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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

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champagne problems, ch.11

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eleven: I Know It’s Over: Things get a little more clearer as you deal with the pain Spencer caused. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication, serious serious angst, this whole series is a real slow burn.

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A/N: everyone go thank @ellesgreenaway for getting me out of my writing rut just in time to get this chapter done! and as always, i wanted to reiterate how fucking grateful i am that y'all are reading, and liking, this little story! it means the world to me! also, i didn't reread this so there may some mistakes ill fix later, sorry!!

People love weekends. They’re like a mini holiday. A break from the tedious and repetitive cycle that is Monday to Friday. Weekends are time spent away from the office, your profession and whatever that entails. They are time spent away from completing menial tasks. A break.

Saturdays and Sundays help regain all of the lost energy. When people get caught up in everyday life, weekends remind them to enjoy the simple things. They gives the opportunity to try new things, visit family and friends, or allow to simply spend some time alone. People love weekends.

Your weekend however, was an utter blur.

Aiding a killer hangover on Saturday, you opted to spend the day in bed. A plastic bucket within your reach and a bottle of water on the side table. You slept a lot. Partially to ease the headache, but mainly to ease the pain you were experiencing in your chest. The heartache.

The only thing you could remember from the night before was Spencer completely shattering your hopes and dreams, and the first six shots of tequila you took after at a nearby bar. You weren't entirely sure how you got home; the next morning Ethan clarified he picked you up after the bartender rang him using your phone. Not one of your proudest moments.

Your lack of motivation carried onto Sunday. The grief you were experiencing was not unfamiliar, after all Spencer’s broken up with you before. Although this time the agony that accompanied it felt a lot more intense. You couldn't move, or eat, or even shower. You were frozen. Stuck to the bed as if it was your only lifeline.

Thankfully Ethan was working both days. In your eyes, he was too preoccupied to notice something was wrong. Unbeknown to you however, he knew exactly the reason behind your melancholy.

The weekend soon ended, almost as soon as it began. Monday morning rolled around and with it the encouragement to get out of bed. Not like you wanted to. If you had it your way, you would never leave the comfort and safety of your duvet again. You knew however, you couldn't stay home without at least some of your colleagues questioning your absence, asking what was wrong. No. It was time to face reality.

Time to face Spencer.

The brunette doctor was sat at his desk. He arrived to work today earlier than usual, about four hours early to be exact. He made his usual cup of coffee and since then he hasn't moved an inch, just staring silently at his phone.

It wasn't something he done often, honestly he only carried the thing around for work purposes. But something happened that he couldn't quite get over.

On Saturday morning, Spencer woke up to a message left on his voicemail. A message from you.

At first it was hard to decipher what you were saying, or rather what you were mumbling. Between the drunken hiccups, slurred speech, and obnoxious background noise, Spencer initially thought it was a butt dial. It must have been, right? He was after breaking your heart for a second time, why would you leave him a voicemail?

However, hearing your melodic tone just saying his name, prompted Spencer to listen to the message again. It was then he really heard the distorted words coming out of your mouth.

“Spencerrrrrr, I uh I don't believe yo-ou. I know-w in uh my hearrrt-t you d-didn't mean it.” Hiccup. “P...p-please let’ssss forgetuh abo-ut it.” Hiccup. “I-I love youh-uh anddd I kno-ow you love meeee. I jussst kno-w.” Hiccup. “I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

The message cuts off and he’s left dumbfounded.

Blood drained from his face. The voicemail registered in his brain and he suddenly felt dizzy. Nauseous even. His hands began to tremble in his lap, and he swore if he wasn't sitting down he would have fainted.

By Monday, Spencer had listened to the voicemail a painstakingly two-hundred and eleven times. He had it memorised, and yet he kept playing it over and over again just to hear your voice.

As he sat at his desk, waiting for his colleagues to arrive, he wondered whether you remembered sending it. Truthfully, he hoped you didn't. It would be easier to move on that way - as if moving on from you was an option.

The glass door opened and he heard a faint sound of footsteps walk across the bullpen. Footsteps Spencer would honestly recognise anywhere. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced up from his phone and slightly turned his head, his gaze landing on you.

The air caught in Spencer’s throat, the voicemail instantly replaying in his head.

He wondered what you were thinking. Simply by looking at you he could tell you were in pain. Pain he caused, and he hated himself for it. Having spent countless hours over Saturday and Sunday rethinking the situation, he knew he made a mistake. He should have never given into Ethan’s smug demands. And even if, he should have told you what happened. Leave the choice up to you, as it was in the first place.

It was too late now to fix this, Spencer knew even if you remembered sending the voicemail you wouldn't listen to what he had to say anyway. Selfishly, he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to gaze into your eyes as the drunken message replayed in his mind yet again.

And although you could feel his eyes on you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his stare. No. The heartache would only intensify. This was a mistake. You should have stayed home. With a blank expression, you placed your bag on your desk and hurried in the direction of the office kitchenette.

Spencer on the other hand followed you with his gaze. Every fibre of his being screamed to follow you, to talk to you. But he was completely frozen and remained glued to his own chair. Once again, a true display of cowardliness.

By lunch time, the whole team picked up on the odd dynamic between you and the handsome doctor. Two people that spent every waking moment together were no longer speaking to one another. It didn't take a profiler to see something was wrong.

You hid in Penelope’s lair with the bubbly blonde and Tara. Enjoying a couple minutes of peace away from the prying eyes of everyone you worked with, most importantly however, away from Spencer.

“So chicken, are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Garcia enquired, taking a mouthful of her lunch. “Because a blindman could see something is off, and don't you dare telling me I’m delusional or something.”

“Penelope is right, Y/N. Last time you were this silent and upset was when Spencer was in prison.”

You let out a deep sigh at the sound of his name. It was no use hiding your feelings from them, they would figure it out eventually. Plus these were the people you trusted more than anything in the world. If you couldn't tell them, then who could you tell what was going on?

“It’s something similar.” You mumbled, avoiding their gaze. “Just much much worse this time...”

“Well whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re here for you.” Penelope chimed, and reached out her hand to grab yours. She gave it a gentle squeeze and shot you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, exactly. We will support you through anything, you know that.” Tara added nodding along.

You sniffled. What were becoming all too familiar tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you would break down at any given second. Taking in a long breath, you began to tell the two girls everything that’s happened since your engagement. They listened attentively, never turning their attention away from you. As they listened, they both held your hands and took turns whispering ‘it’s okay’ or ‘take your time’.

“I’m going to kill our resident genius. He won't know what’s coming.” Penelope murmured after you finished in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of your lips twitched ever so slightly upwards as you wiped the tears away from your face.

“What are you going to do?” Tara asked after a congenial moment of silence.

“Ehm...” You cleared your throat. “S-Spencer wants nothing to do with me, but uhm... I after everything I c-can’t, I just can't be with Ethan. I can’t-t.”

The girls both nodded their heads, and even though they understood exactly what you meant by what you were saying, you still felt like you had to say the words aloud. For your own sake.

“So, uhm, I-I’m going to break up with Ethan. I-I’m going to end the engagement.” You stated, and even though your heart still ached, you felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You felt free.

And I know it's over - still I cling I don't know where else I can go

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid story #spencer reid songfic #spencer reid x reader

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afni-fics · 3 years

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In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

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Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state.

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!"

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest? He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek.

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay.

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?!

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost.

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest.

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..."

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper.

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call.

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well.

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear.

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame.

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more.

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back.

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

#rr: in hindsight #tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam

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meowmerson · 4 years

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Waitwaitwait does this mean we gonna get head boy/head girl part two AND three?????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

do u kno what happens when i try to only write smut i end up with 7000 words and still no smut i hate myself anyway heres part 2 to the head boy head girl thing and i still haven’t gotten to the smut part IM SORRY

I will post these all together once its complete so ppl can read them all together lmao

“So, Hermione,” Lavender started as if she was going to say something of value, but when Hermione raised her eyes from her schoolwork, Lavender said nothing at all. Instead she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione knew immediately what she was implying.

“Stop it.” Hermione snapped.

Thankfully, she stopped the hideous eyebrow-waggling, but she did not drop the subject. “I’m just saying, you and Tom have been spending a lot of time together, and you haven’t even—“

“Lavender, I swear to Merlin—“

“Haven’t even said anything about it!” Lavender bulldozed over Hermione’s interjection, and Ginny, who was painting her nails bright shades of Red and Gold for the upcoming Quidditch match, nodded solemnly along. “I mean come on, You can’t leave us hanging like this.”

“I’m not leaving you hanging.” Hermione said firmly, putting on what Ron often referred to as her Mum-voice, “There is nothing to hang on, because nothing is happening, Lavender.”

“Yes, Lavender,” Ginny interjected, arranging her face into a scowl and mimicking Hermione’s tone of voice, “Tom only sometimes sticks his hand up my skirt in Potions class—“

Hermione sputtered furiously, and Ron—who was nearby playing a game of chess with Harry—groaned.

“Riddle has never, not once, stuck his hand up my skirt anywhere, let alone in the middle of class!” Hermione protested, turning a furious glare on Lavender, “Stop making things up!”

“I saw it!” Lavender insisted.

“Can you lot talk about something other than Tom Bloody Riddle for once?” Ron griped.

“Tom and Hermione are dating?” Harry asked, clueless as ever, as Ginny roared laughing.

“Aw, shit,” Ginny said after she calmed down, staring balefully at her nails, “I fucked it up.”

“Give me,” Lavender said, sliding off the couch to sit by Ginny and grabbing her hand and the bottles of nail polish.

“I am not, nor will I ever be, dating Tom Riddle!” Hermione protested, feeling very much like a broken record at this point.

“Then why was his hand up your skirt?” Lavender asked.

“It was never up my skirt!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I know what I saw!” Lavender snapped.

“Aw, shit—“ Ginny said, pulling her hand away and holding up her index finger to show Lavender had accidentally swiped the red all the way down to her second knuckle, “Lavender what the hell?”

“Sorry,” Lavender shrugged, unbothered in the face of Ginny’s ire, and she added, “Just got so hot and bothered thinking of—“

Hermione knew what she was going to say, and had heard enough, so with a groan, she rose to her feet, packed up her parchment, and stomped out of the Gryffindor common room.

“So,” Harry spoke up as she was on her way out, “Are they dating or not?”

—

Tom Riddle had never, not once, stuck his hand up Hermione Granger’s skirt.

He did often have his hand on her arm when they walked together, as they sometimes did when he descended upon her like a vulture and she could think of no rational reason to tell him to fuck off. He did, at times, let his hand very briefly settle against the small of her back if he was saying goodbye, or saying hello, or brushing by her in the corridor. And perhaps, once, when he was sitting by her in potions class—as he had taken to sitting by her in every class they shared together, which was most of them—he may have very briefly, and very innocently, laid his hand on the bare skin of her thigh where her skirt had ridden up, just to get her attention as he pointed toward an ingredient on the far side of their table that he wanted her to pass to him. And maybe, maybe she had flinched a bit violently, and hurriedly fixed her skirt as she stood, and maybe she moved so quickly that he didn’t have time to retract his hand before she was already standing, stepping away from him, and maybe his fingers trailed down her thigh very, very slightly as he pulled his hand away, and maybe Hermione noticed the look of unrelenting glee on Lavender’s face as she gaped from across the room.

But he had not put his hand up her skirt. Lavender had a disgustingly over-reactive imagination. And Hermione certainly did not at any point think he was trying to put his hand up her skirt, absolutely not, that is not at all what went through her head when she first felt his fingers brush her inner thigh.

It wasn’t even her thigh really. Barely. It was closer to her knee, really, and she didn’t think of it often. She didn’t.

She thought, more often, of Malfoy. He had returned to his usual self, he muttered under his breath when she answered questions in class, called her a know-it-all, cornered her, Harry, and Ron in the corridor with his cronies when he was in the mood to start a fight. But he hadn’t called her a mudblood in the weeks following the incident, not once.

And she still couldn’t figure out why.

She knew how, that was easy to figure out. Obviously Tom Riddle had either threatened or tortured him into refusing to use that work against her, but she still wasn’t sure why. Similarly, she wasn’t sure why Tom Riddle insisted on being around her as often as possible.

He sat by her in class, sought her out in the library, he made conversation during rounds which they completed together every night. She entertained his peculiar behavior, but she didn’t try to piss him off anymore, not with the memory of Malfoy standing in front of the Great Hall, head bowed, contrite, directly following her disagreement with Tom the night before.

She just wanted to figure him out. Sometimes he would say something benign, something ordinary, something she had heard a thousand times before, like “you are an extraordinarily bright witch, Hermione,” and she would find herself so desperate to know what he meant by it, because it wasn’t like him to mean exactly what he said. She wanted to crack open his skull and peer into his mind, dig deep into is psyche and unearth all his little secrets, find out why he was the way he was, find out what he was doing, find out what he wanted.

She heard a knock on her door, and she looked up from her book. She felt her heart race for no logical reason, except for the fact that he had never once knocked on her door before.

“Yes?” She called, and glanced at the clock. It was too early for rounds. He didn’t answer, clearly preferring for her to open the door instead of speaking through it. She frowned, but stood and opened the door nonetheless.

“Hello, Hermione,” He smiled.

“It’s a bit early for rounds.” Hermione pointed out.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He said, still smiling, but it felt a bit more mocking now, “I was hoping you might join me for tea before our rounds today.”

A bit strange, but the request was not entirely out of nowhere. She had gotten used to his attempts to be in her company at all hours. Still, he had never actually invited her to do anything, had only ever sidled up to her in open spaces whenever the opportunity presented itself. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Of course,” He said, and gave her an innocent sort of expression, one that suggested he had no idea why she was asking that, “Just in want of your company.”

There was a small, double-sided smile on his face. Hermione wish it didn’t make her heart race.

“Fine,” She agreed, knowing she should say no, but unable to recall the reasons she should say no for.

They sat on the two armchairs by the fire, and for some reason Tom knew exactly how she took her tea (strong, milk, no sugar) and Hermione was mildly interested to see he took his tea black, no sugar. For reasons she refused to think about, she filed that little tidbit of information away, in case she needed it later.

“Has Slughorn invited you to his upcoming party?” He asked her.

“Obviously,” Hermione said, taking a sip of the tea he had prepared for her. Perfectly made, just like everything else he did.

“Perhaps you would like to go together?” He asked her.

