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felassan · 1 year

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Some more snippets of interest and insight from Mark Darrah, from an older Mark Darrah on Games YouTube video where he was livestreaming playing Dragon Age: Origins some months ago -

Chat asked why Marvel's Avengers and Fallout 76 are still being supported yet Anthem isn't. Mark replied, "Two reasons, but they're basically the same reason. EA is definitely not something that likes to support things that they consider to be failures. But the other reason, which is kind've the same thing, is that because BioWare has so much going on, there is a tendency, there's always a lot of pressure to move people onto the biggest need, and Anthem is not the biggest need. If BioWare was allowed to add fifty to sixty people that wouldn't be the case, well at least it wouldn't be in the short-term, but it isn't because EA is very cost resistant, resistant to spending costs, so it's really about corporate structure and culture than anything else. If you look at something like Battlefield or other games at EA that have failed and then recovered, it's usually because the studio that made them literally had nothing else going on so the only option was to let them fix it or to basically shut the studio down. In the case of BioWare, there's always something else they could be working on and as a result, when things don't go as well people tend to get moved onto those other things. That's essentially what happened with Mass Effect: Andromeda as well, though in the case of ME:A there was also pressure from Jade Raymond's studio to steal all those people, which is what ended up happening. So it's really about the approach to these things at a corporate level."

Chat asked "Can you make a video about development hell and how games with long production cycles like Dragon Age Origins avoid that?". Mark replied "The short answer to how do games avoid development hell long production cycles is basically that they don't. It's probably worth a video to talk about what happens in the middle of long projects, but the short answer is what often happens is that they spend some period of their time kind've going in a big circle because the time is so long that projects can get lost. DA:O added and took out multiplayer three different times. Anthem spent a ton of time not being able to admit that it was making Destiny. ME1 spent a ton of time trying to figure out what it wanted its combat to feel like".

Chat asked "What do you feel about the revival of the Griffons?". Mark said "I think it's going to be hard to pay griffons off in gameplay but I'm glad that they are back, it's an interesting addition".

Chat asked "Did you know about the Netflix show? If not what are your thoughts?" Mark replied "I did know about the Netflix show so I'm not going to comment on it at this time, I'll wait and see what it looks like. It's been in the works for a while" [note: this video is from before Absolution released]

On the reason why Dragon Age has so many multimedia things e.g. books, comics, compared to other IPs: "I mean Witcher has tons. BioWare actually has a dedicated business development group which looks for opportunities to make money with the IP".

[source]

He also talked more generally about DA:O and the franchise and things in general. These bits are collected under a cut due to length -

[on the lyrium spirits/ghosts that provide the riddles during the Gauntlet] Chat asked "I've never been sure if these spirits are accurate memories of these people, or just how the masses believe them to be. I presume that's deliberate?". Mark said "Yes, definitely the accuracy of these memories is definitely up for debate and that is on purpose. Definitely DA:O, Dragon Age in general is filled with the unreliable narrator"

If you go the Gauntlet with no party members, the game gives you a bunch of indestructible ash wraiths instead. "It's super weird"

Chat asked "Is there an answer to the question of what the Ashes and this whole [thing] are really about, or is it left deliberately unknowable?". Mark said "It's left unknowable, I don't think that the Ashes is ever discussed. It doesn't really fit in with the magic of the rest of the setting does it?"

"Definitely there's a lot of 'Andraste taking over old elven temples' throughout the world"

The Queen of the Blackmarsh "was definitely combat design firing on all cylinders"

Chat commented "I noticed recently that many character models in BioWare games have a 'collar' on clothes even when it doesn't otherwise fit with what they're wearing. Is there a reason for that?". Mark said "The collar is probably to cover a neck seam. That's usually why there's something weird going on with the head"

Chat commented "I still don't know how I feel about the 'every class gets their version of lock pick' in DA:I". Mark replied "The reason for the every class gets their own lock pick thing in DA:I is, the problem is that what you usually end up with is rogues get a bunch of stuff to do outside combat and nobody else does, so the goal was to try to get a variety of activities for different classes. I don't know that it was super effective because I don't think that it was used widely enough, but that was the thinking. 'It's useful to have a mage along because a mage will let you get into these spots, it's useful to have a warrior along because they can lift heavy things and reach jars on high shelves'. But I think there's a lot of established game design around locked doors and locked chests, and I think the things in DA:I, people just weren't used to introducing them"

"I think the reason why you can't recruit anyone into the Wardens in DA:O is you don't know how to do that and Alistair doesn't either I guess. But there are a couple of opportunities in DA:O where you could sort've imagine, 'hey, we could use some more of us'." Chat commented that it's also a blood magic ritual and Mark said "It is totally, I mean it is fairly obviously blood magic, but yes it is not really ever [addressed]"

"Jade Empire had gay romances, that's probably the first mainstream game that had them"

Chat commented on the difficulty spikes in DA:O being a bit random at times. Mark said "There's only limited auto-balancing in DA:O so things are triggering on certain assumptions and those assumptions are definitely not always being met." Chat mentioned character movement speed and hardware engine speed at the time and Mark replied "Speed is most likely a limitation"

"I don't know if inventory limits are worth it. It's an interesting question. I get the idea but, I don't think everyone loves inventory management. It's been done better but I don't know that it's ever been done good. Especially for stuff like this where it's just, y'know, punishing you for not having sold stuff. I think having a weight limit on what you can equip, maybe, because then it's more you just can't carry around everything and the kitchen sink, but punishing me and my treasure-gathering for not having bought the extra backpack, kinda stupid, honestly. From Baldur's Gate 1 to modern games, inventory is pretty similar"

Chat asked "Were the Warden Colors (from DAII on) not decided on in DA:O? The mods prove the engine can handle the graphics". Mark replied "The art direction in DA:O is a little loose. So it's really about art direction in future games, it's not about technology, I mean you have to remember that this thing was supposed to run on a much crappier console, but yeah it's really more about art direction than anything else. DAII is where the art direction starts to establish a look for Dragon Age"

"Infinite healing is problematic. But yeah toxicity works, some other form of limiting works, but if you can heal infinitely then every single combat needs to be able to threaten you all on its own which is a problem"

Chat asked "How do Sha-Brytol and Golems function in terms of Titan connection? They're identical minus the rocks right? Instead of rocks Sha-Brytol are bound to armour?" Mark replied, "I don't know lore-wise the difference, I mean it's possible that golems are sort've a broken construction in comparison, the lost lore kinda thing"

Chat commented "I asked Mike [Laidlaw] about the golems and I got the impression that there was some sort of implementation difficulty that he couldn't easily explain". Mark said "I do think there was an ask for golems for DA:I from an art perspective and we didn't have the model, the time for the model, so that's part of it for sure". Chat mentioned that we fight golems in The Descent. Mark said "If so they were created after the fact, I don't really remember though"

Shale is small for a golem so they can walk through doors in gameplay. That's why they are the size they are

Chat said "I'd be curious to know how the global metrics break down, what the most popular race and class people choose is. I imagine BioWare has those numbers." Mark said, "I don't know if we have numbers on DA:O because our telemetry was so bad, but yeah, humans are usually the most popular. Dwarf is a pretty niche one but people who play dwarves pretty much always play dwarves. Elf is probably the second most popular. I think human is just sort've the choice that people who don't understand fantasy well, so it's also I would say often the one that's often chosen by people who are less engaged in the game. I'm not saying everyone who plays human is doing so because they don't want to engage n the system, not to deride that, but it includes that group as well". Chat commented, "The order was Human > Elf > Qunari > Dwarf. Dwarf was the least played race in DA:I". Mark replied "Yeah, I think that's probably right. Dwarf is sort've a 10 percent sort of thing. It's got a very strong group that play it any opportunity they can ever have but it doesn't get a lot of play otherwise"

[source]

(pls note that in places there is a bit of paraphrasing of the info, the best source is always the primary source with full quotes in their original context)

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #next mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #anthem #long post #longpost #video games #dragon age: absolution #alistair theirin #fav warden #jade empire #lgbtq

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story!

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage.

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.”

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim.

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?”

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked.

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.”

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet.

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back.

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.”

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush.

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering.

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead.

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.”

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder.

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in.

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?”

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh.

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.”

#nessian #snacmc #snacmc lawki #modern au #lawki #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acosf

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p---ink · 3 years

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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holdingforgeneralhugs · 3 years

Note

hi there!! so happy you're in the BoB fandom :) could we get a fluffy/romantic imagine with Winters please?

Twinkling lights

You bumped into Dick while on leave in Paris and you two decided to explore the city together.

A/N: Thank you so much anon for this request 💓 I absolutely adored writing this tooth rotting fluffy romance so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. My asks are still open to all so feel free to drop me a request 🥰

Find here on AO3

As you ambled down the streets of Paris you wondered if you'd ever find a cafe that wasn't completely packed. It seemed like all the officers in the entire US Army had been given leave to Paris this weekend. You continued scanning the tables, at this point willing to find any unoccupied table. You stopped mid stride when you spotted a familiar head of ginger hair sitting alone.

You made to approach him but then paused. Yes, you worked together almost everyday, and you would hope that he considered you a friend, but you were unsure of whether or not he would appreciate you imposing on his weekend off. You'd never spent any time together in a social setting and you found yourself on uneven territory.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N?"

You jumped in surprise, looking up and meeting the concerned eyes of Captain Winters. You'd been so lost in your thoughts you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

"Sorry for startling you," he apologised, "you seemed like you were lost in a daze."

"Oh don't worry," you laughed nervously, "I was looking for a quiet place to get a coffee when I spotted you and I was debating whether I should disturb you or not." You felt the heat rising on your cheeks, embarrassed that he'd caught you looking like a fool standing in the middle of the street.

"This place is a bit too rowdy for my taste," he explained. "I was just heading off actually."

You nodded and looked down, shuffling your feet. Looks like you wouldn't be imposing on his weekend after all. "Yes I can see why you'd want to skip out on this joint," you chuckled. "Well, I don't want to hold you up..." You moved away, letting him know it was alright if he wanted to leave. He placed his hands and bobbed his head, clearly contemplating something.

"Why don't you join me?" He asked quietly. "If you don't have a better offer that is."

"I suppose you wouldn't be the worst company in the world Captain Winters," you teased. He huffed out a laugh at that before sweeping his arm and gesturing for you to join him. You smiled gently as you fell into step beside him.

"Where would you like to go Captain?" You asked as the two of you wandered the streets. You paused outside a bakery and peered in the window, marvelling at the fresh croissants and delicious looking éclairs. He smiled when he noticed how your eyes lit up as you stared in at the lovely looking pastries.

"Why don't we make this our first stop?"

You grinned when he held the door open for you, ever the gentleman. You sighed in delight when you entered the little bakery, the delicious smell making your mouth water.

"Bonjour et bienvenue mademoiselle et monsieur," greeted the kind owner. "Comment puis-je voucher aider?"

"Bonjour monsieur," replied Winters. You stifled a laugh when you noticed the Captain trying to think how he could respond to the rest. As amusing as it was though, you thought you'd better spare him the embarrassment.

"What would you like to get Captain?" You asked him. He smiled at you sheepishly and pointed to a chocolate glazed éclair.

"Bonjour monsieur, pouvons-nous avoir deux éclairs au chocolat s'il vous plaît?" You asked kindly. The man smiled as he picked out the pastries and placed them in paper bags. Before you could pull your francs from your purse, Winters had stepped up to the counter and paid.

"Thank you, you didn't have to pay for mine," you said gratefully as he handed you your bag.

"Don't worry, you spared me from embarrassing myself with my very basic French." He waved you off as he said goodbye to the man and headed for the door. You said your goodbyes and followed him out, looking forward to tasting the amazing looking pastry.

"Alors, l'amour á la guerre, c'est beau."

You stumbled in the doorway when you heard the soft sigh from the man behind you, but when you turned around to correct him he was already gone. You blushed crimson when you closed the door and came face to face with Captain Winters again, but he was too busy enjoying his éclair to notice. You sat on the little window ledge beside him, humming in delight when you took your first bite and desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. It was the nicest thing you'd ever eaten in your life, all chocolate sauce and sweet vanilla cream. You'd never had anything as nice back home. It's just a pity there wasn't more of it.

"I think that was an excellent first stop, don't you Lieutenant?"

"You know what Captain, I have to agree," you smiled, turning to face him. You tried to surpress a chuckle when you glanced at his cheek, but he noticed you smirking and grinned, and you couldn't help the giggle that passed your lips.

"What's so funny?" He laughed, "have I got chocolate on my face? Where is it?" He asked, running his palm along his jaw and missing it completely.

"Not chocolate, cream. And you've missed it completely, it's here," you grinned, pointing to the spot on your own cheek. He swiped at his cheek again but still missed. You sighed in amusement and rolled your eyes before reaching across and wiping it off with your thumb.

"There," you murmured, your thumb rubbing his cheek softly. "All gone." You looked up at him through your eyelashes and your breath hitched slightly when your eyes met his. He was looking at you intently, and if you didn't know any better you'd swear you saw his gaze flicker momentarily to your lips. You pulled your hand back then and cleared your throat, standing up and brushing off your Class A's.

"Would you mind if we went to that bookshop down the street?" You asked quietly, pointing to the shop you'd just spotted as you looked around, desperate to look at anything but the man beside you.

"Of course, lead the way Lieutenant."

You walked down the street in silence, which was only punctured by the sound of the bell as you entered the little bookshop. As you walked through the stacks you inhaled that familiar smell and felt instantly comforted. You'd always felt at home in libraries and bookshops, and the smell made you long for home.

As you plucked out various books you felt Winters materialise beside you. He said nothing, content to allow you to browse in peace and look around by himself. You looked higher up the shelf and spotted a book you'd wanted for a while. You stood on your tiptoes and stretched out your hand but it was just out of reach. You tried to stretch just a little bit more, but it stubbornly remained just beyond your fingertips.

"Here," murmured Winters, leaning over your back and plucking the book from the shelf. "You've got good taste Lieutenant, I've always liked Hemingway myself," he commented as he handed you the copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls.

You smiled up at him as you ran your fingers over the cover. "Thank you," you said, all previous awkwardness gone. He nodded and turned, wandering back down through the shelves.

"You don't need to call me Lieutenant sir," you blurted. He spun around to face you, eyebrow raised in surprise. "You can call me Y/N," you murmured, cheeks heating despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

"Well Y/N," he smiled, "only if you call me Dick. All my friends call me Dick," he explained sheepishly, running a hand over the back of his neck.

You beamed back at him as you walked towards him. "Okay Dick, why don't we pay for our books and do a little more sightseeing?"

He stepped aside and gestured for you to lead the way, and once you'd paid for your books he held the door open for you as you left.

"Here, let me carry those for you," he suggested, leaning over and plucking the wrapped books from your hands. You protested, telling him he didn't need to, but he insisted and eventually you gave in and thanked him for the kind gesture.

"Wow, I didn't realise how long we were in there for, it's almost dark," you exclaimed as you looked around and noticed the street lamps coming on.

"I hadn't even noticed the time going by," he smiled softly. "Is there anywhere else you'd like to go?"

"Oh I couldn't, I've already taken up too much of your precious free time," you insisted, shaking your head.

"Don't be silly Y/N," he said, "I've enjoyed the rest of the day, why end it now? Why don't we go to the Eiffel Tower? I've been dying to see it I must admit."

"Well if you're sure," you laughed, "lead the way." You chatted amicably as you strolled through the streets of Paris, quieter now that night had come and most of the visitors were holed up in the various bars around the city. You were in the middle of telling him a story about the time you'd embarrassed yourself at the local fair when you turned the corner and paused mid sentence.

You'd seen pictures of it in books, but they couldn't prepare you for what a marvel it was in person. It appeared to reach right up to touch the twinkling stars, highlighted and shadowed by the flickering streetlights all around it.

"Amazing isn't it?" whispered Dick as he walked along beside you. You nodded, and as you reached the base of the tower you tilted your head straight back and stared up at it in awe. It was simply magnificent. Your attention was drawn from the structure when you heard music wafting from down the street. There was a man leaning against a lamppost, playing a lovely waltz on the accordion.

Dick placed the packages on the path beside him and held his left hand out to you. You looked at his outstretched hand in surprise and glanced up at him questioningly.

"Care to dance mademoiselle?" he asked gently. You blushed under his earnest gaze, placing you right hand gently in his left and resting your left hand on his shoulder. You shuddered slightly when he put his hand on your waist. He took the lead, swaying you gently but making sure to stay at a respectable distance. As you swayed together you looked up at the twinkling stars and the soft lamplight all around them.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" you sighed, gesturing your head for him to look around.

"Yeah, it really is," he nodded, never taking his eyes off of you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt butterflies in your stomach. You'd always thought him handsome and he was even more so in his Class A's, with the soft lamplight dusting his cheeks and making his eyes twinkle in the dark. If you were completely honest with yourself you knew you'd had feelings for him for the longest time. You'd buried them deep, unwilling to even acknowledge them because nothing would ever happen between you and him.

You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled softly. Maybe it was the gentle music, or the twinkling starlight, or maybe the location, but something made you curl your hand around his neck and step closer to him, resting your cheek on his chest. He stiffened briefly, and you worried that you had been too forward, but then he slid his hand up your back between your shoulders and held you close and you sighed in content. You didn't know how long the two of you danced, each song blending into each other as the accordian player continued on. It was honestly the most wonderful moment of your life.

Neither of you said anything, both content to sway together and enjoy the moment. Dick sighed after a while, and you raised your head from his chest to peer up at him. He didn't say anything for awhile, his twinkling eyes staring intently back into your own. He had the most gorgeous eyes you'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. He licked his lips slightly as his gaze lingered on your and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered even harder than before.

"Y/N," he murmured, his hand against your back fidgeting slightly, "May I kiss you?"

You swallowed nervously. You tried to respond but the words wouldn't come out, so you simply nodded slightly and leaned up towards him, eyelids fluttering shut as his lips met yours.

It was soft and slow, his lips pressing against yours with a gentle pressure. You swayed on your tiptoes as you leaned into him more, taking your hand out of his and resting it on his cheek. His hand on your back rubbed up and down tenderly, the forefinger of his free hand propping up your chin gently. He didn't push to deepen the kiss, and you were quite content to continue with the sweet tempo.

He pulled back then, his nose bumping yours and his breath ghosting across your cheeks. Your eyelids fluttered as you peered up at him and met his eyes. You couldn't keep the smile from your face, and you grinned even wider when you saw his eyes crinkle up in happiness.

"How would you like to go for dinner?" He asked quietly.

"I'd love to," you responded, hardly able to breathe with the intensity of the butterflies in your stomach.

"I suppose I'd better walk you back to your hotel after that, huh?" He whispered, eyes glistening with mirth.

You looked down shyly and blushed at his teasing. You hadn't felt so happy in so long, in fact you were sure you'd never been happier than you felt in that moment. "Only if you'll kiss me goodnight on the front step," you teased, giggling as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Well," he replied, bending down to pick up the abandoned parcels, "I think that's a deal I can agree to."

