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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

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Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

#you ask i answer #ktk rec ‘21 #ktk rec #ktk fic rec #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #mob!andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!steve #dark!steve x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction recommendation #fanfic rec #mob!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan x reader #mob!chris evans

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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Fuel to the fire - chapter 1 (prologue)

The one where Andy isn’t the type of man you can deny, even if what he wants is for you to become his mistress.

Andy Barber is a feared mobster and your best friend’s husband. There were more than enough reasons never to look at him twice. But when he lets you know that he wants you, there’s little you can do to stop the terrible trainwreck you know it’s coming your way.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Looking around your best friend’s living room, you patted yourself on the back for all the help you had given her in preparation for this evening. It would be her and her husband’s third anniversary and although you didn’t exactly understand why this was something that she wanted to celebrate with a heck of a lot of people, you could appreciate all the care she put in the event nonetheless.

It was the same care she put into every single event she had organized since she got married to Andy. It was funny to think back on the girl you knew from college - how different she was from the socialite who was now mingling with other trophy wives. You were pretty sure her younger self would be unforgiving of the personality she had assumed after the wedding, but you weren’t so shallow.

You could understand the need to fit in, the pressure she was under from having married so quickly, to someone from such a high status. Andy Barber was well-known throughout all of Boston, of course - but perhaps his status would be best described as infamous. He was feared by many, yet known by few, and even being his wife’s best friend didn’t grant you much personal interaction with him at all.

In fact, excluding the ceremony, you probably had seen him three times, all of them in his and Erica’s celebrations of their union. You were pretty sure the reason she had thrown herself into this hobby of organizing these sorts of events was precisely to fill the empty place where her husband should be every night, but perhaps that’s life when you agree to marry one of America’s greatest mobsters.

You were still unsure how that even happened, anyway. Although, you couldn’t help but envy her somewhat. Marrying straight out of college to a man of his power meant she didn’t have student loans to worry about, while you were left to count every dime to keep a roof over your head.

Sometimes you wondered if life had really treated her so well as to make her completely blind to your struggles. Of course, you knew you could have asked her for money anytime - you were pretty sure she’d give you some, perhaps even without asking for it back (lord knows she didn’t need it) but it was just too humiliating.

Besides, her husband intimidated you. In the few times you had to brush shoulders with him, his unwavering stare and undeniably good looks had you weak in the knees, and you didn’t find it all that weird when you looked over the other side of the room to find her resting against him. Anyone needed some sort of support when they were around that man.

Still, the scene felt a little bit out of the ordinary, and it took you some time to realize that in all the time they’d been together, you had never once seen him give her a loving caress - not even at their wedding celebration. But if she was happy, who were you to worry about what was very clearly a picture-perfect life?

The sound of your phone beeping tore you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you realized you’d gotten a message from the guy you’d been talking to for the last few days.

I think we’ve established there’s something here.

You bit your lip, pondering over the steamy messages you’d been exchanging. When you signed up on this app to sell some raunchy pictures for a few dollars, you didn’t expect to attract so much attention as to have someone offering you to pay you some pretty big bucks to keep your images sent exclusively to him.

You also didn’t expect him to be so intriguing.

You’re right. There definitely is.

It didn’t take much longer for him to type back.

So why don’t you send me something nice to seal our deal, baby?

Glancing up, you scanned the room to check if anyone had noticed you standing in a corner, subtly clenching your thighs to alleviate some of the tension you were feeling. Surely, no one would notice if you slipped to the bathroom to send him a thank you gift for the few hundred dollars he’d already sent you. Even Andy was distracted, texting on his phone - probably making some more than sketchy business deals.

Give me 5

You knew dinner was still far from being served when you slipped back into the room - or tried to, at least, because just as you turned the corner in the hallway to get back to the main room, you bumped into what seemed like a wall of flesh.

“Easy, there.” You knew that voice. Your head instinctively snapped up to meet deep brown eyes that looked down at you with amusement written all over them. Andy, you realized, not entirely sure why the proximity had your brain completely scrambled. You wanted to associate it with fear, but the way you shivered lit up some warning signs in the back of your mind.

So you quickly tried to push yourself away, wanting him to know it was an accident. Of course, you knew Andy wasn’t someone to lose his temper that easily, but being in the enemies list of a known mobster wasn’t amongst your goals in life.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barber,” you made sure to say, but he just chuckled and kept his hands on your hips, his thumbs rubbing them. Lingering.

“It’s alright, Y/N.” You never had the courage to address him by his first name, but he never once referred to you as anything else, and you couldn’t help but think the sound of it falling from his lips was just lovely.

Also, what the hell was this cologne he was wearing and why did he smell so fucking good? It made your mouth water and the alarms in the back of your had rose in volume, making you cringe.

You felt his stare burning you before he even said it.

“It seems like you’re allergic to bras, huh?”

You knew your nipples were showing, the room was too cold and with his proximity, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension in the air, even if it was one-sided. But why would he point that out? Was he toying with you?

You felt like a prey under his stare, kept hostage by his hands, but just as the thought settled, he let you go.

“Pay more attention to where you’re going, hm?” And then he left in the direction you had been in, not even looking back your way while you just stood there, trying to get your heart under control.

What the hell was wrong with you? You really needed to stop before this got any weirder.

And yet, as you got back into mingling with people who couldn’t care less about you, you couldn’t help but think that Andy seemed exactly like the type of man who could hurt you and still have you begging for more.

#my series #andy barber x reader #andy barber reader #andy barber reader insert #andy barber reader inserts #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber au #mob!andy barber #mob andy #andy barber dark #dark!andy barber

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Fully Completely 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, blood, cutting, general hatred

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: Today, we have more Loki then tomorrow more Zemo and some Sam on Saturday. I might add in some Andy Barber after that but keep plucking away at this and Candy Coated. Anyway, I’ll see you in the comments and the asks.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 5: Hang me long out in the sun

💀💀💀

You sat against the wall, flinching every time you leaned too heavily on the radiator and burned your arm. You were certain Loki cranked the heat before he left as it was stolid and stifling in the large room. Sweat dripped down your body and mingled with the drying blood along your chest. You were uncomfortable but you didn’t want to get comfortable in this place.

You pulled on your wrist until your hand throbbed and the cuffs showed no sign of wear and the radiator didn’t budge. You stretched across the floor until you could reach the edge of the bookshelf and kicked until some books fell, hoping for some hidden pin or tool to pick the lock. There were only musty old books and dust.

You stood, tried to at least, bent over as you stretched your legs. You did awkward squats and extended your arms to your toes, one at least. You rolled your head on your neck so it cracked noisily and settled back against the wall. You were tired, exhausted, but too worked up to sleep.

It hit you all at once as the stench of smoke clung to your shirt and skin. Your shop was gone, your home, everything you worked for. It was another sick joke played on you by the town of Birch.

Bucky was just another bully. He was like that boy in ninth grade who asked you to meet him at the park for a ‘date’ only to stand you up. You remembered the Monday after when he planted a stink bomb in your locker. The men around there were all the same. Everywhere if you were to judge by Loki.

You closed your eyes and thought of your dad. You thought he would’ve been proud to see everything you’d done; a shop of your own, a life where you didn’t have to worry. He said to you, through his dying lungs, that he knew you would be alright, that you could take care of yourself and Jerome. What about your brother then? Shouldn’t he take care of you too?

For the first time in a very long time, you wanted to cry. You kept your eyes shut to keep the tears locked in and slowly your mind eased. You sunk down as the warmth of the radiator embraced you, unbothered by the unyielding heat against your arm. You could hear yourself snore as you succumbed to your fatigue.

You were woken by the clatter of the door below. The old Victorian house echoed every noise and shuddered at every gale without. You lifted your head with a snort and sidled away from the radiator. Your arm was tender from the constant blaze of the radiator and you winced as you touched it. Fuck, it was burned.