It wasn’t surprising, or at all strange, for him to ask her. She knew he would. But she is still struck by the strangeness of the situation, of their situation, and so she hesitated. She wasn’t used to being on Tom’s radar. She had been battling against him for the place at the top of their year ever since she started at Hogwarts, but he had never really given her more than a glance outside of classes. She had expected that to change, at least a little bit, once they were forced together as head boy and head girl, but this was…

She knew it stemmed from their argument, from the first (and only) night she had seen him truly open, honest, and angry, but she couldn’t understand how point a lead to point b.

He could be covering his tracks, she thought suddenly. He could be luring her into a false sense of security, presenting himself to her and everyone around them as nothing more than a besotted classmate, so that when she one day meets her untimely demise, he is the farthest thing from a suspect.

A foolish plan, though, really, because she wasn’t a simpering idiot who would drop all her suspicions just because of…

But she hadn’t mentioned her suspicions on a long time, she realized. She held on to them, clutched them close to her chest, ready to brandish them the moment she finally could and say ‘look, look at him now, see him for what he truly is!’ But she hadn’t voiced her concerns to any of her friends for weeks, nearly a month now. If she were to die tonight, for example, it would seem to her friends that she had dropped her suspicions long ago. And Tom wasn’t foolish enough to leave any evidence if he decided to off her.

It struck her suddenly, that she hadn’t watched him while he was pouring her tea.

She glanced down at her cup, already a quarter empty, and then back at him. He quirked a brow, and it was then she realized she had never answered his question.

She cleared her throat, her heart suddenly racing in her chest, “Slughorn actually suggested that to me.” She said.

“He suggested it to me as well.” Tom said, smiling kindly, and Hermione looked at her cup of tea again.

She felt hot, but that could be because of the fire, or because of her fear, or because of the way Tom Riddle tilted his head and observed her under dark lashes. She willed herself to calm down, paid close attention to any symptoms of poison, but felt none.

Don’t be ridiculous, she suddenly chastised herself. The stupidest thing he could do would be poison her in their shared common room.

“Is that why you’re asking?” She asked, slightly breathless in her panic. She hadn’t quite calmed her heart down yet, and couldn’t distract herself from searching for symptoms of poisoning in her body.

“No,” He said, sounding genuinely surprised by her question, “I ask because I would like for us to go together.”

Hermione tapped her finger against the rim of her mug, “Well,” She started, and readied herself to lie through her teeth, “I’m afraid I already asked Ron if he would go with me.”

Tom got a very particular look on his face then, as he often did when she did something to go against what he wanted. He went very still, and his face went very blank, his eyes dropped to watch her finger tap against her mug over and over and over, and she watched his jaw twitch.

“Ronald Weasley.” He said darkly, and suddenly Hermione wondered if it was a mistake to say that. She thought of Draco Malfoy, shaking in an abandoned classroom, terrified out of his mind, and started turning over things to say to fix the dark look in Tom Riddle’s eyes as he said her friend’s name.

“I don’t appreciate Slughorn trying to set up his students as if it is any of his business,” She said, watching his expression closely, “And I had a feeling you might ask me.” Tom finally looked up, met her eyes again, a curious gleam in his eye. “I’m sure it isn’t a mystery to you as to why I might not want to accompany you anywhere.”

His jaw twitched. It might’ve been the wrong thing to say. “I had thought we might be passed this.” He said, “After all the time we have spent together.”

Hermione still didn’t take another sip of her tea, even though she had gone this long without any reaction, and she was passed the panic that said that Tom Riddle might be poisoning her, but she kept it in her hands regardless. “What is the point of this, Riddle?”

“The point of this was to ask you to Slughorn’s party,” Tom insisted, “Only for me to discover that you have, for some incomprehensible reason, decided to go with Ronald Weasley.”

“Ron is my friend.” Hermione said firmly. “Why are you so angry, Riddle?”

Tom blinked, then he turned and set his mug of tea on the table to the side. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched her very closely, “I’m not angry, Hermione.” He said calmly.

She was forgetting herself again. She tried to remember Malfoy, trembling, afraid, she tried to think of Ron, and the situation she was putting him in, but Tom Riddle was so confusing, and she couldn’t figure out just what the hell he was after, and it infuriated her. She put her tea on the table as well, and mimicked his posture. “Well, I am.” She said.

Tom tilted his head, just a little, like he often did when something fascinated him. After a moment of observing her, he said, “You have such a Gryffindor approach to things, Hermione. I do find it refreshing.”

He certainly had a way of knowing exactly what to say to piss her off. “Why are you following me everywhere?” She demanded, “Why are you always asking me questions? Why are you asking me to accompany you to party?”

“I seek you out because I enjoy your company.” He answered quickly, and though his response seemed candid it still felt like a farce, “I ask you questions because I find you fascinating. I am asking you to accompany me to Slughorn’s party for the same reasons.”

“I don’t trust anything that you say.” Hermione snapped, and Tom Riddle smiled wide. She hated when he smiled like that, it showed off his straight, white teeth and dimpled his cheek. She felt that smile deep in her gut.

“That’s why I like you.” He said.

Hermione grit her teeth, “You know what?” She said, “You can do rounds by yourself tonight. I suddenly feel exhausted.”

She stood without another word, stomped off to her room and shut the door. Tom didn’t stop her.

—

She did go to bed early, but her sleep was far from restful, and when she woke, it was due to images of Ron shaking with wide-eyes, terrified, writhing under Tom Riddle’s wand. She snapped up in bed, chest heaving as if she had just been drowning, gulping in lungfuls of air and clutching her wand tight in her fist.

She had to check on Ron.

She crept out of her room without even checking the time, but given the dark common room, it must be late, definitely late enough for Tom to have finished his rounds and returned to turn off the lights. Enough time for him to torture Ron into submission.

She hurried through the corridors, peering around corners like a paranoid idiot, until she made her way to the Gryffindor common room. She ascended the stairs to the boys dorm as quietly as she could, found the 7th year dorm room, and crept inside.

It was dark, and all the boys were asleep. Most had pulled their curtains shut, save for a few, but she had to peek through every curtain until she found Ron’s bed.

He was fast asleep, peaceful, and as far as she could tell, unharmed. She realized then that her hands were shaking, and she didn’t know what to do next.

So she crawled into his bed, sat at his feet, her wand held tight in her hand.

She couldn’t even use the excuse that she was overreacting, not exactly. She knew that Riddle was capable of causing great harm to people, Malfoy was a perfect example, and for all of her accusations, Tom had never once denied it. So he might want to harm Ron, he might do anything if he felt it would get what he wanted.

It would help if she could figure out what he was trying to do. If he was trying to earn her trust, to erase her suspicions, then harming Ron would make no sense. But if he was trying to control her, to manipulate and silence her, then of course he would hurt her friends.

He wouldn’t do it in the Gryffindor common room, this she knew. It didn’t make her feel better, and it didn’t convince her to leave.

Unfortunately, Ron chose that moment to wake up. It happened slowly, and Hermione still wasn’t quick enough to leave or hide. His eyes fluttered and he shifted in his sleep. His ankle kicked her side, and in his half-asleep state, he felt her out with his foot for a moment as if trying to figure out what was on his bed. She didn’t move, and didn’t say anything, just sat there and watched him wake up, knowing he was going to think she was crazy.

Blearily, once he realized he could not figure what was on his bed just by foot-sight, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

He flailed, his arms getting caught up in his duvet, and he screamed.

“Shh!” Hermione snapped, holding her hands out as if to forcibly make him remain still, but she didn’t actually touch him, “Shush, its just me!” She kept her voice low, as quiet as she could, and Ron stared at her as he cowered against his headboard, his face twisted into confusion and incredulity.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed.

She realized she had no rational answer. “I….well—“

“Why are you sitting on my bed in the dark watching me sleep?” Ron squeaked.

“I was not watching you sleep.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh right okay—what were you doing then?” Ron hadn’t calmed down, and didn’t seem like he would calm down any time soon, “Plotting my death?”

“No!” Hermione objected.

“Then what the bloody hell are you doing?” He asked hysterically.

Hermione hesitated, “I…uh…” Then she sighed irritably through her nose, “I know you won’t believe me, but Riddle—“

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ron interrupted, “You gave me a fucking heart attack in the middle of the night to tell me about Tom Bloody Riddle?”

“Ronald, listen—“

“You’re bloody mental!”

The curtain was thrown open, “Hey, what’s going on—“

Ron screamed again, and Harry jolted, staring between Ron and Hermione with confused eyes, his glasses askew.

“Weasley, will you shut the fuck up?” A voice snapped in the dark, Hermione was pretty sure that was Seamus.

Harry crawled in and pulled the curtain shut, and Hermione cast a quick Muffliato. “What’s going on in here?” Harry asked, still glancing between them as he straightened his glasses.

“Hermione has lost her fucking mind!” Ron threw his hands up.

“I have not!” Hermione snapped.

“Yeah, uh,” Harry tucked his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees, “What are you doing here, Mione?”

Hermione considered lying, but she remembered the fear she felt drinking that cup of tea, the fear that she might die without her friends knowing her suspicions, so she was honest. “I just thought…Riddle freaked me out, I thought—“

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ron muttered.

“—I thought maybe he would do something to you, Ron.” She finished.

“We’re still on that?” Harry asked, sounding more confused than exasperated as opposed to Ron’s huff.

“Yes,” Hermione said firmly, “Yes, we are.”

“And this couldn’t wait until the morning?” Ron griped, “You know, after sleep?”

“Why would Tom want to do something to Ron?” Harry asked.

“Because I told him that Ron and I are going to Slughorn’s party.”

“You what?” Ron whined.

“We’re going.” Hermione said firmly, and give Ron his due, he didn’t argue on that point, just turned his eyes to the ceiling and silently resigned himself to his fate.

“Why would you tell him that?” Harry asked, looking increasingly confused.

“Because Riddle asked me, and I needed a reason to say no.” Hermione explained.

Harry, somehow, looked even more confused. “Ok, wait, so…you and Tom aren’t dating?”

“No, I am not dating Tom Sodding Riddle!” Hermione exclaimed.

“She’s lost it,” Ron whispered to Harry, clearly aware that Hermione could hear every word he was saying, “She’s lost her damn mind.”

“Fuck you, Ron.” Hermione snapped.

“Well,” Harry said brightly, “Since we’re all up, how about a trip to the kitchens?”

Hermione scowled.

“What do you say, Head Girl?” Ron asked, “Gonna deduct house points?”

“Let’s just go to the kitchens.” Hermione sighed.

They didn’t really understand, when she tried to explain it. And every time she said that she couldn’t understand what Tom was after, they exchanged this look like they thought she was being dense, and then refused to explain to her what they were thinking.

—

It wasn’t precisely that Tom and Hermione didn’t speak in the time between their conversation and Slughorn’s party, but they certainly didn’t talk any more than absolutely necessary. Tom didn’t spend quite as much time with her, but that was mostly due to the fact she spends nearly every waking moment with Ron, much to Ron’s annoyance.

“Mione,” Ron said once, standing in front of her from her seat on the grass nearby where Quidditch practice was taking place. She looked up from her book. “Wouldn’t you rather read that in the library?”

“Wouldn’t you rather mind your business?” She asked brightly.

He huffed, and leaned forward to speak quietly, “Hermione, I know you’re going through like a mental breakdown right now—“

“Ronald—“ Hermione started warningly.

“—But you’re really screwing with my game, you know?”

“Your quidditch game?” Hermione asked, confused.

“My lady game!” Ron exclaimed, then hurriedly quieted himself, “No girls will talk to me because they all think you’re into me now.”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t see why that would deter anyone who really wanted to be with you, Ron.”

“It does when they’re all afraid of you.” He insisted.

“No one is afraid of me, Ron.” Hermione said, turning back to her book. Ron just huffed again and dropped the subject, returning to his game.

Tom and Hermione still did rounds together, but their conversations were all surface level. They talked about classes, they talked about books. They never mentioned Slughorn’s party, not once.

He also had ceased the unnecessary touching, although he continued to sit beside her in classes.

Hermione thought perhaps it was a change in tactic, and continued to follow Ron around no matter how many times he called her a paranoid guard dog.

—

Slughorn’s parties were always a bit stiff, and a bit awkward. Hermione had been invited to them every time they occurred since her third year, and there were never more than about 15 people, guests included, so it was near impossible to avoid anyone if they were there. She kept this in mind while standing by Ron at the side of the room, her eyes constantly searching for Riddle, who had yet to make his appearance.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Hermione said quietly to Ron as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I hate these stupid things.” Ron grumbled.

“Stop being such a baby,” Hermione said, turning to face him and eyeing the sad state of his dress robes. She sighed through her nose and moved to stand in front of him, tugging his robes into place so that he looked like less of a mess.

“Stop mothering me,” Ron said, pushing her hands away.

“I am not mothering you,” Hermione argued, “I don’t mother.”

She straightened his collar.

“Stop doing that!” Ron said, slapping her hand away. She punched him in the arm as revenge and he winced and stopped battling her as she straightened up his robes.

“What is this?” She asked, fingering a stain on his collar.

“I had a snack before I came.” Ron shrugged.

“You’re disgusting.” Hermione said, pulling her wand to clean that spot on his collar, “I can’t believe you are willing to be seen like this.”

“At least my hair doesn’t look like—“ Hermione glared up at him and Ron snapped his mouth shut with a clack, before opening it again to say, “—like a uh—beautiful fluffy cloud.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You can stop fussing now—“ Ron said, reaching up to bat her hands away again, and this time she caught his wrist.

“I’m not fussing,” She said firmly, and glanced briefly around the room, “I’m—“

She saw Tom Riddle in the far corner of the room, by the refreshments, and who should be on his arm but Pansy fucking Parkinson.

“Ow, Hermione, stop—“ Hermione jerked her attention back to Ron and realized she was digging her nails into his wrist. She hurriedly let go, and Ron rubbed at his now sore wrist, “No need to injure me just because your boyfriend—“

“Not my boyfriend.” She muttered under her breath.

“—found himself a new girl.”

She glanced back over to Pansy and Tom. Tom patted Pansy’s hand on his arm as she laughed at something that probably wasn’t funny, she had never heard Tom say anything funny in her entire life.

“Being a bit obvious, Mione.” Ron chided her.

“Obvious?” Hermione said, turning back to Ron, “Obvious how?”

Ron fixed her with a knowing look.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Hermione said.

Ron kept looking at her in exactly the same way, even waggled his eyebrows a bit as if he thought that might drive the point home.

