened hallway remain. Cyrus gulps, heart picking up its pace and blood rushing through his ears. He takes some cautious steps forward, heading toward the corner. Buffy and Andi are probably right around there waiting for him. He just has to hurry and get passed this section before—

Something leaps out toward him from out of nowhere with a horrible, mangled screeching noise. Cyrus screams with shock, reacting purely on instinct. Protectyourself,protectyourself.

SMACK!

“Ow!” The figure groans out in a very non-terrifying human voice. They hunch over, hand reaching up toward their face. It takes a second to register in Cyrus’s mind what just happened.

He punched someone.

“Oh—oh my god!” Cyrus gasps. “I’m so…so sorry. A-are you okay?”

The person pulls his hand back from his nose to reveal a cascade of red flowing from their nostrils. The makeup on their face has been rubbed off from their hands clutching their face to try and stop the blood. They immediately put their hands back up to their nose.

“’M fibe,” they respond unconvincingly.

“You’re bleeding! I made you bleed. We have to make sure you’re okay. Is there a secret passage to get us out of here or something?”

The person seems to chuckle, but stops after wincing. They nod, leading Cyrus through a curtain that must’ve been the place they jumped out of. He’s led through a few doorways before they make it out back behind the haunted house. With the streetlights, Cyrus can finally make out the person’s face better. Even though the makeup remains partially intact, Cyrus can tell that this is a boy, and a cute boy, nonetheless. A cute boy that he made bleed.

“W-we should stop the bleeding,” Cyrus stammers, searching his pockets for anything to help, only to turn up with empty hands. He looks at the scarf around his neck for a second before unwinding it, holding it out for the boy to take.

He shakes his head, “No, ‘m fibe.”

“It’s not a big deal. I have a bunch more,” Cyrus lies, pushing the scarf into his hands.

Sighing, the boy takes it from him, gingerly pressing it against his nose with a hiss. Not wanting the boy to collapse from blood loss (or himself from shock), Cyrus sits them down on the back steps. Above them, the moon is just a sliver in the sky, stars barely visible past the thick array of clouds.

A few minutes later, the boy pulls the scarf away from his nose. Blood and makeup soaks part of the scarf, but it looks like his nose has finally quit bleeding. Cyrus sighs in relief.

“Sorry, I kind of ruined your scarf,” he mutters, holding it awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Cyrus shrugs, tossing it in the bin beside him. “I kind of ruined your nose.”

The boy laughs. Now that they’re out of the darkness of the haunted house, Cyrus can clearly see the stark green of his irises lit underneath the streetlight. Makeup clings to his forehead and cheeks a bit still, but otherwise most of it has gotten rubbed off. He has dirty blonde hair that’s all ruffled, probably from the wind outside.

“Yeah, that was a mean punch,” he compliments.

“I am still so sorry about that! I can’t believe I punched someone.”

“You were just scared. I’ve had people punch me before out of fear, but if it makes you feel better, your punch was by far the best I’ve gotten.”

Cyrus can’t help but laugh at that statement. Who knew that, in the right, most terrifying situation, he could actually pack a punch? Meanwhile, in gym class, he can only do half of a push up (the laying down part).

“Seriously, though, are you okay? Did I break your nose?” Cyrus worries, leaning a bit closer to try and inspect him.

And the boy blushes. “No, uh, it’s just bruised, I think. I’ve had broken noses before.”

Broken noses, plural, before? The only ‘bad injury’ Cyrus can remember getting is when he broke his finger skateboarding with Jonah. Noticing the look of disbelief on Cyrus’s face, the boy goes to explain.

“I play a lot of sports, mostly basketball, so sometimes I get hit in the face with a ball. Actually, a lot of times,” he shrugs.

“My friend Buffy plays basketball, too,” Cyrus mentions, unsure of what else to say to someone who plays sports.

He frowns, suddenly, “Buffy Driscoll?”

“Yeah…” Cyrus trails off. “Do you know her?”

“Of course, I’ve seen her play a bunch against our girls’ team. She’s really good.”

Pride swells in Cyrus’s chest at his comment. “Yeah, she is.”

They lapse into silence for again. Cyrus remembers that his friends are probably searching for him right now, hoping that he didn’t pass out somewhere in the haunted house. He doesn’t want to leave the boy he punched by himself, but he also doesn’t want to worry his friends more than he already has.

“Are you going to be okay? Like, do you need help or anything?” Cyrus wonders with concern.

“No, I promise I’m alright,” he says, hand ruffling through his hair. Cyrus stares at him, face heating and pupils probably dilating. He turns his head away with embarrassment and stands up before he can make an even bigger fool of himself.

Just as he’s about to walk away, the boy calls out, “Hey! What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘the boy who punched me’ in my head forever.”

Cyrus stops, turning back to face the boy who is now standing up and dusting off his pants. “Um…Cyrus.”

“Cyrus,” he repeats. Hearing his own name on the boy’s lips makes Cyrus swoon. The boy curls his lips into a smile. “I’m TJ.”

“TJ,” he repeats in fashion, bearing a matching, albeit hesitant smile.

“I, uh, will you be at Buffy’s next game? They’re playing our girls’ team, I think,” TJ stammers.

“Why?”

“I was just hoping to see you there is all.”

Before Cyrus can open his mouth to respond, he hears two familiar voices calling out his name. He looks apologetically at TJ, but TJ waves him off. Cyrus goes to follow Andi and Buffy’s voices, but before he does, he calls back toward TJ:

“I’ll see you there, then.”

He speed walks away, heart pounding for an entirely different reason. As he walks, he turns around briefly, looking back at TJ. TJ softly waves, and Cyrus waves back.

As he turns the corner, he nearly runs into Buffy and Andi, who both look extremely relieved to see him. Buffy clutches his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Andi joins in, as well, squishing her face into his shoulder.

“Cyrus! We were worried about you,” Andi says. “I’m sorry we left you behind! We thought you were there, but then suddenly you weren’t…”

“We feel really bad,” Buffy adds on. “Where did you go?!”

Cyrus looks back at the spot where TJ was, only to see it empty. Maybe this will be their little secret, for now.

“Wait—why is there blood on your knuckles? Cyrus, what happened?! Did you PUNCH someone?!?!”

Or maybe not.

#tyrus #andi mack #tyrus fanfic #tyrus fic #andi mack fanfic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #halloween #au #first meeting au #tj x cyrus #cyrus x tj #fanfiction

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cassoliver · 5 years ago

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new york’s very own cassandra “cass” oliver was spotted on broadway street in reebok club c 85 vintage shoes . your resemblance to sydney sweeney is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-first birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being naive , but also compassionate . i guess being a pisces explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be exposed tan lines , loud laughter , and only ever wearing gold jewelry . ( i slept with one of my co-stars while we were shooting on location, not knowing they had a significant other back home ) & ( cis-female & she / her )

lia takes on a second character TAKE TWO whAT is up you guys , it’s ya girl back at it again with another muse . i randomly got a lot of inspiration for this new girly pop and i feel p good about it ! go ahead and smash that mf like button if you wanna plot ! i can slide into your ims or on discord if that’s more your jam !

S T A T S ↴

– * FULL NAME : cassandra rosemary oliver – NICKNAME(S) : cass ( commonly referred as ), cassie – * AGE : twenty-one – * D.O.B : march 16th – * ZODIAC : pisces – * GENDER : cis-female –* ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic – * HEIGHT : 5′4″ – * NATIONALITY : american – * BIRTHPLACE : asbury park , new jersey – * OCCUPATION : student + actress – * TRAITS : compassionate, creative, intuitive, gentle, empathetic, fun-loving, naive, whimsical, loyal, subservient, overly emotional, pensive, fearful, overly trusting

B I O G R A P H Y ↴

you’d have to be living under a rock to not know jeremy and elizabeth marie oliver . think brad pitt and angelina jolie , will smith and jada pinkett , or whatever other celebrity IT couple you fancy . jeremy is notoriously known for his acting career that took off in the late 80′s . around the same time , elizabeth marie’s acting / modeling career was taking off across the pond . the iconic duo met through work and quickly fell in love . after their over the top wedding ceremonies ( yes plural . they got married once in jeremy’s hometown in new jersey and then again in elizabeth marie’s hometown in england ). shortly after their holy matrimony , they produced three healthy babies : mason , samuel , and cassandra . there were a few years in between the kiddos , but they were all raised in a tight knit family outside of the limelight in asbury park , new jersey . their parents decided to take a break from working in order to raise their kids . i wish i could say that gave the oliver trio a normal childhood . but it’s kind of hard to go to public school and not draw attention to yourself when your parents are household names . it was hard for cassandra to understand that her parents were super famous and for some reason that meant something to people . if you asked her , there was no reason to get all starstruck over her parents . they were just people after all .

so i guess you could say she had a normal childhood . at least , as normal as one could have with their name and photos constantly plastered all over tabloids . cassandra grew up in a happy and loving environment , which is nice . and with her dad working part time as a professor at his alma mater , juilliard , she and her family bounced back and forth between their coastal home in new jersey and their urban townhouse in new york . and she throughly enjoyed experiencing the best of both worlds . both places felt like home to her and she and her brothers made the best memories together . see , her brothers were her best friends growing up . mason and samuel were five (5) and three (3) years older than her , respectively , and she followed them around everywhere they went . the two boys let her reluctantly at first when mom and dad forced them to but over time it became enjoyable to have her be just another member of their friend group . cassandra was well liked and throughly protected by her brothers and their friends . they shielded her away from all things dangerous : from substances to rude people . this led to a pretty sheltered upbringing . she lived in this little bubble where things were all good all the time .

as she got older , she had to learn to fend for herself a bit more . no longer was she under the watchful gaze of her brothers , for they had rushed into graduating high school early so that they could pursue their own acting careers-- following in line with their infamous parents . having the oliver last name gave them an advantage in the film industry and they ran with that opportunity . meanwhile , cassandra stayed back and took her time . acting was always something she was interested in . there’s no way she could be a member of her household and not dabble in the art at least a little bit . but it wasn’t a top priority to her for a long time . she didn’t want to rely on her family name to get her somewhere in the industry . if she was going to do it , she wanted to do it right . she wanted to earn her place just like anybody else . and if it worked out for her then great ! and if it didn’t , well she prepared a back-up plan . she elected to go to NYU for business instead of studying acting or just bypassing college all together . she figured if all else failed , then she’d start her own company and branch out of the creative arts .

and she took her college career very seriously . she’s studious and hard-working , genuinely enjoying learning new things and having a �� normal college experience ’. even though people still look at her funny or talk about her behind her back once they figure out why she looks so gosh darn familiar , she’s come to find that college students are much more chill than the kids that used to bombard her with questions about her famous family on the play ground . most days , cassandra gets by feeling like a completely normal girl . no fame or fortune , just a regular schemgular student trying to get by . and she’d probably gotten away with just melting into the background and never breaking out into the limelight if it wasn’t for one little netflix project she agreed on .

it was just supposed to be another passion project . cassandra had done a few small roles in indie movies at that point . just enough to dip her toes into the movie making world but not enough to drag her away from getting a higher education . but when a script for a new netflix original series was slid in her direction by a family friend turned agent-- well , she just couldn’t put it down ! she loved everything about the show and knew she just had to be a part of it . so she gave up one summer of her life to film OUTER BANKS , not at all thinking that it would blow up the way it did a year later when it premiered . and now news is breaking out that the youngest oliver is finally stepping out into the acting scene , which is warranting a lot of media attention towards her . honestly , she feels pretty good about the project itself . she’s very proud of the show and is incredibly grateful that it’s doing as well as it is . but when it comes to all the notoriety she’s getting because of it , well ... she’s still adjusting to being famous in her own right and not just secondhand through her family . she’s a little overwhelmed . she’s a big girl now that has to navigate through this next chapter of her life without anybody holding her hand or shielding her from the highs and lows of being known . whether or not she thrives in the limelight or crumbles under the pressure is to be determined .

P E R S O N A L I T Y & F U N F A C T S ↴

i think it’s really funny to call her the third franco brother ( yes dave and james have a third brother , his name is tom ). bc like her brothers are essentially mega stars w all the movies they’ve been in at this point and she’s sort of the other sibling that everyone forgets about . y’know until recently lol

she is a giant sweetheart !! just v lovey and kind and empathetic ,, has a warmth to her that makes it feel like it’s summertime all the time

v humble bc she does not consider herself famous what so ever . like being second-hand famous from her family and getting a few extra instagram followers bc of her last name is one thing , but with the success of her current show she’s being put on covers of magazines , being interviewed for teen vogue and stuff like that , getting verified on everything , and gaining hundreds of thousands of followers DAILY . it’s crazy to her

naive in the sense that she’s rlly out here thinking that everyone has a heart as big as hers and has only the best intentions when sadly that might not be the case !! so like ,,,, probs gets taken advantage of and doesn’t even realize it . or messes things up bc she thinks she can just continue living a normal average joe life when in reality her whole life has been far from average ,, the whole world’s got their eye on her and everything she says and does publicly can and will be scrutinized and she is just …. not prepared for that

wants to have a good time and do cool art sh*t !! as long as she’s being creative in some aspect , she’s happy . honestly doesn’t take a lot to make her happy

but also when she gets sad oh boy oh boy does she get sad . pretty much down and out and nothing anyone says or does can make her feel better unfortunately . will just self isolate and you just gotta let her ride it out ://

hobbies include painting , reading , collecting plants , and taking photos

has a second instagram account just for her photography ! @casstookthis lol

lives with her “babies” which are like 10 house plants and all of her books

v family oriented ! goes to visit her parents regularly and talks to her brothers basically daily despite living on two different coasts

acting was always something she knew she wanted to do-- and that may or may not have to do w her parents’ influence and the pressure to follow in their foot steps just like her brothers did

as kids , she and her brothers would work together to put on performances in the living room for their parents . they’d make “short films” and upload them to all 6 of their subscribers on youtube

allergic to cats but wants one so bad ,, has never had a pet in her life actually

the little things amuse her . her sense of humor is really quite simple . hit her w some puns and / or a dad joke and you’ll have her rolling

is learning how to speak mandarin and french

always over-prepared , never underprepared ,, needs to feel like she is capable of handling anything or else she panics

cannot tell a lie to save her life , gets nervous and can’t make eye contact

at any given moment , you can tell what she’s thinking and what she’s feeling just from taking one look at her face . sometimes she tries to mask it because she is an actress after all . but it’s not hard to see through the facade that she puts on if you know her well

hopeless romantic af ! romanticizes everything in life ! loves love in all forms , romantic , platonic , self love , whatever ! looks at the world through rose tinted glasses and heart eyes ! probably falls in love with a person , place , or thing at least 5 times a day !

prefers summer and living near a beach / some body of water over living in the middle of the city . so she’ll often visit back home or go stay with her brothers in LA , not just to be closer to family , but to be more in her element

her family has so many houses simply bc their lives are all over the place ???? like they kept her childhood home in new jersey but they also always had a luxury townhouse in new york plus a summer home in the hamptons and a cottage in england and an apartment in los angeles that her brothers currently reside in . she used to just stay in the townhouse while going to school but she recently bought her own apartment bc she wants to be #independent

might catch her as the lead in a new netflix original movie coming soon *wink wink*

is in love with her best friend east harvey and they’re getting married

WANTED CONNECTIONS PAGE HERE

#wealthyhq:intro #this is short right? i tried to keep it short #but anyways plz love my soft girly pop

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shadowofmytime · 5 years ago

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>> some of my absolute favorites ! like and reblog if you save and enjoy ! happy reading and give some kudos to these amazing writers ! always feel free to send me some of your favorites ! ! <<

>> There is a bit so for your convenience they are in alphabetical order ! The ‘s’s are some of my all-time favorites ! ! <<

>> min yoongi x park jimin <<

All the seasons of your love - 5k+ [college au]

The movement in the library was still slow in the first week, so Yoongi could easily remember the few people who came by. That's why he pays so much attention to a certain dark-haired freshman who walks in on a Wednesday afternoon - or at least that's what he tells himself. He goes over to the front counter and asks Yoongi for directions to the Economy 101 session and, God, his voice is as sweet as his eye-smile.