He held out the crook of his arm to you, and you smiled at him shyly as you placed your hand in his. As you passed the accordian player he tipped his hat at you and smiled knowingly, and in that moment you felt like the luckiest person in the whole damn world.

#dick winters #dick winters x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ask response #request #band of brothers #hbo band of brothers #hbo war #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #romance #ask box open #dick winters is such a gentleman #holdingforgeneralhugs

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dreamingaboutreid · 3 years

Text

Hospital Bed Confessions: Chapter 7

*Continuation*

*Flash-forward*

Spencer was truly in awe. It had been 8 months since you joined the BAU.

Hotch seemed much happier with no more mountains of paperwork on his desk. All the files were neatly filed in Y/N’s office and his workload was greatly alleviated. He also had someone to confide to and understand a little bit of the pressure he had been experiencing.

Emily loved having a fellow Chesapeake Bay alumnus. With JJ being on mom-duty, Emily had a friend to go out with after she returned to the team, and they seemed to have plethora of things to talk about and relate to. He often heard them discussing their love of Kilgore Trout or favorite traveling destination.

Penelope was ecstatic to have another affectionate and loving member on the team. Y/N spent a lot of time with Garcia on deciding cases and it was evident how much they cherished each other. Y/N often brought in colorful collectibles and helped Penelope arrange them in her office.

Rossi respected Y/N’s focused yet good-natured character. They shared stories of their time in the military, which they rarely disclosed with the other members. He thought of Y/N as a daughter and took pleasure in sharing his knowledge of cars and whiskey.

JJ treated Y/N like a sister. It was obvious how similar they were. Both attentive and considerate with remarkable people skills. Y/N also became JJ’s go-to babysitter as JJ full heartedly trusted her with kids, which was a huge compliment coming from JJ.

Derek enjoyed Y/N’s company, who had a surprising knowledge of football, and would often make fun bets on what team would win the next game. He would also come to you for solid advice when he needed someone to level with him.

Not to mention, everyone was thrilled to go home at least an hour earlier normal, thanks to your fast but thorough write-ups you continued to do every day on behalf of the team.

For Spencer, you were a whole new world. He not only appreciated you as a hardworking member but as a new best friend.

You never interrupted him and seemed genuinely invested in whatever he said. Whether it was a new book he was reading or a new foreign film that came out. You truly made him feel heard and cared for. After he told you about Maeve, it felt like something was taken off his shoulder. Like you knew his pain and rather than only feeling sorry for him, they shared it together.

He also truly admired your ability to talk to people. Whether it was a serial killer who was holding a gun to someone’s head or a sobbing parent who had just lost a child or even an abrasive detective they had to work with, you just knew exactly what to say.

Spencer couldn’t place a flaw in you. The way you smiled, talked, listened, walked, ate, slept, heck everything, seemed so perfect to him.

When Blake came to his apartment to say her farewell, he was devastated. Another person was walking out of his life. But for the first time, he didn’t wallow up in his apartment by himself, blaming his eidetic memory for repeating all their conversations in his head or contemplating then shutting down his mental debate on taking dilaudid.

He didn’t hesitate to dial your number, and you appeared in front of his door in a matter of minutes. You had the ability to listen to his problems and somehow make them go away, or at least make him feel better.

While he always appreciated it, it bothered Spencer after a while how you never came to him when you wanted to feel better. You managed to carry all that weight without yourself ever breaking.

But he realized that it wasn’t anything personal. You just never showed much emotions to anyone, except for happy ones.

Spencer remembered when Derek asked you one day,

“How come you never come to us when you’re feeling down? There’s no way you’re always a ray of sunshine. Even baby girl has her emotional breakdowns.”

You had quickly brushed it off and said, “I’d rather make people smile than worry or cry.”

And it was the end of that.

Spencer often thought about this. Derek made a very good point. You were human after all.

But he knew that there was something much darker in you.

While you didn’t voice your emotions, your eyes told a different story.

When you were interrogating unsubs, your eyes became cold but your words remained calm and almost soothing, as if you were luring them out their lies to know their true intentions. When you were talking to victims or victims’ families, your eyes showed sympathy and it comforted whoever you were consoling when explaining that the unit was doing our best. And when you were talking to the ones you loved and cared about, you allowed your eyes to relax but there was a twinkle that he couldn’t keep his own eyes off of.

He hoped that you would open up to him, like he had to you.

But, it wasn’t too long until his wish was answered and he witnessed something that changed everything.

Y/N’s POV

You were exhausted.

It wasn’t the workload or rigor your job came with.

It was the emotional tole. You learned how to compartmentalize your feelings well from losing the ones you loved from experience.

But this job was different from talking to soldiers or serial killers. You were talking to normal people. You had unconsciously put your guard down and the emotions hit you little by little.

Every day, you walked in to deciding which cases to solve and you walked out hoping it was the right one to choose. The extra work you were doing actually helped keep your mind out of all the feelings and reality and helped focus your energy on something tangible.

You weren’t sure what came over you that day, but you had been on edge the whole jet ride back from a case. When everyone arrived back to the office, it wasn’t just you who was drained.

“Everyone go home early and get some ready. You deserve it. But report back tomorrow at 9 to finish your statements,” stated Hotch.

“I think I’ll stay back. Finish some of the paperwork,” you stated with a weak smile.

Hotch looked at you reluctantly.

“Are you sure? Everyone’s worn out. It’s okay to go,” Hotch said.

“It must be all the coffee,” you joked lamely, hoping Hotch took the excuse.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice as it was quite normal for you to stay late.

“Alright. Well, everyone thank Y/N on the way out and report back tomorrow at 10,” Hotch said as patted you on the back as he exited.

“Thanks for the extra hour of sleep,” Rossi stated as he walked towards the elevator.

“You’re an actual lifesaver,” Morgan commented.

As everyone said their respective greetings and left, you quickly ran up to JJ.

“Hey, JJ. Can I ask you a favor?” you asked.

“Of course! I owe you anyways,” JJ said.

“Do you mind if you give Spencer a ride home? Usually I take him, but I don’t want him to wait for me and he seems pretty tired,” you stated.

While you truly loved the arrangement you had with Spencer, you needed some space right now.

“Sounds like a plan. Just tell him I’ll be waiting in the car,” JJ said as she grabbed her belonging.

You thanked her and gave her a quick hug.

You turned and found Spencer already reading a book by his desk. Even though you thought Spencer always looked handsome, you had to admit that he did look tired.

“Hey, Spence. I think I’m going to stay a little late today.”

“Yeah, I heard you telling Hotch. I don’t mind waiting,” he said.

It must have been the pent up emotions you had been suppressing as you could feel your eyes slightly tearing up. You quickly forced them away, praying Spencer didn’t catch on. No matter how many times Spencer displayed his kindness and patience, you always appreciated his small acts of compassion.

“No, no. You must be exhausted. I asked JJ to take you home, and she’s waiting in her car for you. Seriously, get some rest,” you reassured Spencer.

After a bit of reluctancy, Spencer replied,

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t keep JJ waiting for too long. Thanks, Y/N. Don’t stay too late.”

You simply nodded and you watched Spencer walk away while looking back.

You waved, indicating that it was okay to leave.

After he finally left, it was just you, all alone. You turned off the lights in the pit, making it pitch dark, and walked into your office.

Closing your door and only turning on the light on your desk, you went to the corner of the room and sank down as you burst into tears.

It wasn’t the first time you had a breakdown. But it was always behind closed door. In the bathtub in your house. In the comfort of your bed. At the safety of your house. But today, you couldn’t hold it until you went home.

As you wept, you hoped the tears you released would somehow erase the remorse you felt. You sobbed without anything holding you back until you felt a looming presence over your crouched figure.

“Oh my gosh, Spencer. You startled me, I didn’t notice you were here,” you quickly said as you tried to wipe away the evidence of your momentary vulnerability. You didn’t need a mirror to know that it was an unsuccessful attempt.

“Sorry, I saw the light in your office and thought you’d be in here.”

“Did you forget something?” you asked, puzzled by his unexpected return.

“No, I just didn’t want you to be all alone so I told JJ that she could just go home,” Spencer said softly.

He continued, “I also saw you were a bit uneasy earlier.”

So Spencer hadnoticed.

“In fact, it seemed like you were stressed the whole day. Are you okay?” he asked.

You weren’t sure if it was the display of Spencer’s empathy again or the fact that he recognized something was bothering you when you were able to hide it from a group of profilers, but you felt the tears reappearing again and you didn’t want to hold back.

You broke into sobs for the second time that day and slowly slid back into the position you were originally in.

Spencer didn’t hesitate to join you as he sat and put a tight protective arm around you while he just let you cry.

“Am I making the right decisions? Who am I to choose who dies or lives? What if….” you trailed as you muffled all your worries into his chest.

For the first in a long time, you felt safe in the arms of someone else. You didn’t have to, or heck, want to hide yourself anymore. When Spencer held your hand, you knew.

You looked up to see the most understanding eyes, and you knew right then and there that you had found your person.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 12

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

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 15, 1996 9:06am

To: [email protected]

Subject: This weekend

Hey,

It was good to run into you yesterday. Your sister seems nice. Is she older or younger? I remember you said you had three siblings; where do you fall in there?

Let me know if you can come by this weekend. Priscilla promises to provide a better beverage selection this time. She was unimpressed with my hosting abilities.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 15, 1996 10:23am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:This weekend

Hi,

I was surprised to see you in Georgetown again, what brought you by? Not your drug dealer again, I presume (disclaimer to anyone reading this that it’s a joke). I’m the third of four; Missy is two years older than me. Our oldest brother is Bill and little brother is Charlie. Do you have other siblings, aside from the sister you told me about?

As for this weekend, I’m free in the evening on Saturday. I had the thought, though, that it’s perhaps not appropriate for us to be spending time alone at your apartment. Not that I think you have or would behave inappropriately in any way, just for propriety’s sake. Sorry if that seems old fashioned. Maybe we can get dinner? Send my regrets to Priscilla.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 15, 1996 4:45pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:This weekend

Given the later half of your email, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to admit that I went by that coffee shop hoping to see you there again. So let’s just say it was indeed to pay a visit to my dealer.

Nope, Samantha was my only sibling. Mom and Dad divorced after she disappeared. It was far from a Hallmark movie, but I turned out okay (I think).

Scully, if you don’t trust yourself around me behind closed doors, all you have to do is say so. Jokes aside, I can respect that. I actually have an idea of something we could do that is very public and not at all inappropriate. Will you trust me if I tell you it’s a surprise?

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 16, 1996 9:36am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:This weekend

I go by that coffee shop most Sundays, sometimes with my sister or mom, sometimes alone. I’m not sure what your dealer’s typical hours of operation are, but I tend to be there around noon. For future reference.

I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I would say you turned out pretty well, but then again I hardly know you.

I will trust you with a mystery public outing so long as you let me know what to dress for and also if there will be food involved. Something you should know about me; if you don’t feed me I turn into a Gremlin.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 17, 1996 8:56am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

Hey, sorry I never got back to you yesterday. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say that criminal profilers are not immune to workplace drama.

As luck would have it, my dealer runs a blue light special at 11:30 am on Sundays, so I tend to be in the neighborhood around that time. A stunning coincidence.

I think you know me better than the vast majority of the people I interact with at this point, save for a select few. I’m not sure if that speaks as much to the fact that I like hanging out with you as it does to the fact that I don’t have many friends. My spooky reputation tends to scare people off, but I’m not exactly crying in my cornflakes over it.

I wouldn’t want you to turn into a Gremlin on me, so refreshments will be provided. Wear something you can move in, definitely not a dress or heels (it pains me to say this). Can I pick you up at 5:00?

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 17,1996 2:31pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

Workplace drama knows no bounds. I’ve been getting the silent treatment from one of the other pathologists because I questioned whether they’d calibrated the scale before weighing internal organs.

I think you’re overestimating how well I know you, Mulder. I know next to nothing about you, outside your interest in the paranormal and a bit about your childhood.

I’m resisting the urge to ask what you have planned. Why don’t we meet somewhere? If you’re taking me UFO sighting...we better see a UFO is all I’m saying.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 18, 1996 9:10am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:The weekend

I want to make a comment on the fact that weighing internal organs is part of your job description, but I spent an hour today debating whether someone sticking pencils in their victim’s eyes is some kind of Freudian penis envy thing.

You know more about me than you think, Scully. You know I’m a cat person, and that I have terrible taste in beer. Also that I like Radiohead and am not beneath asking a woman out while she’s trying to do her job. I’ll offer you a bonus fact, or more accurately a confession: I didn’t really need to come down to Quantico last week when we had coffee. I just wanted to get coffee with you. Don’t tell my boss.

Now you have to tell me something about yourself. It’s only fair.

If there were any good places to spot UFOs around here, I’d take you in a heartbeat. If you’re ever up for a road trip out west, let me know. Washington State is a hotbed of UFO activity. Plus they have really good coffee.

Can you meet me at the Hoover building? I’ll drive us from there.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 18, 1996 1:19pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

So what was the verdict on the pencil/penis eyeball situation? Fruedian or no?

I’m touched that you’d go so far as insubordination to have coffee with me, however I hope you won’t make a habit of it. Next time you come down here I’ll have to email your boss and ask him if you got permission to come out and play.

Something about me...I like to read a lot. I think I’d say Jane Eyre is my favorite book of all time (not that you asked). I’m also addicted to bubble baths. Actually, reading Jane Eyre IN a bubble bath is pretty much my idea of heaven (ideally with a glass of wine).

I’ve been to Seattle once. Too much rain, though it was very green and pretty. Isn’t that where Bigfoot lives?

I’ll meet you at the Hoover building on Saturday at 5, wearing my very best ball gown and stiletto heels.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 19, 1996 8:13am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

No verdict will be reached unless and until we catch the guy and have occasion to ask him if he was using his pencils as...pencils. Profiles are all theory, which can be both interesting and frustrating.

I wouldn’t advise you to contact my AD, he’s kind of a dick. I’ll ask him to write a note excusing me from work next time.

Jane Eyre? I wouldn’t have expected that from you. It’s a very romantic book, and entirely centered around two people who never should have worked as a couple coming together despite numerous obstacles. Is that something you’re into?

You get 95 points for knowing that Bigfoot lives in Washington (you lost 5 for calling him Bigfoot; he’s known as Sasquatch out there). My dream vacation is lurking around the forests of the Pacific Northwest, Squatchin’.

It’s a date.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 19, 1996 3:46pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

Don’t ruin my favorite book by overanalyzing it, Mulder. If you’d like to trash Wuthering Heights, be my guest. I pledge my allegiance to Charlotte.

Your dream vacation sounds like it might end in death from exposure, or perhaps a good old fashioned bear mauling, but who am I to tell you how to spend your paid leave?

See you tomorrow, at 5. And it’s not a date.

From: [email protected]

Sent: July 19, 1996 6:55pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:This weekend

I would always rather be happy than dignified.

(A little Charlotte to arrive to on Monday)

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

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ninbayphua · 3 years

Text

八三夭《盗墓笔记》官方主题曲《所信非神》 That In Which I Believe In Is Not God - ENG SUBS

So this is the first time I've actually properly translated and subtitled a song 😂 I tried to keep to the original wording as much as I could but there are few places where it's kinda vague or where the wording is just too awkward so I went with meaning or my own interpretation of the lyrics instead. 👀

List of Interpretations

1. 与宿命论个主臣 in a word for word translation would be "debating with Fate who is the master and who is the servant" which basically means they're fighting over superiority.

2. 当自己不死之身 is a really interesting one because 当 has 2 different meanings depending on which intonation is being used and this isn't always clear in songs cuz intonations get kinda murky in singing. Anyways, 'dāng' means to pretend whereas 'dàng' means to pawn. Since I interpreted this song as both from Wu Xie's and Xiao Ge's POV I decided to include both potential interpretation in my subtitling. So it can either mean "pawning my immortality" in Xiao Ge's POV or "pretending I have an immortal body" in Wu Xie's case.

Song Overview (Wu Xie's & Xiao Ge's POV):

Ok I read the song as being from BOTH Wu Xie's and Xiao Ge's POV instead of just one but that's my personal interpretation @thosch3i covered most of Wu Xie's POV and my own interpretation of the lyrics are pretty similar so I'll elaborate from there. This is how the song goes for me:

I give you a look with lost innocence of days past and gone that's tucked away in forgetfulness. (This is without question Wu Xie speaking because of the play on words - Tian Zhen)

Let the sound of raindrops gloss over the unsolved questions, let the sharpest blade be sealed away for safekeeping in this instant when life is at its most peaceful (OK, this could be either Wu Xie or Xiao Ge speaking to the other because both of them have a lot of unsolved questions: Wu Xie still doesn't know what happened to his San Shu and Xiao Ge is still looking for answers to his past. Both Xiao Ge and Wu Xie have been referred to as the sharpest blade of the Nine Gates. In Wu Xie's case, it's when he lost his innocence and became 邪帝 in the Sha Hai era. Xiao Ge was shaped to be a weapon ever since he was a baby stolen from his mother so it goes without saying he is the sharpest blade of the Nine Gates. (There's a saying that Wu Xie ended up becoming like Xiao Ge and Li Cu becoming like Wu Xie during his Tian Zhen era which I think is a pretty accurate reading but a discussion for another time.) Basically, regardless of which of them that's speaking they're telling the other to let go of all the questions tormenting them and sealing away the past and the way they've been conditioned to become a weapon for the Nine Gates and just live peacefully in Rain Village from now on - I'm assuming this is post Sha Hai.

My death, my life, it's not up to the ghosts and gods to intervene (Honestly, this can be either Wu Xie or Xiao Ge depending. Both are very stubborn and don't believe in leaving things up to fate.)

a wait of ten years, I've long since stopped smiling, stopped crying, stopped feeling pain, challenging fate to see who is superior (This could be Xiao Ge but I read it as more Wu Xie because of Qin Hao's line in Sha Hai when Hei Ye said "I still feel a bit of pain from time to time" and Wu Xie just straight up said "I've stopped feeling pain a long time ago".)

Pawning my immortality / Pretending I have an immortal body, to leave for you a gateway of life, this life was not in vain. (This is probably my favourite line of the song because is so freakin beautifully written? The reason there's an either or translation for the line I've explained above so we're just gonna do meta here. OK so in Xiao Ge's POV he went to guard the Bronze Gates in Wu Xie's stead to protect him so he could live a happy life. Essentially he is exchanging his immortality for Wu Xie's life because it was initially Wu Xie's fate to guard the Bronze Gates and he'd probably die in the process. Xiao Ge's immortality for Wu Xie having a life of happiness and innocence is worth it to him. He is using his immortality in exchange for a way for Wu Xie to live by going behind those gates. Remember that line: 用我一生换你十年天真无邪 my life in exchange for ten years of your innocence? That's basically what I think they're referring to. The reversed applies. It's Xiao Ge's responsibility to keep the Wang clan in check. Since Xiao Ge sacrificed himself so Wu Xie could live the life he wanted, Wu Xie decided to do the same for Xiao Ge by getting rid of the Wangs completely so Xiao Ge could be free to live the life he wanted when he exited the gates. Wu Xie wasn't trained like Xiao Ge nor did he have an immortal body like the Zhangs or had their self healing and magical qilin blood but he will pretend that he has all of those and take on the Wangs , wiping them out to give Xiao Ge a way out of being used by the Nine Gates again when he exits the gates, giving him a chance to live the life he wants. Even if he knows he could potentially die doing this, it's still worth it to him. Remember that line after Xiao Ge's: 只愿尽我一世无邪换你百载浅笑无忧 emptying all of my entire life's innocence in exchange for a hundred years of your easy smiles and lack of worries? That's what I think the song is referring to.)