“You look like an idiot.” She told him.

When everyone sat around the table, it was about as awkward as it usually was, with the added bonus of Parkinson glaring at Hermione every time she spoke. Tom Riddle watched her as well, but Hermione had never been able to pick apart this particular gaze so she didn’t trouble herself with trying now. Ron kept fidgeting in his chair, to the point where Hermione had to reach over and pinch his knee to remind him to sit still, and he made a very rude face every time Slughorn tried to speak to him, as if he would rather be beaten by the Whomping Willow than have to speak to anyone present.

Hermione was a bit distracted, to be honest. Every time Pansy laid a hand on Tom’s arm, or leaned over to whisper in his ear, she felt her fists curling.

Pansy and Hermione had never really got along, much in the same way her and Draco never got along. Pansy was Slytherin, pureblood, privileged, and a bitch. Ron used to joke that if Pansy wasn’t such a racist piece of shit, he thought her grade of bitchiness would go well with Hermione’s, and Hermione had responded to that with a smack on the head.

That was the only reason it grated on her so much to see her here. It had nothing to do with the fact she came with Tom Riddle.

“How long do these things usually last?” Ron asked quietly at her side, and Hermione almost jumped. She had nearly forgotten he was there.

“No much longer,” Hermione said, turning to look at him, “You look like you’re enjoying the food at least.”

“The only bearable thing about this.” Ron confirmed, but Hermione was focused on the sauce at the corner of his mouth.

“Wait,” She said, and reached out to wipe her thumb across the sauce.

“Mione—“

“Shush, I’m just—“

He reached out and grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks until she jerked away. “How’s it feel when someone randomly grabs your face, huh?”

“You had sauce on your mouth.” Hermione pointed out, “I was being helpful.”

“I already told you to stop mothering me—“

“I’m not mothering you, and it's still there, let me—“

She picked up a napkin and dipped it into her water, reaching up to wipe his mouth as Ron made a very childish face. Hermione laughed, because he was being ridiculous. Sometimes she really felt like he hadn’t aged since he was twelve.

“There,” Hermione said, setting her napkin down. “Now stop pouting.”

“Not pouting,” Ron said, “Just didn’t want to come to this fucking thing in the first place.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and made the mistake of looking across the table.

Tom Riddle was watching her, face blank, jaw clenched. She met his eyes on accident, and then found she couldn’t look away. She observed the tense line of his shoulders, the very slight downward turn of his lips, and she wondered what had caused his sudden change in mood. He had been perfect a moment ago, smiling and charming and at ease, and now he glowered at her in a way only he could, the type of glowering that wasn’t glowering at all unless you knew what you were looking for.

It made her heart race, it made warmth spread from her chest up to her cheeks.

She suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, and desperately wanted to leave.

“Excuse me,” She said quietly to Ron as she stood, “I need the loo.”

Ron, already distracted by dessert, waved her goodbye without a word.

Hermione hurried out of the room and into the corridor, felt her anger and her unease buzzing beneath her skin. She just needed a moment outside of the room, away from Tom Riddle and his disconcerting gaze, away from Ron who kept looking at her like she was over-reacting, like there was something she didn’t understand, away from Pansy Parkinson who drifted between glaring and staring smugly over at her from across the table, probably with her hand on Tom’s knee.

It was her stupid crush, her ridiculous little fixation, rearing it ugly head again, and she knew it. It was her least favorite part of herself, her obsession with Tom Riddle that never seemed to die no matter how many reasons he gave her to hate him. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what it felt like to fancy someone, she just didn’t understand why her heart was so steadfastly focused on a man who, as far as she was convinced, tortured his fellow students in empty classrooms at any given opportunity.

She took a deep breath, let it out through her nose, slowly. She tried to calm down.

She felt a hand on her arm and somehow knew who it was before she even turned around.

She jerked away, turning to face Tom Riddle head-on, and for a single moment, neither of them said a thing.

“Pansy Parkinson.” Hermione commented, unsure why that was the only thing she could think to say, “Interesting choice.”

“She wasn’t my first choice,” Tom pointed out, “But you knew that.”

Hermione grit her teeth.

“You and Weasley are quite close.” Tom said, his tone was light, but his gaze was not.

“He’s my friend.” Hermione spat, “I trust you are unfamiliar with the experience.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve certainly been spending a lot of time with your friend.”

“It’s none of your business who I spend my time with.” Hermione snapped.

“Try as I might,” Tom said cuttingly, his voice so sharp she nearly flinched at the sound. She hadn’t heard him speak like this in a while, “I cannot seem to shake your suspicions, Hermione, I wonder why that is?”

“Because you are a liar.” Hermione said.

His jaw twitched, and he took a step closer, but they were already close enough, so that single stride brought him far, far closer than she felt comfortable allowing him. But she didn’t move away, and she didn’t push him back. “A liar?” He echoed, and he spoke so quietly, but she could hear him so clearly in the silent corridor. She was aware, suddenly, just how alone the two of them were, and that familiar feeling of panic began to well up in her throat.

“Did you think I would just forget?” Hermione asked, and willed her voice not to shake, “Did you really think that I would forget about Malfoy just because you follow me around, and compliment me, and flirt with me, like suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore?”

Tom’s brow twitched, and while he hadn’t quite reacted in the same way he had that night, all wild-eyed with a twisted sneer, she could still tell he was angry. “Malfoy again.” He said, in that same dark tone that he had said ‘Ronald Weasley’ the other night. She gritted her teeth, watched as Tom took a single step away from her lifted his hands in a sort of helpless gesture, and said simply, “I fixed him.”

Hermione stared, and stared, and stared for a moment more. She didn’t understand why every time they spoke, she always came away more confused. But before she had the chance to ask what he meant, Tom was already continuing.

“My methods are unimportant,” His brow quirked upwards, but not in a sarcastic way or a combative way, his expression was a beseeching one, like he wanted her to understand, “He upset you, so I fixed him.”

Hermione felt her heart lurch, and then race, “The first time,” She said, “The first time I found you—“

“Was nothing.” Tom finished for her, and then a bit more severely he said, “I may be a liar, Hermione, but I have not lied to you in a long time. Ask me.” Hermione watched him warily, and he said again, “Ask me.”

“What do you want from me?” She asked, and it wasn’t really what she meant to ask. She had a hundred questions, she wanted to know exactly what he did to Malfoy, she wanted to know how many people he had hurt, she wanted to know who else he was planning on hurting and intimidating, but Merlin, the way he looked at her made her desperate to know what he was thinking, what he was hoping for.

He smiled then, just a little, like he was pleased with the question she chose but also maybe a bit in awe of her. It was the wrong thing to ask, she knew it. It was a selfish and foolish thing to ask him. But it drove him closer, he closed the distance between them, watching her closely all the while, until he stood just in front of her, with only their breath between them.

His fingers found her wrist, barely touching, just hovering featherlight over the skin. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” He chided gently.

She might’ve had a come-back or a follow-up question, but the feeling of his fingers on her arm was distracting in a humiliating way. She felt something curl in her belly, and heat seemed to expand from her stomach clear into her fingers and toes in an instance, sudden and violent and overwhelming. It wasn’t fair that she felt like that form nothing more than the barely-there brush of his fingers against her wrist, just like she felt it when his hand found her arm, or her back, or her thigh.

“Why did you follow me?” She asked him, because she needed to know, because she still didn’t understand what he wanted from her, what his plan was, and even knowing he would just lie to her face she hoped she could read between the lines, finally get a small look at what goes on in his labyrinth of a mind.

“Because if I had to watch your friend,” He spat out that word as if it was a curse, “Shove more food in his gaping maw knowing that he has somehow managed to commandeer all of your attention, then you really would have something to guard him from.”

“And what would you rather I pay attention to?” She asked, and Tom’s fingers circled to the underside of her wrist, drawing down until they met her palm, holding her hand so gently she almost wondered if she was imagining his hold. His thumb brushed across the top of her hand.

She didn’t realize it, but she had been staring squarely at his mouth as he spoke, and had been for a while. When she noticed, she raised her eyes to meet his again, but he was staring at her lips as well.

She should stop this. She should snatch her hand away, she thought, but as she had that thought his fingers glided further down, until he had threaded his fingers between hers and pressed his palm against hers. She should push him away she thought, but he was already stepping closer, his free hand raised to curl his fingers under her chin, to tip her head back. She should tell him to get away from her, she should tell him to get out of her face, to never touch her again.

But his lips already met hers.

It was so soft, so gentle, so light, and still, she felt it like a slap. She felt so hot, and all her blood seemed to rush to her legs as if ready to run, it made her lightheaded, it made her unable to think clearly, so she let him kiss her, relished in the softness of his lips against hers. It felt new, it felt innocent, and his thumb dragged up the length of her index finger as their hands remained interlocked, his other hand shifted to cup her jaw, his thumb sweeping across her cheek.

She jerked away, and she didn’t think it was fair that she could feel so breathless when he had barely touched her. She stared into his eyes, glancing wildly between them, desperately trying to regain control of her actions, but all she could feel was the tingle of her lips, his hands on her skin, and all she could think was how disconcerting it felt now, to know what it was like to be kissed by him and find her lips suddenly bereft.

His eyes were so dark, and she was sure they weren’t usually this dark, weren’t usually this black, but his pupils had swallowed up whatever color there usually was. She wished she could read him better, wished she could understand the flexing of his jaw, the pucker in his brow.

“What…” What are you playing at? She was going to say. What are you doing? What is the point of this? But she didn’t have the chance to ask, because he closed the distance between them again, but this time it wasn’t a feather-light caress, it wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t kind. His lips met hers and it was hard, it was sudden and startling and rough. She let out a sound, muffled against his lips, purely out of the surprise of the onslaught of sensations that it caused, her whole body tensed up as if preparing to take a hit. His hand slipped from hers so that he could slide it around her waist, his fingers digging into her back to pull her closer, his other hand threading into her hair. Her hands floated helplessly at her sides for a moment, she was too engrossed in the sparks that went straight to her core with every stroke of his lips against hers, and it wasn’t a constant decision to meet ever press of his lips with her own.

It wasn’t until his lips parted and she felt his tongue against hers that her hands finally sprung to life, she clutched at his arms, felt the tense and release of his biceps as he wrapped his arm fully around her waist, and she couldn’t understand how every stroke of his lips sent such a violent spark of heat straight to her core, she couldn’t remember where they were, or what they had been doing, or why it had taken so long to explore this feeling.

His hands were constantly moving, like he needed to touch every part of her. They went from her hair, to her throat, her shoulders and her sides and her back until they firmly grasped her waist and pressed her firmly against the wall of the corridor. Every stroke of his hands she could feel straight to the marrow, every sensation echoing in her core. His teeth caught her lower lip, scraped against the sensitive skin and then soothed it with his tongue, his fingers kept a bruising grip on her waist. It was nothing like the first kiss, gentle and soft and controlled, and she got the feeling he might feel just as out of control as she did, judging by the way his fingers dug warningly into her waist when she tried to arch her back.

It was too much. It was too much and she thought of Malfoy, and Ron, and all the other nameless unknown faces that saw the wrong side of this mysterious boy.

She pushed Tom away, and she was struck by the look in his eyes, a bit crazed, a bit wild. His brow was twisted in confusion, maybe a bit of anger, his lips were parted and swollen and wet and the only other time she had seen him with an expression so clear and unguarded was when he was angry. But this was different.

His hands were still on her, so she pushed him away again, further this time. She was well aware of how breathless she was, gasping for air like a fool, and suddenly his face was shuttered again, his brow uncreased, his mouth a straight, stern line.

“Hermione,” He started, and Merlin it sounded like a warning, like a threat, and she shoved him once more just to shut him up, just so she didn’t have to hear him speak so quiet and low and heated.

She tried to leave, and he reached for her, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, but she jerked away. She glared at him as viciously as she could manage, and then she turned and fled, fled like a coward because she couldn’t trust herself to say anything, knew she would sound like a breathless fool if she tried.

She didn’t even stop at Slughorn’s party to collect Ron. She fled all the way to the Gryffindor tower and didn’t look back.

—

“And then she fucking ditched me to go make out with Tom Riddle in the corridor—“

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped as Lavender started screeching with delight, “I did not—“

“Don’t lie,” Ron thrust a finger in her face that she immediately slapped away, “I saw him when he came back, I know what it looks like when someone gets back from a good snog.”

“Can’t hide it anymore!” Lavender said in a sing-song voice, kicking her feet excitedly on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room.

“It is just like Hermione to snag the hottest boy in school and then run away.” Parvati grumbled.

“Remember Viktor?” Padma said.

Parvati sighed wistfully, “Do I ever.”

“I didn’t run away—“ Hermione tried to argue.

“Can’t believe you chose to hide in Gryffindor tower instead of getting dicked down by Tom Riddle.” Padma said.

“Tom Riddle,” Parvati repeated, and shook her head as if she was disappointed.

“So,” Harry finally interjected from where he was sat beside Ron, staring between them all, “Tom and Hermione are definitely dating now, right?”

Ginny finally exploded into the laughter she had been holding in throughout the whole conversation.

#meow writes #tomione #yes i coud post this in a better way and like not on tumblr but im stubborn #i promise to eventually put them all together.....#there will probably be another part before the smut i literaly hate myself so much #im gonna die bc of my dumbassery #Anonymous

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borathae · 3 years

Note

omg wait tell me why i was nervous about the whole date like i was jungkook and not oc 😩 literally when oc wasn’t impressed or acting interested (ya kno to keep up with the “cold front”?? and not give in) i, too, was freaking out with jk like we planned the date and already fucked up and doing everything wrong before it even started 😭 and then i was like “aw 🥺” throughout the whole date bc it was cute and then i was like “😦😔💔” when the chapter ended

idk if this is tmi now ive never been in a situation similar to oc but im also not a part of the wealthy like jk, but i felt bad for jk (bc he was trying but ooft 😔) towards the end when they were in oc’s home talking about serious/personal?? topics surrounding her

idk how to word it but its like you want to say that you can “understand” their pov (even tho you kinda dont bc different realities, different experiences etc) or even try/attempt to understand by asking and talking about it, without trying to offend anyone and trying to use the right words bc you dont want them to feel uncomfortable?? but then you do and you didnt mean to but it still looks bad.. am i making any sense here?? 😬 like when you start overthinking and then you say everything out loud but when you hear it, it sounds wrong and you feel so guilty and try to fix it but make it worse.. yea.. catch myself doing this alot 😔🤝

i swear this series is making me feel 28739292 emotions per chapter 🤕😭 kinda like this ask ngl

First of all, thank you so much anonie!! 🥺💜 honestly I was so nervous for Koo too like please :( he is trying :(

And second of all omgmgmg YES this is definitely what happened. Like a curious (and worried) JK met a very embarrassed (and as a result closed up) OC and it needed just one wrong word to make this situation escalate. Honestly I don’t think Kook could have said anything that would have saved it again because at this point the OC was already so blinded by her embarrassment that her body fell into automatic fight mode 😔 these two istg 💔

#asks: aaol #asks #anon

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blazinbeautywrites · 4 years

Text

Band Wars: Rise of the Phoenix

Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.