Or how librarian Yoongi fell head over heels for cute freshman Park Jimin who, unfortunately, was very much straight - or so Yoongi thought.

Bon Voyage - 47.9+ [tourist! au]

Yoongi was meant to be taking the trip of a lifetime with his boyfriend. But now he's in Paris, alone and miserable. That is until he collides - quite literally - with one Park Jimin.

Boys who talk shit - 26k+ [college au]

When Yoongi enrolled in BTS (aka Boys who Talk Shit) Boarding School, he wasn't really expecting to be the only 'straight' (to be read sarcastically) guy in a room of seven geniuses (aka children aged five to ten, honestly). Plus four pet spiders. Yes, plural.

Chaotic episodes in A Place of Love and War, where Yoongi learns all about True Love via Park Jimin, Music and Marriage. Sort of. Brain bleach and earplugs are strongly recommended.

Conflicting arrangement - 162k+ [fake boyfriend au]

"Absolutely not," Yoongi deadpanned. "Namjoon-ah. I value you as a friend, and I think I'd even go as far as to say that you're my best friend, but absolutely fucking not."

"You owe me," Namjoon pleaded. "Come on, Yoongi, it's not a big deal."

"Your boyfriend's best friend's best friend needs a fake boyfriend to come out to his family this Chuseok, all the way in fucking Busan," Yoongi repeated drily without pause, making Namjoon wince. He flipped a page of his textbook, picking up his highlighter. "Not a big deal, Namjoon. Amazing."

Cotton Candy - 240k [high school rock band]

"He could get used to sitting next to Yoongi like this. To have him around. To have the band around. To smile and feel happy. To see Yoongi sitting in front of an instrument and having him play just for him.

'If this was my happy ending,' Jimin thinks, resisting the urge to lean his head on Yoongi's shoulder, 'if I wasn't who I am, I'd just let you have me whenever you want. You could have me anytime.'"

As spring turns into summer, school band Cotton Candy unexpectedly loses its singer and the members are forced to look for a new vocalist. Six boys find one in the form of the promiscuous pink-haired boy Park Jimin who makes a home in their hearts and finally finds a place he belongs

Daegu drift - 53k+ [motorcyclist / playboy au]

Jimin stops in Daegu for a big motor show and gets caught up with the locals. Specifically one Min Yoongi.

Sneak Peek:

Yoongi has his arms folded as he stares Jimin down.

“Are you going to join the rally, or not?”

Jimin takes his time answering because he likes the way Yoongi is looking at him. “Sure. I guess it could be fun. But you do realize none of you have a chance against a Bugatti, right?”

“It’s not the car that wins the race,” the other man says. “It’s the driver. You could have the fastest, best-equipped car in the goddamn universe, but if you’re a shit driver, it doesn’t make a difference.”

Goodbye from lonely - 65k+ [uncle yoongi!]

Park Jimin works two jobs that he loves and is going to college to get his teaching degree.

Min Yoongi is a personal assistant who hates his job and spits in his boss' coffee every day.

Kim Taehyung has been infatuated with his clueless co-worker for the better part of a year.

Jeon Jeongguk has a three-year-old daughter that he'd do anything for.

Somehow the tiny human brings them all together.

Tae is in love with Kookie -> Kookie's daughter takes Jimin's ballet class -> Yoongi is Kookie's stepbrother -> Jimin and Yoongi meet because of Kookie's daughter.

In your eyes (it’s where I wanna be) - 5.5k [coffee shop! au]

Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about the danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

Inked flowers - 6.4k [tattoo artist / florist au]

Something stopped him. A sound of a piano. He looked around and saw a light coming from the window on the other side of the street. On the third floor was an open window. A light and the sorrowful sound of a piano flew out of the room. Jimin looked closer and saw a figure or at least a top of someone's head.

The melody was so sad and sorrowful that Jimin wanted to cry. He started thinking, what could possibly go inside that person’s head? What were they thinking? Jimin just hoped that they weren’t sad and alone.

(let me see you) get high then low - 4k+ [photographer/model au]

"The light-haired model is the kind that fascinates Yoongi, and at the same time, he prefers to steer away from. He's all smiles and flowers, drawing you in with his cuteness until he's not anymore. Suddenly, he’s something else entirely; he's that false calm, the ocean that looks smooth on the surface but will drag you down to its depths if you dare to touch it."

Min Yoongi works in a photography studio with some (very questionable) friends that can't get any work properly done without making a bit of a fuss.

Park Jimin is a model handcuffed against his will and bored. Also a little bit horny, maybe.

Math Tutor - 11.7k [bad boy! yoongi]

Min Yoongi is the school's resident Bad Boy™. He's covered in tattoos, is pierced, curses like a sailor, smokes like crazy, doesn't give a shit about anything, possesses a hot temper that has people steering clear of him, and is desperately in love with Park Jimin, the adorable math nerd. When Jimin is tasked with tutoring Yoongi in math, who is in danger of failing the class and being held back a year, both boys are hesitant. Yoongi because he can't think straight around the boy with startling red hair, and Jimin because Yoongi is scary as hell and looks like he can easily kill someone. Gradually, though, the two grow closer, and Jimin finds that Yoongi is nothing like how he'd imagined.

Maybe I hate you can be our always - 35.9k [enemies to lovers]

When Yoongi thinks about it, really gives it genuine thought, it's possible that Park Jimin isn't the worst person in the world.

(Or, Yoongi and Jimin get off on the wrong foot.)

Ode to yoonmin - 4k+ [texting]

yoongi and jimin are in very much in love but they're the only ones who don't know it

chat fic with a bunch of bad jokes and memes ¯\_(ツ)_/

Out of my system - 101.6k+ [one night stand]

Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club

Standing on the brink of 376 - 42.9k+ [street racing]

When Taehyung woke him up at three AM to go to a street race—an illegal one, no less—claiming it would help his social anxiety, Jimin never actually expected it to do much for him, except maybe make him cry hysterically. He found that he really wasn't too far off-kilter with that assumption, but it was only after he'd suffered through countless bouts of insecurity that he realized, hidden behind each stuttered breath, every inevitable tear, every spark of unavoidable fear, and even the customary cloud of cigarette smoke itself, lay a tremendous amount of affection for a certain platinum haired street racer that he can't even begin to justify. But when his opinion of fact, fate, and even life itself continues to blur with each push of the gas pedal, he thinks he just might be able to forgive himself for falling in love with a criminal, when the nonsensical moonshine of the present mutes the anxiety that had been a constant within his heart up until this November.

Strawberry lube - 82.7k+ [college au]

Yoongi remembers little to nothing of their crazy drunken night out. But of two things he's absolutely sure, one: he's not gay, two: he just slept with Park Jimin

The Paradiso Lounge - 192k+ [photographer/stripper au]

“Do I have to pay you for that service?”

This isn’t a dream (let me love you) - 26k+ [highschool au]

As captain of his high school’s basketball team, Min Yoongi dedicated all of his attention to his team and their games. His focus on the game never waned, not once for anything or anyone.

Well, until head cheerleader Park Jimin flashed his abs during a solo cheer and made him fuck up his shot

Trying to Behave (but you know we never learned how) - 329k+ [non-idol! au]

It's been years since Yoongi's last seen him and the younger boy is a shell of his former self in a way that makes his heart twist in his chest. And yet, after all this time and countless days of convincing himself to let him go, he's still unconditionally, head over heels in love with Park Jimin.

(Jimin and Yoongi grow up together.)

Valentino Summers - 657k+ [‘80s gangsters]

Whether or not Jimin was smuggling drugs really didn’t matter. He was hustling, and these days that was all there was to it.

Hustle and survive or struggle and die.

Y/N masterlist << check it out !! xoxo

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years ago

Text

Torch - Chapter 2: October

A/N: YES we have gotten this here AND early!! Enjoy October, HBP style.

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

______

The Prince’s book has become something of a bed companion to Harry by now, perusing it at length again and again in his free time. The tips of his fingers lightly trace each scribbled note for the hundredth time, his lips whisper spells he’s never heard of.

It’s how Ron finds himself dangling up in the air from a freckly ankle and how, not much later, Harry lets himself be dragged into an ardent debate with Hermione on whether Levicorpus is or isn’t a jinx.

“Of course it’s a jinx,” Hermione scowls as the trio trots through the autumn wind to Hogsmeade, “Nothing benign would serve to levitate people and expose them like that.”

Harry knows she’s vividly reliving that night at the Quidditch World Cup, when Lucius Malfoy and his Death Eater friends had a laugh levitating Muggles in a disgusting demonstration of soft torture. If he’s honest, he’s also thinking about it and it’s vexing enough that he’d simply like to scratch at the back of his head, where those irksome little thoughts like to hide and play, scratch until they bleed away from him.

Yet more dreary musings come to bother him when the three of them happen upon the unlikely duo of Horace Slughorn and Mundungus Fletcher, and the annoying buzz turns into true Harpies’ screeches as Katie Bell is nearly murdered.

Harry doesn’t much remember a day when he felt he needed some peace of mind more than he does now as everything inside him cries and bawls that it has to do with Malfoy . That the Prince is somehow connected to this and not at all evil. That innocent lives are at risk if nobody’ll take him seriously when he says that Draco Malfoy is plotting something sleazy. Because he is and today is nothing but proof.

Unfortunately, nobody does, not even Professor McGonagall. Not like this, not without concrete evidence and Harry knows deep inside that he won’t rest until he finds some. He only hopes it won’t be too late.

______

After Hogsmeade, Katie’s continuing stay in the Hospital Wing, and yet another unsuccessful attempt to convince anyone that Malfoy is plotting something, Harry somewhat glumly seeks solace in his studies - per Hermione’s advice. Which, in reality was more a long rant detailing exactly where he would end up should he forgo his schoolwork in favor of ‘cockeyed notions’ about admittedly morally grey classmates. For someone who punched said ‘morally grey’ classmate not three years ago, she can be a bit high and mighty at times.

So far though, burying himself in schoolwork has succeeded in keeping his mind occupied, at least in part. Besides, who knew if the secret to finally catching Malfoy in the act was - his eyes skimmed the page again - a perfectly executed Orchideous incantation? Perhaps the slimy git’s true weakness is hay-fever.

Harry’s considering whether Skeeter is right and he has gone ‘round the bend when Ron’s patience with studying silently seems to waver.

“What is it about girls anyway?” Ron huffs between the pages of his Transfiguration copy, his mind clearly not anywhere near the subject of their homework.

“What are you going on about?” Harry asks bemused. “Hope it’s not McGonagall prompting those shower thoughts,” he grins from behind his own textbook as Ron grimaces and closes the tome with a loud bang.

“I mean everyone’s a girl or talking about girls,” Ron carries on and sighs. “It’s absolutely mad, I’m telling you.”

Harry laughs wholeheartedly, following Ron’s example and putting a well deserved pause on his study. Well, not that well deserved since they’ve only been studying for about twenty minutes, but it’s late and they had Quidditch practice all day so who can really blame them.

“No, mate, you’re absolutely mad. Now care to offer some context?”

Ron frowns, draws a breath, then takes a moment as if to ruminate on what he wants to say next.

“That git, Dean, he’s dating my sister,” he winces.

It’s Harry’s turn to scowl. “Yeah, noticed that much.”

“And Hermione looks - erm, so much like a girl now, you know? And less like our friend,” Ron elaborates, completely amiss of Harry’s snide remark. Which is all the better for Harry, really. Ron seems to have too much on his emotional plate anyway.

“You understand what I’m trying to say, right?” Ron hurries to add when Harry doesn’t say anything, his cheeks coloring faintly.

“Hmm,” Harry mumbles the best response he can come up with. It’d be rather awkward to admit that Hermione’s mostly the same to him, their best friend and somewhat sister to Harry. As opposed to other sisters he happens to know.

“It’s odd, ‘s all I’m saying. And my baby sister going on dates, probably snogging blokes -”

“Plural?” Harry blurts out before he realises what he’s doing.

Ron throws him an exasperated look. “Dunno, mate. She keeps everything very private but I don’t understand what’s all this sudden fuss ‘bout her. I mean why’s she so popular? Dean seemed alright, what does he see in her?” He shrugs.

“What does she see in him ?” Harry sneers, his lips morphing into a small pout.

“Dean’s a good bloke, I guess,” Ron shrugs again, scratches the back of his head.

“I guess,” replies Harry, rather reluctant.

“And he’s pretty smart, I guess?”

“I guess.”

“And I reckon he draws really well.”

“He does?”

“That’s what I remember. Girls like paintings and stuff. Mum has lots of them hanging on the walls,” Ron’s face lights up as if it all finally makes sense.

But not to Harry. Not if he takes into account the way his insides churn and boil or the way he simply feels a sudden need to shout at his best friend and maybe tell him that somebody else ought to bring Hermione a bloody drawing and then see how he likes it.

But right afterwards Harry feels petty, mumbles something about abandoning homework and sets off to bed, leaving a befuddled Ron behind wondering what he could’ve said wrong.

And by some odd twist of fate - or maybe some divine entity’s really prone on showing Harry that the worst is yet to come - the conversation he walks in on is no better than the one he’s rudely ended. In fact, on a scale from one to detention with Snape, what he’s currently witnessing ranks closer to the latter rather than the former.

Dean discussing his blooming relationship with Ginny.

Dean describing to Seamus the progress he’s making with Ginny.

Dean about to be pushed out the Gryffindor Tower window. By mistake, of course.

Sometimes, Harry muses, there are things he misses about living under the stairs. Well. Not exactly. His bedroom is loads better. But there are benefits to having your own room rather than a dorm full of loud mouthed complaining gits.

The real question is when exactly Dean became so irritating. Harry’s not incapable of tuning out irksome housemates - a certain ickle Diddikins and co. serve as ample evidence - so Dean must really be laying it on thick.