Not even for a day in my entire life have I ever believed in ghosts or gods, but I spent ten years believing in one person. Even if the world is too cold, there is still your lingering warmth in my heart, I'll still rush into the journey, no matter how unfathomable the wasteland or perilous the path, never questioning whether it's fortune or calamity. Honestly, in my entire life, I've never believed in gods, only believed in them. (This can be both Xiao Ge and Wu Xie because the only person Xiao Ge believes in is Wu Xie - and Pang Zi. Vice versa, the only person Wu Xie believes in is Xiao Ge - and Pang Zi. None of them believe in fate or ghosts or gods but they believe in each other and only each other. Wu Xie is Xiao Ge's only connection in the world - thus the lingering warmth in my hear bit - and I'm pretty sure Xiao Ge also holds a special spot in Wu Xie's heart during the Sha Hai era when he becomes a hardened man. We see that flash of Tian Zhen softness when he's talking to Li Cu about Xiao Ge and Pang Zi. He even admits at the time that he has an obsession: to pick up Xiao Ge when he exits the Bronze Gates and take him home. Also, PingXie is constantly rushing head first into danger for one another? Even Pang Zi made a comment on this in Ultimate Note after the sword gifting ceremony that when Xiao Ge lost his memories, Wu Xie accompanies him on his journey and helps him look for his lost memories; when Wu Xie is in danger or gets into trouble in his obsessive search for answers and his San Shu, Xiao Ge comes to his rescue. Even in Reunion, Xiao Ge says he'll follow Wu Xie on his journey to Thunder City in search of answers and his San Shu. Neither of them ever question whether it is fortune or calamity that will befall them on these journeys. They'll go through hell fire and high waters for each other regardless of consequences.)

Exchanging gazes, in it are new sprouts of innocence, all old hatred tossed and tucked away in forgetfulness. (Xiao Ge talking about Wu Xie - post Sha Hai, now that Xiao Ge is back and Wu Xie isn't emo anymore, we see a bit of his Tian Zhen coming back, Xiao Ge can probably see it too. The edges aren't gone but there are now some softness growing back. There are new sprouts of innocence in Wu Xie's eyes again.)

But there are still spirits to drink together, and extra cigarettes enough to share, if there's us and the rest of our lives, then it is the greatest of good dreams. That in which I believe in is not a god. Entrusting my life and soul to you with a smile on the wretched battlefield, even the gods of death themselves must submit under the sword, the world has too many uncertainties, only this is the sole surety. But even the sharpest blade is also mere flesh and blood, I wish to give him affection and to let him rest and recuperate. (This can be either Wu Xie or Xiao Ge referring to their retired life in Rain Village that having just us - the iron triangle - as well as the rest of our lives then it's the best dream come true they could wish for. Also, Wu Xie and Xiao Ge's only belief is in each other but neither sees the other as a god. Wu Xie is unarguably human and Wu Xie sees Xiao Ge as human instead of a weapon or a god so it works both ways. Both Wu Xie and Xiao Ge are considered to be the sharpest blades of the Nine Gates with a tendency to go against fate and death. In Xiao Ge's case even death must bow its head under his sword and abide by his rule whereas in Wu Xie's case he himself is the sword so to speak and that he has defied death so many times as well as planned the death of the Wangs that in a way, death is under his control and has to do this bidding. I think it's also referring to the saying 麒麟一笑，阎王绕道；天真一笑，麒麟开道 when the qilin - a.k.a Xiao Ge - smiles even the lord of the underworld will make a detour to avoid his path; a smile of innocence - when Tian Zhen a.k.a Wu Xie smiles - the qilin clears the way. Not sure if this was in the original books or if it's just a comment made by fans online or by NPSS during interviews but it's pretty legit interpretation in my opinion. PingXie is each other's only constant in a world of uncertainties and they see the other as a human, not a god or weapon/blade to be used for the Nine Gates. I think after Sha Hai when Xiao Ge exits the Bronze Gates both are so wounded and scarred that they want to do is to give the other affection and for them to rest and recuperate from what they've suffered in those 10 years and more.)

Even a lifetime as a god, there can also be a moment, a minute of being an ordinary human. (Wu Xie referring to Xiao Ge that even though he has lived as a god for his entire life, there are still brief moments where he too can be an ordinary human. Xiao Ge is just an ordinary human, just like Wu Xie and Pang Zi.)

Anyways, sorry about the long post but that's about it I think. I'll add on if I ever think about anything in the future. Hope this post was helpful 😂

#盗墓笔记 grave robbers' chronicles #瓶邪 pingxie #张起灵 zhang qi ling #吴邪 wu xie #ninbayphua 墨彦 #song lyrics translation and subtitling #meta

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prncesselene · 3 years

Note

Kathony Prompt: Just because Anthony mentions several times in the books about wanting to tie Kate to their bed 👀 What about the first time time that happens?

+ this prompt: “Anthony confesses to Kate about his dreams of her but he doesn’t know she had a fantasy of her own about him. Or maybe more than one”

(proceed at your own risk/caution/ETC.)

read on ao3

It had started as a joke.

At least — that’s what Kate thought it had started as.

The first time had been on their wedding night. In his determination to assuage her insecurities, he’d made a stark, throwaway comment about forcing her to understand the way he saw her. To his credit, it had worked.

Then, it was something to say whenever they bickered; a way for Anthony to exert his masculinity and puff out his chest while they debated the minutiae of something inconsequential. If she continued to misbehave, or argue, or quarrel, he’d simply tie her to the bed and show her her place.

She indulged him in this show of pride not because she agreed, necessarily, but because… well, because a large part of her wanted him to.

It didn’t make any sense, but each time he threatened her with images of her tied up on their bed, her body willing and pliant as he exercised his authority over her... she could not deny to herself the way it lit a fire that crackled in her spine, or the way it resulted in moisture that pooled between her legs.

Her patience had grown too thin to ignore one night when he'd made the comment again, after she'd spent too much time in the kitchens that day with staff whilst preparing for a ball.

"You make it far too difficult to find you throughout the day," he murmured once he'd caught her, his arms wrapped around her thin dressing gown. "It's enough to make me want to tie you to the bed, keep you here for days. Do you know what it—"

"Why don't you, then?"

Kate was not of the disposition to act coy; he'd teased her with these new, wanton fantasies enough, and it was about time he followed through with them. Already, she felt herself growing warm when his arms tightened against her, his voice low and thrilling and deliciously dangerous. "What?"

She smiled to herself before turning around, masking her amusement under a stern glare. "Your threats are empty ones, constantly. Do you plan to tie me to the bed or not? "

It was a delight to notice the tension with which he swallowed, as well as the hunger that lit up his eyes. "Kate," he warned. "You would do well to mind your words..."

She shrugged. "Why? It's not as if you've given me a reason to believe you'd ever actually do such a thing."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Do you accept it?"

Anthony eyed the bed, then looked back at her, his expression quickly growing earnest. "Are you— Do you really want to...?"

Something hot and exciting unfurled in Kate's belly, the anticipation growing stronger now that he was taking her seriously. "Yes."

He turned quickly, rummaging through their cabinets, presumably to find something that they would be able to use. In the meantime, she rid herself of her dressing gown and waited.

Her fantasies had cleverly excluded these moments of quiet preparation, the mundane act of waiting while they prepared to enact this strange idea, but that almost made it even better — this wasn’t a fantasy. It was just her and Anthony.

She didn’t need anything else.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice thick with want. The words were spoken in a tone so authoritative that Kate had no choice but to comply.

Anthony liked to believe himself the rogue, but Kate knew well enough how honorable and kind he was at heart. And yet, it was thrilling to enjoy this version of him in such a new context, as opposed to stepping on his boots in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, and all that.

Anthony gestured at her arms and she raised them up over her head, watching with thinly veiled lust while he tied them to one of the bed posts. He was breathing heavily, too, although he tried to hide it. Kate tested the strength of the cravat by tugging gently, smiling when it didn't budge. She was well and truly trapped, now.

He stepped back to appreciate his craftsmanship, his brows furrowing when he ran his eyes over the rest of her form.

"Is there something wrong, my lord?" Kate said, testing the use of his title. It was odd, to be sure, but part of what made this so thrilling was the sense of power he held over her. Using his title to address him while she was quite literally at his mercy made it feel more... real, in a sense. Dangerous, powerful.

It certainly added to the pleasure she was experiencing.

His, too, if his slack-jawed expression was any indication. He cleared his throat, running his hands over her stomach, her thighs. The slow pulsing between her legs was only growing stronger the more he teased her, but something told Kate that if she protested he'd only punish her further, so she tried to stay silent.

She closed her eyes when he finally had the sense to kiss her, desperate to throw her arms around him. Instead, she was forced to sit back while he lathered his attentions on her jaw, her clavicle, her breasts. He continued his way downward until she was practically mewling above him, his movements both too much and far, far too little.

"Kate," he sighed against her, his breaths growing ragged. "My love... you truly have no idea, the amount of times I've thought of you... just like this. Even before..."

It was almost difficult to hear him, so much had he crowded her other senses, but there was at least some small part of her that remained capable of rational thought. "Before?"

"When you loathed me," he admitted, reaching up to kiss her again. "And I you, to be fair. I could not stand the sight of you, and yet... the thought of you kept me up at night. Far more than my pride would allow me to admit."

Kate bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. Yes, upon meeting Anthony, he'd driven her mad, but she would be a liar if she pretended he hadn't had the very same effect on her.

If he knew what she thought...

"Do you think I did not dream of you too?" she asked, her breath heavy.

“You did?”

Kate nodded. "So much so that I thought I was going mad."

Anthony nearly froze. His gaze when he met her eyes was predatory. "What kind of dreams?"

"I..." Kate tried her best to form a coherent sentence. He was running an absent hand over her thighs while he watched her try. "I thought of us... you... what we do now."

"You thought of it then?"

She nodded slowly, her heart beating furiously in her chest. "Many times."

He swallowed. His pupils were blown wide with desire, so much so that they looked entirely black. "And what exactly did we do, in these illicit dreams of yours?"

"We..." Kate sighed, catching her breath. They were doing almost nothing at this point, and yet the flames inside of her felt as though they would rip her apart, incinerating her from within. The hand that had been running absently across her thighs noticed the way she squirmed and resumed its teasing, albeit even slower.

"Tell me," he said. "Or I'll stop right here. Tell me what you saw."

"You were kissing me," she sighed, ready to yank the cravat off of the bedpost and force him on her. But she didn't. "You— you ripped my dress off in the library and... kissed me. Everywhere."

"Including here?" he gently nudged her legs open when she nodded. He licked his lips as soon as he did so, a movement that was not lost on Kate. For a second she thought he was going to do the very thing she'd just told him, but he stopped just before his mouth could reach.

She could kill him. She should.

"What did you do, when these dreams woke you? Fall back asleep?"

Kate swallowed, her cheeks growing impossibly hotter.

No, she had not been able to fall back asleep when those dreams had afflicted her. Not until she had... rectified the issue.

She had been so unknowledgeable then, and yet it was as though her body had known.

"No," she said, desperate to regain mobility in her arms. "I had to... well, you know..."

He chuckled. "I don't think I do. Use your words, my love."

She was growing wetter by the second. She could feel it, and she knew that he knew it, too. He could probably see it. "Anthony, please..."

"Did you do this?" he said, his fingers finding the sensitive space between her thighs. Kate almost hissed when she finally felt the contact, the pleasure made only more intense by the torturous wait. He made slow, decadent circles around her, the pent up energy bringing her close to her release incredibly quickly, the pressure building exponentially in her spine before he—

Stopped. His fingers stopped moving.

Kate nearly growled, her chest heaving. “Anthony. Wh— why did you…”

She was absolutely going to kill him.

“Is that what you did? All alone in your bedchamber, thinking of me?”

“Yes,” she forced herself to say.

He smiled. “Good.”

The word sent shivers up her spine, the tiny bit of praise nearly enough to send her over the edge. She could have cried with relief when Anthony added to it by pressing his mouth the heat between her legs, ending her torture.

He had a habit of kissing her there often, quite passionately, and Kate never managed to grow tired of it — not the way he did it, as though it were a gift she were bestowing on him.

Maybe she wouldn’t need to murder her husband, after all.

Without the ability to move her arms, Kate was lost to the feeling of Anthony’s lips and tongue, unable to focus on anything other than the desire that coiled deep within her and threatened to burst. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, bared for him — it might have been minutes, and it might have been days.

All Kate knew was that the moment she fell apart against him it was as though stars had erupted in her vision, turning everything white and fuzzy. She was so overcome by her euphoria that she hadn’t even noticed when Anthony untied the restraints and pulled her close to him on the bed.

“Anthony,” she said, as soon as she regained her lucidity. “That was…”

“I know,” he chuckled, kissing the nape of her neck. “You did very well.”

Again, with the praise. Why did it have such an effect on her? It was nearly enough to rouse her body once more, much sooner than usual.

“And you… you don’t need—?”

“As long as you’re satisfied, I am, too,” he murmured. “For now.”

Kate chuckled and sighed happily. She was certainly satisfied.

The truth was, it had felt good to submit to him. To know that it wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly. To know that she could trust him with her body, and that in turn he trusted her with his.

That was what love was, wasn’t it? Giving yourself to someone, wholly and without restrictions. That's what she had done tonight — and it wasn’t illicit, or wrong.

It was freeing.

“Anthony?”

“Hm?”

“Promise me something.”

He kissed her again, just above her shoulder. “Anything.”

“Next time, it’s my turn to tie you to the bed, and have my wicked way with you. I believe I have a very pretty lace ribbon I can use…”

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #kate x anthony #kathony #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #delaniewrites #i think i am the ceo of unreciprocated oral at this point lol #stay tuned for when anthony finally gets his bj #i should write that.....#maybe i will #oh god pls do not perceive #ANYWAYS

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all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Between the Stars [Pt. 4]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N: This Chapter is a Bucky chapter. Each chapter is a month since steve has been gone as a reminder. Let’s not judge Steve harshly after we learn some truths, okay? He can’t defend himself! As always for this series, flashback are italicized. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. Remember not to judge everyone too harshly till all the secrets come out. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

The days continued on in a way that left Bucky hoping the next would be over quicker than the last and following would be gone just as fast. He had hoped with each passing day, things would become more natural. They hadn’t, for the most part anyway. Some things seemed easier, like running to the store, going for runs, and fixing the shocks on Steve’s truck, so it didn’t have that ridiculous bounce anymore. Then there were days when he picked up the phone without thinking, dialed the number he’s had memorized nearly his whole life, only to hear Steve tell him he can’t come to the phone right now.

He left a few voicemails, but the inbox quickly filled up. Bucky assumed he wasn’t the only one leaving him messages. After long stretches without hearing Steve’s voice, it felt like one day he would get the chance to listen to them.

Bucky spent the last month trying to figure out what Steve expected of him, what the hell he was supposed to do with those damn letters, and whether or not he should be upfront with Y/n about having them. It wasn’t fair of Steve to put this on him, but it wasn’t fair that he was in love with Steve’s wife. Maybe he deserved this. Perhaps this is his punishment for betraying Steve while he was alive.

Or it was his punishment for living when Steve was the one who deserved to come home.

It was hard to celebrate being home when Bucky didn’t think he earned the right to be. Steve and Bucky had always been two halves of the same coin, polished side, and the tarnished. The dark and the light, and it wasn’t right that only one half survived -- the wrong half. That was the biggest reason Bucky avoided going home. Winnifred was so excited to have him back for good, she fawned over, and Rebecca talked about the future non-stop. She posted all over Insa-whatever and Bucky didn’t have it in him to tell them that he was the furthest thing from happy to be home. They would attempt to assure him none of what he thought was right, and Steve loved him, that Steve would feel the same if things were reserved.

Bucky knew better.

Facing his mom while Rebecca was at school would be easier, or he was hoping it would be bearable at least.

"I can't stay long. I gotta pick up Sam,” Bucky said as he returned Winnifred’s kiss to her cheek and let her smother him in a few more, hands rubbing his arms and running over his chest to convince herself, he was solid and sure in front of her. Once she was satisfied, he allowed her to nudge him into a chair at the kitchen table and make him toast with some of her plum jam; it had been a favorite of his as a kid.

Okay, adult Bucky liked it, too.

"You didn't have to come, sweetheart,” Winnifred’s soft voice was gentler than usual as she set the plate in front of him, two slices with more than an acceptable amount of scarlet tinted spread on each. He stared at it, and his stomach twisted with something he was coming to recognize easily: regret.

Steve didn’t even eat plum jam. Why did his guilt have to surface at the worst damn time?

"I know that, but I've been staying with Y/n, and I didn't want you to worry. I promise I'll come by more. She's just-- I need to be there with her."

In the rarest of truths, Bucky was hurting to be away from her right now, and they’ve only been apart an hour. Thankfully, Natasha stopped by to visit early this morning, so Bucky knew she was in good hands, and she was doing better these last few weeks. Y/n slept in his room most nights. They didn’t touch, and Bucky always stayed on top of the blanket, but she hasn’t woken up in tears since that first morning. Bucky never brought it up when he finally made an appearance that morning. That wasn’t what she needed. She didn’t need him to shed light on the things she wanted to keep hidden. Bucky knew why she cried that morning and knew what it meant for her to work through it on her own, so he wasn’t about to force her to admit all of that out loud. Just like he knew the reason she liked sleeping with him was for the warmth. It felt like she wasn’t alone.

It had nothing to do with who was thawing the cold, only that it wasn’t still there when she woke.

Nearly every night, they made dinner together, and she usually picked the menu. Which would piss Steve off because most of their fights started with what was for dinner -- Okay, Bucky might find that a little funny. Y/n seemed to be healing, albeit slower than Steve or Bucky would like. Even a bit of her sass was coming back. He caught a few laughs, plenty of smart-ass comments, and several smiles, but the hurt was still there, buried deep in her eyes. Bucky was still working on getting her out of the house. It was rare when she did, and with her career on hold, she was burning through her benefits faster than brush fire in a drought.

"I think you need her a little bit as well."

Bucky shrugged it off but with one raised brow from his mother, and his walls began to crumble.

"You look better than when we saw you last." She cupped his cheek in her hand, and Bucky immediately nuzzled her palm, soaking in the small bit of comfort. "Guilt is still there,” Winnifred murmured thoughtfully. “I'm not sure if it's over losing Steve as much anymore."