None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me so full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.

Length: 2,356 words

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this out guys. I was not happy with the final results and when I was I still was unsure so I rewrote it again and decided to just post it. I’ll let yall be the judge lol.

Genre: Honestly idk lmao

Chapter 1

Universal Music Group (UMG) decides to debut a new girl group, PHOENIX on their first ever reality show “Next Big Thing.” The winners of the show get a 5 year, 5 album recording contract and will tour with CNCO 1 year after they debut. The winner of the show was Zania Reye Bloom, followed by London Monroe Jones, Jolene Maria Sanchez, Siane Rei Choi, and Avery Lynn O'Reilly. The band is composed of 5 talented women with different ethnic backgrounds, ages 24-25.

Since the show served as the girl’s training they were immediately thrusted into the spotlight after the show ended. They went to work on their debut album and as the release date approached the girls were getting antsy. Now only were they about to release their baby onto the world, but they were finally meeting CNCO today and discussing ideas for their tour.

*UMG headquarters in LA*

“Yoooo I’m fucking excited! Can yall believe our debut album is coming out in a couple days?” London said as she led a couple of her members to the elevators.

“Girl this tour bout to be lit as fuck. Bruuuh we’re going to fucking Sweden. I didn’t even think we had fans out there.” Zania said.

“Yeah you can thank that girl Astrid who made the finals. She was Swedish.” Avery said.

The girls finally heard the elevator ding at their floor and immediately got out. The girls walked into a meeting room where they saw their other 2 members Jolene and Siane bonding with the boys of CNCO.

“Finally you bitches show up. What took yall so long?” Siane asked.

“Avery thinks she’s still in Ireland and almost drove us into a damn ditch.” Zania said.

“You’re alive aren’t you? So quit complaining.” Avery said as she took a seat opposite Erick.

“Anyways if yall are done….THIS is CNCO ladies. This is Zabdiel, Christopher, Erick, Joel, and this is Richard.” Siane said as she pointed to each boy as she introduced them. Richard definitely caught Zania’s eye and she quickly averted her eyes so he wouldn’t catch her ogling him. Little did she know, he was checking her out too.

“And I’m Zania, and of course yall met Jolene and Siane. This is London and Avery.” She said as she gestured to her other bandmates. She was about to say something else when a tall, slender woman walked into the room followed by a man wearing the loudest shade of yellow and another woman dressed in all black.

“Okay let’s make this short and sweet. I’m Veronica Pierce, you can call me Vee or Ms. Pierce, never Veronica. Get it? Got it? Good. I am your tour creative director. I’ll be working closely with you all to design your tour. And please, let’s all collectively agree on a specific concept. I will not have my people designing 2 separate stages. To my left is Chez Moa, your set designer. And to my right is Mel Carter she and her team will be styling you all so meet with her some time this week so she can get an idea of what you guys want and need. And ladies you have a busy weekend ahead. Friday you have your album release, press runs, then your album release party later that night. Saturday you’ll be on Good Day LA where you’ll be interviewed and then perform your lead single. Sunday you have a mini showcase where yall will perform some fan fave covers from the show and a few songs from the album, including your single with CNCO. You’ll have tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday to learn choreo for both performances. You’ll meet your choreographer tomorrow. Any questions?”

The whole room was silent as both groups stared at Veronica and her associates. Zania raised her hand and the other members of Phoenix sighed. They knew how this shit was about to play out.

“So do we get to breathe? Or do we have to pencil that in too?” Zania asked. She knew she was being an asshole but this shit was ridiculous.

“Hmmmm you must be Zania Bloom. They told me you had a mouth on you. Listen up sweetie this my show. I call the shots and if they bother you, you can leave.” Veronica said. Zania smirked at her and leaned back in her chair.

“Nah I’m good. You may continue, Ms. Pierce.” Zana said. Sarcasm dripping from her words.

“Anyways that’s all for now. And remember this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. It can be taken away in the blink of an eye so watch yourselves.” Veronica spoke. She eyed the room but everyone knew exactly who that was meant for. She, Mel, and Chez exited the room in silence. Once they left, Siane burst out laughing.

“Yo I was clenching my fucking ass cheeks. She’s soo fucking hot.” Siane said.

“Keep it in your pants Siane. And Zania, girl why did you do that? You made that shit more intense than it needed to be.” London asked.

“You know me, I just had to say something. She was a bitch to us when we did the show, now they’re making her the tour director, wtf?” Zania said.

“Am I the only one who noticed that guy had on too much yellow?” Chris said. Everyone turned to him and started laughing.

“Look, I ain’t wanna say anything but he was so wrong for that. And it was a complete contrast to Mel who had on all black.” Jolene said.

“But real shit Vee ain’t no joke, she can make or break you. So just be careful.” Richard said. He made eye contact with Zania and she smiled at him.

“Oh I’m not afraid of her. She’s on a power trip so I’ll entertain her mess for the sake of this tour. You don’t have to worry bout me baby boy.” Zania said. Everyone got up to leave but on her way to the door she was stopped by Richard.

“I don’t know if you realized but I’m a grown ass man so that baby boy shit not gon fly with me.” Richard said. Zania was amused.

“Oh did I bruise your whittle ego babe? Look it’s not that serious-”

“But it is that serious so treat me with respect or keep it moving baby girl.” Richard said as he cut her off. He walked away leaving Zania stunned in silence. She walked back to her group and chuckled.

“Yall…...that guy Richard just lowkey put me in my fucking place. Oh this tour is gonna be so damn fun.” Zania said. She and her bandmates went to find their stylists to get started on designing their perfect tour outfits.

______________

It had been a full 5 hours and the girls were hard at work on their choreo. They were thankful that most of the songs they performed were their covers from their reality show so the moves were ingrained in their heads. They breezed through their choreo for their own singles and just finished running through them a final time before Laurieann Gibson called for lunch. The girls were beyond starved and as they walked to the cafe area of the upscale dance studio they saw CNCO walk through the door.

“Oop the boys are here.” Jolene said as she fixed her slightly messy hair. She made eye contact with Zabdiel as he and the other boys walked into the dance studio they’s just left.

“Ooooohhh do I sense a little crush? London teased.

“See that tall one, Zabdiel? I promise you, I will climb him like a fucking tree.” Jolene said, much to the amusement of her group.

“Woah. Down girl, we have a whole ass tour to get through.” Avery said.

“Look if I can’t fuck Vee, you can’t fuck Zabdiel.” Siane argued.

“Girl. Zabdiel is fair game, Vee is our fucking boss. There’s a difference.” Zania said as the girls found a table near the back of the cafe. Avery went to order them some food and soon a waiter came back with a tray of fruit, some finger sandwiches, and a basket of the cafe’s homemade potato chips.

“This looks so good and I’m starving.” London said. As the girls ate they discussed the difficult choreo.

“I really thought Laureiann was gonna throw her shoe or some shit at you cuz you couldn’t get that one move down.” Siane said.

“I wish she would throw some shit at me.” Jolene said while the others laughed at her.

“What kind of shit yall think they’ll have us do with the boys?” London asked.

“Probably something sexy, ya kno to pander to the fans.” Avery answered.

“I heard that they’re partnering us up with them for the collab so whomever we pick is our dance partner for the song.” Siane added.

“Well. this should be fun.” Zania said. The girls chat a little bit longer before cleaning up and heading back into the dance studio. When they arrived they heard their song with CNCO playing. Laurieann was teaching them their choreo and once saw the girls she turned the music off and immediately began assigning pairs.

“Okay London you’re with Joel, Jolene with Eric, Zabdiel and Siane, Avery and Chris are partners and lastly, Zania, you’re with Richard. Everyone please stand with your partner. I’m only gonna do the dance two times and then you’re gonna do it and we’ll fine tune everything afterwards” Lauriann said as she read off her list. Before the girls could even process anything they quickly got into formation to do the choreo.

______________

A few hours later, both Phoenix and CNCO were spread out on the floor, exasperated. Lauriann told them to rest up and that she’d see them in the morning before she left them all a sweaty mess in the studio.

“I swear there are parts of me that are sweating I ain’t know could sweat.” Siane said as she attempted to lift her head to no avail.

“Girl I feel like my fucking feet are gonna fall off.” Zania said.

“I can’t feel my left asss cheek.” Jolene mumbled.

“Bruh at least yall voices aren’t hoarse as fuck.” Richard said.

“We should probably start heading out because I need an ice bath or some shit.” Avery said as she willed her body to move. Everyone followed suit and struggled getting to their feet. When the girls began packing up to leave, Zabdiel strolled on over to pull Jolene to the side. Zania looked on and smirked to herself. All she hoped was that whatever they had going on didn’t get in the way of her group’s path to success. She snapped out of her little daze just as Jolene made it back.

“Well, what was that about?” Zania asked.

“Girl he asked for my number. I was like no and he said can you really say no to this face. I almost fucking melted so I gave him my number. He’s so fucking cocky. I love it.” Jolene beamed. Zania could tell her friend was happy so she chose to keep her mouth shut. The girls finally made it to the elevator when Zania realized she’d left her phone in the dance studio.

“Shut yall I left my phone. Yall go on I’ll text yall once I get home.” Zania said.

“Girl we’ll wait, just hurry up.” London said. Zania jogged back to the building and ran up the stairs to be quicker. Once she got to the door of the studio she heard the boys talking.

“I really like that girl London. She’s classy, yet has a sexy side. I like that.” Joel said.

“Now see Jolene….them lips. I bet her head game on point.” Zabdiel said.

“Ew bro what the hell!” Eric exclaimed.

“I know you of all people are not talking.” Richard said.

“Even though I think she’s kind of a bitch, Zania fine as fuck too.” Christopher said.

“Yeah she is fine. Yall seen that ass? I’d love to get behind that.” Richard said. Zania had heard enough and walked into the room.

“Yall should really make sure that the door is completely closed before you talk about us. Anyways I left my phone and just came back to get it. Oh and Richard, Zabdiel? I understand that Jolene and I are attractive but please don’t talk about us like we’re pieces of meat mkay?” With that she grabbed her phone and walked out, leaving the boys a little dumbfounded. Once she got back outside she filled her girls on what she heard.

“You know. We should teach them a lesson.” Jolene said.

“Oop I sense an infamous Jolene Sanchez prank.” Siane said.

“Yep. Okay so here’s the plan.” Jolene explains the little prank they’ll play on the boys at the showcase. They’d messed with the wrong girls.

_____________

The rest of the week went by in a blur and before they knew it, their album release day was finally here. It’d only been a few hours and their album was already number 1 on a few of the urban and pop album charts. Siane screenshot the Billboard charts where their album was number 1 and sent it to their group chat. She then called them all on a video chat.

“WAKE UP BITCHES! WE NUMBER 1 BABYYYYYY!!!!1!” She yelled into the phone. The others, as groggy as they were, laughed at how hyped their member was.

“Girl you are so lucky I was up getting ready or I’d curse you the fuck out.” Zania said.

“Bitch whatever. Anyways I love yall so much! We’ve officially ARRIVED! Like we in the fucking building forreal now. WHEW! Let me start getting my shit together. See yall soon. Love ya! Siane said as she hung up the video call. The girls were buzzing and couldn’t be any happier that after almost 6 months, their hard work has finally paid off and that their fans love their album as much as they do. They couldn’t wait to see what lie ahead for them. They knew whatever it was, it was gonna be big.

#cnco #christopher velez #richard camacho #zabdiel de jesus #joel pimentel #erick brian colón #band wars: rise of the phoenix #bwrotp #cnco scenarios #christopher velez scenarios #richard camacho scenarios #zabdiel de jesus scenarios #joel pimentel scenarios #erick brian colón scenarios

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antman-56 · 4 years

Text

The Day We Meet Again Pt. 5

News Anchor 1 : Reports of small riots over Sunsets Family’s facilities have now turned to a ...

News Anchor 2 : Vacuo has now entered a state of emergency due to the increase violence of Faunus workers under Starr Industries...

News Reporter : Atlas is now called martial law once again due to the Faunus attacking SDC security and supervisors. As you can see below me their are fires and raging rioters. We were lucky-

Pilot : Ma’am were leaving!!!

NR 3 : Why?!

Pilot : Reports of the rioters gath-

The camera shakes violently with the screams of the news team and the helicopters warnings ringing.

The screen soon turned back to the main news team starring in shock and one of them crying.

They weren’t alone. Team RWBYJNR had the same reaction. Speechless and scarred. Kali was in tears. All the progress they have done since Adam’s suposive death. Gone.

Ghira right now was giving a statement, mostly to say he and the new White Fang had no part of this.

Kali : I can’t believe...

Kali left the room in a hurry.

Blake : Adam has to be a part of the insurgency.

Weiss : How do you know?

Blake : He has to!! The White Fang stopped supporting him when he ran away at Haven. Their is no way-

Ren : It could have been a Faunus worker responsible. They might’ve saw or heard some of the things Adam did.

Blake : But he left. Abandoned his friends.

Jaune : What message would you send when you attack the people your supposed to liberate?

Blake : He attacked me.

Ren : More than likely out of anger and the fact you organized that resistance.

Nora : Are you defending him?

Ren : No, I’m trying to rationalize what he was thinking when Blake showed up with Menagerie resistance.

Blake : Well he lost everything when he fled.

Ren : That didn’t mean everyone gave up on him, just the majority of Menagerie,.

Yang : And what dose that mean?

Ren : That the Faunus in slavery still see him as a hero.

Nora : But he was a murder and a coward.

Ren : Like Jaune said, what message would he send if he attacked the Faunus, reports say that his men fired at the humans and mostly ignored the Faunus resistance. The only people that were attacked were the ones who fought them, ie you and Sun.

Blake : But what of the ones that fired?