Recently, it seems that if he’s not outlining his ‘ intensive ’ physical fitness routine, he’s giving Seamus advice on the best way to ask out ‘birds’ and extolling the virtues of a certain shoulder slipping move that gets you ‘up close and personal’ with said bird.

Harry does his best to avoid the dorm when awake but it begins to feel like they’re waiting for him to arrive and saving the most obnoxious bits for his personal enjoyment.

It’s rather gross, to be honest, and he feels indignant - in a brotherly way obviously - to hear the highly questionable strategies Dean plans to use to further acquaint himself with Ginny.

Who knew two teenage boys could cluck like gossiping hens this long after lights out? Or talk so loud despite the whisper-like quality of their conversation. Harry sticks his arm out through a split in the curtains and brushes a few Droobles wrappings aside, well past eleven. Plain rude.

With a huff, he shoves the covers back, grabs his dressing gown, blanket, and wand, before storming toward the door. “You two are bloody lucky Ron sleeps like the dead.”

As if confirming, Ron - who’s also given up on studying and fainted rather than fell asleep within less than two seconds since closing the distance between his person and his bed, lets out a loud snore and sighs in his sleep.

Dean and Seamus blink at Harry, the former’s eyes narrowing and mouth opening as if he’s about to toss back some indignant response but Harry’s in no mood. He leaves the dorm with a dramatic swoosh of his blanket and stumbles his way down the staircase, only forgoing a very satisfying door slam in the name of inter-house courtesy. Unlike some people.

The last few steps meet with the unhappy, teen-angst thuds of his feet. All the while, he grumbles to himself in an almost unintelligible but heart-lightening manner so he’s feeling a bit less like dumping a shaker of salt in Dean’s porridge in the morning.

Still, that doesn’t make him any more eager to return to the gossiping hens upstairs and the fire does look rather inviting. Perhaps Dobby anticipated Harry’s midnight flight to the common room.

Or perhaps Harry’s off his rocker and somehow deluded himself into believing this picture perfect, cozy room isn’t quite as abandoned as he first assumed. Instead, a certain red-haired Chaser is tucked up in one of the armchairs closest to the fire, forehead drooping toward the crinkled notes in her lap, socked toes warming in the blaze’s orange glow.

“You’re up late,” Harry tries, testing the responsiveness of his hallucination.

Groaning, Ginny drops her head back on the cushioned chair. “Hermione made me a timetable.”

Harry laughs, claiming the couch closest to Ginny with a dramatic sprawl of his occasionally gangly limbs.

“And presented said timetable to me in front of mum , who thought it was the greatest idea in the history of ideas.”

Ginny twists her neck and stares at him expectantly, which Harry assumes is an indication she wants a response other than gawking at her helplessly. “So now you’re stuck, eh?”

She hums and scrapes her hair up into a messy bun. “Theoretically tonight’s study session should have been through,” she looks at her watch, “yesterday afternoon.”

The words have barely left her lips before laughter bubbles out of both of them, loud and surprising until they muffle their chuckles. Which, of course, only makes things funnier and the stopping that much harder. Ginny’s cheeks are rosy with happiness as Harry pushes his glasses up messily and swipes the tears from his cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’ve been studying for,” he pauses to do the math, “Twenty seven hours.”

“No - yesterday was so lovely - that sunshine on my face,” she sighs, “How could I do anything but go for a fly?”

Harry grins, dragging one foot up underneath him, “True enough - I had a good kip over by that tree. You know the one close enough to the water the firsties are too afraid to go near?”

She nods in recognition and tosses one leg over the side of the armchair, looking as if she’ll melt into oblivion right then and there. “Then I met up with Dean before dinner.”

Unable to bite back the grimace at the mention of his sleep stealing dorm-mate - not that he feels much like sleeping at the moment - Harry delivers some sort of non commital grunt that Ginny pounces on like a starved puma. Her dark eyes consider him from head to toe in a way that makes his cheeks heat. “How are things with Dumbledore, then?”

Harry shrugs, fiddling with the knobby blanket on his lap and feeling like a bit of a ponce for worrying about his loud-mouthed roommate when lives hang in the balance. Then he really does scowl as thoughts of Dumbledore, Death Eaters, Draco and his cronies, and about a thousand other dark things swirl through his mind. “No - no he hasn’t called me for another lesson yet.”

Ginny eyes him for another moment, lips twisted in a thoughtful frown before they quirk in a teasing grin. “Well he’d better get on it if you’re going to be the new Headmaster and Supreme Mugwump. Lest we forget your need for a long, luxurious white beard.”

“I would look damn foxy with a beard and you know it.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it - can you even grow facial hair baby Potter?”

Crossing his arms, Harry puffs out his chest in a show of manliness and narrows his eyes. A show which is slightly lessened by the smile that tickles his lips. “I will have you know I shave every morning.”

“With a big boy razor?” Ginny teases, but she nudges him with her toes, “All seriousness, I’m not sure the Hogwarts student body could handle ruggedly handsome Harry James Potter.”

“Mass hysteria, eh?” Harry laughs, though it’s a bit strangled in the wake of Ginny’s half admission that he could be considered handsome. Even in an entirely hypothetical situation.

Perhaps a beard wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Aye - Dad read all about Beatlemania. Like that, but with magic.”

“I’ll need a bodyguard or two.”

“Not to worry - we’ve got you covered,” Ginny assures him as she collects her things and rises tiredly. “I can’t study anymore. My brain’s turned to mush,” she pauses, “You never said why you’re up.”

“Eh - Dean’s a snorer.”

Ginny’s brows rise, “ Really .”

And Harry can’t seem to drum up a bit of guilt as he frowns darkly and nods.

______

As October progresses, Scotland turns crisp, the air whips at bare cheeks turning them rosy and leaving Harry free to wander the grounds with few interruptions. Between Voldemort’s official return and everything that happened at the Department of Mysteries last year, Harry’s ability to skulk about unnoticed has been lessened somewhat.

It’s not adoring fans begging for autographs like Krum had during the Triwizard - more like quiet stares on some weird spectrum between mute terror and judgmental mutterings.

He is slightly more adept at tuning such things out than during the ‘Potter Stinks’ era, but it’s still nice to escape it and reserve the energy used for ignoring annoyances. Mostly he uses those reserves for lots of internal angst about feelings he definitely doesn’t have.

Nothing clears his head like a nice fly though and a quick check of the pitch schedule reveals an open afternoon. So his daily constitutional turns into a quick jog over to the empty pitch to take to the sky.

Truth be told, he desperately needs a place to simply forget about the current state of events, the feelings of uncertainty, the doubts he’s having as he wonders if the troubles and efforts they put into recreating Riddle’s pre-Voldemort life aren’t wasted.

His second lesson with Dumbledore, recently ended, didn’t do much to alleviate any of those feelings. Back through the Pensieve, to a twelve year old Tom Riddle this time, with a personality grim enough to signal chaos about to come. Can understanding your enemy truly bring you one step closer to defeating him? Harry closes his eyes, one palm lightly passing over the lightning shaped scar slashed across his forehead.

Wind chaps his face, makes his eyes teary as he increases his speed and clears the towers that surround the stadium. Clouds drift by overhead, a slow drag against brilliant blue compared to the streaking of his slim broom.

Clutching the handle tightly with his legs, Harry releases one hand, then the other and twists into a spiral. Once he’s right side up, Harry slows and swirls in lazy circuits until he’s back hovering over the pitch, descending to the sound of a slow clap.

“Nice moves, Potter.”

So much for clearing my head.

“Captain’s got to keep up his skills,” Harry says, easy.

“Didn’t know keeping them up involved so much showing off,” Ginny answers with a smirk, tossing a practice Quaffle high overhead and catching it deftly.

Harry’s feet find the fresh cut grass as he ruffles his hair in a nervous gesture that must be hereditary. “Is it really showing off if nobody’s around?”

“Am I nobody?”

“You weren’t expected.”

She tosses the quaffle again, higher, and catches it without a second glance. “I could just take my Quaffle and go home,” Ginny quirks her brow, “But since this is the Quidditch Pitch and I am looking to actually play Quidditch …”

“Excuse me - are you attempting to argue that flying isn’t a legitimate element of Quidditch?”

“Without balls it’s just a bunch of jocks performing high-flying acrobatics,” Ginny counters, another toss, this time over her shoulder. She catches it with a quick twist that sends her hair fanning behind her.

“And tricks like that aren’t showboating at all,” Harry drawls, “Is this some chaser superiority complex?”

“S’not a complex if it’s true - besides I can play all positions,” Ginny says simply as she drops to the ground, ankles crossed in front of her.

It’s really difficult being around someone so tempting. Since, he has to worry about her all the time, of course. Not because he is tempted in any way, despite what his dreams might indicate.

Blissfully unaware of Harry’s internal monologue, Ginny slides her palms out sideways until she’s fully reclined in the grass. “Speaking of - we are defending Quidditch Cup winners and the fecking Ravenclaw team have their sights set on taking it back.”

“I’m not planning on captaining the team to ruin,” Harry shoots back with a roll of his eyes.

“Have a seat Captain - let’s get strategizing,” Ginny says patting the ground by her side, “Got to protect my interests - Harpies like winners .”

Nudging her ankle with his toe, Harry does as instructed and tosses his broom aside. “That your plan? Go professional?”

Ginny glances up at him. “Oh yeah - though I don’t think I’ve said it to anyone aloud before.”

“That sounds brilliant - you’re uh,” Harry ruffles his hair, “You’re really brilliant.”

She kicks his shoulder. “Thanks.”

It’s quiet between them for a moment until she finally adds, “And as brilliant as it is to be successful as both a Chaser and a Seeker, maybe strategy number one could be you not getting kicked off the team again this year?”

“Pinky promise.”

“Secondarily - we really need a replacement for Katie,” Ginny says, “Not that - well Quidditch isn’t the biggest issue with all this - ”

Harry sighs, flops backward, and tilts his head upward so he can meet her gaze. “Gin - you don’t have to explain - ”

“Thanks,” Ginny tosses her arms overhead and lets her feet slide straight out, “I’d never - well. Anyway. We’re down a Chaser.”

Taking a fortifying breath, Harry reaches across the space between them and brushes the back of her hand with his fingertips. “What about Trenton?”

Ginny snorts. “Nah - have you seen his ‘fake out’ swerve. We’re never going to win with a lazy maneuver like that and I’ll be damned if Malfoy beats us this year.”

“Too bad Hermione can’t fly to save her life,” Harry muses, brain filtering through the rest of their housemates, “We’d have the most organized tactics and training schedule ever.”

“Nope - she’d spend the whole time telling us we should be studying,” Ginny answers as she pushes to her feet with a sigh, “Which reminds me, I’ve got to be off.”

“Timetable?”

“Nah - meeting Dean,” Ginny says easily as she brushes a few blades of grass from her clothes, “Though I’d never have made plans if I knew I’d have to ditch a good ol’ strategy session.”

Harry stands too, feeling as though a fist has clenched around his heart in a strange, painful way. “We - uh. Raincheck?”

“‘Course,” Ginny says with a crooked smile, “See you when I see you?”

He agrees with a quiet nod and mounts his broom, skating across the sky as the sun dips toward the horizon.

______

It’s Monday and there’s less than a week till Saturday, November 2nd. Less than a week until they’re up against Ravenclaw on the pitch. And somehow, Harry doesn’t know why or how, but they’re still one player short.

(Technically, he does know but there’s a long way between knowing and admitting it, isn’t it?)

Now it’s Tuesday and, while Monday was spent focusing more on the greater good of the team and less on his inner turmoil, Harry still hasn’t managed to summon all his remaining will power (that’s not wasted on either Snape or homework or helping Ron and Hermione remain civil in the face of Slug Club party invites) and ask Dean to join the team as a third Chaser.

It’s pretty clear that Katie won’t make an overnight recovery.

It’s common sense to offer the role to someone who’s a decent flyer and is well acquainted with the game.

It’s unreasonable to prolong the task of asking Dean much longer. All things considered.

So Harry spots him enjoying a bite of morning toast with pumpkin juice and perhaps a plate of hot gossip on the side, as Dean’s sat next to Seamus, who Harry has determined are attached at the hip. Sighing long and painful, Harry straightens his posture and prepares for whatever this is, a mantra of “I’m doing this for the team” on a loop at the back of his mind.

“Mornin’, Harry,” Dean greets cheerfully in between two swigs of fresh pumpkin juice. Of course, Seamus’ enthusiasm level lowers as soon as his eyes lock with Harry’s, but he’s starting to get used to it by now.

“Alright, mate? You look troubled,” Dean observes.

Harry waves him off and plows right in with another sigh, “Listen, we’re one Chaser too few on the team -”

“Yeah, I heard Katie’s still in the hospital -”

“Would you like to join?” Harry cuts him off before he can change his mind.

A pause and then both Dean and Seamus blink, confused.

“What?”

“I asked if you’d like to join the team as Chaser? Until Katie recovers, you know,” Harry hurries to add.

It’s Seamus who speaks first, elbow almost sending the porridge rolling off the table.

“Sounds mental to me, you and Ginny on the same team.”

Harry’s senses fire up and he holds his breath, silently urging Seamus to keep talking.

“‘S alright,” Dean shrugs, visibly bothered by his friend’s comment.

“Oh come on, mate,” Seamus grins, “it’s just Harry here. Last night you were going on and on about how she’s always so cheesed off ‘bout everything it makes you feel like you’ve botched every wee thing.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees weakly as just Harry experiences a violent urge to hurt both of his ‘mates.’ Maybe hit their heads together until they cry or kindly ask Dobby to wet their beds as they sleep.

Unfortunately, he has to shake it all off and attempt to bleach his brain later before he breaks and tells Ron. And the rest of the Weasley clan. Though telling Ginny might solve a good number of his problems - and make him something of a wanker.

“So?” He asks again. “If you agree, you’ll have to clear your schedule anyway. We have practice this evening, all evening,” Harry underlines through gritted teeth.

Dean scratches at the back of his head, muses a bit and then gives his final answer, “Yeah, alright. Can’t let Ravenclaw walk all over us,” he grins and claps Harry on the shoulder.

Harry can’t decide if he’s in a mood to shout at everyone who speaks to him because of Dean’s insolent comments and confidences about his relationship with Ginny or because of his implication that they won’t stand a chance against Ravenclaw if he doesn’t join the team. Either way, Harry takes it personally enough to grunt and snap at people all day.

And Quidditch practice doesn’t make it any better. He’d hoped that it’d offer the right outlet to clear the angst clouding his mind. But of course, he should’ve known by now that counting his chickens before they are hatched is completely useless.

In reality, Harry agrees that this practice session has been the worst so far, so much so that even Ginny looks forlorn and Demelza’s eyes water constantly.

Cursing under his breath, Harry shivers in the cold, biting October air and checks the time. It’s well past ten in the evening and there’s nothing more he can do for this lot than send them inside to a hot shower and a cuppa (or a long sleepless night sprinkled with self-loathing in his case).