You braced yourself as you listened to the slow ascent. You heard him behind the door and watched the knob turn. You sprawled out and slid a book closer with your foot. You got up and grabbed it quickly and stood in a hunch. You flung it at Loki as he entered but he quickly blocked the hardcover tome with the door.

He carefully peeked around the wood and stepped back in with a sigh. He shook his head as he crossed his arms and nodded as Korg appeared behind him. The bigger man placed the collection of shopping bags on the table and left with a dismissive sniff from his boss. The door closed and you were left to simmer alone with Loki.

“Such a warm welcome,” he strode to the table and tapped his fingertips on the wood, “and after I went to all the trouble of replacing your wardrobe. A pity all those wonderful pieces you had were lost.”

“I don’t want any of it,” you sneered, “leave me here, I don’t care.”

“Darling, while I find your resilience admirable it is also rather irksome,” he said, “and you will find that in the end, it will only make all this so much more difficult. You needn’t suffer anymore.”

“‘You needn’t suffer anymore,’” you mimicked him, “just listening to you talk is suffering.”

He turned his face down and clenched his jaw. He turned and reached into a bag. He pulled out a swath of black fabric that unfolded to an elegant dress with subtle black gems along the neckline like stars. You pushed your head back and stared at the ceiling.

“I can understand, a woman like you, men aren’t lining up to give you nice things,” he said, “I wouldn’t exactly call this giving, more… trading.”

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled as you closed your eyes again, “you know, you woke me up so why don’t you keep it down?”

“I did have to guess at the sizes,” he ignored you brusquely, “but I’ve always had a keen eye.”

“You can shove your dresses and whatever else you wasted your money on up your--”

“Darling,” he interrupted, “I will not warn you again. That lip does provoke me.”

You jutted your jaw out and exhaled. You bent your legs and crossed your arms over your knees. You were too tired to argue with him. Hell, it only seemed to make you feel more helpless as you could not act on your anger. You hated that feeling. It remind you of that stupid teenage girl again; so gullible and weak.

“You cannot remain as you are,” he continued, “and I will not have a slobbish hick on my arm--”

“Jesus Christ, is your dick so small you can’t find another woman?” you hissed.

He was silent. You opened your eyes and hit your head on the wall as you were startled by how quick he moved. He pressed his knee to your chest and pinned you to the wall as he reached into his pocket and plucked out the silver key. He bent and unhooked the cuff from your wrist.

He caught your hand as you clawed at him and coughed as he pushed his knee harder against the cut between your tits. He tore you away from the wall suddenly and thrust you up to your feet. He twisted your arm behind you as he spun you and kicked your feet across the floor. You struggled with him but each time he bent your arm further up your back.

He pushed you onto the bed and straddled you as he angled you along the mattress. You flailed with your legs as he kept you trapped beneath his weight and released your arm. You reached out as he shifted above you and quickly snatched up your hands. He wrapped his long fingers around your wrists and snugly wound his tie in their place before he let go.

He backed off of you so that you laid across your stomach, your hands bound above your head to the bedpost. You rolled over as he marched away and returned just as quickly. He unfolded the razor with the mother-of-pearl handle and you dug your heels into the bed as you tried to free yourself from the silken tie.

He grabbed your leg and held it down. You brought your other knee up and he blocked it with his shoulder, “if you continue on like this, I might catch the artery.”

He held your leg down and pressed the edge of the blade to your thigh. You froze as he sliced into your skin and you grunted through your teeth. He traced a line down your leg and mirrored it on the other. He retreated and looked you over as you glanced down between your legs, the red lines dripping onto the blanket.

“What the fuck?” you yanked on the tie, “you’re fucking insane.”

“You haven’t any idea,” he held up the razor and admired the crimson along the silver, “but if you insist on this little dance, I should be inclined to go deeper.” He closed the razor and winked, “darling, you are looking rather rough,” he remarked, “but scars will not deter me.”

He spun and strode again to the bathroom. He returned and wiped his hands on a white towel and tossed it over the back of the chair. He sat and continued to sort through the bags.

“You think I’m afraid of you, you prick?” you snarled, “you think you’re going to win? When I get free, I’m going to take that blade and cut your dick--”

He stood and his hand formed a fist. He was atop you in a moment but before he could bring his hand to your throat, you bit down on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. He exclaimed and retracted his hand for just a second before he smacked you across the face. Your head snapped to the side and you held in a groan.

This time his hand stretched over your neck and he leaned over you. His hot breath whispered along your cheek and you shivered in disgust.

“Oh, darling, this will be fun indeed,” he purred, “but I have no doubt that you will be prancing around in pretty little skirts for me before long,” he squeezed until you croaked, “you can even keep them on as I fuck you.”

“Go… to… hell,” you rasped.

He snickered and sat back on his heels with you straddled beneath him, “haven’t you realised? We’re already there.”

💀

You laid there for hours after Loki left you. Even though the mattress was preferable to the floor, you didn’t sleep. You stared at the ancient ceiling and cursed every inch of that place.

Your thighs ached and that cut along your chest. Your arm was sore and raw each time it rubbed against your sleeve or the bed. You were more enraged than ever and you could hardly contain it and frustration had you kicking the mattress.

The windows were dark when he returned. He turned on the lamp beside you as the aroma of food tickled your stomach. You were desperately hungry but didn’t realise it until that moment. You salivated and gulped it down as he pulled up a chair and cradled the box in his lap.

“I’ve brought you dinner,” he said as he opened the cardboard container, “but… you have to use your manners, darling.”

“Get fucked,” you rolled onto your side so your back was to him.

“I can hear your stomach so let’s not pretend I believe you for a moment,” he taunted, “you will realise soon how weak you truly are.”

You didn’t say anything, nor did you move. You sneered at the wall as your arms strained above your head. He let out a long breath and then hummed in delight, “mmm, you know, this is not bad,” he commented, “your little diner has been the least disappointing aspect of this shithole.”

You gulped hungrily but refused to look back. He tapped his foot on the floor impatiently and sighed again.

“You would do yourself a favour if you did one for me,” he said, “say, if you accepted this generosity I might allow you another, perhaps a shower. Those cuts cannot remain unwashed.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you cut me,” you spat, “I don’t want anything from you and I definitely don’t want you. I’ll go live in the rubble, I don’t give a fuck.”

“You will,” he said as he stood and dragged the chair away, “but only you will pay for your stubbornness.”

💀

After another tussle, Loki relocated you once more to the radiator. He slept blissfully as you spent another restless night both sweating and shivering. When he woke, he offered you a bowl of instant oatmeal and you flipped it over. He tutted and went on with his day, leaving you again to stew in your wrath.

By the end of the day, your body rebelled with hunger and you accepted the bowl of soup he brought from The Chipped Saucer. You drank it from the paper cup but felt more rotten as it burned in your chest. He smirked as he watched you and you tossed the empty cup at him.

He scowled and you spent another night in cuffs. On the fourth day, he let you shower but kept you cuffed to the curtain bar for the ordeal. All modesty was gone as you were allowed only a plain white robe after and sat in the same spot, metal at your wrist, and wood at your back.

But you didn’t stop. You bit, you kicked, you hit, you swore, you screamed. A week passed and you wouldn’t accept it. You could see you were wearing on him and comforted yourself with the irritation in his sharp green eyes. You laughed at him outright and it stoked him further. He truly thought you’d never dealt with assholes before. You lived among them your whole life.

But that day when he came in, he was quiet though not sullen or angry. He was almost boasting as he still wore his new leather boots and dark parka. He tramped around and pulled out a mauve coloured dress, some satin and impractical undergarments, and a pair of heeled boots. He placed them calmly beside you but kept out of your reach.

He stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. You shook your head at him and scoffed. He waited as you simply yawned into your palm.

“Don’t you want to go see your brother?” he asked.

“He can rot with the rest of you,” you hissed.

“So heartless,” he slithered, “but I shall relay the message to him, as hard as it may be.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” you huffed.

“Well, darling, I don’t know if he should hear me or even if he could, that it would put him in a worse condition,” he mused.