Ren (on scroll) : Reports state that they were employees of different facilities of different companies. Meaning-

Blake : They weren’t part of Menagerie.

Ren : Exactly. According to their statements Adam saved them from either mutilation, rape, torture, the list goes on.

Blake : That’s not ...

Ren : Well that explains why they fired. They didn’t want to anyone to go through what they did, even if it meant killing humans.

Blake : That doesn’t change the fact that-

Ren : Blake your trying to make a slave and a free man have the same mind. Its not going to work. One knows the hardships in life and the other doesn’t. One lived in a room alone and the other shared a broom closet with 12 others with no restroom. One ate whenever they wanted the other was lucky if his superiors remembered him.

Blake was quiet.

Ren : From what was seen, to written, to said will change. The workers probable see you and Menagerie as spoiled or lucky. That you don’t know what they have suffered, They see survival of ones self important. That it’s common for them then it is to the people of Menagerie. So, Adam running means nothing to them. It only meant he would come back.

Blake : But we are fighting for the same thing.

Ren : The only difference is that they want it done faster than how your father can do it.

Blake : So, we know why they follow him now. So who's leading this group?

Weiss : I'll call Whitely. Ask for some intel and who knows we might get lucky.

With that Weiss left and Nora changed the channel to Ghira.

Ghira : Again we have no leads on who is responsible for these attacks. As you have heard they tried to take my life as well. (He gestures his torso so they can see the bandages) But we will help the local authorities find the culprits and the mastermind behind this.

The reportes all rushed for their questions.

Ghira : Yes, you in the back.

Reporter : Do you think this has anything to do with the late Adam Taurus?

Ghira : No comment.

He left the stage all the while the media was adding more to the question.

When Ghira made it back he saw that all eyes were on him.

Ghira :Blake i’m-

Blake : Dad this is your last chance. We need to know what the Faunus have suffered so we can get an idea on how to help the kingdoms.

Ghira (sighing) : You just don’t give up.

Blake : Dad i’m not a child. I want to help but before I go in blind I need to know what to look out for. How to handle a worse case scenario better than going in blind.

Ghira stayed silent.

Yang (enraged) : Dammit old man. What is it that that your hiding?!?!

Yang stomped over to him. Ghira didn’t bend but he meet the girls red eyes with his own.

Ghira : All of you are so naive.

This caught them by surprise.

Ruby : I’m sorry sir, but no. We have seen our fair share of the world.

Ghira : And what is that? Grimm? Miss Rose, the Grimm are simple creatures. They see and kill any thing that looks human. They are far easier to handle than politics, or worse, humans.

Ghira covered his eyes and laughed silently.

Ghira : You don’t know what it is that I know. Blake, you are right but you are not ready yet.

Blake (enraged) : What do you mean i’m NOT ready!! I have fought the White Fang, Humans that see us as garbage, and-

Ghira : THATS ONLY THE TIP OF IT!!!

Blake backed down and everyone could see the more cat like eyes on Ghira.

The man is stressed out. With the attempted assassination on his life, the riots, the media trying to get him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit, and now a determined daughter asking about the horrors he has seen.

He was at the end of his rope.

Ghira (recomposed) : You really want to know?

Blake just nodded.

Ghira : Follow me.

He began to walk into the masion and Blake and co. followed.

It had been close to 10 minutes and he was not stopping. They have now entered further down into the Mansion. Even Blake was surprised, she had never seen this part of it.

They had now entered an old room, in the middle of it laid an old desk, an old chair, some books and a lamp on the desk and a book shelfs filled the wall all of them full.

Ghira took a seat and stared at his daughter, his pride and joy but also a pain. Still he loved her.

Ghira : Mr. Arc close the door.

THUNK

Ghira : Now the truth.

Blake felt uneasy and she wasn’t alone. The room was old and the cold. And the fact that Ghira was a calm disheveled mess scared her to no end. Still she would not bend to the truth of her people.

Ghira : The Faunus have suffered more than you and the world know. Along with being put into force labor either by kidnapping or by poverty. we have suffered more.

Blake : I kno-

Ghira (raised his hand to silence her) : Along with that, we have been used as test subjects since we are more human than rats. Forced to endure unknown chemical compounds to see how they respond. all in the name of science And somtimes for fashion. Faunus are put on a table and are removed of their skin if it resembles leather or any other animal fabric. We have been hunted like fair game. Deer, Rabbit, Moose, and even Bird Faunus are kidnapped or bought from companies and are released into the wild to be hunted for sport. Faunus of endangered species are more preferred since their counterpart would get them arrested if caught. (the room grew colder as he forced himself to reveal more) And in some kingdoms they get away with it since “A savage attacked me. I had to defend myself”. (croaking) We are put into gladiator pits forced to kill one another for the pleasure of others. Some Faunus with more mutations like razor sharp teeth, claws, fangs, or thick skin are put to fight others of the same, more, or less mutations. Doesn’t matter about age, gender, relations, species, or conditions. As long as their masters are happy. Their are cults that require the blood of animals and humans and guess who fits right into that category. The scenes that were left behind, it was one of the few things I agreed with what Adam did. (he closed his eyes) The women in some of those examples are put into breeding facilities, legal or not, mostly not. Do you know what it fells like to be held down ladies ( RWBYN began to feel chill down their spine, some making a fist to hold in their rage others to mortified to do anything but hug themselves). begging for it to stop and then forced to give birth right were you defecate. I saw the photos and I didn’t want to imagine your mother in that situation. Did you know their was a plan for you and your mother at one point. ( Blake was now mortified, she was shaking and RW_YJNR stared at her). Sienna told me after Adam found the conspirators and the traitor. Out of the 5 we destroyed the youngest one recorded was 6. And we believe their are more and we are still searching. The Butchers Mine was one of a few example of us being used as cattle. Their are clubs that kidnap Faunus, fatten them up and feed them to the family. And get to do it again. If you wan to know more, the books here hold the records of each encounter that Adam and others found. Now if you’ll excuse me.

Ghira got up and left. Leaving a room filled with mortified young adults.

Nora was being consoled by Ren. You could hear quiet sniffles. Ren stayed strong for her, she needed him now.

Ruby was looking at the floor. Trying to understand how people could do that another being.

Weiss was beginning to hyperventilate. What else has her father done to their name and could it even be fixed.

Jaune walked up to Weiss and gave her a hug. She didn’t care at the moment if it was him, Ruby or anyone. She just needed someone to hold.

Yang walked up to Blake. You collapsed to her knees before she could reach her.

Yang dropped next to her and hug her, hoping to bring her some comfort.

Yang : It’s okay. It’s okay. We can fix this.

Blake began to stare at the desk. Her people have suffered and they were right about her.

She was nothing more than a princess. She may fight for her people and her goal may be noble. But she would ignore the people who have suffered without a second thought.

Adam was right. He was right.

He was right.

#blake belladonna #weiss schnee #ruby rose #kali belladonna #ghira belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #lie ren #nora valkyrie #rwby au #rwby

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flos-timore · 5 years

Text

Send me a 🥃 + a question for my muse to answer. If they refuse to answer, they have to take a shot // Still Accepting!

Anonymous asked : 🥃 Habit, here's a hypothetical question for you. If your Habitat started to go way downhill, but wasn't a lost cause yet, and you had to resort to more extreme and harmful measures to keep your Habiticians in line, what wouldn't you do?

At once, almost on instinct, Habit feels his breath hitch. Was it possible for air to get caught in somebody’s chest? Well, the question hadn’t even been fully processed before everything decided to lock up, on him.

‘Why was that?’, he wondered briefly. Uselessly. In fact, he wasn’t even sure WHY he’d bothered to let himself pull the wool over his own eyes; if even for only a second. He KNEW exactly why his hands balled up into fists, exactly why dread was solidifying in his stomach.

And yet... he had to glance away, towards the balcony. It was just natural, really, whenever anybody mentioned the Habiticians while he happened to be in his office.

Or. Well.

‘His’ Habiticians, as they had so eloquently put it.

The thought made him laugh. He forced himself to hate that fact.

Keeping the smile held tightly on his face, out of a necessity that he hadn’t even realized WAS a necessity, he took a moment to steel himself before walking over to where his line of sight drew him.

His heels clicked along the floor- an unwelcome change to the encompassing silence from just moments before.

--- “Hmmmmm.... You kno... That”s a “Good” question! Where 2 start with that...”

Content warning: Brief suicidal ideation, blood, and mentions of murder/corpses under the cut.

Heights had never been a problem for him. He never even really considered them enough for them to BECOME any sort of issue. While he could understand where the fear came from, for some people, so long as he knew the ground he stood on was relatively sturdy, he could be as high as the clouds and not have any cares in the world.

... Which is why he was confused when he came to a brief pause as he neared the balcony’s edge. Something about the location had begun to set him off, lately..

Perhaps it was the finality that such a fall would be responsible for. To say that he’d never considered jumping would be a lie, but-

He was quick to shake his head- push those thoughts away. Those were for another life. Not this one.

Habit “easily” (why couldn’t it be easy?) settled himself on the railing, eyes trailing down to the fairground below.

--- “What WOULDN”T I do, u said..?”

Maybe he’s stalling, maybe he’s not. You have no proof, as far as he’s concerned.

--- “Well...” He leans down further, practically resting his head on the cold metal. Although his attention darts around as he observes the day’s activity, he registers next to none of it.

--- “I suppose I wouldn’t wamnt them 2 think I”m trying two hard. Peeple tend to “Talk”, U see. Nothing like barb-ed wire or anythign sillie like That. The Habi-Tat is notn’t a Prison.”

Isn’t it?

--- “Perhapbs the “Curfew” wuld need to be much earlier..? I woould need to be patrolling more oftn than usual, that is 4 certain. Surve-a-lance would be “Upped”, also, of cuorse, but I thimnk I wouldn”t need to be TOO mean...”

--- “Even if the Habiticians TRIED to eskape, th Carlas would handel everything!”

Right. The machines he’d created to do his dirty work for him, because Heaven knows that if he had to be the one to subdue fleeing Habiticians, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance.

And not because he worried that he wouldn’t be strong enough! Really, if THAT was the only concern, he needed to only let himself forget just where he was putting his hands, and, well-

No. He disliked having to use brute force- especially when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Call him what you’d like. He can guarantee that none of it would be too far off the mark.

What the Carlas lacked in speed and intelligence, they made up for in numbers. The ones always actively present on the grounds were FAR from the only ones in The Habitat.

Even though this situation was only hypothetical, Habit felt himself smirk, nonetheless; oddly proud of his own genius and security. Normally any talk of unrest among his “guests” sent him into a panic. He just simply would not have it!

Not in HIS domain. HIS creation. If something isn’t working, then!!! He’ll FIX it, and move on!!

But... ah... He had yet to really adequately answer the question at hand... Right..?

--- “..... I”m...”

Something felt- unfinished, here. Did he have more to truly SAY on the matter?

The sounds of Martha were louder than he remembered. He rationalized the reason behind that being his close proximity to her, as anybody would.

It just didn’t make them any less overwhelming, at the moment.

--- “I... don’t think violence is.. nece-ssary.. to maintain the “Peace”, I mean. The way that Im running things right now is good. Yes??”

Habit allows a brief lull to enter the “conversation”- just out of politeness. When no answer comes to his question, he can’t but to feel foolishly disheartened.

Only a little bit, though. Just a teeny tiny bit.

--- “I know this is only a “what if”- I get that. But the question is ridic-u-lous, 2 begin with!1!! Absurd!!!11! This groo-some scenariio will NEVER come two be!! So!!!! Why WORRIE about it!!!!”

And that’s where he INTENDED to quit talking. Honestly, he did. With every second that passed, he could feel the dam begin to break.

No, the topic itself didn’t bring him ANXIETY, per-say....

... but he WASN’T letting his thoughts lead to their obvious conclusion. That was the missing puzzle piece. That was the reason behind his sweaty palms and urge to be sick.

Habit was good at blocking out all of the unpleasant things about life. Sure, they almost always inevitably resurfaced, anyway, but the goal was never to be rid of them for good.

Merely to stall. Always to stall.

But that’s NOT what he’s doing, right now! Because there IS nothing more to discuss!! Nothing! Nada! Zilch!

--- “...”

He hadn’t noticed how tight his grip on the railing had gotten- had barely registered the tension in his shoulders as he leaned further. Further... JUST so he could look down, better. That’s all.

The daily lives of the Habiticians meant little to nothing to him. He was able to seamlessly gloss over Punching Girl as she pretended to, predictably, fight something. Or someone. He completely ignored Broccoli Child- nearly rolling his eyes at a less than pleasant memory regarding the trash he once tried to sell to him.

Nearly.

He hurried to turn away, to head back inside. He knew that if he lingered for any longer that the incessant WHINING of a certain resident would start back up, again. Perhaps it already had and he’d merely gotten beyond used to it.

Great. Cool. Love that.

--- “I THINK yuo are under-estimnating the work I”ve put into Thee Habitat. I know verie well how 2 control MY Habiticians, and if push comes two shove, I”m SURE I could-”

--- “........ I... could........ .................. ah...”

Something about his wording froze him in his tracks. He would’ve clamped his jaw shut if he had the gall to; would have bitten his tongue just to keep any more comments on the matter to himself.

The smile from before never once left his face. He disliked how heavy it felt- disliked the fact that he apparently felt the need to keep falling back into the hole he was so DESPERATELY trying to clamber back out of.

He’d said all he needed to say. He’d done his part!

Habit lowers his head, back turned to the outside world. A chill seeping into the room reminded him that he’d forgotten to close the door. He normally wouldn’t care about such a minute detail, but-

One quick glance towards the “operating room” is all he needs to change his mind. It’s bad ENOUGH that he’s allowing himself to become so overly fixated on everything that could go WRONG, and not go RIGHT!! Nobody else needs to accidentally overhear something they shouldn’t.

Hand shaking (shaking??), he pulls it away from the glass; job done, and steps unsteady as he attempts to backtrack. Literally.

Habit whirls back around, action abrupt as he gradually loses his initial train of thought. His breaths are a bit labored, like he’d just been running, somehow, and he wants to fix that. He wants, more than anything, to fix this entire situation.

Pathetic. One simple hypothetical had sent him into such a state?? Disgusting.

If he couldn’t handle the fire, then he shouldn’t have walked directly into the flames. He had what it took to run The Habitat. He took every precaution necessary.