He drags his feet next to Ron, uncertain if he’d rather smack him over the head to stop his complaining or to do it to himself. If Harry thinks about it, Ron’s performance seems to depend on his mood and Harry reckons he’s not quite yet recovered from their little Slug Club themed conversation from Herbology class last week. Hermione’d almost managed to invite Ron to join her at the Christmas party when Ron’s fragile ego got in the way.

Harry sighs for the millionth time, rubs at the prickling in his scar.

Perhaps cracking his own skull would represent the desirable option right now, between a best mate whose spirits are below sea level, conflicting feelings for a certain redhead and a probable defeat in the first match he’s ever captained his team to.

And speaking of redheads, there’s Ginny on her way to the castle, hand in hand with Dean. Harry doesn’t know what he was expecting exactly. That Ginny would hang back with him after practice, as she’s done till now? That she won’t talk to Dean or hug him or even kiss him during practice breaks? And why wouldn’t she? He is her boyfriend, even though Harry wouldn’t hurry to crown him boyfriend of the year anytime soon.

And who’s Harry to her? A mate. Her older brother’s best mate. That’s it, yeah. Just a mate. Just Harry.

He’s about to make peace with those thoughts when Ron’s face blanches and he stops dead in his tracks.

Harry has to squint to understand what’s prompted Ron’s reaction and for a moment he fears Viktor Krum’s back to kiss Hermione, tired of waiting for Ron to finally gather his courage and do it. But then the torch hanging over a small annex in the middle of the deserted corridor casts its gentle, quivering light over two people, tightly glued against each other, kissing fervently.

His heart sinks so low the Giant Squid might stumble across it when his eyes adjust to realise they’ve walked in on Ginny and Dean.

Ginny and Dean kissing like he’s never seen someone kiss, their hands in each other’s hair and their bodies pressed hard together. He’d probably blush if not for the growling beast in his chest, demanding that Harry do something fast.

Still Ron reacts faster and him and Ginny are in each other’s faces in less than a heartbeat. Weasley tempers are terrible on a good day and grisly on shite days like this. Harry’s confident they’d start hexing and kicking each other if not for his jumping between them.

It’s ugly and petty on both sides, both siblings pouring salt over open wounds, and Harry’s left to awkwardly say goodbye to Dean like nothing’s happened.

Later, alone in his bed, covers pulled up over his head, he’d have time to think about how he’d tear Dean limb from limb for kissing Ginny like that - or for kissing her at all. Yeah, later he’d have time to plan and imagine and probably work himself into a fit over the image of them tattooed on his brain. Indeed, there’ll be enough time to thoroughly hate himself and the world later.

#itsblissfuloblivion writes #itsblissfuloblivion #torch chapter 2 #harry X ginny #harry potter x ginny weasley #ron weasley x hermione granger #hinny fic #hbp fic

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immagettinmyshittogether · 6 years ago

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Worthwhile distractions

So I’ve been having a little trouble keeping up with some shit lately. A couple weeks ago I got hit with a MASSIVE cold/flu/something. So my diet went out the window in favor of chicken noodle soup and spicy food to clear my sinuses and whatever the heck comfort food I needed to get through the day. Considering how sick I was, honestly, I suspect that my body was burning more calories than normal anyway just to fight it off. And I don’t seem to have gained or lost much weight in the last few weeks, so I think my hypothesis is probably pretty close to true. But I was so sick that I honestly couldn’t think straight for several days. Of course, the days that I was the most sick were Friday through Sunday. So I didn’t miss any work. I just spend the entire next week sniffling and taking dayquil.

Needless to say, for the second time, I missed a writing deadline. My writing income has dropped considerably (which thanks to the two month delay in Amazon sales, I won’t notice until the end of January). Partly because of missed deadlines, I’m sure, but also partly because I think the series I’ve been working on just doesn’t have as big an audience as I thought it would. I was trying to shift from straight up smut to smutty romantic smut. It appears that for short-term and short story/serial publishing, the lowest common denominator might be a better thing to aim for. My sales have been practically nil, and my Kindle Unlimited reads have been a little below average. I haven’t had the heart to check my book rankings, but I know they’re lower than they were the last few months.

Author’s note/edit after posting - I realized that I hadn’t updated anything about last month’s sales. Last month jumped up to over 150. It was on target to hit 200 until Thanksgiving came around and I missed my first deadline.... then it kind of hit a stasis that week, and I basically didn’t earn hardly anything for the entire last week of the month. Still, I’m afraid to look at my current projected monthly income based on what I’ve made so far this month. It ain’t gonna be pretty.)

Then the shit kind of hit the fan at work. I work on a college campus, so these last few weeks of the semester are just kind of a run-up to the end. Always busier than usual, often with higher stakes in order to make sure shit gets done in time. So the next week after being sick has been one of the busiest and most stressful weeks of the semester. I’ll explain the details under the ‘keep reading’ line if you’re curious.

I did manage to get the story out late. So I still managed to publish once my brain was functioning. Unfortunately, I’m finding that at the moment, my usual after-day-job home environment isn’t really conducive to my current writing. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m writing smut, and I have trouble focusing on that with my spouse in the room. Or, more likely, it’s because my spouse has ADD and needs constant background things going on, like youtube videos or something, in order to concentrate. Whereas I don’t, and those things are distractions for me.

I’m wondering if I should just wrap up the various series that I have going now and call this experiment in writing a minimum of a short a week what is was: an experiment. But with winter vacation coming up for me, I will have the chance to sit at home and write without distraction for a few weeks. So I’ll at least try to catch up on my work then and get a good backlog to keep posting.

The pen name I was using for this smut is not one I ever planning on using to make a living. I was just using it to force myself to write something out of my comfort zone, get some experience writing on a long-term repeated deadline, and get a feel for online publishing.

I have learned a bit about serial publishing. And I’m starting to understand why all the old classic serial publishers tried to make things as salacious as they did. In the fast-paced world of publishing, the most important thing is just to grab people’s attention. After that you can worry about quality.

I also had another pen name that focused more on the romance side of things rather than the smut side of things... but that’s an entirely different market, and it generally requires a longer time investment and longer stories. And when all I can do at the moment while I’ve got my day job is about 5k words per week, the smut seemed to be the better option to focus on.

So this winter break might be a turnaround. A chance to try something else. Or a chance to at least finish up my work on one pen name.

But back to the now. this week, since the series I was working on was doing so badly, I decided to put it on hiatus and go back to one that I’d wrapped up the first arc and put on hiatus. The one that had caused my numbers to kinda explode last month. I had an idea for a nice little intro story that was not only holiday-themed, but would be able to stand alone months from now, and would work as a good introduction to the second arc. So I started churning along. I had a lot of stuff to do around the house to start getting ready for the holidays, but my spouse was going to be out of the house for about five hours on Saturday, so I decided to pace myself. Get half of it written Friday, half Saturday. And I was on track. I was about 3.8k words in on the ≈5k story. And I’d already found a suitable image to photomanip into a decent cover for publishing. (Something that often takes a while, sorting through image sites, finding something that fits what I need, but doesn’t run afoul of Amazon’s fear of butts on cover art. Just once, I want to find a picture of a sexy model who would look good on a smutty book cover who’s wearing regular underwear, and not a nigh-invisible thong. The problems of a smut writer.)

And then I got a message from a friend in need. I won’t go into too much detail, but it is someone who had just lost their job, suffers from severe anxiety and depression, and even if the big S word that so often goes along with situations like that hadn’t come up, I still would have done the same thing. I had pants on, brushed my teeth, and ran out the door in record time. (Even if said friend could afford a car, the anxiety issues are bad enough to make driving unhealthy and unsafe) And my spouse got home right around the same time we got back to our house. So we spent the night helping a friend in need. Needless to say, I really don’t feel too bad about missing the third deadline. Some shit is more important. My spouse and I may be super introverts who are terrible at most socialization related things... but even if we’re crap at helping a friend in need, we’re still going to try.

Right now, my spouse and I aren’t in the best place financially. I’m not in the best place health-wise. But I’m still working at it. I’m still getting my shit together. And as I was just reminded on Saturday, I’m not the only one. For everybody out there... if you have too much shit to handle, call a friend. Somebody. Anybody. As I mentioned, my spouse and I are NOT great at being sociable and helping people. We’re actually pretty terrible at keeping in touch. We hadn’t talked to this friend in a few months. But even we were able to help, just by being there and hanging out with someone who wasn’t safe to be alone.

Sometimes we can’t keep our shit together. And that’s nothing to be ashamed about. Sometimes all we can do is try to keep afloat and look for something to hold onto. And sometimes, we can be that something to hold onto for someone else.

... I still have a lot of shit to get done this week, though. After two weeks of neglect when I should have been preparing for holiday visitor (I was hoping for visitors plural, but c’est la guerre. Siblings are all on various coasts, and we can’t always find a way to get together. Especially since only two of the five of my generation can really AFFORD to travel), my house is a MESS. And I still have that story to finish.

Day job explanation time. My official job title on campus is ‘proctor’. Basically, it means two things: I administer makeup and online tests in my office/testing lab, and I keep copies of certain paper tests for a few departments on the smaller satellite campus where I work. There are two main departments that I mostly proctor tests for, one uses the computers in my lab, so all I have to do is check students in. But the other uses paper tests, and I proctor makeups for that department as well as provide the paper tests for the teachers to use in their class.

Unfortunately, the copier on my floor is showing signs of wear and tear. Once you get over about 50 pages in one sitting, it starts to overheat and jam. So this year, they decided to limit the number of pages per copy job to 50. And with good reason. Unfortunately for me, I need to copy rather large batches of tests. And I can’t go to the other copier several floors down, because 1) I can’t leave my lab for more than a few minutes at a time, in case a student comes by with a narrow time window before their next class to take a test, and 2) I’m only scheduled/paid/officially on duty during the lab hours, so I can’t stay late or come in early to do copies.

Needless to say, my first thought was to see if I could just send my print jobs off to the print shop on campus and have them do them all and deliver them. Unfortunately, I need a digital copy to send to them for that. And in spite of the fact that I requested this at the beginning of the semester... all I’ve gotten from that department are the practice tests, not the actual tests. And of course, the practice tests are small enough that I can copy those just fine.

So I’ve been breaking the rules and doing batches of 60-75 pages whenever I can. But that’s still only 15 copies at a time, and I need something like 400 copies of each test. And the copier is occasionally down for a day or so when something breaks and they have to wait to get the part to fix it. And Murphy’s law seems to be in full force, because when I need to refill my inventory, it’s always fine on the days that I have a steady stream of students in my lab, and down the days that I have a trickle and therefore plenty of time with no students so I can close up the lab for five minutes.

The finals, of course, are 8-10 pages each, depending on the class. Which means that I can literally only do 5 copies at a time if I follow the rules. And there’s a hard deadline as to when I need to make sure that I have enough for every teacher. That deadline, of course, being after the last few weeks of classes, when students realize that they REALLY need to get in to take that makeup test and raise their grade before it’s too late.

Thankfully, the department actually got around to sending me a digital version of the finals. So I sent those off to the print shop, several weeks ahead of the due date, and I set the deliver due date as last Thursday at the latest, since I don’t work Friday, and I knew some teachers were letting students who couldn’t be there for the final take their test on Thursday or Friday before finals week. I gave them explicit instructions to deliver it to my lab, warned them that the lab is locked for test security reasons while I’m not there, told them where to get the key, and asked them to email me if, for any reason, they couldn’t deliver the tests.

I got to my lab in the morning to find... no delivery. I checked the support ticket. It said that they were finished 9 days ago... but neither one actually had a digital signature of who finished it. That day just so happened to also be the busiest test day of the semester. The department that uses computer tests in my lab had a final due date for the last chapter that day, so every semester that is always my busiest day. So as soon as I was relieved for my fifteen minute break, instead of taking my break, I ran downstairs to see if perhaps they simply didn’t read the delivery instructions and left the tests in the (thankfully locked) employee mailroom. (Which, coincidentally, is where the good copier is. This will be important later.)

So when I got back from break, the first thing I did was look up how to contact the print shop. Other than submitting a print request... there was nothing. I could look up the employees and email them, but there was no formal support ticket. Only a print request ticket. So I emailed the supervisor of the department.

An hour later, I finally had a moment with no students in the room, so I could make a phone call without worrying about disturbing people testing. So I called the print department. It rang four times... and went to voice mail.

I waited a minute, tried again, just to see if I got unlucky and just missed someone. Still voicemail. So, even though I hate using the phone because that means they’ll call me back instead of emailing, and I can’t really talk when there are students testing, I left a message.

By the end of my shift... still nothing. Nothing at all. And I knew that at least one teacher needed a few copies BY THE NEXT MORNING because he had students who couldn’t be there during finals week. And, just to add insult to injury, because of the holiday coming up, we had to submit our time sheet early this week. So I had no way to report extra time spent staying late to deal with this issue. But the teachers all depend on me, so I printed out a copy of each of the tests, and I was in the middle of composing an email to let the teachers know that I would drop off an unstapled copy and a copy of the answer key in their mailboxes, so that if they desperately needed it, at least they could use the copier right next to their mailbox to make as many as they need for class.

While I was doing that... the phone rang. It was the print shop. Apparently they had finished my print job early, and set it aside and forgotten about it. It was just sitting in a corner of the room, on the main campus several miles away from the satellite campus. She apologized for forgetting about it, said that it was loaded in the delivery vehicle trunk, and as soon as the delivery person got there the next morning he would head over.

Since I didn’t know when he would actually get there, and when teachers would start needing the tests, that still didn’t change much for me. I thanked her for getting back to me, told her that if that should be fine, and just amended the email I was sending out to let them know that the tests SHOULD be there by the morning. But just in case, I was still going to drop off the unstapled copies. (Plus two stapled ones for the teacher who mentioned needing a couple by Friday morning) I’m still not sure how I can report the extra 37 minutes of overtime I had to spend doing that, since the time sheets are already in... and I can’t just add it to next week, because I won’t be working next week.

But I got to work today and... the tests were here. And things have been slow enough that I’ve been able to write this huge freaking post with only a few interruptions here and there. (Okay, now that I’m done helping someone, interruptions here, there, and the one while I was trying to hit post.)

#getting my shit together #writing blog #writing blues #life blog #life blogging #i did mention weight loss #but not very much #stress #work stress #work blog #i'm not actually pulling my hair out #but it came close

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 7 years ago

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A System of Sides: Chapter One

A/N: Wow okay so I probably shouldn’t do this while this is still a WIP but y’know what I read through the first chapter and edited and NaNoWriMo is kicking my butt so I want positive feedback. So this is my NaNo project, I’m calling it A System of Sides, and I hope you enjoy!

Words: 3,393

Warnings: Some arguing, but nothing serious in this chapter.

Patton looked at the mess in the kitchen and sighed heavily. There was broken glassware, food flung everywhere, and in the sink, a little bit of hair. He wished this was a rare occurrence upon walking into one of the shared rooms of the Mind Palace, but sadly it was not. And he knew that no one was going to clean more of this up than necessary to use the counter space they needed if he wasn't cleaning it, so he got to work.