Winnifred was good at knowing what Bucky felt before he did, motherly intuition he supposed. He did feel guilt over that failure. Always would. Bucky made a promise to the most important woman in his life, and he let her down. He should have been paying attention, but he wasn't. He was so focused on that damn scarf sticking out of the back of Steve's jacket he didn't see what was coming. He should have been walking in front of him, forgetting his rank and who was leading the mission. Steve had someone waiting on him, and Bucky should have done everything he could to make sure he came home, but Winnifred was right.

That wasn’t the only cause of his guilt.

He was in love with Y/n and never told Steve. Bucky never owned up to that deception, never faced Steve with the truth, and now he was here by her side while Steve didn’t get to be. It was unfair, and it made Bucky sick to his stomach. Even with that weighing heavy on his conscience, but most of all, Bucky’s guilt came from Y/n. Because every time Y/n smiled at him, he prayed for someone, anyone to send him back to that night so he could keep her from ever becoming Steve's.

And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for still wanting her.

“I don’t know what I’m doin’, mama. Steve gave me these letters and…” Bucky sighed and yanked his hat off his head, tossing it on to the table in frustration. He wanted to hate Steve for putting this all on him, for dying and leaving Y/n's heart in his broken, blood-soaked hands, “What the hell am I supposed to do with those, ya know? How could he put that on my shoulders? I-- I don’t know how to help her. I’m no good at this.”

The truth was finally out. He was no good for Y/n.

“You are when it comes to Y/n. Always have been.”

“Mom--”

“You think I can’t see when my own son is in love? I saw it in you the first time you brought her home. Eighteen or not, you were in love, and I don't think you ever stopped loving her, hm?"

Bucky couldn't get the words out. If he said them, it made them real and made his treachery real. Winnifred tugged gently on his arm until his head fell onto her shoulder the way it would when he was a boy, her fingers slipped into his hair, and she could feel the moment the walls fell, and he sank into her comfort.

"Why didn't you ever tell her, baby?"

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, hoping and praying no tears will slip past. He let out a stuttering breath and choked out in heaping breaths, "S-she deserves someone better now and back then. Someone like Steve."

"Did she say that or did you decide that you knew best and she didn't deserve to know? Didn’t deserve to make her own decision?”

The ache Bucky was feeling dulled, the claws on his throat loosened and misery disguised as hope squirmed into his chest as his mother’s words fluttered around in his head.

"I-I...”

Had he done that? Had he taken away her choice by not telling her? They would never get the chance to find out unless someone had invented time travel, and he would never stab Steve in the back when he wasn’t around to pull the knife out.

None of that mattered anymore.

"Maybe. I don't know, but the second Steve kissed her. I knew it was over, mom. She would never pick me over Steve. Everyone knew,” He paused, debating whether to admit what his heart has known for decades now. Winnifred kissed the top of his head, an affectionate nudge to continue, and Bucky blew out a breath, admitting the harsh truth he’s been carrying with him all these years.

“Even Steve knew I didn’t stand a chance next to him.”

“Hey, Trouble.”

Bucky held back his chuckle as he watched Y/n nearly jump out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Once she realized it was merely Bucky, she narrowed her eyes, and he could no longer contain his chuckle. Y/n dug an elbow into his ribs, and he feigned a groan for her sake. Bucky leaned against the railing, resting on his elbows and doing everything he could to keep his eyes focused on the water before him, not exactly where he wanted to look.

He wasn’t sure he could look at her. Not right now. Bucky’s nerves were jumping like a live wire, and he was worried if he saw her pretty eyes staring back at him, he would chicken out.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, soft and unsure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

That was true. Bucky hadn’t meant to. He only wanted a few minutes alone with her.

“It’s okay. I’ve seen one too many horror movies. I feel like Jason is going to come up out of the lake or something,” she said with a shiver and instinctively slid closer to Bucky, letting their arms brush against each other.

Shit, she was adorable when she said things like that. Bucky grinned and leaned his head towards hers with his eyes trained on a piece of driftwood floating nearby. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, “I’ll protect you, Y/n. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

Bucky didn’t know why he said that. That was so utterly stupid. They were friends, and it didn’t matter what he wanted, Y/n never crossed that line or hinted that she wanted him to cross it. He should know better, but then she turned to face him, and the driftwood floating against the black water couldn’t hold his attention a second longer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and watched the way her lip reddened from the friction of her teeth, her eyes were brighter tonight under the moon, and her voice never sounded as sweet.

“Always saving me. How’d I get so lucky to have a friend like you, Buck?”

He felt his heart drop at her words. Okay. It was now or never. He had to say something because he couldn't stand this anymore. Bucky stepped closer to her and set a hand on her hip, pulling her a step closer to him. He could blame it on the cold wind that made her shiver. A gentleman, he was a gentleman. If he had to, he could still get away with claiming it was beer, and it had nothing to do with how much he loved her.

“Y/n…” Bucky licked his lips, and his hand tightened on her hip. “I, uh--”

“Yeah, Buck?” She looked up at him with wide, almost hopeful eyes -- he was probably seeing things.

“I wanted to--”

“Bucky!”

He internally cringed at the sound of Dot’s voice, and his heart clenched at the look of disappointment floating in Y/n’s eyes. Dot linked her arms in his and tugged him back away from Y/n, a flash of hurt flickered across her face, but she quickly hid it.

“Bucky, you promised we would hang out. Remember?” Dot leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “You promised to help me make Smores, show me how to melt everything just right...”

Even though Dot was trying to be considerate of Y/n standing there, it was obvious Y/n heard her lush fueled whispers. Liquor has a way of making everyone a little more brazen, and Dot was no Exception. It wasn’t her fault. It was Buckys. If he would only make his feelings for Y/n clear to her and everyone else, and stop leading other girls on, Dot and the rest of them would know they didn’t stand a chance. They would know any teasing whispers would fall on deaf ears, and all those sultry touches would never bring him to his knees while his heart was tethered to Y/n’s.

Wanda called out for Y/n, and she slipped past them before Bucky’s brain could come up with a reason for her to stay. You could tell her you love her, his brain scolded him. Bucky wasn’t listening to anything his brain had to say tonight. Clearly, because he was letting Dot lace their fingers together and drag him towards the huge bonfire that rested on top of the bank.

The fire was a good ten feet around. It was a tradition at the end of summer; everyone got together at the lake, a cool summer night full of booze, food, and music. Every year was different, sometimes it was over a hundred people, and other times they barely made it to forty. Bucky usually enjoyed himself. It was fun to let loose before the new term started, but things were different this time. He didn’t come to make-out with some pretty girl for the night and maybe make it to second base, he came for Y/n. Now, she was standing across the fire, a good twenty feet away, and there was no way she would believe any confession he gave after Dot’s performance.

Probably thought he would be wrapped around Dot, hands, and lips, which was why she was doing everything she could to avoid looking through the flickering flames towards him. Bucky was so wrapped up in watching Y/n he didn’t notice Dot walking away to grab marshmallows and Steve taking her place next to him.

If she would only look up, give him a sign he could fix it…

“I thought you liked Y/n.” Something in Steve’s voice got his attention, causing Bucky to turn to face the blond. He was nervous. “Why are you all over Dot?”

Was he that obvious? They never talked about it, but Steve knew how Bucky felt. It was an unspoken understanding between the two men that Bucky Barnes was in love with Y/n L/n. That didn’t mean he wanted everyone around them to know, and what did it matter at this point? She would never see him the way she did in his dreams.

“She’s way out of my league Steve.” Bucky’s eyes clouded, and he gave the taller man a charming smirk he usually saved for special occasions, one that would protect his heart from the truth. “I don’t think-- it’s not like that with Y/n. She's my friend. She doesn't see me that way."

Steve was quiet for a long time after that. They both stood in silence, watching Wanda attempting to make Y/n laugh. After giving up, she walked around the flames towards them, and Steve turned to face Bucky once more, gulping before asking. “So… you're okay with me asking her out?”

Bucky swallowed the knot in his throat. How did he not see that coming?

“You-- “ He squeaked, cleared his throat, and tried again with more confidence, “You, uh, you like Y/n?

He watched Steve’s gaze dart across to where Y/n was standing all alone now, looking like she was ready to bolt. Bucky knew that look anywhere. He’s seen it on her more times than he could count, but it usually involved school or facing her parents. Not once has it ever been tied to him, and that was a God awful feeling.

“Yeah,” Steve said with adoration as he gazed at Y/n, never once taking his eyes off her. “ I mean what’s not to like. She’s smart, beautiful, and constantly keeps you in check. She’s amazing.”

Yeah, I know she is. Bucky thought.

“Listen, go for it, pal.” He patted Steve on the shoulder and contrived the best smile he could muster at the moment. “ You guys would be great together. I'm, uh, I can’t stay with one gal longer than a coupla day, right?… Like I said, she's out of my league."

Steve eyed him carefully until Dot appeared back by Bucky’s side, hooking her arm in his and leaning into his side. Only then did Steve nod and left the pair on their own. He couldn’t move or speak. Bucky could only watch. He watched through the flecks of yellow and orange as Steve approached the woman who held his heart. Sam was by his side saying something, Bucky didn’t know what. He couldn’t focus on anything but the way Y/n was laughing at his best friend, and when Steve kissed her, everything in his chest hurt. There was cheering and some whistles, Bucky didn’t have it in him to pretend. Not when everything was falling apart, and his heart was being ripped from his chest.

Right then, Bucky knew whatever chance he had with Y/n was gone. In a matter of seconds, he lost her.

Bucky was running late. Winnifred insisted he finish breakfast and then forced a jar of jam in his hands on the way out the door, which led to the stain on his shirt and the first thing Sam did when Bucky picked him up was make fun of the drooping red stain gracing the breast pocket of his grey button-up shirt. Not the best way to impress someone, Bucky doesn’t have time to change, so he will have to hope his charm can overshadow the state his shirt. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eyes, and Sam was still staring at him from the passenger seat. Bucky cleared his throat and aggressively pushed his sleeves up to his elbows to distract himself from asking Sam what his problem was.

It was that or shoving him out of the truck. Bucky wasn’t sure which would happen if Sam kept watching him -- one or the other that was for sure. The volume on the radio dropped, and Bucky’s stomach went along with it. Not today, was all Bucky could think, please not today. He couldn’t talk about Steve today after the morning he had at his mom’s.

“You ever gonna tell her you love her?”

Bucky frowned at Sam’s question.

Okay, not what he thought, but today wasn’t a good day for this, either.

“Go up to my best friend’s wife while she’s mourning him and say hey I know you’re dealing with a lot, but I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and never said anything. What are your thoughts on that? No, man. I ain’t ever gonna tell her that. There’s no point. It ain’t gonna change anything, and she doesn’t need the added guilt.”

“What would she have to feel guilty about? It’s your guilt you’re worried about, not hers.”

The guilt for that does lie with Bucky, but she would share the burden once she knew the truth, and Bucky wouldn’t add to the pain she was already feeling.

“No, it’s not an option, okay? It stopped being an option the night they kissed. That’s it. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I was there that night if you remember correctly. She and I talked a lot more than you did back then. She was waiting for you to kiss her then you fucked it all up--”

“Stop. Stop. If I had kissed her that night, Steve wouldn’t have. They wouldn’t have dated, never married and--”

“And things might not be as messed up as they are right now.”

Bucky’s mouth snapped shut, and he slammed on the breaks when they got to the end of the long dirt road they’ve been on for twenty minutes or so now. The truck jerked to a halt with the heaviness of Bucky’s foot, and he threw it into park, his voice was deadly quiet when he spoke again, “I don’t wanna talk about this. Ever again. She’s Steve. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not. She’s Steve’s wife, and I’m not crossing that line.”

“Buck, that’s insane. So in five years from now--”

“Just shut up and wait here."

The truck door slammed, and Bucky was walking up the pebble filled dirt drive before any more could be said, and before Sam could ask him what the hell they were at some farmhouse two hours from home. Bucky jogged up the four light green steps of the porch and rapped his knuckles against the darkly stained oak front door. There was music playing that could be heard through an open front window, and Bucky caught a tiny voice yell for their dad. He smirked as the little girl’s voice floating along with the white curtain that was billowing out the window, “It’s some tall, really big guy, daddy.” And then she giggled, “his hair looks weird like it’s trying to be long, but it looks bad.”

He would have to tell Y/n about that later. She would get a kick out of some kid making fun of him growing his hair back out.

Bucky took a deep breath when the front door finally opened, and he straightened his shoulders, trying to remember the man he was before going to war. That guy that could talk just about anyone out of anything; he needed to be that guy again, even though it wouldn’t last beyond these front steps.

“Can I help you?”

I sure hope so, Bucky thought.

“You recently bought a piano from a young woman? Y/n L/n? It was about two months ago.”

The man stepped outside, closing the door behind him, suspicion clear in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. What is this about?”

Bucky slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash thicker than his fist. He shook his head, huffing out a laugh of mixed relief and self-deprecation. Bucky explained why he was darkening the front steps to ease the wary man, “Took me forever to track you down. I, uh, I wanna buy it back.”

The stranger slowly reached their hand out to take the bills, turning them over in his palm and running a thumb over the edges. Nothing smaller than a twenty in the bunch. He wasn’t sure how much was there, but it was far more than he paid for the used instrument. Bucky could see the question in his eyes, and he was quick to assure him the deal was in his favor.

“It’s triple what you paid for it. You can go and buy a new one ten times better than that one with cash leftover.”

The man looked completely bewildered. He tapped the bills against his hands, the glint in his eye said he was ready to hand the money back and send Bucky away. Instead, he asked, “Why don’t you just buy her a new one? It would be cheaper.”

Yeah, Bucky could do that. It would be cheaper, but it wouldn’t have that chip in the back corner where he and Steve banged it on the doorframe moving it into the new house; turned out Y/n had been right, they should have gone through the backdoor. There wouldn’t be 3 keys slightly off in color because they had to be replaced four years ago, and their initials wouldn’t be written on the bottom thanks to one boring afternoon when they were teens.

“It wouldn’t be hers,” Bucky responded with a fond, slightly sad smile. Apprehension was still pouring off the stranger, bucky took a deep breath and steeled himself. He needed this, and more importantly, Y/n needed this.

“Just- please? I can’t explain it. I need to bring this one thing back to her.”

“Still seems like a lot of trouble for one old piano,” The man grumbled, but he still opened the door for Bucky to follow him inside. Bucky gave a quick glance to Sam and gave him a wave that said it was okay to get out of the truck and follow them inside. A sigh left his lips when he saw it, that old black grand piano, knicks and blemishes still shining bright in all their glory right by the front window.

“If you knew the woman it belonged to--” Bucky whispered quietly and ran his hand along the painted maple, the one promise he could actually keep “--you would understand.”

Bucky knew first hand, she was worth this and so much more.

Previous // Next

#past!Steve Rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x you #Bucky x reader #alternate universe #modern AU #tw: loss of spouse #tw: military death #tw:depression

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youare-mysonshine · 4 years

Text

miss independent || oscar diaz

(gif is not mine. credit to owner💗)

Summary: Oscar has feelings for the reader meanwhile the reader has feelings for Mario. Oscar is struggling to accept that.

Requested: yes!

Pairing: Oscar Diaz x reader, Mario Martinez x reader

Warnings: a bit of angst, cursing as per usual.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: to whoever requested this, I hope this is what you wanted. I decided to use Mario because I just felt like he fit perfectly. Obviously this takes place during season 2 and amber isn’t a thing lmao I wrote this way before season 3 came out and I kinda just left it because I got stuck, but I’m back and I figured I’d finish it. It’s not the best but ENJOY! I’m open to doing a second part, I have been doing Oscar dirty and I am sorry lmao

__________

When Y/N and Mario had ended their relationship, there was absolutely no bad blood between them - they had been together for most of high school. They were each other’s first loves. They went through a great deal together. They essentially grew together. They had been together way too long to end on bad terms.

No, the reason that they had ended was because Mario had gone away to college and Y/N had stayed in Freeridge, having decided to take a break from school for about a year or so. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but they both ultimately agreed that they should break up - prior to him leaving for college, they had agreed that long distance would be just fine, that they’d be able to do it, but once he was gone, it was an entirely different story. They barely talked, Mario was busy with meeting knew people, going out with his new friends and focusing on school. It was something Y/N didn’t blame him for, she knew what the deal was when he went away, but still, life was getting in the way and neither of them wanted to make the other feel like they weren’t important.

Their break up had been hard but amicable. And it certainly wasn’t something that someone could just get over in a short amount of time. Neither of them knew if they’d get back together again, but the feelings were still there. Y/N was sure that they’d always be there. A connection with someone like that, it didn’t just go away. It’d stay with you, forever.

It had been a few weeks after their break up that Y/N had gone out to the liquor a few blocks away from her house to buy some snacks - call it comfort food - when a green car had slowed down across the street from her to match her pace. Inside the car, which was blasting music so loud she could almost feel the bass of it reverberate against the sidewalk, were about 4 guys. Prophets, she quickly realized, judging by amount of green they wore.

“Damn ma, what you doin’ out here alone? You lookin’ fine as fuck. Let me get that ass.” Was among one of the many things thrown her way. Being a young woman, it hadn’t been the first time that she had been cat called and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but that fact never stopped it from being creepy and making her uncomfortable, especially when it was coming from the Prophets, one of Freeridge’s known gangs. Especially given that they had been following her in their car, going as fast she was going to keep up with her.

Y/N had sped up her walking but that did nothing because they sped up too, still yelling things at her through the window. Her heart had begun racing and she could feel the cold sweat on her forehead - were they gonna follow her home? The young woman had contemplated just booking it and hoping that they’d lose interest and leave when she heard the rumble of another engine, this time heading in her direction. Up ahead she could see a familiar cherry red impala. She knew who it belonged too. Almost everybody knew who it belonged too.

Oscar had sped up just slightly when he had seen the green car, coming to a stop when he was beside Y/N, effectively blocking her from the view of the Prophet’s. Suddenly, she had gotten just that much more freaked out because she knew, everybody knew, of the tension between the two gangs, the Santos and the Prophets. She didn’t want to find herself in the middle of a shootout when all she had just wanted to do was go home and eat her damn fucking chips.

“The fuck you doin’ on this block? This is Santos territory. You punk asses know you shouldn’t be here.” She had heard Oscar say. “Get the fuck outta here. Now.” He left no room for discussion. That deathly calm, but frightening stare wasn’t something she wanted to be on the receiving end of. Across the street, she could see the Prophets in the car debating his words, contemplating on listening to the Santo and leaving or starting some shit. In the end, they decided on heeding his words and they drove off, not before throwing some comments his way, and her way.

“We’ll be seeing you, Spooky.” “Watch your back.” “We’ll be seeing you too, ma.” None of it phased Oscar, who watched as they disappeared through the side mirror of his car. Suddenly, his dark eyes were on her and she left out a tiny breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding.