“Worse condition?” you grimaced.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, my apologies,” he preened, “why yes, it seems he did have an unfortunate incident. Some suspect it was an attempt on his own life but you know how gossip is in a town so small--”

“What--” you bit down on your lip, “is he… is he okay?”

“Why, he is rotting just as you wished, yes?” he asked coyly.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Tell me he’s okay!” you tried to stand but were kept in a crouch by the cuffs.

“If you get dressed and behave, then you can see for yourself,” he said evenly, “or I will alone and hope that he survives his injuries… I wouldn’t expect the healthcare around here to be very adequate--”

“You fucking touch him--”

“What? You are wasting time, darling, and visiting hours will be over soon,” he warned.

You clenched your jaw and squinted at him. You swallowed your derision and blinked.

“Fine,” you said quietly, “I’ll… behave. Just take me to see him.”

“Good girl,” he came closer and knelt to grab your wrist, “but let me be clear, one misstep and you will never see him again. I should hate for him to die alone.”

“Just fucking undo me,” you snarled and his lips curved in triumph.

328 notes · View notes

queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 8

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8

Billy read through the file on his desk for the third time that day. After the night of the gala he’d hired an investigator to gather info on you, and now all the major events in your life were neatly encompassed in a red folder, ready for his perusal. Despite your refusal to share anything, he’d managed to learn a lot about you reading your file. Except instead of giving him clarity on you, the documents triggered an avalanche of questions and emotions that left him rattled.

You grew up in the projects, in a poor neighbourhood in Chicago, but had managed to wrangle your way into a state university. He knew how expensive those were, and even with the scholarships you’d earned it was almost impossible for someone in your socio-economic background to be able to attend college – but you had, and judging by your relatively low student loans it wasn’t simply due to luck. Billy had learned a long time ago that when opportunities presented themselves, he had to make quick and tough decisions to get ahead. Rawlins had presented such an opportunity, which had given Billy the cashflow he needed to start Anvil. Who was your Rawlins, he wondered.

Throughout college you interned at a moderately-sized company in Chicago and they hired you immediately upon graduation. You never looked back after that, moving from firm to firm while going up the corporate ladder. There were so many things about your life you didn’t share with Billy but you had been honest about one thing – Anvil couldn’t afford you. If he’d hired you, your salary would be on par with his.

Billy still remembered when he’d signed his first lucrative contract. He’d been eyeing the Wraith for months prior to that, and as soon as he could justify the purchase he did. The penthouse in a luxury high-rise building came next. You, however, were the complete opposite of him. You owned your condo, and while it was nice and in a decent neighbourhood, it certainly wasn’t a luxury purchase. You were careful with your money, except when it came to shoes. Based on your credit card records, you bought a lot but the ridiculously expensive purchases weren’t as numerous. He guessed those were the ones you bought when you were especially troubled, like Davina had said.

Billy had pored over your life starting from where you were now all the way back to your childhood. The first time he read the child abuse investigation report in your file was two days ago, and it had taken him hours to finish because of the sheer rage it provoked in him. It was an incident reported by one of your teachers after you’d shown up to school with bruises and burn marks. Of course the child protective services had done nothing, you’d been returned to your parents. There were no other reports filed after that but abuse that vicious didn’t stop just because the cops came around. Your parents probably just learned not to leave visible bruises. Billy was all too familiar with that kind of violence and realizing you went through the same made him want to destroy every fucking person in your life that ever hurt you.

“I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy.”

Your words still rung in his ears. They had haunted him for a week now. He could still remember the strange look of apathy on your face even though your words were obviously coming from a place of hurt and anger. At the time he didn’t know what you meant, but now he understood and it both sickened and infuriated him that you felt threatened by him. What could he have possibly done to conjure the same fear in you as your goddamn family? How could you compare him to them?

“You will not destroy me.”

Your voice had been steady and calm when you said the words, a complete contrast to the confusion he’d been feeling. Fine, he may not have recognized your worth sooner before but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt you. Yet you’d accused him of doing just that and it pissed the fuck out of him. Yeah he’d bragged about Anvil to Roger but that was to get you actual protection and keep you safe – something your precious fucking Roger should have done from day one. Corporations didn’t give a fuck about their employees until their bottom lines were threatened and knowing a competitor had access to that kind of info meant bad PR for Valiant. You were smart, you should have realized exactly why Billy had played that card but instead you chose to be willfully blind and accuse him of jeopardizing your job. It made him so angry that it had taken every bit of willpower he had not to shake the stupidity out of you.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Upon seeing who it was, he picked it up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Hey, boss. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Looks like she’s lost her tail. Didn’t even take her that long. The guy’s an idiot.”

Frustrated, Billy ran his fingers through his hair. The little talk with Roger had worked and Valiant had assigned a bodyguard to you, but like everything else about the company, the guard was ineffective. Fortunately Billy had already anticipated Valiant’s ineptitude so he’d made arrangements for one of his best trackers to keep an eye on you. “Think she knows about you?”

Andy snorted. “This ain’t my first gig.”

Even though Billy knew Andy was great at what he did - he was one of Anvil’s best - it still didn’t assuage his anxieties about you. “Where is she right now?”

“Driving out of town. I’m on her tail.”

“Headed for?”

“Not sure yet. Connecticut, I think.”

Billy exhaled an agitated sigh. “Okay, let me know if there’s trouble.”

“Will do.”

After hanging up with Andy, he called your number. As expected, it went to your voicemail automatically. Just like it had every time this past week. Obviously you’d blocked him, which irritated the fuck out of him, but he realized it was something you needed to do for yourself. And if you didn’t have some unhinged lunatic after you, Billy would have given you the space you needed - but now was not the time to respect your goddamn boundaries.

“Hey, it’s me. I get it. You’re pissed but we need to talk. Call me.” He paused, breathing. A part of him wanted to add a ‘please’ but he didn’t like the thought of pleading with another person, even you. Because if he begged and you still didn’t call back… he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Reluctantly, he put your file down and returned to reviewing the contracts in front of him.

***

It was almost two in the morning. He’d gone out for dinner with some potential clients and schmoozed the hell out of them. After a lot of booze and ass-kissing, they finally shook on the deal. All in all, it was a pretty great night except he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Every time his phone rang he hoped it was you; it never was. And now he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of you like some lovesick fool. It was pathetic. He should have gone home with the waitress that had slipped him her number. She’d been hot, fun, and more than happy to fuck him but some stupid part of him felt guilty – actually guilty even though you’d been ignoring him for a week – of sleeping with someone who wasn’t you. What the hell was wrong with him?

Yeah, sure, he’s been in some relationships before but they never lasted long. When things were bad, they were terribly, horribly bad and the good times just weren’t worth it. And so, in the past few years, he’d decided to keep things casual with everyone until you fucking came along and dropped a bomb and now he was right back in the middle of a hurricane. Fuck you. Fuck You. Fuck you for making him feel like this. For making him feel desperate and clingy and pathetic. For making him worry about you. For making him care.

He grabbed his phone and called you. There was your fucking voicemail greeting again and the dreaded beep.

“I make you feel worthless?” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “What the fuck did I do to make you feel that way? Tell me. Because you actually haven’t given me any reasons. You just spouted some bullshit about having feelings for me before you walked away. Now you’ve blocked my number and I’m sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong.” He scooted off the bed and began pacing the floor. “Eleven fucking months we’ve been sleeping together and you tell me nothing about yourself. Nothing. You were a glorified sex doll. A fucking fleshlight who spoke and only told me things I wanted to hear. Yes, Billy. No, Billy. Fuck me, Billy. You kept everything bottled up! Not once did we have a real conversation. And then all of a sudden you come alive and I find out there’s more to you and I want to get to know you better but then you tell me you have feelings for me, that you might actually love me and instead of giving me a chance to process any of this shit you dump my ass and block me? Fuck you, Y/N!”

He hung up the phone, feeling much better, but within seconds that feeling of euphoric release turned to anxiety. What if you misinterpreted what he meant? What if something he said inadvertently hurt you again? This time when he called you, his voice was calmer.