Grabbing the dust pan and brush from under the sink, he started sweeping up the glass on surfaces that could be stepped on first. His mind unwillingly drifted to the shouting he had heard earlier today.

"What do you mean, you're not going to let Thomas read a book until he memorizes his lines! I've been looking forward to that book on astronomy for weeks!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that your priorities for Thomas are more important than mine!"

The argument had been between Logan and Roman, and Patton had winced as he heard those words being screamed, and some more hurtful, more hate-fueled things along with them. He had been hiding in his room, although, considering the situation, he kinda doubted that anyone in his position would have done anything different. Virgil hadn't come out of his room either, at least.

Virgil rarely if ever leaves his room, I doubt he's actually a good baseline for behavior, Patton thought sullenly.

No, no, he had to think positive about this whole thing. If he got too down and then started influencing Thomas, Thomas might get upset too and then--no, no, he had to stay happy. For Thomas' sake if for no one else's. Of course, it was hard, being in the middle of a highly dysfunctional system and staying positive.

It wasn't easy being plural, period, but having everyone trying to turn each other into dormant personalities that were no longer a "problem" made Patton want to go dormant himself.

Thomas needed him, though. Thomas relied on Patton for lots of his feelings, and his sense of right and wrong. Patton was a moral compass; he was needed. So he couldn't go dormant just yet.

With a sigh, he swept up the last of the glass and threw it away. He ran the tap a little bit in the sink and splashed the water around until the hair went down the drain. He could use the garbage disposal later to clean it out if it started clogging anything, though the hair wasn't even in chunks, so Patton severely doubted that would become a problem.

Next, came the food, and Patton shook his head as he grabbed a dish towel and wet it. It was such a waste, flinging food around just to make a point. Not to mention very childish. And sure, they could summon food into the Mind Palace's pantry whenever they wanted to, but the fact remained that food should not be flung in the first place.

Patton wasn't entirely sure what he was cleaning up on the counter. It could have been icing, or it could have been a very, very tie-dyed stew. Since they could get food in any color they wanted, it was hardly a surprise to find neon bananas or bright orange cucumbers lying around. Roman did love to turn all his food funny colors before consuming it.

There were footsteps behind Patton before he heard a world-weary sigh that could only belong to the most dramatic and creative personality of them all, Roman. "I assume that you heard my...discussion with Logan earlier?" he asked.

Patton silently nodded and continued to clean. He didn't even give Roman the satisfaction of seeing his face. Patton didn't think he was up to playing the happy father-figure the others expected him to be.

"Ah..." Roman struggled for words, an occurrence that came few and far-between for the Prince-like personality. "I am truly sorry, Patton. I forgot to control my voice so that no one outside that discussion heard it, when I quite obviously should have."

Patton shrugged and forced a smile, turning around. "It's okay, Roman, we all get upset sometimes. I just wish there was less of a mess to clean up sometimes, because you kids certainly know how to make a ruckus!"

Roman smiled at the small attempt of humor and nodded. "I can assist you, if you wish?"

"Sure," Patton agreed. It couldn't be too harmful to his mood, which was already considerably down. He had an idea about how to lift it, though. "Any good adventures lately?"

Roman smiled as he grabbed a dishcloth and started wiping surfaces clean. "Oh, you know. Thomas was daydreaming before he fell asleep last night and I gave him the good old dragon witch adventure, which is a staple in my repertoire."

Patton certainly knew about that. He got along well enough with all of the personalities in this system, but Roman liked him the best. As such, he would often regale Patton with tales about how awesome or cool he was and what he was doing on his adventures recently. It entertained Patton to hear them, and he could just imagine Thomas daydreaming the very scenes that Roman talked about. Thomas often knew about Roman's adventures, even if he didn't exactly know...Roman.

That was another issue in the system, although it was one Patton wasn't sure he wanted to fix. Thomas was, as far as he knew, completely oblivious to the fact that he was plural. When two of the personalities would butt heads, Patton would check on Thomas' thought process to make sure he was all right and his feelings would generally be that his inner dialogue was weighing the pros and cons of a situation. Patton had never heard him consider the possibility the "voice" was actually two voices and the "dialogue" was an at-the-throat, no-holds-barred fight.

Introducing Thomas to the mess that the system was would be way too hectic, though, and everyone argued enough as it was. Everybody saw Thomas as the one they had to protect, the one they had to nurture, like a parent might their child. It wasn't like anything particularly bad had happened in their childhood, quite the opposite! But with Thomas' mental state and his creativity something happened to cause all of them to form.

As far as anyone knew, Virgil was the first one to split off. He held all of Thomas' deepest fears and even everyday ones about his friends or his family. Sometimes Virgil got a little too heightened in his anxiety and would send himself into a panic attack, which generally caused Thomas to freeze up, not exactly paralyzed by fear and not necessarily having a panic attack himself but too overwhelmed by the emotions to do much of anything.

Patton was the next to form. He held Thomas' thoughts on right and wrong as well as his emotions, after a joke gone awry on the playground made Thomas so afraid and so upset he didn't know what to do. Patton had quickly taken Thomas' sadness and shoved it down to be dealt with later, and after he apologized to the person he hurt, Thomas was back to laughing and running around like any kid his age would want to.

Logan came next. Thomas' thirst to learn had always been strong, but it was overwhelming in his formative years in elementary school. Patton and Virgil could feel the imbalance in the system, and, not knowing what to do about it, helped Thomas take the overwhelming desire to learn and put it in its own controlled form, which became Logan, the always curious intellectual and logical personality.

And last but certainly not least to form was Roman. Thomas' curiosity about chapter books was overwhelming one day, and upon starting to read he was whisked away to a world he had never been to, a world he wanted to explore. Finding that he couldn't go beyond the book's pages, he created his own character in his mind, a gallant prince, who went off to have adventures of his own. As Thomas' stories got more and more complex, his character grew and grew until Roman had a mind of his own and took over Thomas' creativity, and his hopes and dreams.

All of them had their own unique ways of protecting Thomas and helping him reach his goals, and all of them had their own ways of showing it. Unfortunately, those ways often clashed leaving them with arguments like the one that had happened this morning.

Patton looked around and sighed. The floor and counters were cleaned, there was still food in the pantry, and it almost looked like nothing had happened, despite the tension still palpable in the air. "I think I might go back to my room now," Patton told Roman. "I hope you don't mind, I just need some time to think about what fun thing Thomas could do next, you know?"

Roman took a deep bow and gestured to the exit of the kitchen. "Of course, Patton, take all the time you need. I will be here to help you on the adventure should the need arise. Well, not here. I must go to my room as well to concoct an even eviler thing the dragon witch can do so that I may slay her!"

Patton nodded and Roman left the room. Despite willing his feet to move, Patton stayed in place a while longer. For the moral personality, he certainly lied a lot around the others. Almost every time he announced he was going to his room, he was actually going to see one of the others without starting any fights. He needed to check and make sure that Logan wasn't mad, and that Virgil was all right after the argument. Telling Roman about that, though, might start another argument, possibly more vicious than the last. He would claim Logan didn't have emotions and Virgil was nothing more than a nuisance. Both lies which he heartily and readily believed. Patton just hoped that he could one day change Roman's mind about that. For now, he had to check on the others.

When Patton finally found it in him to approach Logan's room, he immediately knew by the way that the door was shut and the Do Not Disturb sign was on the handle that Logan was metaphorically licking his wounds after the earlier fiasco. He also knew that he might be the only exception to the Do Not Disturb sign on a good day, and sent out a silent plea to whoever might hear such a thing that today would be one of the good days.

He took the last step up to Logan's room and gave it a solid two raps on the door, with much more confidence than he felt. But footsteps approached the door from the other side, and the door cracked open for Patton, Logan standing behind the other side of the door, and looking mildly annoyed. "What do you want, Patton?" he sighed.

"Only to make sure you're doing okay," Patton said, not off put by Logan's tone in the slightest. "Isn't it better for Thomas when you're working at maximum capacity, or whatever you're calling it now?"

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Why are you telling me something I already know?"

"Because I care about Thomas too, and since he's helped when you're at one-hundred percent, I want to make sure that's where you are." Patton hated the back-and-forth it took to get Logan to talk to him; the personality seemed to deny he had any and all feelings, but he was the first to get offended if someone said something he didn't think was true, and the first to get in a heated argument about what the "right" thing was. "Just let me talk to you for a bit? It doesn't even have to be in your room, Roman's retreated to his for a bit so we should have the Common Room to ourselves if you want."

"No, no, if you're going to insist on rambling to me about feelings I would prefer no witnesses," Logan said, opening his door further to allow Patton entry. "Come in, sit on the bed if you must, I'm afraid your usual chair has been overrun with my research."

"Well that desk chair of yours is portable, it means you can move your books around faster, so that's all right," Patton said, looking around as he walked in. The good news was that Logan's room wasn't overrun entirely by papers and science experiments and books like it was when he got overwhelmed by feelings and blocked them out with facts. The bad news was the only place either he or Logan could sit was on the bed, so overrun entirely wasn't too far out of the picture. Patton needed to do some damage control, and fast. "What did Roman do this time?" he didn't like how that placed the blame on Roman, but it was the only way to get Logan to talk.

Logan's slightly amiable mood soured considerably and Patton almost regretted bringing it up. Almost. "He exclaimed that Thomas wasn't going to read the book I had set aside for us to read for weeks unless he memorized his lines for the play he's in first! Can you imagine that?! I've been waiting for this for weeks, and he swoops in one day and scatters my plans to the wind! It's the one day that's absolutely perfect for reading outside, why can't he see that?! And he has more than today to learn those lines, he has a month, minimum in order to do it! And I just--ugh! I can not believe he would do that!"

The problem was, Patton could see that perfectly. He could see Roman walking in and announcing that everyone had to drop their plans in favor of his, It wasn't unusual, worse, it seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence. Everyone was convinced that what they wanted for Thomas was the best and only option that should be pursued. But when you had four different people whose ideas didn't always match up, things were bound to clash more than a little. Patton said nothing and let Logan let off more steam if he needed to.

"I understand that Thomas isn't in school any more, but it's my job to help him learn, and there's no rule saying you're not allowed to learn once you're out of school, it just means you can learn in different, more free-form ways! In some respects, that's better than school!"

Patton nodded. "I believe you, Logan. But it is true that Roman needs to help Thomas memorize lines for the play, and the sooner that gets done the sooner everyone can get back to what they want to do. Would it be possible to read maybe a chapter or two of your book before Thomas works on his lines?"

Logan glared at Patton. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side here!"

Patton held his hands up. "I support how you feel, but I also know what Roman feels is important too. We can't just throw his feelings away in the process of following ours."

"Of course we can, that's what we're doing now!" Logan protested.

"That's what you're trying to do," Patton corrected. "I'm not going to support anyone hurting anyone else in this head, you know that."

Logan scowled. "Then get out of my room and let me help Thomas the way he needs, since you can't seem to see that I have what's best in mind for him!"

Ouch, that hurt. But Patton stood and left Logan's room quickly, letting the door slam behind him. Logan was still in a mood, but Patton could subtly remove some of his anger to take it on himself later if he really needed to. One down, one to go.

Patton walked down the hall to Virgil's room, and the anxious personality was already leaning in the door frame, watching Patton. "I had a feeling that you'd be coming here soon," he shrugged. "I wouldn't recommend coming in unless you want to have a panic attack."

Patton nodded and said, "I don't want that, so I'll stand out here for now. Are you okay?"

Virgil seemed to bristle slightly at the question. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

"Yeah, you say that every time someone ends up yelling at you or someone else. Doesn't mean it's actually true," Patton said.

Virgil shrugged. "It is what it is, you know? Being an embodiment of fear means I'm rarely fine. In small doses I help Thomas, in large ones I'm apparently a menace."

"I know that's not true, you're a great person!" Patton exclaimed. There was another lie: he did know that when Virgil influenced Thomas too much he would often end up getting hurt. But if it meant that Virgil might hate himself a little less by the end of this, Patton would lie through his teeth until the cows came home.

Virgil saw through the lie easily and squinted at Patton. "I hope you know that you're a horrible liar," he said with a slight grin.

Patton rubbed the back of his neck. "The others believe me."

"The others weren't around when you learned about lying. I know all of your tells," Virgil said, amused. "I'm the oldest besides Thomas, remember? And we're not even sure where Thomas is in this place, so I don't know exactly what to tell you about hierarchy except that I'm the oldest member walking around head space."

Patton nodded dejectedly. He was really hoping to cheer Virgil up, he had enough negative emotions to keep away from Thomas already.

"Hey, though. I appreciate the thought," Virgil said. "It's...sweet of you to worry. Misguided, for sure, but sweet."

Patton offered a grin of his own. "If there's anything you need, please let me know, okay?" Patton asked. "I want to make sure that you can work at your best to help Thomas like Logan and Roman and I all do. If we're not at one-hundred percent than neither is Thomas!"

"True, but there are some times he doesn't need to be one hundred percent," Patton pointed out. "Alone in his room, for instance, when he's watching TV. Nothing he can do wrong there."

Patton offered a half-grin at Virgil. The personality was signalling to Patton what they might need to have Thomas do to keep Virgil from acting up over the course of the day. And while they couldn't just isolate themselves the whole day, in the evening if Virgil's anxiety got the best of everyone, now Patton knew exactly what to do to help the others. "I'll see you around, then?" Patton asked.

"I'm sure you will," Virgil said with a smile. "It's not exactly like we can leave this hole."

Patton laughed and retreated to his room, his mind whirring. What he had said earlier about being one hundred percent was impossible to achieve so far from what he had seen. Everyone always had too much infighting to really do much of anything except mark their territory and hope that no one would encroach on it that day. But what would happen if Patton managed to get the others to share their territory? If he got cooperation from everyone to not fight anymore, that would take less of a toll on him, and therefore he could be happier more often to help Thomas! That could work, couldn't it?!

He'd need to figure out how to do it, though. He couldn't just sit everyone down in the common room and expect them to work things out. This needed to be done slowly. With precision, one person at a time. He'd consult Roman on this in a bit, since he was the one most likely to listen to Patton when he had a plan. For now, though, Patton walked back to his room, and plotted his next course of action. Couldn't go to Roman without a plan, after all.

#a system of sides #sanders sides fanfiction #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #nanowrimo

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cake-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Little Lies (Part Eleven)

Pairings: Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader // Slight Natasha x Reader // Slight OC x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut, WLW & Bisexuality, Dubious Consent, 18+

Summary: You went to Bucky when you wanted punishment. He’d be rough with you because he understood your self-loathing, and he’d leave bruises on your hips that wouldn’t go away for a week. You loved it. He didn’t.

You went to Steve when you wanted reassurance. You went to him because he liked to whisper sweet, sweet things into your ear as he made love to you. He’d tell you that you were perfect and amazing and beautiful. Then you’d get your fill, just far too much of it. He cared too much.

It all came to a head when the three of you went on a mission together. You’d done it a hundred times, even during this mess of a situation, and still neither of them was any the wiser. Your little lies always slipped right through the cracks - until one night, they didn’t.