“You good?” He asked, nodding his head at her. The y/h/c haired female gave a small nod, clutching at the plastic bag in her hand.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks for that. I didn’t think they were gonna leave me alone.” She admitted, sending a small smile his way. His dark eyes analyzed her for a second, and she began to grow hot under his gaze, feeling the heat creep up her neck, to her cheeks, all the way to the very tops of her ears.

“You’re Mario’s girlfriend, right?” And that sent a painful little jab to her heart, the remembrance that she and Mario were no longer a couple. Clearing her throat, Y/N shook her head.

“Uh, no. No, we broke up after he left for college. Long distance just wasn’t our thing.” She revealed. Oscar gave a slow nod at her words, letting out a little ‘hm’. She had figured the conversation was over at that point so she was about to turn away and carry on her journey home when his deep voice spoke up once more.

“You want a ride?”

Now, Y/N had been familiar with Oscar because of Mario, but they had never actually had a full blown conversation like the one they were just having. They had never been alone together, they had never spent copious amounts of time together. Oscar had gone to prison for a considerable amount of time as well. So, the fact that he had offered to give her a ride was a bit surprising to her, and she had almost declined his offer when the words of that one Prophet replayed in her mind.

“We’ll be seeing you too, ma.”

Were they lurking around a corner somewhere, waiting until she walked away from Oscar? Waiting to follow her again? Now, maybe she was being entirely paranoid but she certainly did not want to take that risk. So, giving Oscar a nod, she walked a few steps forward, pulled open the door and climbed into the passenger seat of his precious car.

That had been the start of an unlikely and very surprising friendship between Y/N and Oscar Diaz.

After that fateful day where he saved her from being harassed by Prophets, they had started hanging out more, they had become quite close. She’d spend more time at his house than her own. They’d drink cheap beer and smoke blunts and just talk about anything and everything. Dumb shit, funny shit, little shit. It was a friendship that Y/N had really grown to cherish. Hell, Oscar had even let her drive his car, and that wasn’t something he let anybody do, not even his brother.

(“You better not fucking crash my car, pendeja.” “Shut the fuck up, I’m not gonna crash shit. Relax, vato.”)

But somewhere along the line, it had changed for Oscar. Having a girl as a friend was something that he was never really used to - he hadn’t anticipated on an actual full blown friendship to form between him and Y/N but he couldn’t say that he regretted it. Y/N looked at him and saw something more than just a cholo, more than just a guy with two strikes working against him. He really did start to care about her, and he looked forward to the days where she’d go over to his house and they’d just hang out. Or the days where they’d get into his car, drive down to the beach and watch the sunset.

He had found himself wanting more than just a friendship - it was her smile, the way her smile seemed to light up the entire room. It was her eyes, the way they’d twinkle and shine so bright they could rival the stars. It was her nose, the way she’d crinkle it up every time she’d take a drink from some beer, which he’d always tease her about because she could never seem to get used to the bitter taste.

But the only issue was that she still had feelings for her ex. Oscar knew this, it wasn’t exactly as if it was a secret - Y/N openly talked about Mario with Oscar, she’d tell him how she missed him, how she often thought about them and their relationship. It was a tough pill to swallow, and it was why he had almost reconsidered inviting Mario to the Santos party, but nah, he wasn’t like that. He could be fucked up if he wanted, but Mario had always been good to him, he respected him too much to start acting like a dick.

———

Music played from the speakers that stood beside the DJ booth. People were dancing, drinking, smoking - it was a good time, everyone was having fun.

Everyone but Oscar that is.

His eyes kept drifting over toward Y/N and Mario as they sat on that worn, nasty old couch in their own little world, deep in conversation. He took notice of the way her eyes were shining bright, of that smile that never left her face. Or Mario’s face.

Y/N had arrived shortly after Mario and Ruby had and when she had caught sight of Mario, it was like she was that nervous girl going on her first date with him again. She thought that overtime her feelings for him would fade, that distance would make her move on. But it didn’t. And seeing Mario again.. she remembered just how much she truly loved him.

So, she and Mario had stuck by each other’s side throughout the entire party, talking, catching up, reminiscing about old times.

“So, you and Oscar? How’d that happen?” Mario asked her. He had been a little surprised when he found out that his ex-girlfriend had struck up a friendship with the gang leader. She had told him herself when they started talking again, and Ruby had told him that they had spent an awful amount of time together.

Y/N’s smile softened and she turned to glance over at Oscar who was having a conversation. But it was like he felt her eyes on him because he turned and looked over at her. Their eyes met and she sent him that sweet smile that had him falling for her all over again. Then she turned back to Mario.

“It was after you left, actually. I went to the store and some Prophets rolled up on me,” Mario looked concerned, his brows furrowing. “But, Oscar was riding by in his car, he saw and he helped me out. He gave me a ride home and after that, we just started seeing each other more. Hanging out. He’s cool, I like him.” She said, that smile never leaving her face.

“So, there’s nothing more going on between you two?”

“What? No! He’s my best friend!” Y/N said. “Honestly.. I.. I haven’t been with anyone since we broke up.” She admitted. “I miss you. It’s hard being without you. Oscar made it easier, but.. I still miss you. I’m glad you’re here, Mario.” She said. Her ex-boyfriend gave her a smile, that smile that had her weak in the knees.

“I missed you too, Y/N.”

Oscar knew he was probably being a cock blocker but he didn’t care. He walked over and you noticed him immediately, sending a smile his way. “Why you guys hidin’ over here? It’s a party. Little Ruby is making more friends than you two.” He nodded over to the young Martinez who was indeed having the time of his life. It was the happiest that Mario had seen his brother in a while and he was glad.

“We were just talking. Catching up. She told me how you helped her after some Prophets rolled up on her. Thank you for that.” Mario said as the two stood up off the couch. Oscar shrugged his shoulders as he looked down at the female, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her.

“It was nothing. I’d do anything for her. She knows that.”

“I do know that. And you know that I’d do anything for you too. You’re my best friend and I love you.” She said to Oscar and his heart actually sank down into his stomach.

Best friend.

That’s all he was to her. Her best friend and nothing more. She was his best friend but he wanted it to be more. But standing with her and Mario, seeing the way the two looked at each other.. he knew nothing more would ever come from it.

But at the same time… having Y/N in his life as his friend was better than not having her in his life at all. If she was with Mario, then all he could do was support her and be there for her because all he really wanted was for her to be happy. If it was Mario that made her happy then so be it. Mario was a good dude so he didn’t have to worry about him hurting her.

He had her in his life one way or another and he was just thankful for that.

#netflix on my block #on my block imagine #on my block #oscar diaz omb #oscar diaz angst #oscar diaz fluff #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz headcanon #oscar diaz #oscar diaz smut #oscar diaz imagine #oscar spooky diaz #spooky diaz #julio macias imagine #julio macias #mario martinez #mario martinez x reader

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

SFW Alphabet - Tywin Lannister

requested at some point, who knows when, lol. NSFW Tywin is here, Masterlist is here, enjoy yall ~ ⭐

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At the start of your relationship, he was not terribly affectionate, which didn't surprise you. This was Tywin Lannister, and you hadn't expected much beyond the public, perfunctory gestures of holding your arm or kissing the top of your hand. Even when you two were alone, that was it, save for some extra kisses during your marriage bed duties.

This is why it was so easy to notice when he started tucking away strands of your hair, taking your hand and actually entwining your fingers, giving you chaste kisses in public and so on. Especially after you made some clever comment to a lord or settled a dispute, he'd wait until no one was looking before giving you some affection or an approving glance. As your relationship progressed, he'd accept much more affection from you, and be more willing to give it once you two are alone.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

“Friendship” is a bit of a loaded word with him. Tywin doesn’t consider himself to have “friends” nor does he entertain the idea. You know he’s close with his brother Kevan, but you also know Tywin’s friendship is very conditional, as was the case with Genna and Gerion. The problem he sees so few people as equals; you might be in the only one in that category who also isn’t an enemy.... And to him, considering you merely a ‘friend’ would be an insult. Even when you two grew closer, that word never seemed to properly describe the respect, admiration and affection you began feeling for each other.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

You almost exclusively get cuddles when the two of you are in bed, and it’s usually after intimacy. Tywin never sleeps right away, so he lets you rest against him while he looks over a book or paper. If he’s feeling more tired or affectionate, he’ll pet your hair or stroke your back while you doze off. Sometimes you get his full attention, and you two will quietly talk about this or that while you rest against his chest and he runs his fingers through your hair.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

It’s a lord’s duty to have a wife and heirs, but he really did love Joanna, and the depression that followed her death hit him hard. He had strong, stubborn, often hypocritical feelings about remarrying - even after Jaime joined the Kingsguard, thus robbing him of the heir he truly wanted. He finally married you after much internal debate and consideration of the politics of the match, and the powerful allies your House would make. He’d never consider it if your family wasn’t so powerful and wealthy in their region. Tywin never expected your marriage to turn into the close relationship you have now.

Tywin never has to worry about cooking or cleaning for himself, but he’s naturally very tidy, almost compulsively so. He doesn’t allow servants to clean in his study or room unless he’s present; not that there’s much for them to do beyond clean the floors and dust.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Should your marriage not go according to plan, Tywin would end it brutally and coldly. ‘Divorce’ is not a popular concept in Westeros, but there is precedence, and seeing as he was wary of the match in the first place … You’d walk into your chambers with maids already packing your things, with the news that you were either going to be given to one of his sons or be shipped back to your family’s keep.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Tywin is very loyal to you, and in turn expects zero disloyalty on your part. He won’t tolerate any rumors being told you about you - especially if it regards your virtue or reputation.

While he’s quick to arrange marriages for his children, he stalled on marrying you, as you were very aware of. Even though you had suitors ready to break your castle’s door down, Tywin took his time sending a raven back to your parents. He was stubborn about wanting you to marry Jaime or Tyrion, but your father was just as stubborn, it seemed. At the present time, Tywin is glad he has you all to himself (although he’d never say such a thing openly).

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Your husband is capable of gentle touches and words, but he so rarely gives them to anyone but you. It’s usually when you’re both alone, but sometimes you’re being so sweet and radiant at a feast or gala, he just has to lean in and whisper something to you while you sit together.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Tywin isn’t particularly needy for hugs, but he enjoys your presence, so he tolerates it for a time. If it’s late in the evening, he has a harder time resisting you, so he’ll loosely return it with a kiss to your brow. He has a solid body in spite of his age, and his scent is always comforting and warm. If you were the sort of person who needed this close affection, he’d initiate it more often.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Even after you confront your own feelings and muster the will to say it first, it takes time before Tywin is able to return the words. He shows it in his actions, but the words are a powerful thing, and he hates how they catch on his tongue. It would finally come when he’s at his most vulnerable, his green eyes softening for you, only you. He hides himself by pulling you into his arms and making you rest against his chest. That’s when you hear the words whispered against your hair.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Tywin is very jealous and while he believes he hides it, it’s obvious to you. You know exactly what it looks like, too - how his cold eyes turn absolutely frigid when he notices a lord being too forward with you, or the firm way he takes hold of your waist (instead of your hand) to get you away from said lord. To any man, his voice has the same authority and coldness it always carries, but you can hear the undercurrent of irritation. He’s never done it in front of you, but you’ve heard rumors that men who say inappropriate things or have “untoward” intentions for you end up suddenly leaving Casterly Rock’s court, or disappearing entirely.

There’s been many times when Tywin has kissed or marked you not out of passion, but out of possessiveness, sometimes even in his office or a secluded part of the castle. You’re free to point out how jealous he’s being, but Tywin is wholly convinced other men should keep their eyes and words to themselves.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In public, his kisses are proper and chaste. He’ll kiss your fingers, cheek and the top of your head if you’re shorter than him. They aren’t that common unless you’re both having to sit together for a long time at a tourney or gala. By the time you two were close and truly fond of each other, you noticed that he couldn’t help himself from bringing your hand to his lips whenever you said something clever.

In private, it’s a very different story. Your lord husband can be anywhere from simple and gentle, to very rough and firm. Your lips are an obvious place to kiss first - especially when you’re mouthing off - but he loves your pretty neck and your chest, especially when you show them off with a well-tailored dress. He welcomes any deep kisses you initiate … as long as he’s finished with work.

If you’re on the shorter side, Tywin is amused by how you can’t reach his lips directly and have to settle for kissing his jaw (no, he won’t bend down to meet you halfway until he feels like it). He enjoys when you kiss his jaw or cheek while sitting next to him in public, although he keeps a passive face and pretends not to notice how people stare at Tywin Lannister being doted on by his beautiful, young wife.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

You knew going in that Tywin would be a stern parent at best, and at worst, you and the maester would have to be doing most of it. He just wanted an heir, after all, but you noticed how he’d allow your son to quietly sit in his office and study, or he’d give simple, firm instructions to the boy on how to hold a sword, things like that. Jaime and Tyrion wasted no time in telling you that Tywin was far more permissive to your son than he was with them, but sometimes Tywin still felt too cold and distant for your taste. Once your son was older, Tywin was much more involved in teaching him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s getting ready, you get up at a similar time when you can. You notice how his eyes glance over you as you get dressed and he’ll occasionally leave touches here and there. He likes it when you have breakfast with him - not that he says it, but you don’t miss that pleased expression and how he wants you right beside him.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Tywin works late most nights, so unless you’re a night owl, you’re usually in bed by the time he enters your shared chambers. If he comes back early or you’re staying up, Tywin enjoys watching you wind down for the evening. Applying moisturizer to your face, brushing your hair, shimmying into your nightgown, all of that, and he only scoffs if you tease him for looking. He can’t help from reaching out and stroking your hair or helping you slip your night shift on, and eventually things start leading into this or that. He wouldn’t admit such a sentimental thing, but Tywin enjoys it when you curl up close to him while he reads a book or looks over letters in bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes time before either of you are comfortable being yourselves around each other, and that includes talking about anything involving your past. You know all the stories and rumors about Tywin Lannister, but steadily getting to know the man was something else. After being married for several months you gradually began to ask ‘innocent’ questions, and then pointed ones. To your surprise, Tywin was willing to speak to you about some things, and he almost seemed … relaxed as you pulled him into conversation.

It would take much longer for you to learn more personal things, even the ugliness of his thoughts of Tyrion and the harsh words he has for his siblings and father. It isn’t always pleasant, but Tywin tells you, and by that point in your marriage you can tell he’s exposing many old scars and wounds. It would be two years before Joanna’s name was ever said, and much later after that before there was any talk about her.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

As much as he appears outwardly patient, you know exactly what sets off your husband’s temper and wounds his pride more than anything. He’ll clench his jaw somewhat and there will be ice in those green eyes, but it’s a very rare day when he raises his voice to his bannermen and other lords. He’s never raised his voice with you during your disagreements, nor would he ever roughly handle you. You two have had disagreements and arguments aplenty, usually involving parenting or how he dealt with a lord without telling you. It’s best that you both fume in your respective rooms for a few days before seeing each other again.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Tywin quickly notices your taste in jewelry, clothing, furniture and generally how you wish for things to be presented. This shows most clearly when he’s buying you a gift or when he’s having rooms arranged to how you like. When you two travel, it’s Tywin who ensures the servants are aware of how you want things done. The lady of Casterly Rock, his lady, should have things exactly to her liking.

When it comes to more sentimental things, like memories you’ve told him about, or stories about this or that, Tywin only remembers the especially important things, what you’ve told him during your evening talks in bed. If it was something told in passing or in a very casual setting, he wouldn’t regard it as much.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He’d refuse having such sentiment, but truthfully, he has several very fond memories of you. A particularly special one is actually an evening, not a single memory. It was the first time you impressed him with how charismatic and charming you during the first feast you arranged at Casterly Rock. The feast itself wasn’t terribly eventful or important, a standard show of wealth to the Westerlands lords, but it was when Tywin realized how much he had underestimated you until that point.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He has a protective streak, that’s for sure, and not just for your physical safety. Tywin won’t stand for anyone disrespecting you, not even his children. You have a retinue of personal guards whenever you leave Casterly Rock, but more importantly, he quietly protects you from any plots against you… since his enemies would find you an easy way to get to him. Tywin is very amused and impressed when you express the same protectiveness, and this only solidifies your reputation as Westeros’ Most Terrifying Power Couple.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

You get plenty of gifts, and always the best of anything. Tywin had a good eye for your preference and taste, especially the longer you’ve been married, which always pleasantly surprises you. While it’s expected you’d get something lovely for your name day or a special occasion, sometimes you’ll find a new piece of jewelry or a pretty trinket, and you get to listen to Tywin insist it was just something he happened to come across and buy… Or you don’t say anything, and just notice his pleased expression when you come to the breakfast table wearing the new necklace or hairpin.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

You were fully aware of his frightening reputation and the many things he had been suspected of doing by the time you were betrothed. Once you two were married, you found yourself in the middle of these plots, even if you didn’t agree with them. He’s terribly prideful and has a stubborn streak a mile long, not to mention his dominating nature. There are some things you can fight him on and win, and other things you have to stand down on … Or work behind his back. There are lovely days when he’s your dear husband, but there are other days that remind you of the terrifying reputation he’s rightfully known by.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It’s practically a Lannister trademark to have pride and concern in one’s appearance, and Tywin is no different, although he never openly fusses over it. He has fine clothes and makes sure he’s well put together. In addition to simply dressing well, he keeps up with his health and physique, so he has a solid, strong body for his age. You can tell he’s pleased whenever you admire him, and he’ll wear things you’ve had made for him.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. When you first married, both you and Tywin had no illusions about your purpose: To give him another male heir, and maybe help the castellan run Casterly Rock. He tried denying his feelings as time went on, but he faced them eventually … The thought of you suddenly not being in his life, just as quickly as you came in, is not something he’s willing to face. He was already colder and crueler after Joanna, and now, it would be worse. He’d alternate between neglecting any children you had together or being too controlling in their lives, and he’d especially struggle if they took after you. His three older children would be deeply unsettled by the change. In short, Tywin absolutely refuses to entertain the idea of anything happening to you, and that denial and fear only grows as you become closer.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Tywin both loves and loathes how well you know him. When he’s ready to verbally tear off a lord’s head for a slight, you’re there to touch his shoulder and try to talk him down. When you get into an argument, you know exactly what to say to yank his chain and frustrate him further. He’s fully aware of when you leave out details to make a plan of action seem more appealing, and at the end of a long day of work, you know just how to relax him again. It’s both a comfort and a concern that he’s so open to you, even when he isn’t trying to be.

On a small note, it’s a simple thing, but he loves seeing you wear Lannister crimson. It flatters you so well, and the first time you finally wore a crimson gown to a large feast, the whole room was in awe. Tywin was more than pleased as you sat beside him, your gold and jewels glittering under the candles and just highlighting how lovely and powerful you looked. It was then the Westerlands realized you were truly the Lady of Casterly Rock, and just as formidable a presence as your lord husband.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He has no patience for ignorance and slow wit, and those who think themselves higher than their social station. Also, being interrupted from his work for something frivolous is one of his biggest peeves.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’ll often stay late in his office, but when he returns to your shared room, he’d rather not bring paperwork and letters with him, if it can be helped. He initially began doing this so you both could make a proper heir, but Tywin began to take comfort in having someone so close and warm. He still doesn’t get much sleep, but it’s more restful than it’s been in a long time.

#tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister #sfw alphabet #game of thrones x reader

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little-miss-kitti · 4 years

Text

Your scent

*Ahem* *Ahem* Hello, I tried writing something long...

Not sure if I got Victor’s characterisation correct, so plz feel free to leave feedback <3 I kind of wanted to explore how he would handle the advances of Chik (who we know has made advances on him in the past) after realising he’d fallen in love with MC. Just a lil scenario my brain cooked up ehehe~ hope you like it x

Disclaimer: ITS A LIL BIT NSFW(ish)

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Victor could say with great confidence that being CEO never got easier. Thankfully the board meeting that afternoon had gone pretty much according to his expectations, due in part to the preparation he’d done overtime. What he hadn’t expected was to find Chik relaxing leisurely his couch when he entered his penthouse late in the evening, clothed in a tight black dress that exposed too much skin to be comfortable on a chill winter evening. A sly, teasing smile, that had no doubt seduced many men, had crept across her lips at his obvious confusion.

“So, this is what a CEO’s home looks like?” She commented in a pensive tone, eyes wandering around casually. “Your penthouse is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I’m very fortunate.” Victor said curtly, irritation sparking in his chest. “May I ask what you are doing in it?”

Chik wasn’t fazed by his tone and replied lightly, “Waiting for you, of course.”

Victor was the only one who knew the door code to the penthouse, aside from you and Goldman when you needed to drop files off. But neither of you had reason to tell her. The building manager must have been persuaded to give her the key. He’d settle that problem later.

Deciding that it was important he keep his composure, Victor loosened his tie slightly and went to sit on the sofa opposite, maintaining his air of business.

“Is there something you would like to discuss?” He asked, using the level tone that usually reminded everyone in the room who had the authority. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

“Why so formal? You can relax with me.” Chik said silkily. “I’m not here for my agency. I’m here for…personal reasons.” The obvious point in her tone left no mystery to her objective, and Victor tried not to show his disgust when she leaned forward deliberately onto her crossed legs to give him a not-so-subtle view of her cleavage.

He didn’t find it difficult to show his disinterest. “Is it personal funding you’re after? With the popularity of your last series I find it hard to believe you’re in need of financial support—”

He was cut off by an indignant scoff. “Jesus, Victor.” Chik rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet.

The clicking of her heels on the marble floor as she made her way towards him grated on his already frayed nerves, and he clamped his jaw to keep himself from saying something that might affect his relationship with the agency.

“I know you make it a point not to play around with women, but,” she slid her knees onto the couch on either side of his thighs, straddling his lap. The stench of her perfume was sickeningly overpowering. Wetting her lips, she gazed down at him under long lashes. “Don’t you think you’ve kept me hanging a little too long?”

Victor looked up at her in his unaffected way, attempting to identify what it was that made her so decidedly unattractive to him. Was it that arrogant confidence in the curl of her lip that said she could get whomever she wanted whenever she wanted? Was it the shameless way she’d let herself into his apartment – without removing her shoes – on the assumption that he would give her the attention she so obviously craved? Or was it simply the fact that he was in love with another so completely different to the woman straddling his lap, that he found himself comparing her every move to the one he wanted on top of him.

Victor had seen a lot of confidence throughout his career; most of which unfortunately seemed to stem from the arrogance of constant success with the absence of hard work. Maybe that was one of the reasons you had managed to pique his interest. You’d shown him there was innocence in the confidence of knowing you had the ability to excel, and your unwavering determination to give it your all to make it so. He’d thought your determination to challenge him naïve at first, but humoured your attempt for his own entertainment. When you rose to the challenge, he reluctantly acknowledged your work-ethic and competence as a manager, though noted there was still much room for improvement. It was as he spent more time with you, Victor began to realise why your subordinates loved and respected you so much. It was different to the fearful respect and distant admiration his subordinates had towards him. Rather, yours bantered and laughed with you easily, but respected your decisions and authority as a superior they relied on and looked up to. Your patience and kindness spoke volumes that his curt tone and sharp criticism never could.

After a while it began to affect him too.

Many women had pined for his attention over the years, using their beauty and expected corporate inheritance to flaunt themselves like peacocks in a futile attempt to catch his eye. But you he could read like an open book, so it had been easy to see you had no ulterior motives from the start. In that sense there was something refreshing about the innocence of the friendship that blossomed naturally between you. And the more you revealed of herself, the more he wanted to know.

He’d quickly realised just how fun you were to tease and found great amusement in the vast expanse of your reactions to his playful banter. Sometimes you snapped back with a witty response that had him smiling for the rest of the day, and other times (much to his delight) you could be so lost for words and do nothing but turn your face away with an indignant huff to hide your hot blush. It was in those times that Victor found himself most in danger of acting unpredictably. Even his display of physical affection towards you had become increasingly daring. It started with a gentle pat on your head, then the affectionate tucking of a strand of hair behind your ear, then the graze of his lips against your forehead or eyelids in a way that left you both unsure whether or not it could be defined as a kiss; and one time, you were being so cute that he only just managed to catch himself before he’d taken your face in his hands and kissed you full on the mouth.

And yet at the same time you seemed so oblivious to his affections that Victor felt like he was driving himself into a hole. Surely, he’d made his feelings obvious enough. But then again, even Victor hadn’t realised just how gentle he’d become with you until recently. And you were a dummy, after all.

He was recalled abruptly to the current situation when Chik, tired of waiting for a reaction, ducked her head impatiently and began to press firm kisses to his neck. Disgusted, Victor quickly debated whether it would be ruder to push her off, wipe his neck with a tissue and call security; or just tell her straight that he was not remotely attracted to her or her body. As he decided, Chik’s hand snaked its way down his chest to rest on the crotch of his suit pants. The contact sent a wave of revulsion coursing through Victor’s body, and he grabbed her wrist with ungentlemanly strength. Thinking she’d achieved something, Chik lifted her head victoriously and cast him a smug smile.

“You’re turned on, aren’t you?” she purred against his ear. “Let me help. No one will be able to satisfy you like I can.”

Victor was very much turned off, and if he’d let her continue her aimless palming of his crotch, she would have soon realised he was as limp as a dead fish. The only hands he wanted on him were yours. More than he cared to admit, he allowed his thoughts to stray to the ways he could please you, the way he’d dreamed of hearing you moan his name, and he’d realised his longing to feel the warmth of your body against his. But you weren’t his yet. Perhaps you would never be his, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let another woman fill the position he’d reserved solely for you. Deciding his relationship with the agency could go to hell if they encouraged this manner of behaviour, Victor stood up abruptly, throwing Chik from his lap. She stumbled to catch her footing on the floor and looked at him apprehensively, apparently not quite sure whether to feel confident or concerned.

“There is and will only ever be one woman permitted to sneak into my house uninvited.” Victor said coolly, his voice dangerously low. “And you aren’t her. I will see you to the door.”

Astounded by the silent ire she saw simmering in his dark eyes, Chik realised quickly that he wasn’t just being thoughtlessly dismissive like before. The space in Victor’s heart was now truly taken.

He’d fallen in love.

Accepting her defeat with grace, Chik followed the direction of his extended arm towards the hallway. She paused at the door, slipped a hand in her purse and held up the penthouse key card between her index and middle finger. “You might want to leave this in the hands of someone you trust.”

Victor took it. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He said as he opened the door.

Once Chik was gone, Victor went straight to the laundry room. The overpowering stench of her perfume still clung to his clothes, and knowing it was the scent of another woman repulsed him. Unbuttoning his shirt, Victor tore it from his body, wiped the side of his neck with it, and tossed it straight into the washing machine. The immediate pang of loneliness that stabbed at his heart was unwelcome, and Victor realised just how much he missed the subtle sweetness of your scent. The way he would catch it on the breeze when you walked past, hanging lightly in the air for only a moment and then gone before he could relish it. Or the way the smell of your shampoo made him achingly aware of how close you were. It was then that Victor found himself dialling your number.

You picked up on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just making sure a certain dummy remembers that she has a report due in three days.”

There was a lengthy pause. “Crap.”

All previous notion for the call was forgotten as a deep frown furrowed across Victor’s brow. “Don’t tell me you completely forgot about it.”

“Then I won’t say a thing.” You replied quickly. “I’ll hang up and get straight onto it— bye!”

The line went dead before Victor had time to reply. Dropping his arm, he looked down at his phone in disbelief. Why, oh why, of all women on this earth, did he fall for a dummy?

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AHHHH thank you so much for reading <3 It’s my first time writing something so long so I apologise if it got a lil messy ehe

#mlqc #mr love queens choice #mr love li zeyan #mr love victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #mlqc chick #love and producer #mlqc fanfic #mr love fanfic #victor #li zeyan

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hallowxiu · 4 years

Text

You’re Hot

Pairing: Satan x gn!mc

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After your attempt with Lucifer, you decide to try your luck with pick up lines on the next brother in your sights… Satan.

A/N: I got this idea from prompt 340 from the account Creative Writing Prompts :)

Part 2 of the MC isn’t good at pick up lines series lol

part one

“Do ya really think this’ll work?” Mammon asks with a bored tone, the male picking at his nails as he sits on your bed while you pace back and forth in the middle of your room.

“Well, no, not really.” The two of you are having an emergency meeting, as you personally like to label it, after your failed attempt of using a pick up line on Lucifer. To say that Mammon laughed when you explained just how much you failed would be an understatement. You’re convinced he grew a set of abs with how much he enjoyed your misery. You won’t dwell on it though, no, this is a challenge that you’re set on winning. “But, I figured using pick up lines on Satan would be good practice.”

“Good practice for what, exactly?” Mammon asks with a raised eyebrow.

You stop your pacing and think, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. With a shrug of your shoulders, you look at Mammon with a smile. “I dunno.” Mammon stares at you blankly before sighing in defeat.

“Ya sure are weird.” He huffs and leans back on your bed to get comfortable. “Have ya thought of any pick up lines to use on him?”

“Nope.” You admit with a sheepish grin and he sighs again.

“Have ya even considered the type of pick up lines he’d like? Ya can’t just waltz up to him and expect him to like the shit ya tried on Lucifer.” You feel your eyebrow twitch at Mammon’s words. You hated it when he was right.

“Man, Lucifer didn’t even like the pick up line I tried on him!” Well, more like he didn’t understand the pick up line you tried on him. “And now I have to sit through a lecture of his later on the history of fallen angels. I just have to try and make sure I don’t end up running into the same issue with him, though Satan doesn’t really strike me as the lecture type.”

“I think Satan would rather drop dead than give ya a lecture if it’s not about a favorite book of his.” Mammon snorts before sitting back up; that man’s always restless. “That being said, ya should probably find out what type of pick up line would work best on him. Ya can’t use the same type for everyone. Ya gotta find one that matches his interests.”

“Since when were you so good with pick up lines?”

“Ya picked me, didn’t ya? Besides, I’ve spent time with Asmo. The man’s practically spewin’ out pick up lines on the daily.”

“Things that match Satan’s interests…” You tap your chin with your index finger. You sit yourself down on the floor, hands resting on your knees as you stare up at Mammon in thought.

“And what type of pick up lines are ya goin’ for? Are ya tryin’ to romance him? Or do ya just want to throw him for a loop?” You hadn’t thought of that either. Really, when did Mammon become so knowledgeable with this stuff? “Satan’s the type of guy where if ya bat your lashes at him, he’ll probably end up followin’ ya around all day like a lost puppy. Don’t wanna lead the guy on or anythin’.”

“You’re being significantly more helpful than you were earlier. If you had done this with Lucifer, I probably would be free of a lecture tonight.”

Mammon’s eye twitches as he glares down at you from his place on your bed. “Hey, keep that shit up and I’ll leave ya here on your own!”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave him off with a disinterested sigh. You needed to make a list of things Satan likes, which shouldn’t be too hard. You jump back up to your feet, Mammon startling where he sits from the sudden burst of energy. You grab a notebook from your desk, flipping to an empty page and grab a marker. After a minute or two of you quietly scribbling things down, you show off your list to Mammon, similar to a proud child showing their parents a drawing they made.

“Cats...books...uh,” his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the list closer, “did ya actually write ‘smart things’?” You let out a sheepish chuckle as you scratch at the back of your neck. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve been hanging out with you too much. I’m losing brain cells by the minute; maybe I should charge you a fee for killing so many off.”

Mammon shoots you a scandalized look before scoffing loudly, “ya were stupid before ya arrived to the Devildom! Don’t act like this is on me.” Before you can counter his attack, Mammon begins to speak again. “Satan isn’t the type who would like pick up lines about books. I also don’t think he’d appreciate cat ones either; they seem a little too cheesy for him.” You take his words into consideration before turning the list over in your hands and scribbling the first two options off the list. “So that just leaves us with…” Another sigh escapes Mammon from where he sits. “And what on earth does that possibly suggest?”

“I don’t know!” You let out a flustered shout as you squirm under his gaze. “Just smart things! Things smart people would enjoy! Physics? Science? Wait-- physics and science are the same thing, right? Oh god, what are smart things? Frogs?”

“Frogs?”

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind, don’t judge me!” You’re a little too flustered now.

“He likes politics. Why don’t ya look up pick up lines on politics? Maybe there’s some out there on the internet; some weirdo has got to like them.” He comments while digging his D.D.D out of his pocket. Within a few seconds there’s a frown on his face. “There aren’t many… and the ones that I found-- well, they’re fuckin’ awful.” Just before you can both give up and admit defeat, an excited gasp leaves Mammon’s mouth and his phone screen is immediately shoved in your face. “What about this one?”

You move your face back just enough so you could actually read the words on his screen. A grin forms on your lips when you read it over once. “This is perfect! He’ll be swooning, I just know it.”

“He’ll probably be impressed too that ya know so much about global warmin’ and what not. We really outdid ourselves with this one.” There’s a smug smile on his face that’s nearly identical to yours. “So, what are we doin’ wastin’ time here? Stop sittin’ around and find Satan!” You want to argue that Mammon’s the one sitting around, but you decide to let it go just this once.

❀❀❀❀

“Target sighted.” You find yourself reporting to Mammon via an old walkie-talkie. It wasn’t your idea, and you didn’t know why you couldn’t just text Mammon yourself, but the white haired demon insisted that this would be a more convenient means of communication. You didn’t even know that Mammon had these hidden around in his room, but you guess you shouldn’t be too surprised. With the antics Mammon’s always up to, you probably didn’t want to know why he had these in the first place.

“Awesome. Where’s he at?” Mammon’s voice, accompanied with static, rings through the speaker.

“The library; where else?”

“Fair enough. Alright then, go make your move. Wait,” he quickly cuts himself off and for a second you’re worried that Lucifer somehow found out about this, “do ya remember the line?” You breathe out a sigh of relief before rolling your eyes while turning the volume down. You’ll be amazed if Satan didn’t already know you were lingering outside the library with how loud Mammon is.

“Of course I remember the line. It’s just a sentence.”

“Alright, alright. Jeesh, I’m just tryin’ to help; sue a demon for tryin’.” Just before you can switch off your walkie-talkie, you hear the static pick up again with your name being called. “Wait, leave it on. I wanna hear how it goes.”

You debate for a moment, you could easily leave it off and tell him that you turned it off long before he asked for you to leave it on. You sigh though, already knowing that he wouldn’t buy it. “Fine, but you better not make a single peep, Mammon.” With him confirming to stay silent, you turn the volume nearly to zero before stuffing it in your back pocket. Clearing your throat once, you knock on the library door before pushing it open. “Satan?” You call out, your eyes scanning the room for the familiar blond.

“Over here.” His voice calls from the back of the room. As you approach the fourth oldest, you smile to yourself when seeing him surrounded by a pile of books on the library couch.

“Keeping yourself entertained?” You ask gingerly as you peer over the pile. “Have you been in here all day?”

“Nearly.” He responds, barely looking up from the book that held his attention from his current stretched out position. He reminds you of a cat with the way he’s laying around. You look down to see what he’s reading, a smirk forming on your lips when seeing the title. “You’re reading a book about global warming?” Sometimes you’re amazed with how well the universe lines things up for you.

“Mhm.” He responds lazily. “It’s a topic I’m interested in. I like learning about problems in the human realm and how they react to them. Who would’ve thought that the issue of global warming would be such a controversy there?” He’s sitting up now, though he’s still reading from his book. You wonder how he can pay attention to you while also paying attention to the book he’s reading.

“What do you mean?”

He moves over so that you can sit next to him, an eyebrow raising on his expression. “Well, both the Celestial Realm and the Devildom know about global warming, and the cause is also extremely obvious to us. It’s both humorous and disappointing that the humans don’t understand what’s causing it, and it’s even more mind blowing that some of them believe that it’s a made up concept. If anything, I look into these types of topics simply so I can see the perspective of humans.” You can’t believe how well Satan’s setting you up for your pick up line. Maybe this would actually work out in your favor for once.

“I know the cause of global warming.” You announce a little too proud.

“Oh?” There’s a look of amusement on Satan’s face as he places his book down beside him, giving you his full attention. “Do tell. I’d love to hear your perspective, this could help me further understand your species and--”

“You must be the reason for global warming because you’re so hot.”

Full silence. You can’t even hear the faint static of your walkie-talkie, and you think Satan might’ve stopped breathing. Maybe you should say something? Did he take offense to that? If you listen closer to the silence, you might hear Mammon laughing at you from somewhere in the house. “Ah, well, I suppose I did want to learn more about the human perspective…” He lets out a disappointed sigh before forcing a smile onto his face. This was too much to bear, you think dying in a hole somewhere would be a more pleasing option.

“Y-You know what? I think I hear Lucifer calling for me. Probably failed another test or something, I should go see what he wants.” You’re quick to excuse yourself as you scramble off the couch with a red face.

“Oh? But I don’t hear anything.” He says with a slight frown. “While I am flattered, actually, it’s primarily because of too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.” His eyes never leave you as you awkwardly try to step over one of the piles of books, instead tripping over your own feet and knocking the stack over. You didn’t want to sit for a lecture; you should have never used a “smart things” pick up line when you still had Lucifer’s lecture on fallen angels to listen to.

“Really?” You ask absentmindedly as you clumsily try to stack the books back on top one another. “I didn’t know that.” You need to get out of here, and fast. You could tell Satan was about to go on an educational lecture and you only had seconds to flee. Suddenly, before you can dart past the now fixed books, a hand with a strong grip wraps around your wrist.

“Tell me,” he speaks your name with an eerily serene smile on his face, “have you ever heard of a carbon footprint?”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #satan #satan shall we date #satan obey me #satan x mc #satan x reader #satan one shot #obey me one shot #shall we date one shot #satan imagine #drabbles #obey me drabble #satan drabble #pick up lines #it's weird writing these tags lol

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- THE SORTING HAT’S NEW SONG

Sirius took the book even with that knot of unease still residing in him that he refused to acknowledge purely for his friends benefit. If they saw how much his own future problems were worrying him, then they'd be freaking out even more, Sirius never let anything bother him. Instead he started with absolute amusement. Harry was back at school, and even considering all the problems he'd had in previous years there, at least they got more fun out of that place than old Grimmauld could ever offer.