“This isn’t me, Y/N. I’m not the guy who calls a woman over and over again, especially when she wants nothing to do with me. But you’re in my head. You’re everywhere I look. I don’t want to think about you, I don’t want to give a fuck about you, but I do…” He took a deep breath. “You said you might love me but I think you’re full of shit. Because when you care about someone, you don’t leave them behind. Shutting someone out, abandoning them, that’s not love. That’s being a fucking coward.”

After putting his phone back on the nightstand table, he lay back in bed with his arm propped up behind his head. He pondered the message he left, realizing the truth. As hard as he’d fought it, as much as he didn’t want to, he had fallen for you. You. Not the woman he’d been fucking for eleven months who didn’t have any personality but the real you, the woman who challenged him, who made him laugh, who was brilliant and incredibly smart and so fucking beautiful he’d get a hard-on practically every time he looked at you. There was so much about you he didn’t know, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life discovering you, fucking you, making you his.

He didn’t believe in destiny or any of that romantic nonsense. The universe had fucked him over too many times for him to accept sentimental bullshit like that. But what he did believe in was himself. Everything he had he fought for and he destroyed anyone who got in his way. Something told him you were the same as him. You two were connected.

He reached for his phone again and dialed your number. His voice was strong, calm, and resolute as he left you a final message.

“I like you. I want you. I’m not walking away.”

He hung up, smirking.

Part 9

A/N - I’m back from lovely St Maarten, all tanned and relaxed :) I hope you guys had a wonderful week, and that you enjoyed this new chapter. I know it wasn’t plot-heavy, just thought-heavy but that was on purpose. I really wanted a chapter just for Billy to process his feelings about “You”. Hope the lack of plot wasn’t a disappointment. As always, thank you for the lovely feedback on the last chapter. I’m sorry I didn’t respond in a timely manner while I was away! Please know that I truly appreciate the likes, the reblogs, the wonderful feedback and the asks you guys left me.

If you want me to add/remove you from the tag list, please let me know.

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729 @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting--heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #a woman scorned

164 notes · View notes

okay-j-hannah · 3 years

Text

Part 1: The Sun God

Doctor Who : Multishot

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 6756

Warnings: There are descriptions of burns and burn victims. Also some talk of drug addiction

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: One step closer to understanding what’s ailing the reader... meanwhile *lovestruck sigh* the bickering and flirting between the reader and the Doctor is ✨giving me life✨

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 1: The Sun God {You Are Here}

Part 2: The Tonic

Part 3: The Ending Song

Life with the Doctor went by in a blur of rescued planets, saved species, and TARDIS accidents. The hospital visit planned so many months ago was long forgotten.

(Y/N) and the Doctor were simply swept away with adventure after adventure. After partaking the famed gouda of the moon and dancing the night away in the Blankar System, their companionship became less of a requirement and more of a favorite pastime.

There was still the looming mystery of (Y/N)’s alien tainted particle trail and the Reapers around every corner. But the pair of them found themselves rather enjoying spending their time exploring rather than hunting.

And the longer she spent on the TARDIS, the harder it became accepting she should go home at some point. It had been months. Months: and thoughts of her fiancé were knocking at the door in the back of her mind.

“This way!” The Doctor grabbed her hand and started to run. They were always running.

Though this time she was feeling a bit winded.

“You shouldn’t have pointed out their sham,” she laughed, disregarding the angry human mob behind them.

“Well, they shouldn’t have tried to scam the money off of you. The way they were groveling you, trying to pick your pocket – honestly.”

She gave him a silent look of admiration and scolded herself. “Could you have parked the TARDIS any farther!” There was a burning tickling her lungs – she didn’t normally get this fatigued so quickly.

The Doctor scoffed, gripping her hand tighter and spotting their blue box ahead, “Running’s good for the heart, (Y/N). And what with you only having one of those, I’ve got to keep your cardiovascular system in shape.”

They slammed into the TARDIS doors. Locked.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” (Y/N) said, leaning into the box heavily, “Shouldn’t it open at your command?”

“Oh hush,” he snipped, “Extra precautions aren’t a crime.”

The mob scrambled closer, finding them stationary at the end of the street. (Y/N) nudged the Doctor’s elbow, “If they aren’t a crime then why is our punishment on its way?” The Doctor fiddled with his silver key.

“Don’t rush me.”

“We don’t exactly have the time, Doctor.”

“You’re less fun when you’re grumpy.”

“I’ll be grumpier if we’re on the end of those pitchforks!”

The doors swung open as the mob roared. (Y/N) and the Doctor entered and felt as the humans pounded against the police box outside. Their torches could be seen ablaze through the window.

The Doctor didn’t hesitate to jump to the controls and put the TARDIS in an orbit while (Y/N) tried to catch her breath.

Her lungs were still burning, a stitch in her side. It felt like there was a pulse entering her brain, so loud it drowned anything else out. She didn’t feel good. Really didn’t feel good.

“That was a close one.”

She laughed, though her face pinched into a wince, “No thanks to you.”

“Like I said, if only they had kept their grubby hands off of you… (Y/N)?”

She was holding her head with both her hands, her face going slack. Her knees shook as she felt a comforting pressure on both her shoulders, “I feel a bit faint.”

It was the Doctor holding her steady, “You look it. What happened?” And as her knees buckled, he caught her smoothly, wrapping his arms around her. “Woah, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Did something hit you?”

(Y/N) sighed, her head reeling – she couldn’t open her eyes; the light was so bright now. “I – I don’t know. I don’t think so. We just started running and I couldn’t breathe.”

The Doctor looked at her with bewilderment, but with her eyes closed, he snuck some fear into the gaze. “Well, up you get. Lets get you to your room.” With his arm slung around her, they sloppily made it to the ladder lowered beneath the grates.

“I’m finding the lack of stairs here very inconvenient,” she joked, practically falling into the Doctor’s arms at the bottom of the ladder.

He smiled though his brow was tense, “I’ll keep that in mind when I do renovations.”

(Y/N) was dragging her feet by the time they entered her bedroom. It was quite a bit different since she first moved in. After a few shopping trips and cleaning sprees, it was positively habitable. At least that’s what the Doctor called it.

He gently laid her on the bed and went to pull off her sneakers, “I’ll get you some water. Maybe you’re just coming down with something.”

“I never get sick, remember.” She had a hand over her eyes.

The Doctor pulled the sheets to her chin and gave such an intense look of concern he knew she’d make fun of him if she saw. But that was always the Doctor’s way. He waited for when she wasn’t looking.

“You also are adjusting to a new lifestyle,” he muttered, noticing the TARDIS lowering the brightness of the lights. “Maybe you’ve finally hit a wall.” When he turned to give her time to rest, she raised her voice.

“Don’t go,” she called, regretting how it made her head pound, “I hate it when you leave me alone. I know you’re off having more fun without me.”

He grinned, a feeling of elation and triumph centering in his chest. He scolded himself.

“I know you’re not used to the sickbed, but usually this is when the ill rest.”

“I thought we just agreed I’m not ill.”

“You are fatigued.”

“And see how you didn’t use the word ill?”

He sighed out that easy smile that came whenever she bickered with him. He ran a hand over his face and returned to her bedside, “You’re growing as stubborn as me.”

“You know I fall asleep faster when you tell me stories.”

“Oh, great. Thanks,” he laughed, choosing one of the comfy reading chairs (Y/N) furnished her room with – he pulled it closer to the bed.

She smirked, settling into the covers, “You know what I mean. They’re not boring… they’re soothing.”

“You just like hearing me talk,” he cheekily intertwined his fingers before him, “Besides, I shouldn’t be disturbing your rest.”

“Then why have you pulled up a chair?”

He observed that her eyes were still closed, though her brow was no longer pinched in pain. “Maybe I’m just making sure you don’t sneak out of bed before you’re properly feeling better.”

“Nah – you’re just in denial.”

The Doctor felt his joints freeze into place. It took a few moments for him to ensure his voice was steady, “Denial?”