Part Ten / Master List

Marisol never did anything without a reason. When you finally arrived at her estate after about forty-five minutes of driving, you learned exactly what that reason was. Unfortunately, it took quite some time to pry it from her; she was ecstatic to finally have you home.

This wasn’t your home, not anymore – but it looked the same. The gaudy, gilded furnishings were a stark contrast to the beautiful artwork hanging from the walls: original paintings she’d spent millions of dollars on in a show of her immense wealth. You knew, because you’d been at her side during all those black-market auctions. You held the paddle.

Even after half a decade, she’d kept your old belongings for your return, like she thought you were going to come back someday. It wasn’t by choice. The fact that she blackmailed you into coming along should have been evidence enough of that, but then again, she’d always been delusional – and not just figuratively.

Your bedroom was exactly like you remembered, except pristine and sparkling like she’d just had it cleaned. Above your canopy bed hung the same authentic Picasso she bought you for your birthday one year. You’d mentioned to her once in passing that it was a real shame you never saw any of Picasso’s art on the black market, so she’d gone out of her way to acquire one just for you.

It was probably one of the more expensive works she owned – not that it mattered. What mattered to her back then was your happiness, and at the time, you’d been over the moon. The love the two of you made that night was incomparable.

Now you felt just like the girl in the painting, trapped in your own misery.

Inside your walk-in closet hung the same designer clothing that you used to wear just for her. While you always liked to look good, even now, for her you dolled yourself up just a little bit more. The fashion was certainly out of touch compared to today’s trends, but you were very clearly her prisoner, so at least you’d have something to wear.

For some reason it came as a small comfort to run your fingers along all of the familiar fabrics. Nostalgic. A reminder of the good times. You couldn’t deny that there were a few, a very select few, scattered amongst the horrors.

Marisol slowly slid her arms around your waist from behind, before her chin came to rest against your shoulder. What bothered you was that it didn’t startle you as much as it should have. You were already used to her touch – or maybe you’d never really forgotten it.

“I kept it all just like the day you left,” she murmured, giving you a gentle squeeze around your waist. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you told her sweetly, placing your hands atop hers like you’d done so many times before. If nothing else, you’d always been a good actress, and this was your time to shine. You could keep your tears at bay until you were alone.

“I love you,” she said softly, and then her lips brushed against your cheek – affectionate, not passionate like she’d been in the car and, for a moment, it brought you back to how things used to be. How she used to be. How your life used to be.

There was a certain simplicity about it all that you missed.

That was when you realized that some part of you did miss this, despite everything she’d made you do. Except that was a lie, and you knew it. She hadn’t made you do a single thing. You’d done everything for her, gave her every part of yourself because you loved her, and she loved you just as much. She just showed it differently, through expensive gifts and words of adoration and pure, unbridled toxicity that sickened you to the core.

Swallowing the taste of bile on the back of your tongue, you hesitantly turned around in her embrace and offered her a coy smile – your best performance yet, but that was probably because some small part of it was genuine.

Then you shyly leaned forward and kissed her. You weren’t at all shy, but tonight, you would be. For her.

She tensed up for a second, and you were a little pleased with yourself for catching her off-guard. You repeated over and over in your head that this was all for show, because you needed to get her to drop her defenses. If she believed that your affections were real, then maybe she’d be a little more lax with the security and you’d get an opportunity to escape. Not likely, of course, as she was so thorough but it was worth a shot.

When her lips started to move against yours with such ardent familiarity, however, it took your breath away. For all that she was, Marisol still knew your body entirely too well. What happened in the limousine was nothing compared to this. She hadn’t done much, really; just kissed your neck, teased you, made you want her – and now, you did.

The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to stop, but your instincts took over just like always. This was what you did to cope, to forget the horrible things you’d done and would continue to do whilst in her presence. After all, the first time you used sex as a crutch was with her.

It was poetic. It was pathetic.

The two of you quickly made a tangled mess of the once-perfect sheets and, at the same time, made a tangled mess of your mind. Marisol put the toxic in intoxicating, even now, and you just couldn’t get enough of her soft lips and her dirty talk and just – her.

Despite the love she clearly still harboured for you, there was none of it in the way she ripped orgasm after orgasm from you until your chest was heaving and your mind was blissfully blank.

No, she did it to prove a point.

You would always be hers.

Tony tailed the limousine back to the estate. He was the only one who could, because he was airborne and the others weren’t. Steve argued with him for a hot minute over comms about it, too – said that he was going to follow behind on his motorcycle, end of discussion.

It would have been too risky with your life and Natasha’s hanging in the balance.

The surprising part was that Bucky was the rational one for once, not Steve. Bucky was the one who put an end to the heated argument, simply by pointing out the facts that all four of them already knew: you were trapped, Natasha was compromised, and it wasn’t worth the risk if Steve was spotted. Tony, at least, could cloak his presence, for one, and for two, he was in the sky. He could get by undetected, whereas a motorcycle wasn’t exactly discreet.

To Tony, though, it almost sounded like Bucky was saying that you weren’t worth the risk, but you were a valued teammate and despite his history with the ex-assassin, even Tony knew he wouldn’t be so callous. Bucky valued people’s lives – plural – possibly even more than Tony did, which was why he was finally able to forgive him in the first place for what he’d done to his parents.

That said, they’d both been awfully broody as of late – Steve and Bucky – and Tony had yet to figure out why. He was normally pretty good with those sorts of things, but with this, he wasn’t.

It was bizarre.

Tony suspected that it probably had something to do with you, but surely it couldn’t be that easy. You wouldn’t get involved with a colleague, especially considering what happened the last time you did – right here in this very town, as a matter of fact. He didn’t know every single detail, but he was able to piece together a pretty good idea of it in the coming on four years he’d known you.

It certainly wasn’t ideal that you’d been taken, but at least it gave them a location to work with. He knew next to nothing about their target, just that she was extremely reclusive and only made public appearances a few times a year, mostly for special events like the party tonight. Very few people knew her personally, let alone knew her trade routes, which had been the primary goal since the start of this mission.

The only the intel they had on Marisol Espinosa Villanueva was from you. Whilst you’d readily provided this particular address ‘anonymously’ before the five of you had even left the States, Tony’s satellites indicated that the estate was very rarely used and a quick sweep past with a drone showed that the exterior of the mansion was in disrepair.

Now it wasn’t.

You’d all written it off quite early in the mission due to the lack of activity and upkeep, and later that same night, you and Tony had a hush-hush conversation out on his balcony during which you shared in confidence that you thought she must have moved on.

“Five years is a very long time,” you’d told him as the two of you looked up at the stars. Your voice was so wistful, almost longing, unlike anything he’d ever heard from you before.

Clearly, Marisol hadn’t moved on in those five years, or if she did then she’d only recently moved back in.

That was bizarre, too.

What bothered Tony was the fact that you’d removed your comms tonight. It pissed him off, too. All of them. Even though your cover was blown, the device was small and almost unnoticeable and you definitely could have kept it in, if for no other reason than to let them to listen to your conversation.

Part of him wondered if you didn’t want to be overheard, but he shoved that awful thought right back out of his mind just as quickly as it appeared. You’d made some terrible choices over the past month, choices he wasn’t entirely able to come to terms with yet, but you wouldn’t betray them. You were family.

Despite that, he wasn’t sure what was worse: the cold-blooded murder, the human trafficking, or the drugs. He’d normally gravitate toward one of the former, but the drugs being imported were a new, more lethal variant of cocaine. Just a small amount was needed to feel the effects, making it that much easier to overdose. A string of deaths throughout the States had occurred shortly after its sudden arrival, particularly in New York.

Tony didn’t like that it was happening in his backyard. That was why he was here. You’d adamantly refused to help at first, even after he explained it to you, but eventually you acquiesced and he still hadn’t found out what caused your sudden change of heart. He’d been wondering for awhile.

There it was again: doubt. Truth be told, he found himself second-guessing you a lot lately, and he hated it. You were family. He didn’t want to doubt you or your intentions, because he’d known you for so long, but ever since you’d arrived back here in Cancun, you’d been so… off.

And then, when you left the first time, you’d gone completely off the rails. It was bad. You killed people in cold blood just like you used to do once – said it was to keep your cover intact, but he still blamed himself for it. Now you’d left again, maybe even by your own volition with your target, and you’d switched off your comms to boot so that you wouldn’t be overheard. Possibly.

It was painting a picture that he didn’t want to see.

Your behaviour was suspicious. Unfortunately, everyone else saw it, too.

By the time he finally made it back to the hotel after securing your location, his three teammates already had their bags packed. It didn’t even need to be said that they’d have to relocate again. They’d done it the first time because they thought you were compromised, and in some ways, you had been. As time passed, though, it became evident that you hadn’t told anyone within the cartel about the investigation. Instead, you started working an angle from the inside. Their surveillance of you had confirmed that, not to mention the fact that Tony had kept an eye on the CCTV footage in the hallway outside the first suite you’d all shared, just to be sure – and there wasn’t even a lick of strange behaviour.

So, this time, he decided to trust you. The whole situation wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was progress. They had a location. Now they needed a plan.

“Man, I’m beat,” he announced loudly, flopping down on the sofa in the living room. “Don’t know why you’re all packed. We’re not going anywhere.”

Steve’s grip faltered on his duffel bag, and then he and Bucky exchanged glances like they’d done so frequently as of late. It was ridiculous.

Tony audibly rolled his eyes. “Would you guys quit with that? She didn’t rat us out last time.”

“That doesn’t mean she won’t now,” Nat argued. “I want to trust her, and I know you do too, but—”

“But nothing, Nat. She’s family. We’re staying. End of story.”

“She turned off her comms. Why else would she do that?” Steve asked, but it was a rhetorical question. They all knew the answer. “Christ, Tony, she killed so many people—”

Tony cut him off with a loud, irritated sigh. “Come on, Cap. She came back.”

“I brought her back,” Bucky corrected him.

“She came willingly,” Tony countered. “Kind of. Why does it matter? She’s not going to turn on us. You know her.”

The way Steve looked at him was wary and mistrustful, but after a tense few moments he finally let go of his large duffel, dropping it to the floor with a thud. He’d always been so defenseless when it came to you, and even though he’d witnessed some of the terrible things you’d done – the horrors of your past coming back to haunt you in the present – he desperately wanted to trust you just as much as he still loved you.

So he did.

He trusted you, even though every fibre of his being was telling him not to. What’s worse was that he regretted how he left things on such a bittersweet note, and he wanted to make it right. Needed to. In some warped way, this was the first step in rectifying your broken relationship and trusting you again. He found himself wanting to help you just like he’d done the other night when you came to him in the middle of the night, upset and crying. He wanted to hold you and run his fingers through your hair and tell you that everything was going to be alright, just like he did then and in Tuscany.

He missed your warmth. He missed your smile. He missed you, and deep down, he knew you missed him too. You wouldn’t have come to him that night otherwise.

Bucky followed suit by setting his two bags down on the coffee table. It wasn’t as hard for him to make the decision; there was something about your behaviour tonight that he just couldn’t shake, and he couldn’t exactly share it with the rest of the group considering what happened. You’d been so upset, so frazzled that you asked him to make you forget. He saw it in your eyes – the tears, the shame, the panic �� so he did as you requested, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He helped you forget, because he loved you despite everything you’d done to him.

To Steve.

To Natasha.

He still didn’t know your history in Cancun, but he knew enough. The way you looked at her, and then at him, told him everything he needed to know. You may have had some kind of history with her, but you didn’t love her. Not like you loved him – because you did. Some part of you did, he was sure of it. Tony was right; Bucky did know you, and in his heart he knew you wouldn’t betray them. You were haunted by your past, but so was he. The two of you were so similar in that regard, and while you were many things: selfish, absolutely, but smart and witty and beautiful – what he knew you weren’t was a traitor.

Natasha, on the other hand, was still reluctant and of course she was; she didn’t trust easily. She still didn’t trust you despite the intimacy and growing friendship between the two of you, but it was ingrained in her to be distrustful of anyone and everyone.

That said, she still thought that you were so stupidly honest sometimes, and in the end she couldn’t help but relent, too. She knew it was a bad idea, but she did it anyway.

That was a mistake.

Part Twelve

#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #little lies

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theliberaltony · 4 years ago

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Even with many prestigious pollsters sitting the Georgia runoffs out, there have been plenty of polls of the two U.S. Senate runoffs and they continue to show an exceptionally close race. As of Tuesday afternoon, Democrat Raphael Warnock had a nominal lead of 0.5 percentage points over Republican Sen. Kelly Loeffler in the special Senate election, while Republican Sen. David Perdue had an equally slim 0.4-point lead over Democrat Jon Ossoff for the regular Senate seat. We aren’t planning to make probabilistic forecasts in Georgia, but it’s safe to say that a “polls-only” view of the runoffs would put each race at about 50:50.

What about indicators apart from the polls? While we could go through the various “fundamentals” factors that our congressional model considers, such as fundraising, incumbency, and state partisanship, perhaps an easier jumping-off point is simply to start with the results on Nov. 3, since it’s likely that the vast majority of voters will choose the same candidate again if they can. We’ll then consider what factors may have changed between November and now that could affect either turnout or which candidate people pick.

Benchmarking from the November results

In the regular election in November, Perdue won a 49.7 percent plurality of the vote compared to 47.9 percent for Ossoff — that is, a difference of about 2 points. Most of the remaining votes went to the Libertarian candidate, Shane Hazel.1

Who picks up that 2 percent could make a big difference, too, if the margins are razor-thin on Jan. 5. Ordinarily, you’d think that a Libertarian candidate’s votes would consist of mostly conservative voters who might be more inclined toward the Republican candidate in a two-way race. On the other hand, since Perdue is an incumbent, Hazel’s votes might be considered more of an “anti-incumbent” vote which would then favor Ossoff. The AP Votecast exit poll of Georgia voters — although its sample size of Hazel voters was small — found that Hazel drew support from 2 percent of moderate voters as compared to 1 percent of liberal voters and 1 percent of conservative voters, suggesting they might be more middle-of-the-road voters instead.

In any event, it’s worth keeping in mind that Perdue won more votes than Ossoff on Nov. 3 and also that Ossoff slightly underperformed Joe Biden. The exit polls do not provide any particularly strong evidence about which sorts of voters backed Biden but not Ossoff — trust me, I’ve looked — although one intriguing clue is that Ossoff won the votes of 15 percent of voters who thought the economy was good or excellent as compared to 19 percent for Biden, a relatively wide gap. Perhaps some Biden-Perdue voters, then, were people that were relatively happy with the status quo and their personal circumstances but disapproved of President Trump’s personal conduct and voted for Biden for that reason.

Benchmarking the special election result is more complicated because of the presence of multiple Democratic and Republican candidates on the ballot in November. One method I’ve seen elsewhere is to add up the vote totals for all Democratic and Republican candidates on the ballot. If you do that, the Republicans won 47,808 more votes than Democrats in November, or a margin of around 1 point.