Harry did not want to tell the others that he and Luna were having the same hallucination,

"I think that's pushing bounds a bit, even by magic standards," Lily smirked. "I can't see any two people having the exact same hallucination."

"Gee thanks," Harry rolled his eyes at her.

if that's even what it was. Still he couldn't stop staring at the horses outlines as the carriage went along. Thankfully he was distracted by Ginny asking about that Grubbly-Plank woman being back, and if Hagrid had left?

"He would never," James said at once with absolute conviction.

Remus though, suddenly looked contemplative as he remembered back to the end of last year, and how Hagrid may have been planning a little trip...and then he quickly grew worried of how that could have turned out. He kept his silence though, seeing no point in worrying Harry further until he had proof. Missions like those could take time, longer than a few months, and Hagrid was even tougher than him.

Luna said airily she wouldn't care if he had, he wasn't a good teacher.

"Hey!" Harry, James, and Sirius all snapped at once.

The three glared at the other two, but while Remus looked chagrined and still didn't say anything, Lily shrugged without remorse. "I adore Hagrid and of course I don't want anything to happen to him, but you've all admitted he's not the best teacher. Without the knowledge we have of him with Harry, we'd probably be thinking the same thing."

"Not the point," Sirius muttered in annoyance as he turned back.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all snapped back at once he was too!

Harry glared at Hermione, and she had to clear her throat before unconvincingly agreeing.

Remus at least gave a weak laugh for that.

Luna was unfazed by the outburst, saying the majority of her house found him a joke.

"Got to admire this girl," Sirius said grudgingly, "she speaks her mind, even when she clearly realizes she touched a nerve."

"She's like Hermione, except a spot more ah, with more of a um," James struggled to put into words how he was processing Luna, and then just let himself die off.

Ron snapped what a rubbish sense of humor that was, but Luna did not seem at all concerned with Ron's tone, but was now watching him avidly.

The others couldn't help agreeing now, Luna certainly had a way about her that even while speaking her mind which so annoyed them of Hermione lately, they couldn't stay mad at this girl as she clearly wasn't speaking for even hurtful intent. It was more of a free spirited comment.

They trundled in silence after that all the way up to the castle and were now climbing out of the carriages, Harry regretting the moment he glanced over and those horses blank white eyes were still there.

Harry still couldn't get these strange creatures out of his mind as he asked, "how come I couldn't see them at the beginning of last year, when I saw Frank Bryce die?"*

That stumped them for a moment, but Remus recovered first and worked out, "you didn't really process his death as more than a dream for a long time, even when Dumbledore confirmed those things you were seeing were real you still seemed to feel detached from them. Then you would have seen his ghost at the same time as-" he had to forcefully stop himself because Harry flinched and looked happy enough with this answer.

Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial

"I still think you raise a very good point about Ron's, and most wizards reaction to these types of things though." Lily said with interest. "With the mirror you two just accepted you saw different things, why then does Ron think you're losing it for this same instance?"

"First of all, those little kids wouldn't question if Merlin had appeared they were so new to magic in general," Sirius smirked at her.

"But mostly, it's because we were taught magic has boundaries." James shrugged. "You can't bring people back from the dead, you shouldn't trust things you don't know the magical source of. The mirror was a clearly defined item that showed your deepest desires. This instance however, without any context, Harry is insisting something is as it shouldn't be. Even magic has rules, and magic shouldn't be able to explain that until it does."

Lily still looked interested enough in the idea she would have kept going, but Sirius just didn't care enough to sit around and hear the two go on about this so he kept reading loudly over them.

than a hundred very solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?

Sirius really wanted to get that pale tone out of Harry's skin, so he blurted out the first question that came to mind, "think Thestrals can see each other?"**

Harry at least looked interested in this topic as it didn't directly link to him anymore and watched eagerly as Remus considered it for a moment and theorized, "no, I wouldn't think so. Of course we've no real idea, but honestly they may be visible to each other. Of course, perhaps all animals can see them, and the magic concealing them from people other than those who have seen death just don't work on more simplistic creatures. There's an honest debate for both options."

"Thank you Padfoot, you have just given Moony a whole essay to go writing," James snorted in amusement.

Ron prompted Harry to get a move on instead of staring at nothing, and he trudged up to the castle and made his way into the Great Hall. Again he found that every person at every table he passed were pointing and whispering at him. Harry gritted his teeth and pretended he didn't notice.

"Exactly how well were you getting away with that?" Sirius smirked which Harry answered by blushing and muttering.

Luna departed towards the Ravenclaw table while Harry and his friends took seats near Parvati and Lavender. Both sprung apart the moment they saw their approach, and gave unconvincing hellos that didn't fool Harry for a second, they'd been talking about him as well.

"Well they're being as subtle as ever," Lily sniffed in annoyance.

Harry took no care of this as he glanced up at the staff table, still looking for his missing teacher, and was growing even more concerned he was still nowhere in sight.

Ron asked if he'd really left, but Hermione instead offered perhaps he was just hurt.

Harry said no at once, but then there was an uneasy pause as he leaned in and whispered for the two of them alone perhaps he wasn't back yet from the mission Dumbledore had sent him on.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to offer the idea," James said.

"Wanted to cover all our bases he wasn't at school," Harry sighed with disappointment.

"Wonder who's taking care of Fang, or do you think he came along?" Sirius quickly inserted.

They spent a giggling moment picturing all the teachers taking turns to care for Hagrid's dog in his absences, James getting the best laugh as he pictured tiny Professor Flitwick only just reaching Fang's head trying to fit a leash around the pooch.

Ron seemed reassured by the idea, but Hermione turned back to the high table biting at her lip, and noticed someone new.

"I'm guessing the new DADA teacher's already around," Sirius sighed as he gave his friend the stink eye for not being in attendance.

"I'm honestly surprised you haven't run into them yet," Lily rolled her eyes. "Have you lot realized Harry's met three and at least heard mention of every person before he got there."

"No, I hadn't," James blinked in surprise as all those circumstances sure seemed a lot to take in now that he was.

Harry looked back again, now taking every teacher in account, and aside from the normal staff, found the toad like woman.

They all sat there for a moment in confusion as they had no idea what to make of this woman's arrival. There just seemed no reason for it to exist, unless something like the Tournament was happening again, in which case Merlin help them all.

Sirius came out of it first with a hard shake as he demanded, "what, has Fudge got someone attending the school regularly now? I guess she's going to be inviting herself to the feasts and public school events to keep an eye on Dumbledore."

"And Dumbledore's to polite to turn her down," James agreed with his face squidged up in annoyance.

"This is a new low, just unprecedented, even for the Ministry." Remus shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe they're trying to poke their nose into Hogwarts like this."

"Trying and succeeding," Lily muttered with disdain as the idea of her job actively trying to get inside information on the school now boggled her mind. What exactly did this woman think she was going to accomplish by doing this? Where was the motive?

Harry still felt the worst of all, because he was getting a very bad feeling they weren't entirely right, but very close to the mark.

Harry said in surprise it was that Umbridge woman from his trial, she worked for Fudge.

Ron's first response was to sarcastically compliment that pink cardigan.

"Always love Ron noting the important things," Sirius smirked.

Hermione was frowning for a wholly other reason it seemed as she muttered no, surely not.

"Don't know what she's on," Lily said curiously.

"Don't know, but how come no one else new is there either," James brushed off onto more important things. "You should have a new DADA teacher around as well."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, felt a nasty jolt for the effort, and gave in with a shrug. Sirius saved him from having to respond anyways by saying, "maybe he or she just isn't there yet, Moody got there kind of late."

"Fake Moody, and look how well that turned out," Remus grimaced in annoyance.

Harry wasn't sure what she was talking about, but didn't ask as Grubbly-Plank arrived with the group of first years all lining up while McGonagall set up the Sorting Hat.

Sirius was suddenly brimming with excitement as he got the chance to sing the school song this time!

All talk around the hall faded as attention turned to the patched and frayed object, who opened a rip near the brim, and began to sing.

Sirius bounded to his feet and then flopped down on James' other side, squishing him right up next to his wife and leaving no one with any personal space as James eagerly leaned over anyways and the two began in perfect harmony;

Insert fifth year Sorting Hat song.

The two finished with a triumphant high five while the others were all snickering away at the performance, but Remus decided that had indeed earned them some applause which they each took a bow for. Then James promptly shoved Sirius off of him and stated, "if I wanted you sitting on my lap I'd have long since told you."

Sirius was still chuckling as he went back over to his seat, and then theatrically spread himself out so he was invading Harry's personal space this time. Harry's only response was to push his Godfather's elbow out of his face but otherwise ignored the proximity with comfort as he kept going.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers.

"Ah," Lily nodded to herself as she guessed what that meant. "This would be the first time they've heard a warning in theirs like ours usually held."

"It's been weirder for us hearing these pleasant versions all about the different houses," Remus agreed to Harry's curious look.

James and Sirius only looked more mildly disappointed the hat's actual words was getting more attention than their performance. Sometimes they missed being in the halls and having all eyes focused on them.

Ron was clapping politely with a curious look on his face as he said how the Hat had branched out.

Harry agreed, thinking back on the two he'd heard about the different houses, not about all that advice and such.

Hermione wondered aloud if the Hat had ever done any such thing before.

"I miss childlike ignorance," Remus winced, all of them taking a moment and wishing Harry had asked the same, instead of simply looking resignedly around the room as he must have realized himself the Hat really hadn't been all pleasantries.

Nick agreed the Hat often felt honor-bound to warn the school when-

but was cut off by McGonagall giving a scorching look to the hall.

"It's good the first years learn that look now," James grinned.

"Didn't do you lot any good," Lily snorted.

Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat back as the muttering came to an abrupt end.

"Was he doing that for himself, or for you?" Sirius chuckled.

The sorting began, the first to come up Abercrombie, Euna who was placed into Gryffindor. The boy plodded off to his seat with pure embarrassment at all the applause, looking as if he'd rather sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

"Honestly, how they don't lead a chant in congratulations is beyond me," James rolled his eyes, though to be honest he was pleased no other first year besides himself had ever tried.

Finally that ended as well, and Dumbledore took to his feet. Harry felt himself relaxing in his seat at the familiar sight. After so many jarring starts to his school year, here was finally something familiar of his headmaster greeting the student body with a welcoming smile.

The smile that flickered across his face at the moment of seeing his Headmaster again during this day was jarred as he began muttering to himself almost unconsciously about how he wished that's where the surprises would end. They all hoped they were just understanding him wrong, that he could just go this year without something happening to him.

He gave an enthusiastic greeting to those within Hogwarts, and then the feast began. Ron began seizing food at once and hardly waiting for it to hit his plate before he began shoveling it into his mouth, while Hermione turned back to Nick and asked for more about those Hat warnings.

Nick turned away from Ron eating with indecent enthusiasm,

Sirius and James were getting a good laugh out of that mental image.

to explain that the Hat was known for giving warnings when it detected periods of danger, and the message was always the same, stand together, unite from within.

Ron haphazardly got the phrase out 'Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?'

"Sirius, you can't try to read and laugh at the same time, you sound ridiculous," Lily rolled her eyes at him. "Besides, it's not that funny to watch people stuff their mouths like chipmunks."

"Ron was talking with his mouth full," Harry explained for him, an amused smile himself present at watching Sirius try to reenact that.

His mouth was so full of food it seemed a miracle he made any noise.

Nick asked politely for him to repeat himself while Hermione looked revolted. Ron had to struggle for a moment to swallow before he properly asked how the Hat could know anything about the school being in danger.

"I find it a sad note I understood that the first time," Remus sighed. "I clearly need to have stopped responding to them at some point when that kind of speech makes sense."

"We've no idea what you're talking about," James said saintly while Sirius didn't bother to deny it and kept reading while still half giggling.

Nick reminded the Hat spent the rest of its time in the Headmaster's office, surely it picked up a thing or two.

Harry scoffed if that was really all the advice it could offer, be friends with the Slytherins? He was glaring in particular at Malfoy as he said what a fat chance that was.

"You don't have to be friends with Malfoy to have Slytherin friends," Lily frowned reproachfully at him. "Have you ever even mentioned any others by name except him and his little group? Not all of them are the same you know."

"At the time I didn't," Harry defended, before relenting, "but no, I hardly looked past him when speaking about the house, and I am sorry for that now. I do wish I had taken more opportunity to get to know any others, but a time never came where it wasn't always Malfoy around, so," he finished with an imploring look that she understood, which she did and gave in the argument.

Nick proved that cooperation was always a key to victory. He and the Bloody Baron were good enough friends though from different houses.

Ron said that was just because Nick was too terrified to tell him otherwise.

"What would a ghost have to be terrified of?" Sirius scoffed at Ron's goofy comment.

"Basilisk," James muttered under his breath, but thankful Sirius hadn't lingered for a real answer.

Nick looked affronted as he stated he'd never had a cowardly moment in his life! The noble blood that ran through his veins-

Ron cut in to point out he hasn't got any blood.

Nick was growing so angry his partially severed head was trembling in place as he said back that it was a figure of speech! Surely he was still allowed to use those though food and drink were denied to him!

"Certainly no one's going to stop him," Remus couldn't help a little laugh at both parties entirely over inflating this. "Ron's just mouthing off and now Nick's throwing a ghost tantrum."

"I liked Nick better when he was showing off his severed head to first years," Harry chuckled.

Hermione corrected for Ron that he hadn't meant anything by it, while Ron's mouth was full of food again.

"I take that to mean he was simply eating again while Nick was telling him off," James snorted.

"Don't know why something like this would stop him," Sirius snickered.

He still tried to get out something about iddum eentup sechew, but Nick didn't seem to find this an adequate apology.

"Well what more could he want?" James raised a challenging brow, that smirk still in place.

"Actual words would be a nice start," Lily rolled her eyes at him.

He flew away with a huff down the table while Hermione huffed at him.

Ron demanded to know what he'd done, but she just snapped at him to forget it and the rest of the meal was a huffy silence between the two.

"If she was so offended on Nick's part, she should have said something while he was still around," Remus rolled his eyes.

"She has a tendency to do that a lot lately, speak her mind when the party isn't around," James huffed.

Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favorite treacle tart.

Lily suddenly felt a smack deep in her heart as she realized she'd never even asked Harry's favorite food. She'd simply whipped something up like always as her boys usually ate anything, and Harry had as well without a trace of showing dislike. It was another of those small details though, one that she'd have just thought she'd know when her son reached those ages of declaring his favorite foods. She honestly wished sometimes she could put this book down and just sit around for ages, asking him of all his favorite likes and dislikes, but the problem was if they went too long into any conversation he started having a poke at his memories to understand something odd, and then he'd go hurting himself again. Even knowing the good this was doing, she still often wished she could be doing other things regarding her baby that was all grown up.

After the meal was done Dumbledore took to his feet again and began addressing them all, first by stating that all first years were to know, as well as some older students were to be reminded, that the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds. The trio exchanged a smirk for that.

"I don't know what you're smirking about, you've had some pretty horrifying experiences in there," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Just laughing to ourselves of what Dumbledore could mean," Harry batted his eyes innocently.

Filch, the caretaker, had also reminded for the four-hundred and sixty-second time,

"I honestly believe that he's kept count to," Remus nodded.

that magic was not permitted in the corridors, nor a number of objects, the list of which can be found on the man's office door.

"And there's always a high demand to keep that updated," James rolled his eyes.

"Especially considering how many horrid students go out of their way to keep adding to said list," Sirius tacked on with an affronted look at the idea he actually held for a few seconds.

He continued on to a few staffing changes, starting with Grubbly-Plank who would be taking Care of Magical Creatures.

Harry made a guttural noise of protest as he tried to fight the book away from Sirius, exclaiming, "he didn't say for how long! Surely it's not permanent!"

Sirius managed to win the fight and keep the book in his possession even as he gave Harry a sympathetic look while answering, "relax pup, I'm positive Hagrid's fine and Dumbledore's just trying not to draw attention to him being gone by not bringing up his name."

"It's impossible not to draw attention to him when he's not where he's supposed to be," Harry said back belligerently as he sat back with a huff. Sirius winced, wishing he had a better answer for him as he tried to move on.

He also introduced Professor Umbridge, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Five jaws dropped in a stunning silence.

This was somehow even weirder than the idea of Moody teaching! That woman worked for the Ministry! So unless something had happened in a very short time from her getting fired as Senior Undersecretary, a highly unlikely scenario given her clear defense of them during Harry's trial, than that meant she was working there and at Hogwarts now! She was actually working at Hogwarts!

Harry felt a nasty tingling racing over the back of his right hand, his left moving to cover the faint white markings as he was truly derailed from Hagrid and left with a pit of worry for this news. Never before, not even Lockhart and Quirrell, had set off such a bad feeling in him as realizing he'd be spending a year in this woman's classroom.

Lily found her voice first, and it wasn't pretty as she said in a flat, icy tone, "just what is going on here? The Ministry at Hogwarts? Why on earth did Dumbledore hire this woman?"

"I'm drawing a blank," Remus winced, burrowing himself that much further into his seat as he imagined the scenario while he'd been at school, and how much worse his life could have been at the time. Considering all the things Harry got up to on a regular basis, this could be a new level of hell for the poor boy as well.

James and Sirius exchanged a truly uneasy look for this prospect as well, nothing was sitting right about this interference to their school, but Sirius forced himself to keep going no matter that feeling just to get a few more facts.

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.

"That's the bit you caught on?" Lily wasn't that surprised, but was smiling at her son for his one track mind on his friend.

"How would I know it was so weird, sure the Ministry hadn't anything to do with Hogwarts before now," Harry shrugged, "but I was more concerned with my friend first."

Dumbledore switched topics to the house Quidditch team tryouts, but oddly stopped for a moment and glanced at Umbridge.

"What's she got to do with Quidditch trials?" James wrinkled his nose in disgust as he tried to wave Sirius onto this very important topic.

Harry felt a knot forming in his stomach at the idea for some reason he had no care to investigate.

It took a moment for everyone to realize Dumbledore had stopped and taken his seat, because the woman had stood to make her own.

Sirius looked like someone had taken his broom out from beneath him as he gazed down at that bit before glancing up in even more confusion. No one had ever cut Dumbledore off from one of his speeches. Just who did this woman think she was?

The headmaster clasped his hands politely in front of him and now gazed at her as if he desired nothing more than to hear this.

"Dumbledore's had some odd moments, but this tops them all." Remus was gazing blearily forward like he was trying to understand some foreign language as Sirius read this.

The rest of the staff weren't taking it so well, Sprout's eyebrows disappearing right into her flyaway hair, and McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. Many of the students were smirking at each other, this woman obviously had no idea how things at Hogwarts went.

"I'll be happy to inform her," Sirius said in an entirely pleasant tone that covered nothing of the intent behind those words.