‘If your Habitat started to go way downhill, but wasn't a lost cause yet, and you had to resort to more extreme and harmful measures to keep your Habiticians in line, what wouldn't you do?’

‘What WOULDN’T he do?’

--- “. . . If. . . push comes to SHOVE. . .”

He changes trajectory. Wandering around aimlessly certainly wouldn’t help anything, and suddenly, he feels very much so like cleaning something is in order. How often did he do that, anyway?

Not often enough, he decided, eyeing the grotesque red splotches.... just about everywhere he thought to look. On the chair, some on the floor-

HOW did he manage to get blood on the walls???

Habit reaches forward to grab the nearby mirror on the tray, having already pulled a cloth from one of his pockets. Yes, a cleaning day was definitely in order. A dirty workplace leads to a dirty outlook on life.

No wonder he’s so stressed.

--- “... Well,” he shrugs, “who is 2 say that there will bee any Habiticians TO keep in line?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he doesn’t find any relief in them, whatsoever. So he continues.

--- “Let me elab-or-ate. CORPSES have teeth. Right?”

He turns his head, then; absently searching for the spray bottle he swore he had sitting on the counter.

--- “Who cares if “The Big Event” is SKIPPED, all-2-gether? I would not be above that. No “waitiing” and no “gettiing their hopes up” 4 something that was falsely advertized.”

--- “So,” ah, there it is, “to answer you”r question:”

--- “Nothing!11!!! There are absolootely NO lengths that I womn”t go in order 2 enshure that I gather More Teeth!!1!! So WHAT if I need to “take out thee trash” all at once?? So WHAT if I “accidentally” get the dosage wrong? They will bee happily and giggily, and then....”

--- “......... they will not.”

“Sick” doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels, right about now. Does he sound casual while discussing this? How is he coming off as while he so flippantly talks about murder?

Cowardly? Psychopathic? ... Terrifying?

Is he terrifying? He must be. There’s no other explanation, in his mind.

--- “No skin off MY back!! At leest CORPSES do not cry!!”

Habit twirls back around to the counter where he’d grabbed the spray bottle, content smile betraying him as he gently sets it back where he found it.

--- “At leest CORPSES do not struggle!! When they FIN-A-LLY stop moviing, they cann”t tell me: “Yuou womn”t get awaY with THis!!!1!”. They can’t skream and run- they can”t do any-thing At All!1!!!”

And that’s the beauty of it. Or, at least, it SHOULD be.

--- “Once they set “Foot” into The Habitat, it isn”t like theyre Going 2 bee LEAVINGG it, anyway!! I”mmn not beeing CRUEL!!! What I do- it’s BRILL-I-ANT!! So WHY should I feel BAD??!?!?!”

Why, indeed?? Yes, WHY should he feel bad about cracking a few chickens to make a brand new healthy egg? What is the harm in it?

Nonexistent, as far as HE can tell!

--- “Thee answer is: I shouldn”t, annd I don’t! I hope thiss conversatioon was en-lit-ening 4 U! :-)”

So... there. He’s done. It’s over. Rant over. He- He’s said his share. Had his fill.

Of course, NOW he’s gone and gotten himself all riled up. Who knows how long it’ll take him to calm back down? Once he allows that little box in the back of his mind to open, this always happens.

Why do you think he’s so keen on keeping it nice and SHUT?

Autopilot becomes comforting after the hundredth time you shift into it. Habit continues about his business, cleaning the operating room while humming a jovial tune to himself.

The fact that he stumbles in his steps every now and then is unimportant. His pounding heart barely matters.

So long as he’s smiling, it’s IMPOSSIBLE to be upset!

Maybe if he believes that hard enough, it’ll be true.

#| Dr Habit - ιc ☢#| Dr Habit - qυeѕтιon anѕwered ☢#| Ask Meme #Anonymous #Smile For Me #Boris Habit #cw blood #cw suicidal thoughts #cw murder #ask to tag #Long Post #this is some of my WORST writing and this shouldn't have taken me two days but #have? it????#hope it's good haha i just #REALLY loved this question #thank you so much btw!!!!!!!! A!

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pmtexts · 7 years

Text

Tic Tic Tok

⤑ Prompt: Everyone is injected with two permanent watches on their arm. One is the time that they have left until they meet their soulmate. The other is the time that they have left until they die.

⤑ Word count: ~2k

⤑ Angst, Soulmate!Yugyeom

–

When I was born the doctors implemented this watch-band thingy to my wrist that told me how long I have left until I die. I basically have three more months at this point, and I’m only 19.

I was also given another watch-band thingy that told me how much longer I have left until I meet my soulmate. It hasn’t turned on yet bc my soulmate hasn’t gone to get his turned on. That’s the thing about the soulmate watch, you need to go to a specialist to get it turned on. So I guess my soulmate, whoever they are, either doesn’t believe in soulmates, or they just think I’ll be ugly. Ouch.

Ever since I was younger I had fantasized about my forever lover. “Maybe he’ll be a prince on horseback!” I wondered when I was 6. “Maybe he’ll be in some kind of band.” When I was 13 and boy-crazed for guys with instruments – I had always wanted the drummers. And now I wonder if I’ll ever even get the chance to meet him, since I have such little life left.

—-

Now here I am, 11pm and cramming in my Honors Biology homework for tomorrow and really wishing I had someone that I loved to help me with my stress.

‘I wish I was still 6 years old, because I really need my prince char-’

PING!!

Slowly and hesitantly, I looked down to where my soulmate band is, right under my life band.

3MO 2DAYS 01HR 00MIN 05SEC

Immediately my face went whiter than my bedsheets. My eyes shifted slightly upwards where I read my life band.

3MO 2DAYS 01HR 00MIN 04SEC

The two watches were in sync.

‘I meet my soulmate…at the same time I die?’

—-

“Your soulmate must be Jesus himself. Why else would your soulmate meet you at the same time that you die?”

For the next few weeks after my soulmate band lit up with the, now dreadful, numbers, this is the majority of comments I’d get from people. I get that they’re trying to make me feel more lighthearted about this whole ordeal, but I’d really appreciate if they would just shut up sometimes. I know now that this is probably a glitch in the system. I mean, why would my soulmate be the one who kills me?

“Maybe we should go get it checked out, like, I’m sure there must be glitches in the system. After all, this only started about a year before I was born, so it was still fairly new when you were born. They must have accidentally programmed the same number twice.” Sometimes, my best friend Jackson actually has good ideas. “Okay yeah, that’s reasonable. Let’s go downtown next week to their regional headquarters and settle this out, because I don’t think Jesus would be that great of a match for me.” I responded back, with the last remark resulting in Jackson erupting in his ever-so contagious laughter.

So with that, next week has rolled around and we’re now standing in front of the ominous government building about 20 miles away from campus. I feel a hand reach over to grab mine with a little squeeze, and I squeeze back while looking up and giving Jackson a half smile. He could definitely see the hesitation lingering in my eyes, as he gave me an even bigger smile back. One that told me everything would work out alright.

Gulping, I look down at my two bands to get an update until D-Day.

2MO 15DAYS 10HR 42MIN 34SEC

‘Maybe they just got my soulmate day mixed up with my death day. It’s not like I’ll probably be terminally ill in two months.’ My mind reassured me.

Taking in my last breath of fresh air, I let go of Jackson’s hand and entered the building.

The building looked like any other office building, you’ve got your waiting area, mass amounts of elevators, a big area for receptionists – probably one for each big area of business here – and there is also a few families crying on their way out, having just had to send their dead loved one away. We made our way over to the receptionist for the soulmate handlers, a very tall and handsome man with died blonde hair.

Mark Tuan was what his name tag read. “Hello and welcome to the Soulmate Center. Do you have an appointment or would you like a walk in consultation?” He asked with a vibrantly bright smile. “Could we have a walk in?” I asked. “Sure thing, just sit on one of the couches and I will send a request for you two. Guess your match didn’t work out huh?” He responded, while looking at both of us and shaking his head. ‘Gross, he thinks I’m with Jackson!’ “Oh nono, I’ve already found my match, is her that has the problem.” Jackson referred to me and the receptionist nodded, mumbling a sorry out.

“I just need your name to send out the request Miss.” Mark handed me a paper and pen to write out my name. Once I did so, I slid it back to him and Jackson and I took a seat on one of their fading red couches. “You’d think that for a place so high tech, they’d update their furniture every now and then.” I disgustingly whispered while pulling at a failing string attachment.

“Hey sugar relax, it’ll all be settled out in a little bit muffin. Just sit tight baby.” Mocked Jackson, alluding to the mix up. “Gross dude, I’d never go for you even IF you were my soulmate. I don’t want someone who does their laundry once a month.” I lightly hit his arm.

He started to defend himself, something about not wanting the colors to fade easily, when he got interrupted by a calling out of my name from a technician. I got up quickly and peered down at my wrist, seeing that I was supposedly ten minutes closer to both tragedies displayed. Taking another deep breath in, I strode over to the man who called out to me.

“Hello Miss Y/N, I’m Mr. Park. I understand you have an issue you would like to discuss about your soulmate watch?” He shook my hand and led me down the hall and took one right turn and then a left turn before arriving at the third door on the left.

“Hi yes, I think there must be something faulty in your system.” I raised my right wrist to show him the two identical countdowns and his face fell.

“Oh no, no no no there’s nothing wrong with our system. We’ve been trying to see if there’s any way that we could fix this, assuming our coding got messed up. I’m sorry to say this but there’s absolutely no way to fix this. I know it may sound crazy, but you will fall at the hands of your lover.”

Tears immediately started streaming down my face as each word he said was like a knife jabbing into my heart, which was ironic given the situation at hand. “The day that your soulmate came in, our servers immediately sent out red signals and sirens in my office after I turned on his timer. I checked into the system to see what went wrong, and I found you. Now, with this visit I was hoping you were requesting to shut off your timer and forget about this whole situation.”

At this point he was rambling on and on, trying to better asses the situation. However, all I could hear and feel was the world slowly going numb. I’m never going to have my prince charming. I’m never going to have my drummer boy in some punk band.

At least I’ll get to see him. Once.

—-

Everyone talks about wanting to live up their last moments in life by throwing massive ragers or breaking petty laws to run from the police. I, however, have spent the last two months cooped up in my apartment with only my roommate and Jackson to keep me company, and it’s generally been just Jackson.

“Y/N, tomorrow’s the day. You can’t spend today just in a ball surrounded by your blanket’s and pillows.” Jackson wined, trying to pull my blankets off of me. “If I never get up though, maybe I won’t have to face him ever and I can just continue living my life, never needing a soulmate and dying at a normal age. Or even a car crash when I’m in my 40s.” I barely made out, as my face was buried in some pillows.

“Fine, whatever. Just don’t die thinking I couldn’t have done anything.” Jackson spit out while throwing the blanket part he had in his hands back onto me.

As soon as I heard the front door slam, signaling Jackson’s leave, warm tears filled my cheeks. The next few hours of the day were filled with different scenarios running through my mind of how I’ll die tomorrow.

At round 5pm, I finally got up. Not from some sudden want to go out and live my life, but purely because of hunger. I went into the kitchen to make some ramen, when I heard the news on in the living room. Putting the pot set to boil, I left the kitchen and sat on one of the chairs in the living room to watch what the people speaking had to say about my city.

“A string of breakins have been occurring in the apartment complex near the mall. An armed robber has been breaking into apartments and attempted to shoot some of the owners while raiding anything that they can. If you live near or in the complex, we suggest leaving the premise immediately and seek other shelter tonight and the rest of the time until the authorities catch the robber.”

The only thing that brought me out of my trance was hearing the boiled water spill over into the fire, singeing. I hopped off of the chair, turned off the water and ran into my room to grab a pair of clothes as well as other necessities and drove myself over to Jackson’s apartment complex, a 20 minute drive away.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNO-

“What do you WANT?!” Jackson threw open the front door and I squeezed under the available space under his arms. “Jackson I need to spend the night and I changed my mind I want to do something tomorrow night I don’t care where we go but I need to live for my last night we can go downtown and go drinking or we can completely go to another city I don’t care I just need to get out tomorrow night” I rambled trying to catch my breath in between words.

—-

The morning and afternoon went normally, I crashed on Jackson’s couch last night. Now, it is 8pm and we’re both getting ready to drink the night away. Last night, when I recovered my breath and my sanity, I better explained to Jackson the situation and that I might miss him tonight if he planned to come to my apartment. Plus, my room mate is out of town visiting her family so he won’t possibly get her either.

However, my life band never changed it’s time. It kept ticking. So I decided that it must just keep running no matter what so I forgot about it and continued getting ready for tonight.

“Ready?” I looked over in the mirror to Jackson’s resting body on the door frame. I put my last swatch of lip-gloss on my lips and nodded, moving through the door frame Jackson had just resided in.

I took a fresh breath in when I stepped outside, and made my way behind Jackson towards the Uber he had ordered us.

“Let’s spend one of my possible last nights right by getting shitfaced.” I reached out to Jackson’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze before getting in the backseat.

—-

I could barely walk on my own two feet now. I lost count of how many shots I had after five and how many bottles of beer after my third. I didn’t realize, but I accidentally left Jackson alone in the club when I stumbled out of the doors, almost falling flat on my face and thus shattering my almost empty bottle in my hands.

On my way back to standing straight, I caught a glimpse of my band.

0MO 00DAYS 00HR 00MIN 10SEC

Drunkenly, I started counting down as if it were new years eve. “10..9..8HIC7..6..5..4HIC3..2..1!” I took my last swig of beer in my hand.