However, this is not necessarily ideal. The research I did for our congressional model, based on an analysis of past elections with runoffs, found that while the “total party” vote that I described above is indeed a good metric for forecasting runoff results, the margin separating the top two candidates also has predictive power. It’s relevant, in other words, that Warnock finished ahead of Loeffler by 7 points. Based on the formula we use in our model, this implies that Warnock would actually have won a two-way race on Nov. 3 by about 1.5 points.

Does it really make sense, though, that Loeffler would have narrowly lost a two-way race on Election Day when Perdue would narrowly have won his? Well, maybe. Perdue is an elected incumbent whereas Loeffler is not — she was appointed to her seat to replace now retired Sen. Johnny Isakson — and elected incumbents generally perform stronger than appointed ones. Furthermore, Loeffler, in an effort to outflank fellow Rep. Doug Collins, the other leading Republican candidate in that race, positioned herself as extremely conservative, running an ad that called her “more conservative than Attila the Hun” and bragging about her “100 percent Trump voting record.” (Loeffler had, indeed, voted with Trump 100 percent of the time until recently, although she broke ranks with him in voting to approve the The National Defense Authorization Act.) But while this may have been good messaging to finish ahead of Collins, it’s not necessarily the best way to win over suburban voters, who helped turn Trump out of office.

It’s also possible that at least some voters were voting tactically in the special election. A moderate voter who preferred Warnock to Collins but Collins to Loeffler might have chosen to use her vote for Collins on Nov. 3, figuring based on pre-election polls that Warnock was nearly certain to advance to the runoff and didn’t need her vote. Or — who knows — some Democrats who assumed Warnock was a shoo-in to reach the runoff could have voted for whichever Republican they thought would be easier for Warnock to defeat in the runoff.

I’m not saying there are necessarily large numbers of voters in these categories. But there may be some of them. And indeed, polls of the runoffs show Perdue outperforming Loeffler by about 1 point on average. So a split verdict is possible — although probably only if both elections are extremely close — with the Loeffler race likely being the easier of the two for Democrats to win.

With those benchmarks — ambiguous though they are — established, the other big question is what could cause things to change from November. We’ll break this into two categories: (1) What could cause a shift in turnout; and (2) What could actually cause people to switch their votes.

How turnout could be different than in November

I’m not going to go into too much detail here because it’s been covered extensively at FiveThirtyEight and elsewhere, but most people’s priors entering the runoff — including mine — were that Republicans were more likely to gain ground than lose it as a result of turnout falling in the runoff.

That was for some relatively simple reasons. First, Republicans have historically gained ground in Georgia runoffs. Second, the opposition party usually has an enthusiasm advantage, and with Biden having been elected and Democrats having (narrowly) retained control of the U.S. House, Republicans are arguably the opposition party. (Although, this is a big assumption that we’ll scrutinize below.) Third, Georgia — even after Biden’s win this year — is still slightly to the right of the U.S. as a whole (keep in mind that Biden won the national popular vote by 4.5 points but Georgia by only 0.2 points) so a neutral political environment there might favor Republicans.

At the very least, it’s not clear that any of these are rock-solid reasons to assume turnout will help Republicans. Precedent about past runoffs is not necessarily that informative considering Georgia has changed a lot since most of those runoffs were conducted — particularly in affluent, more diverse suburban counties, which have moved strongly toward Democrats. These sorts of suburban counties traditionally retain more of their turnout in runoffs, and if they do so again, that could help Democrats rather than Republicans.

Next, although Republicans will become the opposition party on Jan. 20, Trump isn’t behaving like a typical lame duck, to say the least. Instead, he remains omnipresent, both with his bullshit claims about election fraud and with what’s been an active legislative period in which Trump has already vetoed one major bill and also threatened to veto a COVID-19 stimulus package before backing down. And while there’s been plenty of debate over whether a meaningful number of Republican voters will actually follow through on calls to boycott the election, Trump’s refusal to concede could also have other, more subtle effects. For instance, it could keep Democrats feeling anxious rather than savoring their victory — and anxiety is generally a good way to raise voter turnout. Additionally, the fact that Democrats will control the White House for the next four years may not be as front-of-mind for independents who might otherwise be inclined to favor divided government.

Finally, although Georgia might still be red-leaning in a neutral political environment — if you want a more precise definition, think of that as an environment where neither candidate leads on the generic congressional ballot — it’s not clear that we’re in such an environment now. Rather, it may be that we haven’t yet exited from the November environment, which though a bit disappointing for Democrats was nonetheless somewhat blue-leaning.

Unfortunately, there have been hardly any polls of the generic ballot since November. It’s worth noting, though that Trump’s approval rating has actually slipped a bit since the election. On Nov. 3, polls of registered and likely voters showed Trump at a -6.9 net approval rating (45.2 percent approve and 52.1 percent disapprove); that had worsened to a -9.2 as of Tuesday afternoon (43.3 percent approve and 52.5 percent disapprove). While not a huge shift, this is the opposite of what typically happens in the lame-duck period. Even unpopular presidents such as George W. Bush usually receive some improvement to their approval rating as they are preparing to leave office.

Democrats also have one ace in the hole when it comes to turnout. Biden won in November even though the Black vote wasn’t especially high as a share of turnout in Georgia; in fact, the share of Black voters declined slightly, relative to past elections. (It’s important to keep in mind that Black turnout was still very high overall in November, but it was also very high — or even higher — for other groups.)

So although there are many reasons to be cautious about early voting data, it’s at least intriguing that Black voter turnout represents a larger share of the electorate so far than it did at a comparable point in the November election:

The Dem strength is mainly if not entirely due to a stronger Black turnout. This has always been the obvious way for Dems to improve their standing, given relatively weak Black turnout in Nov., and while there aren't any guarantees it sure seems like it's on track to materialize pic.twitter.com/3i2jupOIn3

— Nate Cohn (@Nate_Cohn) December 29, 2020

That certainly doesn’t mean that Democrats are guaranteed a turnout edge or anything like that; Republicans could easily overcome any Democratic advantage from the early vote with a big turnout on Jan. 5. But I’d put it like this: If you had a list of several signs and signals that might portend a Democratic victory for both seats, one of the items on that list would be growth in Black voter turnout in the early-voting period. It’s nowhere near a sufficient condition, but it might be a necessary one, and it seems to be falling into place for Democrats.

Another question is what happens to Republican turnout when Trump himself isn’t on the ballot. Trump has campaigned on behalf of Loeffler and Perdue in Georgia, but his message at a rally earlier this month was unfocused; although he’s scheduled to visit again next week.

Could voters switch sides from November?

Another reason to have started out believing that Republicans would gain ground in the runoffs is because voters typically have some preference for divided government — not necessarily when they’re asked about it in polls but based on how they behave in midterm elections. On average, the president’s party suffers about a 5-point penalty at the midterms, according to research we’ve conducted for our congressional model. And it can be larger when the president’s party also controls both branches of Congress, as in 2010 and 2018.

Again, though, that assumes that voters will be thinking about who will control the government on Jan. 20. And they may not be doing that, given how active and atypical the lame-duck period has been with Trump refusing to concede. The chaotic debate over the stimulus package for the past few weeks has also not been the best advertisement for divided government.

Another question then is: What happens to the handful of Biden-Perdue voters? If they were moderate Republicans who were voting for Biden as a repudiation of Trump but are not necessarily on board with the Democratic Party’s agenda, they may be fairly thrilled with how the election went down in November and will vote for Perdue again to preserve divided government. But if they were voting for Perdue because he was an incumbent — elected incumbents do retain some loyalty from voters, although less so than in previous eras — they could, in theory, vote for Ossoff now that they know control of Congress is on the line. This is a data point I’d approach with a lot of caution, but it’s worth noting that the Edison Research exit poll of Georgia, which has been recalibrated to match the actual results in the state, found that a tiny 49-48 plurality of Georgia voters preferred Dermocratic control of Congress in the November electorate.

And in the special election, there’s also the question of what voters who voted for candidates other than Warnock or Loffler — more than 40 percent of the electorate — will do. One risk for Loeffler is that her positioning herself to the extreme right in the November election will turn some of them off. Although Collins has a conservative voting record in Congress, his voters were actually somewhat more moderate than Loeffler’s in November. If a handful of them drift over to Warnock, that could be a problem for Loeffler — or likewise, if some of them simply sit out the runoff. Loeffler’s ideological positioning for the runoff has been more opaque than for the November election, but she’s still been bragging about her 100 percent Trump voting record and — along with Perdue — signed a letter calling on Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger to resign as the state’s results were being finalized.

Meanwhile, Warnock made it through the November election relatively unscathed, since he had emerged as the clear Democratic front-runner by mid-September while Loeffler and Collins were training their fire on one another. He has since, though, been subject to a series of attacks about past comments he made as a preacher and a domestic dispute with his ex-wife. In other words, Warnock is not likely to maintain the strong favorability ratings he had in November when he wasn’t subject to as much incoming fire. On the other side of the coin, though, both Perdue and Loeffler have been subject to renewed scrutiny about stock trades they made while in office, although it’s not clear how much new information has been revealed since November.

For what it’s worth, this is one of those times when I changed my mind over the course of writing an article. I assumed I’d come out of it saying something like, “Sure, polls show a toss-up and it’s anybody’s race, but we all know that the Republicans are slight favorites.”

As RealClearPolitics’s Sean Trende wrote last month, however, I’m not really so sure there’s a solid basis for that conclusion. This is a fairly sui generis election and it’s not clear what “fundamentals” would apply, especially in a period where Trump is a lame duck but not at all acting like one, and his approval ratings are actually worse than they were on Nov. 3. Nor is this the strongest batch of candidates; three of the four candidates (all but Perdue) have never won an election before.2 If you default to the November results, those would imply that Perdue is the slight favorite, but I don’t think that’s true of Loeffler.

That doesn’t mean I think the Democrats are favored, either. But the polls show these races are as close to a toss-up as you can get, and at FiveThirtyEight we’d generally need a good reason to buck the polls. While the question of whether polls have a built-in bias against Republicans — or for that matter, whether they have a short-term bias that applies during COVID-19 — is something we’ll need to sort out before the 2022 midterms, the polls were fairly accurate in Georgia in November and the pollsters who have ventured in to poll the runoffs are a fairly Republican-leaning group. In fact, the race is close enough that the possibility of a split verdict — most likely with Perdue winning but not Loeffler — may be higher than most people assume.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Nate Silver

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winterbaby89 · 7 years ago

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Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke - Chapter Two

A Captain Swan, Season 1 Canon Divergence Collaboration by: @hollyethecurious, and @winterbaby89

Beta’d by: @ilovemesomekillianjones

Amazing Artwork by: @xhookswenchx

Rated M for language and dark themes (and maybe (probably) some sexy times… later ;o)

Summary: Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. Twenty-eight years later, Killian Jones awakes in Storybrooke expecting just another ordinary day, that is until a number of abnormal occurrences disrupts his otherwise scheduled life. The greatest of which is a new face in town. A young woman by the name of Emma. Emma. What a lovely name…

Disclaimer: Canon dialogue and scenes from various episodes will appear within this fic. To Adam, Eddie, and the OUAT writers goes all the credit.

Line breaks indicate change in POV or Scene.

Also available on ao3, my fic page, and Hollye′s fic page And if you want to catch up on the last chapter.

This work is no longer available on FF.net. Unfortunately the site does not allow authors to co-publish collaborative works.

Chapter Two

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Hands. Plural. As in, he had two of them again. How?

Was it a side effect of Regina’s curse or from his being...

The Dark One.

The bloody Dark One.

I’m the bloody Dark One!

It had all come back in a rush. Fast and sporadic flashes of memories - his memories - that told the story of his long life. A life that spanned centuries, and yet the truth of it had hit him in an instant. The truth of who he truly was.

Killian Jones.

Orphan.

Slave.

Lieutenant.

Pirate.

Captain Hook.

Dark One.

Killian shuddered at that final memory, and then panic seized him once again. He spun around surveying the room, expecting the Crocodile to manifest himself at any moment with his mocking and jeering. But he hadn’t appeared. Not in the bar. Not on the long walk home. Not even now as Killian paced the length of his manor.

Why?

‘This new realm is a land without magic’, he remembered suddenly. Regina’s words, just before she’d solicited him to kill her mother, echoing in his ear.

A Land Without Magic.

‘Where The Dark One will be stripped of his power.’

For the first time in what seemed like hours Killian took a deep, steadying breath. The Dark One had no power in this land. He had no power in this land. Even still, Killian could feel the rage, the anguish, and the all encompassing darkness he’d felt in that clearing. The memory of their collective presence haunting him more severely than any of his other demons ever had.

And even if they now lay dormant within him, it didn’t change one other fact… he was still Captain Hook. A villain in his own right. A scourge and a scoundrel out for only one thing. Revenge.

Killian pressed his fingers onto the now vacant space on his forearm. Milah.

Revenge had been his, but at what cost?

He’d become the very thing he hated the most. The very thing she hated most. Rumplestiltskin may not have been The Dark One when they’d been together, but Killian had seen it in her eyes when he’d told her of his run in with her husband turned Dark One on the docks; the loathing at what he’d become coursing through her.

For centuries Killian had justified his own depravity and darkness because it was all in pursuit of avenging her. He believed that she’d understand, would offer him absolution for his actions because the ends would justify the means. But now…

Now all he felt was shame. Shame at what he’d become, and thankful to all the gods that she had not lived to see how far he’d fallen in his quest for vengeance. And not just Milah, but Liam as well.

Liam.

Killian clasped at the chain hanging from his neck, but knew it would not hold what he sought. Liam’s ring. What had become of it? What had become of all his possessions? His hook, his coat, his sword, his…

Dagger.

The Dark One dagger.

It had been in his hand when the curse hit, and even though he knew it no longer had the power to control him (at least, that is, as long as Regina’s curse and the lack of magic in this land kept The Dark Ones at bay) he in no way wanted it in anyone else’s possession other than his own.

Killian tore the manor apart in his search, upending rooms he had no memory of ever even entering before. Memories of his cursed life interspersed with his real life. Bloody hell, leave it to Regina to over complicate matters. As if three hundred years of his own memories weren’t enough for his mind to contend with, now he had twenty-eight years of practically the same day recurring over and over again in his head. The only detail making the days distinct from one another was Henry.

Henry. He knew.

The lad knew about the curse. He’d mentioned it before, his suspicions that the stories in the book his teacher had given him were true. Killian had recognized it as a coping mechanism, a way for the lad to try and escape the reality of his unhappy life. A way to ground himself to something more hopeful.

Killian now understood why Henry Mills had come to mean so much to him. He was a lost boy, just like Killian.

On some level Killian had recognized that trait in Henry, even as he had forgotten his true self. It’s probably what had prompted him to suggest that the boy seek out information about his birth parents in the first place. Of course, he never considered that Henry would actually run off in search of the woman who’d given birth to him. But seek her out, the lad had, and her presence in Storybrooke had already begun to change things.

The mystery of why her name broke the spell he had been under notwithstanding, Killian knew he’d only just scratched the surface of the intrigue Emma Swan possessed. But he couldn’t focus on that now. On her. He had a dagger to find and a secret to keep.