Her voice was a girlish as Harry remembered, and he could feel a powerful dislike rising inside of him more powerful than ever.

Harry was getting double the amount of those feelings on him now, the combination of her predisposition and his memories trying to warn him all culminating with a truly ugly look set in place that honestly gave the lot of them chills. What on earth does this woman do?!

She cleared her throat with a little hem, hem, and began how lovely it was to be here and see such happy little faces.

Remus raised an imperious brow at the start of this, demanding, "what are they, five?"

She just knew they were all going to be very good friends.

Most students exchanged looks at this barely concealing grins.

James and Sirius weren't even bothering to do as such.

Parvati whispered to Lavender she'd be her friend so long as she didn't have to borrow that cardigan.

Lily let out a giggle of her own.

She paused then, gave another little hem, hem, to clear her throat and then launched into a more monotone speech she'd clearly learned by heart all about The Ministry of Magics respect of the rare gift that was wizardry and the ancient unique skills those posses in the noble profession of teaching.

Sirius could already start to feel himself fidgeting with boredom. Yeah, teachers were great, could Harry leave now.

She paused to give a little bow to the staff, none of whom returned in kind. McGonagall now looked almost hawklike.

"That is a genuinely new expression, I'm jealous we never got to see," James said randomly as he pulled out his wand and began twirling it in his fingers with boredom.

She continued along noticing nothing that every headmaster and headmistress had brought something new along to add to the history of Hogwarts, which should always be encouraged for without progress there was stagnation. However, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for traditions require no tinkering. Balance then, for permanence and change...

Lily was starting to get a bad feeling for this as she watched Sirius critically, who was now trying to mime Binns and doing a fair job of it. She wasn't falling for it though, this woman's first day she'd already begun showing a level of disrespect for the Headmaster, now she was giving a whole speech on the structure of the school and how that could be...progressed. She still couldn't shake the thought that someone so directly involved in the Ministry was there, just what was going on?

Harry could already feel his attention slipping away, turning to people watch instead. Cho was leaning in to start chatting with one of her curly haired friends, Luna had pulled out her copy of The Quibbler and was looking through that again. Ernie was one of the few still watching, but his glassy eyes showed nothing was coming through. Surely it was only the Prefect badge gleaming on his chest that was giving him the persistence of faking.

James and Sirius weren't acting much better, both becoming fidgety and bored as Sirius' eyes were already trying to skip down to the bottom where this was done, none of them seemed to particularly care whatever was being said right now, she'd already lost their respect for the way she'd treated Harry at his trial. Remus was still listening, but passively, he couldn't work up much care for whatever this woman said and as of now it mostly sounded like some pompous bit to impress, and was managing to have the opposite effect. In fact it was rather dumb, to start speaking to them as if single digit children and then launch into such a scholarly speech.

Harry was the only one keeping such sharp attention and absorbing every word. At fifteen he may not have given any more of a care than any of his fellow students, but that intuition was back full force now telling him to keep an eye on this one and he wasn't going to be ignoring that.

Umbridge seemed not to notice she was losing her audience, as many students weren't even bothering to whisper as she droned on.

Remus couldn't help a little chuckle at that insert, already imagining what he and his friends could get away with in class if this was how she was going to be acting now.

Only Hermione and the staff continued diligently taking in every word, though a quick read of their faces showed it wasn't tasteful.

She concluded herself with the act of pruning what practices out to be prohibited.

By this point James was slumped over in his seat mock snoring and Sirius couldn't recollect a thing he'd just said in regards to her. They were all just glad it was over and were already hoping Harry would start skipping her classes right off the bat.

She took her seat and Dumbledore began applauding, but before anyone could realize the change and join in, the Headmaster took back to his feet.

James jerked upright, mock wiping drool from his lip and muttering, "sorry Professor, miss anything important?"

Sirius was just snickering that Dumbledore hadn't allowed any proper applause to happen as it shouldn't.

He thanked her for the illuminating speech, before going back on track...

Hermione wasn't listening as she said that had certainly been illuminating.

Ron asked that she'd enjoyed that? That was the most dull thing he'd ever heard in his life, and he'd grown up with Percy.

"That's saying something," Remus smirked.

Hermione corrected she'd said illuminating, not entertaining.

"Because that clarified everything," Lily snorted.

It certainly explained a few things.

Harry asked in surprise it did? That had sounded like a loaded waffle to him.

"And not even a tasty, good waffle," Sirius sighed tragically.

Hermione grimly told him there were very important things hidden in that waffle.

"Jelly filling?" Remus asked innocently.

Ron had no clue what she meant, and Hermione quoted parts of the speech back for them.

"Thought she was just spouting things about tradition and such," Remus scratched at his ear without concern. "What's Hermione getting so worked up over?"

"Hermione gets worked up over everything," James rolled his eyes.

"Usually with good reason," Harry half-heartedly defended.

Ron told her to explain herself already, and Hermione said through gritted teeth it meant the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts.

That caught all of their attention. Sirius began fidgeting uneasily with the pages as he thought that over, looking up hopefully when Lily said, "I, but they, why?" Well that wasn't helpful.

"I, Fudge is out of his mind!" Remus yelped in concern.

"If that's even what's going on," James persisted in utter denial. "Hermione could be wrong, there could be another reason for her being there..." he trailed off and looked hopefully around for someone to offer up said suggestion, but they were all coming up blank as what Hermione said really was the only explanation for a Ministry employ also being a teacher!

Sirius forced himself to keep going with a now dry throat in thought for all the implications this could hold for his school. Just what was the Ministry playing at?

A surge of noise began around them, Dumbledore had clearly dismissed them.

"Hey, we never got to find out when the Quidditch tryouts are," James pouted.

Lily smacked him and muttered something about priorities.

Hermione had to remind Ron it was their job to escort the first years, and Ron hopped to attention by shouting for the midgets.

This was so unexpected everyone gave a surprised burst of laughter, happy Ron was always around for that at least, even if it didn't erase one spot of worry in them.

Hermione scolded him not to call them that, before saying in a clear and commanding voice for the first years to follow her.

"I can at least see why she was made Prefect, we always knew she'd take well to authority," James rolled his eyes.

Harry watched them shuffle towards his friends, and thought to himself there was no way he'd been that young looking when he'd first arrived.

"Actually I'm confident you did," Remus smirked, "since I can still all to easily picture James that same way still, just replace Sirius with Ron."

"Nah, cause those two were at the front trying to lead the way when they had no idea where they were going," Lily reminded indulgently, at least giving Harry a moment to laugh at the idea.

He grinned at Euan as he passed, but the boy squeaked in fright and looked horrified at Harry, who's grin slipped away just as fast.

"Merlin's pants, just what was that Prophet saying about you?" Sirius demanded tartly as the exact same thing happened to Harry in here.

"First years have always been intimidated by him," Lily tried without much hope. "Surely it can't all be because of those lies."

Harry chose not to respond, instead gazing at the fire and trying to count in his head how long this nightmare would last.

He quickly departed the Hall and after a few secret passages was making his way up on his own.

Harry felt the nasty chills creeping up his spine for being separated from his friends twice already since he was at the school in his first night. He was wishing he'd found Neville and gone along with him, or even dogged the twins up to their tower. He truly hated this feeling of isolation he could already sense pressing in on him from all sides.

Harry felt stupid now for not having seen this coming. He'd reappeared with Cedric dead at the end of last year, and then everyone had gone home to think him a liar.

They were all fidgeting with unease at the reemergence of this topic. Surely the students wouldn't really gawk at Harry for that though...and none of them could deny they honestly believed it.

Harry reached Gryffindor tower before he realized that he did not know the new password.

"That's a recurring thing for you," James managed a sarcastic laugh.

"Hermione's almost always the one who knows it," Harry muttered without looking at him.

The Fat Lady refused to allow him in because of this, when Neville swooped in to rescue him.

Harry did feel a grin reaper for that at least, thankful he did still have a friend to rely on even if it wasn't one of his best friends.

The others were just blinking in surprise of this change, vividly remembering Neville's previous occurrences with this problem and some of the trouble it had caused.

He jogged right up to Harry and declared it was Mimbulus Mimbletonia!

The Fat Lady claimed this as correct, and swung open for them.

"Naww," Lily cooed with delight at the bright smile she could all to easily picture on Alice's face being passed down to her son for this moment.

"I'll bet you McGonagall had something to do with that," Sirius chuckled.

"I can almost picture it," Remus agreed. "If Neville sent word along to Sprout he was bringing that plant, and Sprout mentioned it to McGonagall..." he trailed off with a soft laugh that they all joined in on for this small but adorable little moment.

Their common room was a comfy as remembered, circular and full of squashy armchairs and a bright fire place with two sets of stairs leading to the male and female dormitories. They passed Fred and George hanging up something on the noticeboard as they went upstairs.

The boys perked up with interest at that, anything the twins got up to they always wanted to know more about.

Inside their own were Dean and Seamus already hanging up their favorite sports teams posters.

"How come they don't just leave them up in between years, it's not as if we switch beds," Harry had never bothered to ask before.

"The house-elves would throw them out," Sirius sighed. "Whatever you don't take, you won't see again."

Their voices abruptly cut off as Harry entered, and he began to wonder if that was paranoia telling him they were talking about him as well.

"It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you," Remus muttered under his breath, all of them wincing in fear of Harry's dorm mates even treating him like this. Surely at least they must know Harry wasn't crazy, they spent too much time around him!

Dean greeted him cheerfully enough asking how his holiday had been.

It would have taken Harry all night to relate the event, so he just said not bad.

"Got attacked by dementors, nearly expelled, and discovered the secret group trying to stop Voldemort all while dealing with my emotional godfather," Sirius ticked off on his fingers. "I really don't see how much harder that is."

"Well that's all easy for you to say, considering you'd refuse to give any further details," James snickered as Harry at least tried for a smile in agreement. It wasn't working too well, he could already feel a fight coming, not something he was looking forward to in his dorm with someone he at least considered a passing friend with any of those boys.

When Harry returned the question, Dean said it had been better than Seamus'.

Seamus took his time in setting up his poster, not facing Harry as he answered his mam hadn't wanted him to come back.

Harry watched those around him wince, but he wasn't entirely sure he understood that sad look of familiarity on their face.

Thankfully his mum explained for him, "that was a common recurrence during our school days. Parents spent a lot of time going back and forth between thinking their families were safest at home together, and then putting them back in school for a time when things seemed to be going quiet so they could have an education, than flipping right back. Looks like that's starting again."

Harry frowned in sympathy at the idea, but for some reason he wasn't entirely sure that covered his own building problem with whom he was now sure involved Seamus.

Harry was startled at the news, while Seamus still didn't look up at him, instead now digging out his pajamas.

Harry twitched in concern for that, but felt like he was the only one noticing this little oddity on Seamus's part. The others were still looking on in sympathy for the plight.

Harry asked why, this was such a Dursley like reaction he found it hard to believe Seamus' witch mother could do this.

"That's not just a trait of there's, regrettably," Remus sneered. "Fear makes people do the most foolish things."

Harry still wished those things would stop involving him already.

Seamus completed dressed himself before answering in a stiff voice it was because of Harry.

That caught them off guard, but only for a moment until they realized that it wasn't fear of Voldemort's return on Mrs. Finnegan's part like they'd assumed. Instead it was much worse, and now everyone was as tense as Harry, ready for a fight to break out.

Harry snapped back what that could mean, and Seamus took his time answering it was him, and Dumbledore-

Harry cut off to take that to mean she believed Harry a liar and Dumbledore a fool?

Seamus finally looked at him as he said yes.

James could feel a biting comment on the tip of his tongue he was just begging to lash out with, no one got to talk to his son like that!

Harry did not respond farther as he turned to get himself ready for bed. He was entirely sick of being the person everyone stared at and talked about.

Lily could feel her lip trembling for several reasons, only one of which was anger now. What she wouldn't give for this not to be happening to her child, when he'd never asked for any of these things to happen to him. He'd never gone out of his way and brought any of these people down on him, yet he was constantly used by nearly every damn person in the wizarding world who'd never even bothered to meet him.

His thoughts savagely centered around if anyone had any idea what he went through, finishing with what a stupid woman Mrs. Finnigan was.

No one was currently thinking much kinder.

He made to get into bed, but Seamus asked what had really happened that night, with Cedric?

"Would it really help if I gave details!" Harry hissed furiously. "Do they all really want to know I looked in him in the eye as his body-" he shuddered and broke off, couldn't even continue in anger.

Sirius hesitated, wanting to offer some word of comfort to Harry, they all did, but this wasn't something you could shoot a whisky over and force yourself to keep going. That wasn't a Death Eater you'd seen fall that you could convince yourself was done for some tangible good reason. Harry had been forced to see a brutal murder done all to get to him, and now he was surrounded by children who wanted the gory details without considering what they were asking for.

Harry realized what he'd said aloud, why the others had gone silent and so quietly asked Sirius to keep going. Sirius didn't entirely want to, he still worried that Harry deserved something to be said to him, but he supposed he should give himself something to do until he could come up with that.

Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.

Harry demanded what he was being asked for? Just read the Daily Prophet like his stupid mother, that would tell him everything!

Sirius felt a bark of laughter escape him, knowing he'd back Harry in a moment in saying much worse to any of these prats.

Seamus snapped right back not to drag his mother into this, which Harry returned not to call him a liar than! Seamus snarled not to talk to him like that!

"Yet he acts as if he can talk to Harry any way he wishes," Remus snarled.

"Just like Malfoy, can't take what they dish out," James sneered.

Harry said he'd talk to anyone any way he pleased calling him a liar! If it bothered him so much, take it up with McGonagall, stop his mummy worrying-

Seamus snarled for Potter to keep his mother out of this!

"Then he shouldn't have brought her into this," Sirius pointed out with an unfriendly smile.

Lily had a few things she'd like to say as well, but she was at least trying to restrain herself by running her hand through her hair. She knew the boys only saw themselves as backing Harry, but she at least liked to think she wasn't egging on the fight.

Ron came in then to see Harry itching to go for his wand, and Seamus' hands balled up for a fight.

"What a thing to walk in on," muttered Remus as he shook his head imagining Ron just walking into the middle of this and how off that must be.

Seamus turned at once to tell Harry was having a go at his mother. Ron tried to defend that wasn't possible, he wouldn't- but Harry shouted back he wouldn't be if she'd stop believing every stinking thing the Daily Prophet wrote!

Comprehension dawned across Ron's face as he gave an uneasy look between the two.

Sirius had his eyes narrowed dangerously, still smarting over Ron's treatment of Harry last year and how he'd claimed to not believe Harry about the start of that stupid tournament. Ron of course knew the truth of this situation, but he supposedly should have known better then, and had apparently spent that time hanging around Dean and Seamus. If Ron actually tried to play peacemaker instead of backing his friend, Sirius would have a few things to say about him next.

Seamus kept his focus on Harry as he said maybe he would go tell their head of house he didn't want to share a dorm with a madman.

Ron cut in that was out of line, his ears already starting to glow red.

No one else understood the almost relieved smile Sirius got there for a moment, but he didn't elaborate, now reading on with just a touch less venom now that Harry had backup.

Seamus snapped if Ron believed all that nonsense than he was mad too!

Ron jabbed his badge as she shouted back that he was a mad Prefect, so unless Seamus wanted detention, he'd watch his mouth!

For a moment Seamus was clearly thinking that whatever he had to say would be worth the detention,

James half wished he would say it, let Ron put that power to some good use right out of the gate. No one noticed Harry pale a couple extra shades at the mention of a detention, his right hand fidgeting up a storm.

but then he instead tore the hangings around his bed trying to get them out of the way so he could be out of sight.

Ron turned on the other two, demanding if anyone else's parents had a problem with Harry?

"I do love the way he phrases that," Remus couldn't help but snort. "Not them, but their parents."

"Most children do follow their parents beliefs. Not all of them," Lily amended when she saw Sirius roll his eyes in contempt, "but it's a fair question."

Dean put his hands up in surrender his parents were Muggles. They didn't know anything about anything because he wasn't stupid enough to tell them.

"That's so sad," Lily murmured, but with understanding. She'd rarely confided in her parents all of the gory details she often heard of from Voldemort's reign, but she couldn't bare leaving them completely ignorant either. Not exclusive commentary, some things she couldn't bare sharing about her world in fear it would make her parents fear her like Petunia did. She hadn't her sister to talk to, and after a certain point no friend either, she'd needed someone, and her mother had always been there for her even if she hadn't always understood Lily's tearful yet forced normal conversations.

Seamus snapped that wasn't like his mother, she could weasel anything out of anyone.

"He says that like it's a good thing," James had his head cocked to the side in agitation as he assessed that.

Dean's mum didn't get the chance to read the Prophet, the details about how the Wizengamot and the International of Confederation had sacked Dumbledore for losing his marbles-

Neville cut in to say his gran found that rubbish. She'd always said Voldemort would be back one day, so if Dumbledore said he was, than he was.

"You sure know how to cause a scene Harry," Sirius was full blown smiling at that. "Walk into a room, and suddenly you've got people declaring themselves to your side."

Harry tried to flatten his hair while he couldn't come up with anything to say but gratitude for Neville and his gran.

Seamus had nothing to respond to that with as he fixed his curtains and stormed into bed. Silence fell as Harry was left to his own mind, shaken by the fight. He'd always gotten on well with Seamus, how many more people would he come across who thought him lying, or unhinged?

They were all twitching uncomfortably as the fight broiled down and now Harry was left to his own mind again. This was a passing kid whom they had no real feelings towards other then as one of Harry's dorm mates, but he made a good point. Just how many people was this going to keep happening to? When would Sirius' prediction come true, and Voldemort would finally be revealed? Just how many people would Harry have to keep fighting with just to make himself heard, and how many would come groveling back after the fact to try and sucker back up to him. None of the answers to those questions left anything good in this future.

Had this been what Dumbledore had been fighting against all summer? Was he angry at Harry for getting him mixed up in this, and that's why Dumbledore had been ignoring him?

"He would never," Remus said at once. "Honestly Harry, he's never gotten into contact with you before this summer either. I agree circumstances had changed and you should have been told more, but Dumbledore isn't taking this out on you."

"Then why hasn't he bothered to even look at me, especially at the trial!" Harry persisted, this had clearly lingered with him.

"I'm sure there must be a reason," he tried to soothe, which didn't come across very effectively since he began fidgeting with unease he had no real answer.

Sirius looked between the two before shaking his head in defeat, hoping they got some answers soon, or Harry was going to drive himself crazy soon trying to find answers from himself rather than waiting on them.

Harry pummeled his pillow as he wondered just how many more attacks from people like Seamus he'd have to suffer through before the truth came out.

"Chapter's over," Sirius groaned in disgust as he hesitated giving the book to Harry. The poor boy already looked so agitated on his first day there, it felt like nothing had been going right for him for ages, and that deeply contemplative look he still had in place made it feel like nothing good was coming.

HPHPHPHP

*Thanks to aaquater for the question!

**Thank maana999 for the question!

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #The Life that Never Lived #OotP #HP #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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