She fisted the sheets and tucked them under her chin, it was ridiculously adorable. “You won’t admit we’ve become friends despite our agreement when we first met. You care about me more than just someone who has a mystery about them.”

Did she think because she had a ring on her finger she could toy with him like this?

“I thought I didn’t need to say it aloud, (Y/N).” He stared at her serene face, propping an elbow on the armrest of the chair. He put a finger to his chin, “Did you believe I didn’t think that?”

“Oh, I knew you cared from the moment Jack offered to take me dancing.” If her head weren’t about to explode, she might have burst into a round of giggles.

The Doctor held back a frustrated groan at the memory, “I was only looking out for you – Jack can be…”

“A catch?”

He paused, staring at her with more longing than he ever allowed himself, “A dog.”

She grinned but winced. Almost instinctually the Doctor leaned over from his seat and rested an arm on the mattress.

“You okay?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, attempting to relax her face. “Tell me about Shakespeare again. Did he really have a full head of hair?”

The Doctor made sure her eyes were still closed as he lightly grazed a few fingers along her hairline, “He also was a terrible flirt.” He pushed the strands of hair away from her face.

“Bet Martha didn’t mind.”

“She said he had bad breath.”

“Then tell me about the mannequins – that one always gives me the creeps.” She felt her heart stutter as he continued to lean against her mattress. “Or maybe the TVs that sucked your faces off!”

He hummed, a deep sound from his chest, “Those stories won’t help you sleep.”

There was a moment of silence as (Y/N) simply took in the calming presence of him. One of the first things the Doctor promised her upon meeting was that he would keep her safe. And she felt it. She was safe with him.

“Tell me about the orange sky then.”

His chest ached. He knew exactly what she was asking for.

“The silver trees and the red grass,” she muttered, snuggling into her pillow, “Remind me how many times you failed your school exams.”