As Emma dressed the next morning, and thought about stopping at the diner for breakfast, she heard a knock on the door. Answering it revealed Regina with a basket of apples in hand, and a fake smile plastered on her face. Great, I have to deal with her crap before I’ve even had the chance to drink my first cup of coffee? Just great. Before Emma could manage a polite hello, Regina thrust an apple toward her and started in on some random spiel.

“Did you know the honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hardy of all apple trees? It can survive temperatures as low as 40 below and keep growing. It can weather any storm. I have one that I've tended to since I was a little girl, and to this day I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers.”

“Thanks,” Emma responded dubiously as she took the proffered apple Regina extended to her, still clutching her cup in her right hand.

“I'm sure you'll enjoy them on your drive home.” Regina tried to hand over the full basket of apples, but Emma took a half step backward, refusing to reach out for it.

“Actually, I'm gonna stay for a while.”

A brief flicker of anger and agitation crossed Regina’s face at Emma’s declaration and refusal before she schooled her features into a mask of pleasant nonchalance. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues. He doesn't need you confusing him.”

“All due respect, Madam Mayor, the fact that you have now threatened me twice in the last twelve hours makes me want to stay more.”

“Since when were apples a threat?”

“I can read between the lines. Sorry. I just want to make sure Henry's okay.”

“He's fine, dear. Any problems he has are being taken care of.”

A concern for Henry’s well being swelled within her chest at Regina’s words, prompting her to ask, “What does that mean?”

“It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, Ms. Swan, only one of us knows what's best for Henry.”

That’s right, Emma thought. She remembered meeting Henry’s therapist the other night when she brought him back to Storybrooke, he was the kind man that had given her directions to Regina’s place. She remembered as a sense of relief flooded through her that Regina wasn’t referring to something more sinister. Great I’m starting to think like Henry, she’s not the Evil Queen, just a concerned parent, most likely a bad parent, but concerned nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm starting to think you're right about that.” Emma didn’t miss the glare Regina sent her way at that comment.

“It's time for you to go.”

“Or what?” Emma challenged.

“Don't underestimate me, Ms. Swan. You have no idea what I'm capable of.” Considering that the end of the disturbing conversation, Emma shut the door without another word to Regina, and locked it before going back to getting ready for the day.

Thirty minutes later, Emma found herself perched at the counter in Granny’s diner. Perusing the menu, she debated what to order, when Ruby set down a hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream in front of her.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t order that.”

“Yeah, I know. You have an admirer.” At that comment, Emma turned and tried to tamp down the hope that it might be from a certain blue eyed gentleman who had haunted her dreams the night before, only to see Sheriff Humbert. Her disappointment swelled within her as she picked up the cocoa and approached his table, intending to let the poor man down gently.

“Ah, so you decided to stay.”

Was it really that much of a surprise to him? “Observant, important for a cop.”

“It's good news for our tourist business. It's bad for our local signage.” Graham looked a little uncomfortable with the awkward pause as his joke fell flat. “It's... it's a joke. Because you ran over our sign.”

The only immediate response she can muster is to roll her eyes at his terrible attempt at a joke. “Look, the cocoa was a nice gesture, and I am impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon on my chocolate, 'cause most people don't, but I am not here to flirt, so thank you, but, no thank you.” Gently placing the cup on the table, she considers whether or not she would have accepted it from a different, accented man.

“I didn't send it.”

“I did. I like cinnamon, too.”

Her head shot towards the front table by the window at the sound of Henry’s voice. How did I not see him there earlier? “Don't you have school?”

“Duh. I'm ten. Walk me.”

He’s definitely my kid with that eyeroll. Without so much as another look at the sheriff, Emma placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and began steering him out the door towards the bus stop.

Killian stopped abruptly in the back hallway of the diner as he watched the Swan girl and Henry make their way out of the diner and along the sidewalk that led to the bus stop. He was going to have to come up with some sort of excuse for avoiding Henry, as he was not quite ready to bring himself to lie to the boy by keeping up with his cursed facade in the lad’s presence. For now, he had a more pressing issue at hand; one he hoped the good Sheriff might be able to assist him with.

Killian prided himself on possessing a stealth that served him well in keeping people on their toes, or catching them off guard with his approach, but he’d never been able to get a jump on the Sheriff. The man somehow always knew when Killian, or anyone else, was approaching him, he seemed to have a sixth sense about him. In light of Killian’s regained memories he wondered just who Graham was back in their realm, and what the man would say if he knew that it was the infamous Captain Hook, or The Dark One for that matter, that was making himself welcome in his booth.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones. Something I can assist you with?” the Sheriff questioned, his disdain only slightly veiled in his tone.

“Actually, Sheriff. I’ve come to do my civic duty as a responsible citizen and business owner,” Killian replied as he placed a hand gun on the table between them, causing the Sheriff to tense momentarily before Killian could add, “I found it at the docks. Thought it best to turn it in to the proper authorities.”

The truth was Killian had found it during the search of his home overnight. Guns, knives, legal documents, and all manner of possessions had been uncovered. While not completely inconsistent with his nature, the items weren’t altogether authentic to who he was, cursed or otherwise, either, and no dagger had been found among them. It was only after he’d felt certain that no location within his home had been overlooked that Killian began to consider where within the town he might continue his search.

The stash of weapons he’d found concealed in various rooms had led him to the idea that the dagger may lay unclaimed within the Sheriff’s station. Not wanting to tip the lawman’s suspicions any further than they would be prone to, Killian had devised the ruse of turning over the firearm in hopes of naturally opening up the opportunity to question Graham about unclaimed blades.

“You found it?” Graham questioned suspiciously.

“Aye.”

“At the docks?”

“Aye.”

“And you’re just turning it in?”

“Would you rather I not?” Killian quipped inquiringly. “Too much paperwork involved, or are you running out of room to store unclaimed weapons at the Sheriff’s station?”

“We don’t have any unclaimed weapons at the station,” Graham admitted, unaware that he’d just provided the pirate with the very information he sought.

Damn! Killian cursed to himself. He’d have to continue his search elsewhere.

“Right. Well, first time for everything I suppose. I’ll leave you to it then, Sheriff.”

Killian exited the booth and took purposeful strides toward the door. He ran through his mental list of potential locations the dagger could be hiding, as he made his way to the sidewalk a flash of blonde curls and red leather caught his eye. He watched Emma make her way through the door that led up to Dr. Hopper’s office, or according to Henry, Jiminy Cricket’s office, and was once again struck by the urgent pull he felt toward the beguiling woman.

Shaking off such fanciful notions he turned himself towards the docks. He had a dagger to find and a day of searching through warehouses, offices, and his beloved Jolly Roger ahead of him.

Emma lounged on her bed at the B&B as she scoured the files that Dr. Hopper had given her about Henry. So far nothing was jumping out at her, but she wasn’t completely sure what she was looking for. She wasn’t a therapist, and until about three days ago she hadn’t considered herself a parent either. Not that she did even now that Henry was in her life.

A sharp knock at the door added to her current disgruntled state. When she found Sheriff Humbert on the other side she couldn’t help the sarcastic greeting that fell from her lips.

“Hey there. If you're concerned about the Do not disturb signs, don't worry, I've left them alone.”

“Actually, I'm here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?”

“No,” Emma clipped firmly as she placed her hands on her hips in annoyance.

“I was shocked, too, given your shy, delicate sensibilities,” Graham mocked, earning him an eyeroll. “He says you demanded to see Henry's files and when he refused, you came back and stole them.”

“He gave them to me.”

“Alas, he's telling a different tale. May I check your room, or must I get a search warrant?”

Unbelievable. Emma turned and allowed Graham to enter. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Is this what you're looking for?” she asked, gesturing to the numerous papers scattered across the bed.

“Well, you're very accommodating,” Graham needled as he picked up a few papers before delivering the news Emma had been waiting for, even as she reeled at the outrageousness of it all. “I'm afraid, Ms. Swan, you're under arrest. Again.”

“You know I'm being set up, don't you?” It was more a statement than a question as Graham affixed cuffs to her wrists.

“And who, may I ask, is setting you up?”

Emma continued to proclaim her innocence, casting accusations at Regina all the way from the B&B to the Sheriff Station. She questioned Graham about Regina’s hold and influence on the town even as he booked her.

“Regina may be a touch intimidating, but I don't think she'd go as far as a frame job,” Graham argued.

“How far would she go? What does she have her hands in?”

“Well, she's the Mayor. She has her hands in everything.”

“Including the police force?” Emma accused.

“Hey,” an excited voice echoed from the hallway.

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Graham asked.

“His mother told him what happened,” Mary Margaret supplied, having accompanied Henry to the station from school.

“Of course she did,” Emma exasperated as she stared pointedly at Graham before addressing her son with a bit of trepidation. “Henry, I don't know what she said-”

“You're a genius,” Henry interrupted.

“What?”

“I know what you were up to. You were gathering intel for Operation Cobra,” Henry speculated with hushed excitement.

“I'm sorry. I'm a bit lost,” Graham confessed.

“It's need-to-know, sheriff,” Henry said dismissively, “and all you need to know is that Ms. Blanchard's gonna bail her out.”

“You are? Why?” Emma questioned incredulously.

“I, uh, trust you,” the petite woman stated skittishly.

Looking between Henry’s smug face and Mary Margaret’s quiet understanding Emma felt her need for retribution spike as she turned to Graham with her hands out in front of her.

“Well, if you would uncuff me, I have something to do.”

Killian aimlessly wandered along the streets of Storybrooke, having had no success in locating the dagger. Though, he had uncovered more intriguing items that would require his attention and focus once the bloody damned blade was back in his possession.

He was starting to wonder if the infernal thing had come over in the curse at all. For all he knew, it remained in the Enchanted Forest sealed away in the vault he had emerged from after the Crocodile’s death. The only way Killian could be truly sure was to either keep searching and find the bloody thing or march into the Mayor’s office and ask Her Majesty. The latter option was not one he was willing to entertain, so he continued his trek as he ticked off all the locations he’d already explored.

Not in the manor, not at the Sheriff’s station, no sign of it in any of my usual hiding places within the Jolly. The warehouses and dock offices were a bust as well. Perhaps I should… what is that blasted noise!

The sound of a motor cut through Killian’s internal mutterings as he realized he was just across the street from the Town Hall. His curiosity piqued at the unusual sound, Killian made his way towards the building’s courtyard to investigate, but then quickly had to find a place to tuck himself away as he saw the Evil Queen exit the building.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the mayor exclaimed as she rushed across the courtyard towards the racket that continued to permeate the area.

A racket, that Killian could now see was being caused by the lovely Emma. She was wielding a chainsaw, ruthlessly plundering the Mayor’s prized apple tree as she made a quip about picking apples. Now, more than just Killian’s curiosity was piqued at the sight before him.

“You're out of your mind.”

“No, you are, if you think a shoddy frame job's enough to scare me off.”

Frame job? What else have I missed? Killian wondered.

“You're gonna have to do better than that. You come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree. Because, sister, you have no idea what I'm capable of.”

Killian watched as Swan violently tossed the chainsaw aside and challenged, “Your move,” before stomping away. A fresh appreciation for the tough lass washed over him. So, she and the Queen are at odds, then? Not surprising, he supposed, Regina’s at odds with everyone in this accursed town.

Just as Killian was preparing to extricate himself from the dark cluster of shrubbery he’d hidden away in, Sheriff Humbert pulled up in his police cruiser, no doubt having received a complaint about the noise of the chainsaw. Killian decided to remain tucked away for their exchange. Treasure and priceless commodities came in many forms, none more valuable in his experience than good, old fashioned gossip. Information that one could use against one’s enemies was a prize worth harboring in the bushes for.

Killian patiently listened as Regina expressed her desire to once again have Swan arrested, only to have the Sheriff question the effectiveness of such an action, even as he inferred his suspicions that Emma had, indeed, been set-up for her earlier transgressions.

“I think your schoolboy crush is clouding your judgment,” Regina barbed accusingly at the Sheriff.

The accusation caused a spark of rage to ignite in Killian’s chest, he bit back a growl that threatened to reverberate from within. Taken aback by having such a fierce response to the implication that Graham may harbor feelings for the same woman who had so ensnared him, Killian nearly missed the remainder of their exchange.

“You want me to arrest her again, I will,” Graham complied.

“Good.”

“But she's gonna keep coming at you, and I know you, you're gonna keep going at her, and you will do whatever it takes to get her out of here and you may succeed-”

“No, I will succeed. He's my son. It's what's best for him.”

Killian could barely contain the scathing retort that burned his throat, knowing now just how manipulative and cruel the woman had been in regards to the boy.

“I know that's what you believe,” Graham stated sympathetically, “but if this escalates, it seems to me the only one who will get hurt is Henry.”

Killian watched as Graham departed, leaving both he and Regina to stew in their thoughts of how the repercussions of Emma’s presence in Storybrooke would ultimately affect the boy. Even with the gut-wrenching realization of his true self, and the knowledge of what lay dormant just beneath his surface, Killian could not bring himself to resent Henry for bringing his birth mother there, and ultimately waking him from his cursed state. She was changing things, and Killian believed that such changes would only benefit Henry. It was apparent, however, that Her Majesty did not share this sentiment.

“There has got to be a way of getting rid of that woman without Henry blaming me,” Regina muttered to herself, as she passed Killian’s hiding spot. “If ever there was a time I needed my powers… wait-”

Killian’s attention sharpened at Regina’s mention of her powers. I thought this was a land without magic?

“Perhaps that little imp had something stashed away. Somehow my curse failed to bring him over, but perhaps there is something in the pawn shop that could be of use.” Regina’s speculations prompted her to abandon her immediate concerns for the mangled tree, and Killian watched as she rushed back into her office building - presumably to grab her purse and keys.

The Crocodile. Regina didn’t realize the truth of just why the curse had failed to deliver Rumplestiltskin to this land. But she believed something useful of his might be hidden away within the abandoned pawn shop?

Killian began to wonder whether or not a certain item he’d been in search of might be located there as well. He was at a disadvantage, seeing as he was on foot and Regina would have her car to get her there ahead of him, so Killian wasted no time in making his way back towards Main Street, hoping against hope that her search would not lead to the dagger before he arrived.

Chapter Three

Tagging some lovelies that have asked to be tagged, as well as some we believe might enjoy. Please let us know if you do, or don’t wish to be tagged.

@abeylin1982 @aprilqueen84 @artistic-writer @ashar663 @captain-k-jones @captain-swan-coffee @downeystarkjr @florenzu @freakassbuthunter @gingerchangeling @golfgirld @greenleaf777 @ilovemesomekillianjones @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @leiaswanjoneskid @like-waves-on-the-beach @rookiehookie @seriouslyhooked @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @yayimallamaagain

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #cursed killian #dark hook #season 1 #cs fanfic #Captain Swan #dark hook comes to storybrooke #winterbaby89writes #words by hollye #cs fan fic #cs fan fiction #captain swan fic #cs #captain swan fanfiction

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