A deafening shot rang through the air. I fall back on my back. I look up to see the most handsome man with equally stunning eyes and hair. His black attire fades into the surrounding black of the night.

~~~~~

Oo my first story on here! I hope you guys enjoyed it and didn’t want to kill me the whole time :) please send feedback about my writing and maybe request something along the way ;))

#yugyeom #kim yugyeom #angst #yugyeom angst #yugyeom scenarios #got7 scenarios #got7 #m.txt

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srlkiller · 3 years

Text

today was a lot. i had a 1on1 therapy thing that was supposed to be like an INTRO TO UR RECOVERY WOO!!! LETS GET UR MENTAL HEALTH IN CONTROL!!! But instead it turned into me having 4 panic attacks constantly crying while venting to a social worker in a room w no air con for 2 hours about ‘how my month has been’ and ‘why i haven’t been attending any of my group therapy?’ well sue sweetie.. u asked me…n boy did i give u the answer ur career as a social worker has been WAITING 4!! then i got my 1st covid shot & briefly spoke to my doctor who was rude asf so i was like ok today fucked. Centrelink also called me and told me wrong info which fucked me over. then i see my dad calling and im like OFC HE IS!!massive fight as per n he hangs up but then continues via text bc hes petty asf.

BUT not as petty as my mom bc that is literally how the fight started. bc of her. like this bitch omg. she purposely runs off to my dad and tells him every little thing i do ‘wrong’ bc she knows his temper and how afraid i am of him due to past events so she uses him to basically do her dirty work for her n ‘scare me’. like that’s how manipulative and fucked up she is in the head. she made up a whole ass lie and told my dad that i said to my mom the only reason i was trying to stay in contact with my dad was so that i remain in his will as like the sole beneficiary or whatever….. how sick and twisted must you be to lie to someone directly in their face about something so serious INVOLVING UR OWN CHILD that you share with that person????? i would NEVER! say that about my dad. EVER. this happened months ago btw. as soon as i spoke about it w my dad and i was like “what.. dad i would never say that you know i don’t give a fuck about money like that i don’t care about your will why would i even be thinking about your will?” he was like wait actually that’s fucked up ur right. It was actually HER who made that comment. she got my dad to go and fix fencing at my nans house for free (using him) n my dad mentioned he had a girlfriend. my mum came home & SAID TO ME “u better hurry up and get in ur dads good books now that he has a gf.. before she gets a hold of his will and u end up w nothing” and i simply told her that my dad would never take me off his will regardless so why say that to me. once she got exposed she backtracked and was like “oh it was just a joke” & both my dad and I were both saying that even as a joke how is that funny? how does your mind even start to think in that way? how is this funny to you? then she flips it. her scripts are so repetitive now that ive caught on that i can actually predict what she’s gonna say before she opens her mouth. she manipulates u into thinking ur reality isn’t correct.. saying things like “ omg ur over reacting lol ur so dramatic no wonder no one takes u seriously in life, grow up, i have no idea what ur going on about, have u taken ur medication for the day, have u lost it, are u high on something?” like what in the fuck?

i never once mentioned anything about anyones will.. when i was younger i made the mistake obviously of telling her that my dad was leaving me his house. when my nans will was getting exposed she became overly obsessed w wills in general and changed hers. im guessing behind my back she has actually taken me off now but i don’t want her dirty ass money which is stolen from my accounts anyway. my nan left all her grandchildren a large sum of money that was supposed to be equally split among us, its now been over a year since my nan passed & i noticed a group text come up on my moms phone from her sisters talking about what they did for their children with that money. one of them paid off their entire hex debt so it must be a substantial amount. i have not seen a cent which means she has taken it for herself, put it in her name and placed it into a secret account without my knowledge. if it’s as much $ as i believe it is, this could seriously help me move out and better my situation which she constantly tells me she wants me to get the fuck out ect. yet you are holding the key to the door in ur hand? that’s twisted and very sick. they fought for a year over my nans money and all i asked for was an old XXXX gold stubby holder that was my grandads bc it was very sentimental to me. instead, they chose to have a garage sale and sold all of my nans things and sold that stubby holder to a random person for 20 cents………. i was in shock when i found out.. and they laughed and were like get over it omg it’s just a stubby holder you can just buy another one. these people are so fucked up but they all made me feel like i was losing my mind my whole life. money isn’t shit without sentiment. i could have given you 20 cents if you need that shit so bad. im only attached partially to these evil ass roaches by some genetics but to me none of them are my family. not once have i ever felt cared for, loved, accepted, safe or happy in their presence. i am only ever wanted when they can gain something from me. that is not family. my grandad was big on family n my nan and my grandad are the only two people i claim as family from my moms side. my nans two blind siblings who i admired & adored + a few of my grandads siblings were the only ones who actually showed interest in getting to know me & didn’t look down on me in any way. i was never considered ‘less than’ or not good enough yet i was the family disappointment to my mom and her sisters. but they have never seen her like i see her. the way she acts in front of family is not the person i know. she’s very good at acting. the way she pretends to be a ‘mother’ in front of her own family is actually scary. she’s like the ultimate con artist except she’s too fucking dumb to actually scam people and get rich off of her ability to manipulate whoever she wants. what a shame ur not intelligent.. that sure must suck huh. my nan gave me that maternal love i never had from my mother and my grandad was always that man who held us all together as a unit. when he got sick everything changed and started to go down hill. they had to give up their entire property, his big beautiful garden and vegetables he was really passionate about, the horses and land ect. my nan planted a rose bush and it grew big and blossomed big red roses and she said this is for you, my little rachel rose 🌹 🥺 she said she wanted to take the whole ass bush w her and replant it 😂 but my grandad was like we are not taking a fucking huge ass rose bush w thorns in the car w us Gloria.. i only remembered this today during that therapy session and i hyperventilated so bad n just started crying.. bc i couldn’t believe my brain had blocked that memory for so long just to recover it now that she’s no longer here to share it with.

i can feel the love my dad has for me even when he’s temperamental.. you can see it in his face and his eyes. when i look at my mom i try desperately to find some sort of just fucking anything and… i see nothing. i can tell that she doesn’t feel anything. but she does for other children. just not me. so i know she isn’t a heartless bitch and is capable of emotions of all sorts.. but anything to do with me it’s almost like im invisible or she cannot see fault in her self. she cannot in any way accept anything she has ever done, she has never said the words ‘I’m sorry’ for anything ever in life involving me, she has stood by (literally stood and watched) while her own sisters verbally abused me as a minor calling me out my name AND one even texted my best friend at the time who was about 14 saying that i was a bitch. meaning my mom gave my aunt my friends number to text that message.. my friends mom was livid about this bc what grown ass woman texts a random 14 year old girl paragraphs of shit like that swearing at them and saying that their friend is a rude ungrateful bitch. her mom reacted as a mother should. as i would love my mother to stick up for me just once in life.. u kno.. ever? i still remember my first SUI attempt at like 16 after being abused and this person told me they were leaving and coming back so i had about a 10 min window of time and i panicked as any 16 young girl home alone would.. i called my mom for help bc ur parents are supposed to protect you. her wording was “well what did u do to make him hit you?” “you know that you deserved that”. i was in disbelief that she would react like that.. she was talking so calmly while i was crying hysterically having a panic attack telling her this man was coming back in 10 mins asking her to please help me.. and all she could say was.. “you probably deserved it”. ive never been the same since then tbh. im not blessed enough to be a parent yet, i may never be.. but i know for a fucking FACT that i would NEVER say any of the shit that she says to me to ANY child let alone MY OWN?!?

you had me at 36 years old. you had time to think about this and evaluate whether you thought you would be able to care for a child and make a good parent. If you “didn’t want to deal with me” then you had other options.. you could have sent me to foster care, you could have adopted me out, you could aborted me, shidddd you could have mf swallowed me bitch let’s be real. no, you chose to have a child. there’s no 18 year contract.. she loves to play that card. “UR AN ADULT NOW”, what about me makes me an adult, my age makes me an adult to you? yet you’ve kept me so childlike, so codependent & haven’t taught me basic life skills despite me asking to learn. like im deadass watching YouTube videos to teach myself basic ass life skills… that is sad as fuck. when im 48… guess what??? i am still your child and unfortunately for me!! you are STILL my parent. there’s no changing that bc you made that choice. you can’t just b like yeah i change my mind nvm i want to return it…… like that is really her attitude. i was born with a lot of health issues that have escalated a lot and only continue to get worse with age both mental and physical. guess what tho… if ur child is born with defects u don’t get to just b like omg ew i don’t want it now this one’s too difficult. like trust me.. if i was one of those lil sperm rn i am not about to fertilise u for NOTHING if this is the consequence I’d rather jus keep on swimming lmao.

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raisonroux · 3 years

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OTAS: Ch. 6

Going Down

Jim, the terrified elevator mechanic, busies himself on his data pad, desperate to try and convince the impatient Kylo that he was actively working to fix the elevator (despite there being nothing he could do). His heart sinks as he watches the coordinates of the elevator move past the current location to a commander’s floor above; those floors always taking priority over the common floors. With the six minutes up, Kylo reaches a gloved hand for the man's shoulder.

Just then the lift returns and the door opens to Lieutenant Mitaka flanked by two stormtroopers. Mitaka, Kylo hates Mitaka, the sniveling lackey of General Hux. Kylo clenches his jaw at the unwelcome annoyance and enters the crowded car.

“Commander Ren,” nods the Lieutenant, his tone firm as if speaking to a peer - obviously trying to show leadership in the presence of the two troopers.

Kylo ignores the empty greeting and motions to the panel to press his floor, but sees it is already lit. “Hmm. You are going to R6?” He immediately regrets the question, as it opens the door to further conversation.

“Yes, Sir," says the Lieutenant, eager to show his productivity to the apathetic Commander. "The troopers on that floor have failed to update their status. It is most likely a delay in the Comm System, but it is protocol for an officer to check and maintain order.”

Ruminating on this new information, Kylo knows it is not a comm delay… it is the rogue stormtrooper. It has to be. The more he considers the actions of the trooper, making fools of both he and the Order, the more uneasy he becomes. He shifts his stance and tries to push the agitation of a potential force sensitive trooper out of his mind, instead focusing on the task at hand - the Pilot.

The elevator door opens on R6 to reveal another solitary stormtrooper in Kylo’s path. Except this one is flailing on the ground, moaning as he humps inappropriately against the floor. The two men behind Lieutenant Mitaka snort loudly as they attempt to hold in a laugh.

A visibly startled Mitaka blinks in confusion, then lets out a shaky command, “FN-1165, stand and explain yourself.” Despite the order, the thrashing resumes.

Incensed, Kylo turns toward Lieutenant Mitaka and the stormtroopers, “Are all you little shits defective?!”

Attempting to regain the appearance of control, Mitaka quickly motions to the troopers at his side. “Get him up!” NOW!"

Kylo huffs. Choosing not to wait, he uses his long legs to step over the gyrating body. Before he completes the stride, he stops short to smash his heel into the troopers outstretched hand. Expecting a howl of suffering, Kylo looks down to see that the man appears to be impervious to the pain, solely fixated on his invisible pleasure. Jaw clenched in anger, he twists his weight deeper into the cracking bones; but still no reaction. At the faint sound of a gulp, Kylo looks up and is relieved to see a frightened Mitaka, quaking in fear. Lowering his helmet to the edge of the man's forehead, Kylo makes one final comment, “Take control of your fucking men or these won't be the only bones I break today.” The terror in Mitaka's eyes satisfies Kylo and he turns to leave. His thick black boots march onward with determination down to the cell, as the sound of armor hitting the steel floor echoes throughout the hallway.

Just before entering the interrogation room, Kylo steadies himself - reconnecting with his innermost darkness, only to hear the rustling of armor to his back right. Perturbed with the constant interruptions, he pivots just in time to see two other languid troopers attempting to rise to attention. Kylo growls furiously and uses the Force to jerk one trooper to him. “Enough of these antics! I want answers!” The trapped trooper tries to nod in compliance but is unsuccessful against the hold of the Force.

Not waiting for a reply, Kylo continues, “I want to see all security footage of this cell and hall!”

“Y y y… Yes. Yes, sir.” Regaining his faculties at the release of the hold, the guard fumbles with his data pad and types furiously. He pauses and his shoulders drop before looking up, “There is no video sir. An order was placed to cease recording.”

“Who put in the order?” Kylo’s deep voice speaks slowly as he twists the hand by his hip. The guard feels an invisible strength circling his throat, and gulps.

“WHO PUT IN THE ORDER?!” Kylo asks again as his free hand latches to his sabor. The other trooper takes a step backward.

The frozen trooper stumbles over his words. “It’s… it's… mmm my… my login code, but I…I… I don’t remember-” before he can finish his admission, Kylo tightens his fist and thrusts out his arm; the unforgiving Force propelling the strangled man into a nearby wall, already dead before impact. Hearing a gasp, Kylo turns his attentions to the other guard.

“Tell your General to get his ass down here! His inability to lead is turning the Finalizer into a circus and I AM NOT AMUSED.” Kylo hisses. He takes a step forward as a door to the cell opens. Right away his brain fogs with the oddest sensation. Even odder is the prisoner, asleep on the table, a contented smile glued to his face. This would typically annoy the Commander, like everything else about this day, but his emotions stay steadfast in a satisfied, almost sensual, calm.

“Wake, now.” Kylo orders coolly as he wields the force to jostle the prisoner’s head to attention. “I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board… Comfortable?” The comment is meant to be a jeer, but observing the prisoner’s sated state, it appears to be true.

“I’ve been better,” admits Poe shrugging his shoulders, still hazy from his euphoric high.

“I’m impressed,” Kylo continues as he saunters toward the trapped man as an enigmatic heat fills his torso. An urge to touch Poe's chiseled cheek makes his fingers twitch. Clenching his fist, he fights the compulsion. “No one has been able to get it out of you… what you did with the map.”

“You might want to rethink your technique,” Poe smirks. He closes his eyes and takes in a full breath, losing himself in a thought, “The uh… Lady interrogator.” He sighs out, gently shaking his head, ”Hoo… yeah. I would have given her anything, and given it to her good.” He chuckles through his nose before focusing back on Kylo, “You on the other hand… aren’t really my type. But by the look of those tight pants, it seems I’m yours.”

“ENOUGH!” An embarrassed Kylo silences the smug pilot. Without another word, he hovers his palm over Poe’s mind, untangling and unearthing images from his brain. The first image he pulls loose is a memory from minutes earlier. It is one of arousal and pleasure, and Kylo finds it too enticing to ignore. However the memory is blurry and the face of the initiator, a woman, isn’t clear. Only her mewls are heard.