The Doctor chuckled, that ache threading up and making his throat dry, “All right.” He couldn’t help himself; he moved a hand and cupped her cheek. The same one he held when she woke from her coma.

~~~

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

The usual comfort of her favorite watch wasn’t coming to her this time. She was staring intently at her engagement ring. Pulled off her finger and held to the light, it glittered mockingly.

Months, she reminded herself, months she had been away from home. Didn’t she care about how Andy was doing at all?

Of course she did.

But did she care enough to run home to him and plan that wedding and live the rest of her life as a primary school teacher married to a nurse?

Apparently not.

But why was that? As she stared at the ring, she didn’t feel what she ought to have been. She should feel as though she were engaged to the man of her dreams, anxious and excited to be married. The thought of him should give her butterflies. The sound of his voice should make her heart skip.

Why wasn’t she feeling that anymore?

The Doctor.

No, it couldn’t be. She was losing those feelings long before the Doctor pulled her from her classroom.

Great – now her thoughts were settling on the Doctor. That brown eyed beauty. Did he know how conflicted he was making her feel? The wonderful bastard.

She peered at the engagement ring for a while longer, wondering how she was going to tell Andrew that she was having second thoughts. That there was a reason she was so willing to abandon her earth life and run away with an alien man in a time machine.

She wasn’t in love with him anymore.

A sudden flash of memory fought for room in her head: the Doctor brushing her hair away, gently tucking her in and whispering the story of his home planet. Of Gallifrey beneath the burnt orange sky.

She shook her head. If she were to make a bulleted list of things to know about the Doctor, it would start with:

1. Stay near him; he’ll know what to do

2. He will keep you safe

3. He is incredibly and impossibly alone

4. He cannot share a life with someone he could lose

No, that’s not quite right. The Doctor cannot allow himself to share a life. Every time he does he gets hurt. Hundreds of years of hurt that she couldn’t possibly understand. He told her in strict confidence about some of his old friends he’d lost.

She couldn’t insinuate, couldn’t encourage, being anything more than friends and companions.

She could handle suppressed feelings when the Doctor had been suffering for the majority of his long life.

Besides – she was an engaged woman.

A sudden bout of boredom overcame her. A sensation so powerful and unexpected that she hopped off the bed and began to pace her room. It reminded her dolefully of the Doctor. He was always on his toes, brimmed with impatience and boredom, looking for the next adventure without any proper sleep. Perhaps she was becoming more like him.

She felt immensely better after her fatigue spell. She might as well go find him on the main level.

And there he was tinkering with some wires at the console. “Good morning.”

He grinned, seeking her face immediately, “Hello!” A spark of the wires and a yelp from his lips made her laugh.

“Lets go out.”

The Doctor sucked a burnt finger, but stared at her with a furrowed brow, “You what?”

“I’m bored!”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “How are you feeling?” He came around the console and approached her sulking figure. “Does your head still hurt?”

She smacked away his hands, “I feel fine. I feel bored. Can we go somewhere exciting?”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m not fainting, am I?”

“You could be lying.”

“Since when have you refused to go exploring with me?”

“Since you’ve taken ill and, as your physician, I can’t condone behavior that could make you more ill.”

She put her hands on her hips, “I am not ill!”

His cheeky grin grew, “(Y/N) …”

“Fine!” She threw her hands in the air and made her way towards the innumerable buttons and levers. “I’ll find a place myself.” She started typing on the keypad and twisting a few knobs – the TARDIS immediately responded with a plume of steam and a flurry of flashing lights.

“Woah now!” The Doctor flew over, turning a few things and setting the ship right, “There’s no need to spring a mutiny.” He rounded on her, less kindness in his tone than he’d shown her the past night. But the pleading look on her face had his lungs constricting.

“Please.”

He pondered her expression for a few moments, eyes flickering about her figure to ensure she wasn’t swaying on her feet. As he usually did, he went to stare at the ring on her finger. A painful ritual he caught himself doing regularly.

But the ring wasn’t there.

What had she done?

“All right.” Perhaps she needed to get out of the ship for a while. “I’ve got a planet in mind you’ll find interesting. I haven’t visited in a long time.” He set the course and pulled the lever to start the engines.

(Y/N) beamed, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. He stiffened. She didn’t notice.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She went to brace herself against the railing and the Doctor cleared his throat.

“It’s called Axiless the First. As you can imagine, the planet is axis – less. It doesn’t spin like many planets do in solar systems. It doesn’t move near as fast because it’s so stationary. That means the day and night cycles last about six months. And the magnetic field that’s usually created from planetary motion, doesn’t exist so there’s no field shielding the planet from UV rays. They have to use sun shields just to go outside!”

The TARDIS bumped to a stop and the Doctor pulled out some shades from a compartment in the center console, “It’s a small colony of people as they do have to live on mid-latitude areas, but it’s fascinating seeing a motionless planet. Imagine if the Earth stopped moving – your oceans would flood the continents.”

He tossed a pair of sunglasses her way. She slid them on with ease, “How do I look?”

It surprised him the amount of heat that crept up his neck. “Uh, f-fine. Suits you.”

She punched his arm playfully, “Come on then.” She bounced towards the doors and missed how the Doctor moved his hand to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. He pinched himself.

The doors opened and a gust of hot air swarmed the ship.

The planet looked desolate, a desert of sand and rock. A few bare shrubs were scattered amongst the yellowed stones. There were even a few trees, though their branches were needlelike, and they provided little to no shade.

Sunlight was bathing everything in a harsh glow, it almost looked like waves were radiating off the sand. (Y/N) was slightly afraid to step on it for fear of burning the soles of her shoes. She had her sunglasses on, but she couldn’t help but shade her face with her hands.

“Bit hot, isn’t it?”

The Doctor stood beside her, blowing out his cheeks, “Must’ve landed in the middle of a day cycle. There was a fifty-fifty chance of hitting day or night. These glasses can be used in either cycle – day they’re sunglasses, night they’re night vision goggles.” He groaned, slipping out of his coat and throwing it into the TARDIS, “It’s hotter than I remember it being.”

“You don’t have a Hawaiian shirt in there somewhere?” (Y/N) laughed, stumbling as her feet shifted in the sand. “Surely you wear something more than those two suits.”

“I’ve got a dozen dress shirts and ties.” He started rolling up his sleeves, squinting despite having shades on. “Don’t you go bickering on about my outfits. Why is it hotter than before? The planet moves around their suns so it’s not like the sun has gotten closer and raised the temperature. Like I said before, it’s meant to be warmer than usual, the planet doesn’t spin. They have to keep the sun shields up to keep the harmful ultraviolet rays at bay, otherwise everyone here would burn.”

He started paving the way towards a sand dune; (Y/N) followed closely, feeling her feet heat up with how hot the ground was. “Are you telling me we’ve stumbled upon another doomed planet? What are the odds?”

She laughed but the Doctor ignored her. “The only way the planet could be heating up is if the UV rays have reached the surface. Like a microwave the sun is cooking the planet. Which means there’s nothing stopping the sun. Which means…” he put a hand through his hair, “The sun shields aren’t up and working.”

(Y/N) faltered, stopping at the top of the dune and catching her breath, “I don’t fancy being roasted alive, Doctor.” Below them was a small village, one made of glass and metal. “Do you suppose they know they’re living on a microwave?”

The Doctor wiped the growing sweat on his forehead. “Let’s go find out.”

The colony was little but were awed and welcoming at the presence of (Y/N) and the Doctor. It was impossible, in their eyes, for visitors to want to see their scorching planet. They were directed towards the people in charge, a race of humanoid beings; their eyes were a startling purple, and they had no hair. Intricate and beautiful floral patterns painted their skin and bald heads.

The smartly built huts were just as humid and stuffy on the inside as it was out in the sand. But they were grateful for the shade.

“I’m the Doctor and this is (Y/N),” the Doctor introduced, removing his shades, “We’ve come for a visit and couldn’t help but notice you’re… well, roasting.”

One of the humanoid aliens bowed, “You are correct. Our suns are infiltrating the shields. We’ve been suffering in this heat, unable to do anything.”

“What’s your name?” The Doctor asked, making his way towards a compartment of computers and scientific equipment.

The humanoid appeared to trust him near the technology. “I am Peony. This is my companion, Iris.”

“Like the flowers?” (Y/N) asked, eyeing their floral tattoos. “They’re very pretty names.”

“Yes, we’ve been compared before,” the other called Iris stated, “But the only correlation is that we are born of the ground. We’re planted seeds in a garden and sprout into being.”

(Y/N) gave them an appraising look, “Your babies are grown in the ground?”

“They’re a solitary species, (Y/N),” The Doctor called over his shoulder, “They don’t understand physical touch or procreation like you do.”

“There is no need for such intimacy,” Peony said. And (Y/N) could see how there was a purposeful distance between the two humanoids.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. I’d miss the cuddles.”

“Right then,” the Doctor shouted, “What did you mean the suns are infiltrating your shields? They’re only comprised of hydrogen and helium, only hot plasma that reacts to nuclear fusion. It’s not capable of motives like infiltration. That would mean they’d have consciousness.”

Peony and Iris shared a purple-eyed look before stating, “We believe there’s more to it then that.”

“You believe your suns are alive? Like actual beings?” (Y/N) asked, feeling the back of her shirt stick with sweat. “How is that possible?”

The Doctor peered at the information before him, screens that monitored the strength of the sun shields, “There are beings out there that we don’t fully understand. Gargantuan, God-like beings that are too powerful to observe and communicate with. I wouldn’t believe it – only…” He put a finger to his chin, “This chart here shows UV rays behaving like soldiers.”

Iris nodded, walking towards him, “You see them beating against the shield. They’re using physical force.”

“Like the arms of an octopus, they’re reaching out and tapping on the door,” the Doctor muttered, “Right, okay then. What’s the plan?”

A haziness enveloped (Y/N)’s eyes. Oh, no, not this again. She closed her eyes and tried to stay upright, taking deep breaths. She had felt perfectly fine that morning. Must’ve been the blasted heat.

Heat exhaustion. That’s all it was. (Y/N) didn’t get sick – has never been sick.

“We’ve been working on the theory to get the planet spinning again,” Iris stated, “It would create a powerful magnetic field and shield us permanently.”

“What? No. No! You can’t,” the Doctor said, “Making the planet spin would bring disaster to the surface, you will more than likely kill everything trying to survive here. Besides, you’ve got to have a core…”

“Our core is metallic,” Peony interrupted, “And planetary motion will help it create that magnetic field.”

The Doctor was getting that crazed look about him, one that normally pushed him to do rather crazed things. “But don’t you realize when your planet begins to spin again, whether instantaneous or gradual, everything will change. Tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, natural disasters everywhere! The planet surface will slide with the speed, bodies of water will be forced onto land, and plant life will be unable to cope.”

Peony looked at him as if they’d heard such an argument before. “It will also bring balance to the thinning air. We won’t have to only live in certain areas of the planet to breathe. We wouldn’t have to adjust to six month day cycles. And we wouldn’t have to worry about the sun. We are running out of options, Doctor.”

“We are dying either way,” Iris said, “It’s only a matter of which gets us first.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked.

(Y/N) was leaning heavily against the wall paneling. It was a good thing the Doctor had something to occupy his mind.

“It’s either falling into natural disaster or burning from the sun.”

“There must be another way. Strengthen the shields again,” the Doctor muttered.

Iris waved a hand over to a staircase, one that went underground. “Follow me.”

“It’s no good,” Peony said, “We’ve been exposed to these rays for too long. We thought them simply ultraviolet, but that’s false. These suns are living beings and living beneath them has filled us with toxicity.”

“How’d you mean?” They continued down the stairs, (Y/N) still feeling woozy but appreciating the miniscule temperature drop.

They made it to a doorless room that held a wide window. It looked on at what could only be described as a burn clinic.

“What is this?” The Doctor continued questioning.

The longer (Y/N) looked, the more afraid she became. Numerous of the planet’s species were laying there, each to their own cot. And every one of them was covered in harsh, angry red burns. It looked incredibly painful.

Others in yellow hazmat suits were walking around and applying ointment, taking temperatures, and wiping foreheads. A few of the affected people were writhing in their beds, going mad with the heat. They had to be held down.

“It’s a sickness,” the Doctor whispered, mostly to himself.

“No, they’re just sun burnt,” (Y/N) said with an air of desperation, “Nothing some aloe vera can’t fix.”

“You forget we aren’t dealing with a regular sun,” Peony muttered, “Those are not burns from exposure, they’re from a plague.”

The Doctor leaned against the window, taking in the scene, “You’re dying either way. Sun shields won’t stop them because they aren’t only suns. They have motives and biology and warfare.”

(Y/N) felt her knees shake, unable to tear her eyes away from the camp of victims. It was like a horrific car accident – you couldn’t look away. “Are we safe?”

“You haven’t been exposed that long,” Iris said, “We’ve been living here our whole lives.”

“You only have to worry about those already showing symptoms,” Peony went on, “Don’t go near someone with the plague.”

The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face frustratingly. He was deep in thought, (Y/N) knew, he needed to think of a solution. Because he was brilliant. Because he was the Doctor. And he couldn’t turn away.

“What if we manufacture a magnetic field,” he banged a hand against his forehead, “We don’t have to shield the entire planet, only the parts people can survive in. Oh, my head! We’d need to mine enough metal and charge it with positive and negative energy. But a system could be built where that’s magnified to a specific area.”

Iris and Peony were sharing a silent look again, “That is a possibility we had not thought of.”

“We were busy thinking of the entire planets safety.”

The Doctor suddenly grinned, “But the entire planet isn’t habitable. Only parts. And we can secure those parts. I know I can build it - do you have the metal to wield it?”

“We have a metallic core, Doctor,” Peony smiled, “How else do you think we built these structures?”

Hello, (Y/N).

“What?” (Y/N) looked around, not recognizing the voice that addressed her.

The Doctor faced her, “Sorry?” He was still grinning from his brilliance.

“I thought…” she paused, very conscious of the sweat falling down the side of her face. “Nothing, I thought I heard something.”

You did.

“Right, lead the way,” the Doctor said, gesturing towards the staircase, “And while we’re at it, maybe I’ll find some revolutionary antibiotics for your patients.”

Your head is strange. Very dark. Very empty. What is hidden behind this steel door?

“What is that?” she questioned but realized that she was now alone in the small, windowed room. “Hello?”

Hello. How do you stand having so much hidden in your head?

“Where are you?”

I’m here. Inside you.

“Very funny,” she wheezed. Her breath left her, much like the night before. “Who are you?”

Ancient. Ancient like your Doctor. You’ve got quite the thought train dedicated to him, haven’t you?

“What are you called then.” Panic. She mustn’t panic.

We have no name. Only fire and ruin and wrath.

“You’re – you’re the sun. The one outside! Is this you infecting me? Am I sick?” She looked at her arms, fear starting to broil. But there were no angry burns appearing there.

This is our form of communication. We are so far away. The shields have dampened our telepathic field.

“Well, what do you want then? Why are you talking to me?”

There was silence for a few moments before:

I was bored.

The same reason she and the Doctor came to the planet. She was bored.

“And are you entertained now?” the edge of mockery in her voice was satisfying. But her head was beginning to pound.

You’re very strange. Very weak. Are you aware of how weak you are?

“Shut up!”

“(Y/N)?”

She whirled around and found the Doctor at the bottom of the stairs. She was breathing heavy, sweat dripping from her chin and hands.

“Who’re you talking to?” He kept his face calm, void of the real emotion he was feeling. Fear.

She swallowed, finding her throat remarkably dry, “No – no one.”

Interesting.

“Are you all right?” He took a few cautious steps towards her, his shirt sleeves still rolled up and his tie now loosened. She eyed him thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully.

Very interesting.

“I’m fine. The heat – it’s too much for me,” she cracked a lackluster smile, “It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it?”

The Doctor nodded carefully, raising a cautious hand and touching her shoulder. He pulled back almost immediately.

“What is it?”

Clever Doctor.

He stared at her with newfound confusion. The stare was so intense she felt as though she were being x-rayed.

“What have you done to her?”

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Can you hear him?” (Y/N) asked, whispering despite knowing the being could hear perfectly fine.

The Doctor refused to look away from her, “Answer me.”

You have some interesting trains of thought as well, Doctor. Very secret and very guarded.

“He’s in your head too?” (Y/N) looked back at the Doctor, trying her best to stay afloat. Her headache was becoming all consuming, she couldn’t ignore it much longer. Perhaps her wobbly knees will give way first.

The Doctor clenched his jaw, a few fingers to his temple, “You should ask for permission before you go snooping around.”

Ah, Time Lord – you have telepathy of your own.

“You have no right to this world,” he continued, “No right to consume what you don’t need.”

The man that regrets.

(Y/N) could feel the tension seizing the Doctor. She trailed her suddenly tired eyes towards his face. He wasn’t holding back now, he was upset – he was hurting. The label struck a cord in him. It made him think of an impossibly long list of heartaches.

And his companion: the dying girl.

She held her breath. That was a label she didn’t recognize.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t talk to it,” The Doctor said, moving his fingers from his head towards (Y/N)’s. “I’ve shut him out of my mind. Now I’ll shut him out of yours.”

You should be afraid. Be very afraid you weak, dying girl.

“Stop it,” she said. She wrapped her hands around the Doctor’s wrists, shutting her eyes tight against the words he could no longer hear. A burning like nothing else was heating her bones, it started low and began to grow until it was scorching.

“Stop it, stop it! PLEASE.”

“I’ve almost got it, (Y/N),” the Doctor ground out, “Bear with me, I’ve got you.”

No ones got you. You’re alone. Void of memories. Family. Life. Your time is up, dying girl.

Blisters erupted on her arms, searing away her skin. “Please! STOP IT.” Unexpected tears ran hot down her sweltering face. Sweat made her rosy cheeks shine.

There is no help coming. You are meant to die. From the moment you woke you were meant to be dead.

And snap. Her head was silent.

She fell into the Doctor’s arms, trembling and burning. He clutched at her, saying words that she couldn’t make out. White noise was shoving cotton in her ears. There was a scent of smoke in the air. Was that coming from her?

And she fainted.