“This has to be a dream,” Kylo reasons to himself, “but it looks too real.” Tantalizing goosebumps dance across Kylo’s sensitive skin. Suddenly the quiet room fills with a hedonistic sigh, his own - at once alerting him to his mental voyeurism. Kylo scolds himself for lingering too long on this diversion, as tempting as it might be. With a groan forming in his chest, he clears his throat and digs deeper until the image of a droid in the desert is made clear.

***

After reading the same paragraph four times, Rose throws her book to the floor. “Agh! Where the kriff is she?!” With every distraction failing, she opts to visit the refresher. Trying her best to keep a positive mood, like her best friend, she encourages herself, “Everything is okay. Y/N will be back at any moment.” Grabbing her robe, she repeats the affirmations to herself all the way to the refresher room.

However upon her return, her hopeful smile fades when she sees a still empty bedroom. Dejected, she flings herself onto her bed, only to feel a buzzing against her chest. Scrambling the bedding out of the way, she pulls out her data pad, alerting her to a message. Eyes closed, she prays it is you as her fingers open the screen. Unfortunately it isn't Y/N. It is a work notification from her manager, “Emergency Call - Please report to the machine space of vertical transport 101A for an internal investigation.”

“Shit!” Rose's mind races. This is bad. This is very very bad. An internal investigation could point to her, and she knows she has to reach the assignment first to name another cause and sway suspicion. Zipping up her plain gray jumpsuit, she shoves her wet hair into a hat, and runs to the incident.

At the scene, her eyes widen to see the other Portside Lift tech already working. “Damn it, I’m too late.” She takes a deep breath before greeting her peer, “Hey Jim. What’s the situation?”

“Thank Kriff you’re here,” he motions down to the data pad screen to share his findings. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a forced reboot flagged from the Electromechanical interlock, but all of the inner parts report back as stable. I’ve tried running different test scenarios virtually, but nothing is coming up. It looks like one of us will have to board the car ceiling to manually inspect.” His eyes slowly look up to stare at Rose. “So?”

“You want me to do it?! Why not a droid?” Rose asks nervously. Due to the advanced technology of the self-diagnostic computer systems and the aid of droid techs, Rose never had to enter a hoistway. Even in the apprentice program, manual checks of this nature were only discussed theoretically.

“One is already in the pit, checking for anything out of the ordinary. The other was crushed, remember? Hasn’t been replaced yet.”

Rose recalls seeing the gnarled pieces of the recovered droid on top your worktable after it got twisted into the rails. She shudders before pointing her finger at Jim, “Why not you?”

“Hell no! I had to babysit Commander Ren on Common Deck C2 for nearly a half hour. That’s way more dangerous than the hoistway. It’s your turn,” declares Jim, holding out a flimsy harness to his partner.

“This is pointless… I already know the origin of the error,” Rose lets slip as she throws her exasperated arms in the air, refusing the harness.

“You do? How?” questions Jim, eyes narrowing.

Rose bites her lip, knowing if she says anymore she will implicate herself. She tries to think of an excuse, any excuse to explain the reboot, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

“Just as I thought, you don’t know either.” Smug in his assertion, he ends up throwing the harness at Rose.

Rose catches the belt against her chest. “Uh. Fine.” As she buckles herself in, cursing under her breath with each motion, Jim calls the car to their floor.

“You’re chariot awaits,” he teases. Rose glares at him, she’s in no mood for jokes.

“I need a boost,” she huffs. Jim helps her through the hatch door of the car ceiling. Looking beyond the sling, her heart quickens as she takes in the seemingly endless vertical shaft downward. She gulps. As she steadies her feet on the roof of the car she calls down nervously, “Jim! Make sure the car is halted! I’m not dying because you forgot to click a button.”

“No can do. We have orders to keep it in service while we fix the issue. But don’t worry, I’ve kept the speed locked at 2 MGLTs.”

Rose drops back down to her knees and grips the edge of the open hatch, “WHAT?! You can’t be serious?!” she yells to her unconcerned partner, nose down in the data pad - oblivious to her distress.

Finally looking up he gives her a cocky grin and laughs, “What’s that? You want me to make it faster? Okay…”

“Just lock the damn car, Jim!” Rose’s terrified yelp echoes throughout the expanse.

But he only shakes his head, “Sorry. Superior officers are using this system. Direct orders not to halt service.”

“Fuck you and fuck orders,” Rose grits her teeth.

“Now that is no way to speak to the man holding the controls. Seriously, calm down. It’s going to be fine. I doubt you’ll even be up there long enough to-,” he pauses and all teasing stops. The elevator dings. “Oh… um… it’s been called to R6.”

“Kriff no! Pause it! I’m coming down, we will finish this later,” she says, cautiously lowering a leg through the hatch door. But it is too late, the doors begin to close.

“STOP!” warns Jim through remaining sliver of the doorway, “…it’s too dangerous! Just hang on!” The door shuts and the mechanism next to her begins to click ominously. With the rumble of motion, Rose quickly closes the rustling hatch door and lays flat against the car ceiling, careful to avoid any moving parts. In an instant, she attaches her harness to a corner hook and wraps her arms protectively about her head.

“This can’t get any worse,” she cries to herself. After a few minutes pass, the car comes to a stop, and she lets out a sigh of relief. She decides to ride back to her floor in the safety of the car. But before she can unhook her tether, in walks two reasons to stay put.

***

After a successful, and strangely gratifying search through the prisoners brain, Kylo at last has what he is looking for. With this step of mission complete, he calls the elevator - ready to end this day once and for all. With the elevator slower than normal, a now present General Hux has time to wrap up his conversation with Lieutenant Mitaka and makes his way next to the Commander. Kylo sneers under his helmet.

“Have you finally taken control of your men? Or does a real leader need to set them in line?” mocks Kylo as the lift door opens. Simultaneously both men take a step inside, shoulders colliding, refusing to be second to the other. As the elevator moves, Kylo looks about the cabin, sensing something out of place, but sees nothing.

“Lieutenant Mitaka is convinced it is a gas leak, no doubt from one of your many destructive outbursts,” states Hux, his face frozen in disdain. “And you? Did you finally retrieve the information that we all have been waiting for? Or are you too busy whining about troopers?”

Kylo ignores the slight, “It’s in a droid. A BB Unit.”

“Well then,” General Hux smirks, “If it’s on Jakku, we shall soon have it.”

“I leave that to you.” The cabin goes quiet as the two men stand silently in their hatred. A minute passes before Kylo continues, “And Hux, I want FN-2102 found and detained. I need to have a word with her.”

Above the car, Rose hears the name of the trooper and her mind instantly flashes to the moment she placed the helmet on your head. She scoots closer to the small perforated metal window into the cabin just in time to see the General pull out a portable Comm Link System.

“Status needed on FN-2102,” states Hux into the microphone.

“Yes, sir,” replies a voice through the speaker. “FN-2102 is currently in the med bay unconscious. Unlikely to wake, Sir.”

General Hux motions to Kylo before answering. “Commander Ren requests the trooper be detained.”

“She is immobilized, Sir. Both legs have been broken. Should we continue with customary protocol?”

“Not yet. Since Commander Ren has taken an interest, wait for removal until he gives word.” Hux turns off the comm link and turns to Kylo, “My gift to you.”

As the harrowing words rise up to unknown hitchhiker above, Rose clutches her face and tries to hold in a scream. Despite her mouth staying shut, her watery eyes watch as Kylo’s helmet snaps to the attention of the hatch. Their eyes meet through the tiny holes of the metal gate and Rose gasps. Startled, General Hux looks up to see what has caught the Commander’s attention.

“You!” Scolds the General, “Get down here and explain yourself.”

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everythingmustgo · 7 years

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heyO i was wonderin if i could do a tarrot reading and an analysis? if not its fine! but my signs are cancer sun, libra moon, leo rising, mercury cancer, venus virgo, mars leo, jupiter cancer, n saturn gemini! thank u in advance!

hello hello ofc u can !!! my tarot readings r £2 per card used so if u wanna have a look at my tarot page nd pick the spread u want then go for it!!! ill do ya analysis just now !okay so cancer suns r honestly my FAVS like my gf is a cancer nd shes so sweet nd caring, cancer suns want to protect u, theyre very maternal in their loving? very nurturing, they show their love thru looking after u and making sure ur okay. sooooooo emotional, all u water signs r crybabies tbh, ur emotions rly do dictate ur life and ur not in control of them so much as they r in control of u. the kind of ppl that cry from every emotion cuz they feel so deeply. the thing abt cancers tho is even tho theyre loving and caring, theyre always looking out for no. 1. big on self preservation, if they had the option to save u or them, theyd save their damn self no question. if a cancer if upset, anyone elses feelings go out the window. if u nd a cancer r upset, u can bet ur ass the cancer’s feelings come first. this is bc of how strong their feelings r for sure, they just dont have room in them for negative feelings that arent. theres ukno. they need so much emotional support, as caring as they r they struggle a lot with insecurity and need constant reassurance. often the only constant thing in their life is their own emotional turmoil, and they have a tendency to wallow in it and expect others to make it better. this is honestly one of the only bad qualities in cancers imo like I love water signs nd they rly r the most sweet nd caring ppl, they just have Issues nd r fiercely protective of themselves. cancer/libra is a good combo imo!!! libra moons r very diplomatic, have an innate sense of justice and a deep need for peace and harmony. bc this is ur moon sign this would suggest that this is ur strongest desire, this is rly what drives all of ur actions. ur a peacekeeper, u settle arguments nd everyone immediately seems to like u bc of the knack u have to see all sides of an argument. bc of this ur not strongly opinionated, u have principles but ur always open to persuasion and generally look for a balance between two options. big on equality, ur middle ground attitude to arguments can sometimes b mistaken for weakness of opinion but ur driven more by the need for fairness which is v strong in u. bc this is ur moon sign this is the part of u that cannot b suppressed: ppl will always see ur moon sign, nd while u have a certain amount of choice over how much of ur sun sign self u express (ur core personality, often one u grow into nd recognise within urself as u get older), ur moon sign cannot b hidden. ppl will always recognise ur balanced and fair nature, nd honestly for a libra moon this is a great thing bc ppl generally Love libras bc of this !!! they r fair nd will never immediately write off anyones opinions as invalid, somehow finding a way to agree with everyone. plus as an air sign u have great communication skills nd ppl will feel v comfortable talking to u. they have a veeeeeery strong need to b liked tho, which often drives their agreement w everyone. they need a thriving social life and to be in a relationship, most libras feel v lost w/o a partner. theyre romantics at heart, ruled by venus, but also feel they need a strong person in their life to make their decisions for them. this is the libra downfall, they r. wishy washy ppl. sometimes u NEED strong opinions? like even if u desire fairness, nd r immediately uncomfortable when fairness in a situation becomes almost impossible to achieve, there r times when u need to have a strong opinions? the idea of holding an opinion that some people will object to is stressful for a libra. this means ur one of the most indecisive, vague and easily influenced signs and u need to think for urself more!!! libras r all too dependant on others and see the route to peace and inner balance as pleasing everyone, which isnt always the case. u need to take urself and ur own feelings into consideration, be independent. as this is ur moon sign, ur approach to emotions is heavily ruled by ur libra. u keep things to urself as u dont like to distress others w ur emotions or hav them think differently of u bc of it, u see the solution to ur problems as to deal w them urself and problem solve ur way out of it, and while this is a skill of urs and u will most likely come up w good solutions, its not healthy to take it all on urself. I do love libras tbh but. they can b fake as hell w their niceness. u need to let urself open up more nd realise theres more to life than being liked, nd peace can b achieved w/o pleasing everyone, and w doing things for urself. ok ok I rly went to town on ya moon there so ill try nd keep ya rising short, so ur a leo rising which is v different from ur sun nd moon !!! all of ur signs r different elements which suggests ur v well rounded nd have a lot of different aspects to ur personality!!! ur leo rising means that the way u express urself and how others perceive u is far more dramatic than ur sun and moon, honestly u like to b seen as Extra. v focused on ur appearance, sociable and outgoing, loooooves to b the centre of attention. this im thinking is the strongest of ur signs nd fits very well w ur libra and cancer, who hav more vulnerability when it comes to others. leos have a lot of charm and likeability from the confidence they exude, which can likely be a protection for your libra fears of being disliked, and your highly emotional cancer sun. leos are also incredibly loyal and generous, a leo friend will absolutely spoil u and think nothing of spending lots of money on u (theyre v materialistic so often buying things for u is how they express affection). however they do often keep others in their shadow bc they like the attention so much, so its possible that until others get to know u very well, they will feel intimidated by u. u like to express urself dramatically and perhaps as opinionated in an attempt to hide ur libra indecisiveness and dependence on others to make ur decisions, which ur cancer sun will make u feel v insecure abt !!! theres a lot of interlinking insecurity between the signs with u lmao they work well together but theres certainly a lot going on. when ppl meet u, theyll hear abt ur social status and ur charm, but then discover ur sense of fairness and need for peace and equality, as well as ur emotional, nurturing side as they get closer to u.im gonna do a v brief explanation of ur planets if thats okay but if u want more info u can 100% ask for it its okay!!!so bc ur mercury is the same as ur sun sign its likely ur thought process, mental abilities and communication skills r v close to ur core personality and the way u think is an important part of who u r. bc its in cancer its gonna b emotional: ur mentality r hiiiighly emotion driven, and its hard for u not to let ur feelings get in the way of ur thought process and capacity for ideas and planning. ur 100% an overthinker, nd even tho u care for others deeply, ur plans will always result in u reaping the most benefits. ur venus virgo means ur a lover of beauty and a big romantic imo, but also a perfectionist. ur attracted to people u can fix up, which is a big downfall of virgos. they like to fix things, esp ppl, ESP in venus wow. u may notice a pattern of friends nd partners who rely on u to Fix Them, u may notice u r drawn to ppl w Issues bc u want to help them get better. ur a big worrier when it comes to relationships. leo mars wow this is the realm of action and u GO for it. everything u do u do 110% nd u wanna make a big show of it. u wanna b seen as an achiever, someone whos doing great things in life nd lookin hot while doing it. u want appreciation and attention for doing it. p much all of ur actions r to b noticed nd appreciated for what u do, its a big motive. ur in it for u. jupiter jupiter realm o wisdom nd knowledge, cancer again so id reckon important to u. mercury nd jupiter often go hand in hand so its fitting they r the same. again, emotional, again, caring, again, selfish. u have a deep understanding of ur own and others feelings, ur v intuitive nd use ur feelings to help u understand the world around u. ur feelings influence how u learn, if u dont love smth ur not gon learn it. cancer is ruled by the moon, id say ur v wise and trustworthy. saturn is jupiters restrictive counterpart, all abt boundaries nd structure. as its in gemini I reckon ur a fast learner nd once u learn ur lesson u will never forget. u like to scheme and plan, ur intelligent nd sociable but the way u plan ur life may distress u. u may often b highly conflicted over how u structure ur life, part of u loving the control of routine and part of u loving the freedom of no structure whatsoever.hope this made sense !!! u got any more questions let me kno, hmu when uve decided what spread u want for ur reading 💕

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