~~~

It was bright. So bright.

There were shadows passing behind her eyelids and she was reluctant to open them. Every bone in her body, every joint, ached and burned. She was suddenly very aware of her limbs and how sore they were.

“What happened?”

Someone was near her, ready to answer, “You were filled with tendrils of that sun being energy. He stuck a needle into your mind and poisoned you. It was an instantaneous infection.”

She cracked open one eye to give him a look. It almost made him smile.

“He gave you the plague. You’ve been sick.”

She groaned, “If this is what being sick feels like, I’ve been terribly naïve.” She felt a hand on her forehead, and it was cool against the heat of her skin.

“You have been sick for a long while, my child.”

(Y/N) opened her eyes at the unfamiliar voice. She was surprised to see a cat. A blooming cat.

“Novice Hame, this is (Y/N),” the Doctor frowned. (Y/N) swiveled her gaze from the robed cat to his placid face. He had that expression sometimes when he was dwelling on something particularly sullen or painful.

When he dwelled on the past. Or his regrets. The man that regrets.

“Where am I?”

“Remember that hospital I wanted to take you to all those months ago.” His voice sounded tired. His hand trailed to the back of her head.

Novice Hame purred, “You’re a patient at the New New York Hospital. We’ve been treating you the past few days.”

“Days?” (Y/N) questioned. She tried to sit up, her face pinched in pain, and the Doctor helped her. “What’s happened to Axiless the First?”

“I’ve given them the blueprints, the technology. They’ll be fine. The Sisters of Plenitude provided medicine for their plague victims. They’ll be fine without me.”

“You didn’t stay to help?” She watched him pull his hand away, intertwining his fingers tightly across his stomach. He sat more stony as he watched her without much reaction.

“They’ll be fine. I was needed elsewhere.”

The way he stared at her was excruciating. She wished he would tell her what he was thinking.

(Y/N) looked at her arms, searching for the blisters and burns she felt explode on her skin. But they were clear, “I don’t look like I have the plague anymore. Why do I feel so sick then?”

“You’re ill with much more,” Novice Hame said, moving towards the bed and fiddling with a side table of medications. “Like I said, you’ve been sick for a long while.”

“How long? Sick with what?” She put a hand to her head, feeling faint again. “I don’t get sick, nurse.”

The cat smiled with pointed teeth, “We’re still working it out.”

“You don’t get sick with human disease, (Y/N). We’re talking about alien disease.” The Doctor put more inflection in his voice though his face was still flat. “I should’ve taken you to this hospital the first chance I got,” he whispered.

“Alright, now you’re scaring me.” (Y/N) turned towards the novice and asked, “Tell me.”

The cat woman appeared conflicted, as if she didn’t know where to begin. But she shared a look with the seated Time Lord and sighed, “As far as we can tell – you’ve been ill all your life.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) flickered her gaze towards the Doctor and saw the sorrow creep into his face.

“You still feel sick because it wasn’t just the sun plague that was ailing you,” Novice Hame continued, folding her hands in front of her, “The Doctor tells me you’ve been experiencing fatigue, dizzy spells, the last few weeks.”

She swallowed hard, “I’ve been tired is all.”

“You’ve been experiencing withdrawal.”

(Y/N) blinked, then scoffed, “Withdrawal?”

“Your body is dependent on a substance to keep it going. Since leaving Earth, you haven’t been receiving it.”

She glared at the cat, as if saying she’d better keep talking before something bad happens. The Doctor remained silent, sitting as still as he could but never taking his eyes off of (Y/N)’s reaction.

“While you were healing from the plague, we took the liberty of analyzing your blood. Over three-quarters of the cells there were mutated. They were defected, synthesized cells. They were still fully functioning; they just weren’t natural. They didn’t come from you.”

“Is that… is that why you were able to track me?” She addressed the Doctor.

If possible, his frown deepened. “Your particle trail. It was traceable because your biology has been tainted with a traceable substance.”

“What is this substance?”

Novice Hame continued, “The human body depends on constant cell replacement to survive. When you have a cut, the body creates new cells to heal it. When you scrape your skin, your body creates cells to replace it. Blood cells are used for so many things that they tire and die, and then must be replaced to keep the body functioning. Without cell replacement, oxygen won’t get to your organs. Nutrients won’t replenish growth. Nerves would become defective.”

“Alright, I get it,” (Y/N) said, her head aching with the upheaval of information. “Cells are important. I asked what the substance was in my body.”

“I’m telling you that’s what the substance does. This substance is acting as those new cells replacing your old ones. For some reason, your body has stopped producing its own cells, it’s completely dependent on outside help.”

“But – but if I’ve been dependent on whatever that is my entire life… how have I been getting it without realizing it?”

There was a long pause as the cat woman debated her phrasing. “Have you been in contact with someone or some place on a regular basis? A regular visit maybe that would give enough time for someone to administer the cells?”

“Well, the only person I see almost every day is my fiancé Andrew. The only person I see on a regular basis is Andrew.”

“And you haven’t seen him in months,” The Doctor muttered.

Novice Hame sighed, her voice delicate and feline, “What do you know of your fiancé?”

(Y/N) stared at her incredulously, “You’re not suggesting… you think my Andy has something to do with this?”

“He’s been with you from the moment you woke up,” the Doctor said with more of an air of thinking aloud. “Said so yourself, he was the first face you saw.”

Not true. And he knew it.

“Then we have reason to believe that this Andrew has been secretly giving you a substance of synthesized human DNA regularly. And you are in dire need of a cell replacement.”

(Y/N) sat there, a strange itch in her hands. She felt like she should be doing something. She felt like she needed to be moving. Her breathing was becoming heavy, her eyes wide and stunned.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, “Why would he make me addicted to something like that? And I need it to live?”

“Yes,” Novice Hame said, “We’ve been trying to get your body to regenerate cells on its own again, but to no avail. This drug substance is powerful and foreign.”

“And you can’t just make more of the drug?”

“I’m so so sorry.” The Doctor had finally put his face in his hands.

Novice Hame remained solemn, “We don’t understand its compounds. It may be synthesized, but we don’t know how to replicate it.”

They were silent again, except for the rapid breathing coming from (Y/N). She could feel the tears trying to creep into her vision.

“So I’m an addict, that’s it? I’m an addict with a drug dealer fiancé. Why would the Reapers want me for that?”

The Doctor stood from his chair, pacing in front of the bed, “And how could my alien tracer track you if this substance is only defected, synthesized human DNA? That’s not alien.”

“The mutations were manufactured by something alien; it always leaves a trace.”

“And the Reapers come after beings they believe have cheated death,” the Doctor continued, pacing with new purpose.

(Y/N) felt her eyes water further, “The dying girl.”

The Doctor snapped his attention to her.

“I was called the dying girl. Apparently I’m supposed to be dead. Meant to have died.”

He looked at her with fierceness, jutting a finger at Novice Hame, “You are going to find a cure.”

“But Doctor…”

“You are going to find a cure and fix this!” a deep seeded power was entering his voice. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, (Y/N) figured she’d ought to have been afraid. “She is going to get better. She has to!”

(Y/N) felt a pang in her gut.

“We’re going to ask dear old Andrew a few questions,” the Doctor continued, an ancient anger in his expression. “And we’re going to get you well. He’s bound to have more of that drug.”

“Doctor, she is very weak, you’re going to have to be careful.”

He put his hands on the railing at the foot of her bed. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to lose her. Not today.”

And (Y/N) believed him. Those tears left salty tracks down her cheeks as she stared at him. But if he didn’t lose her today, then when?

He cannot share a life with someone he could lose. Not so easily.

~~~

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mariaiscrafting · 3 years

Note

You know, what think I like when you are critical of a content creator is that you know how to separate a fact from especulation, unlike a blog out there that took especulation as facts.

Example, that night when we were critical of Karl, or any instance you have discussed about him, a lot of anons were saying that he gave them clout chaser vibes to them, and despite your opinion, you expressed that those were only especulation and not the truth, and to keep that in mind. That's good critical thinking.

But this blog had some similar anons, saying that he only is friends with the Feral Boys gro clout- In fact, they said the Feral Boys were only in it to benefit from clout and money. And they took it as a truth. I know you instance on them is neutral, but come one, they are friends. All of them. Karl isn't friends with them for clout. Like today Karl was playing golf with salad gang plus Sapnap and George at first and then Quackity and Dream joined bc they had spared time and it all devolved into typical chaos (Poor Corpse and Tina and Brook, had to endure those children lol/lh /j). Like, the stream wasn't planned with the 5/5 yet they joined, missing Karl and just having fun.

Idk, I guess that blog's superiority (They were a SBI focused blog) just irritated me. It's as if they were putting both groups at each other as if those streamers aren't friends or close. They were singing prayers of one while shunning the other based from especulation. Criticissism is fine, in fact recommended to be critical of your interests, but taking rumors as facts to base your crit is yikes. It's as if I wanted to crit SBI and base it only of "Philza hanging only with people younger than him is kinda weird ngl.." or "Sbi doesn't care about Tommy cuz he joined late" like that dumb Tumblr post did or some fuckers in Twitter imply.

The main reason I take so much care to separate speculation from evidence-backed theories and confirmed truths is because I feel like that separation is what distinguishes us from mcyttwt the most. One of the main reasons for mcyttwt's toxicity, imo - for its relentless cancelling of everyone, for its bandwagon campaigns - is that people oftentimes criticize and defend based on their personal feelings rather than rationale or evidence.

For example, I complain a lot about Dream stans on here, but you know the reason I didn't stop watching Dream directly after the cheating scandal broke loose, even though I thought he cheated? Because of mcytblr Dream stans. Mcytblr Dream stans engaged with me in discussion, both publicly and in DMs, about the cheating scandal, and even those who eventually came to the conclusion that Dream didn't cheat accepted the facts and statistics they were given and kept a healthy skepticism throughout the process. On Twitter, Dream stans were defending him before he even made a video following up to the mods' initial accusations because they felt that Dream wasn't the kind of guy to lie or cheat. They were replying to screenshots of statistical analyses from subreddits and to articles from mathematicians and staticians with extremely reactionary responses because of that feeling, which they believed in so adamantly, they had accepted it as fact. The thing is, to believe that Dream didn't cheat in the face of all the statistical and rhetorical evidence to the contrary is, in itself, speculative. Usually we think of speculation as a baseless theory that something is a positive truth- that is to say, that something did happen. But speculation also applies to those theories of someone not having done something, when the opposite has been nearly proven to be true.

For this same reason, I chose not to ignore the anti-technotwt threads with screenshots of Techno's old tweets in them. For me to have simply ignored these screenshots and continued supposing that Techno never expressed bigoted beliefs and/or currently doesn't would have been speculative on my part, and to boot, blatantly wrong, given the evidence to the contrary.

People in this fandom, and in all RPF/RPF-adjacent fandoms need to understand that almost everything they believe about the CCs they watch is speculative, at least to some extent, because of the nature of the content they make. Even if someone, in your opinion, displays evidence of some aspect of their personality - whether that be some form of bigoted, sweet, rude, clout-chasing, or anything else - because of the extremely one-sided nature of sharing one's life through a screen, that theory of ours will almost alwyas only ever be speculation, not a solid conclusion that can be drawn. We will never know these people's true intentions behind something shared to us via the Internet.

That vagueness leads to virtually every viewer creating a different theory in our heads about the CCs we watch, and we can't treat those theories as facts, especially not when sharing them with the rest of a fandom. I'm not a very big blog, but I consider even over 50 followers to be way too many people to spread a theory too, without at least clarifying that what I'm posting is speculation. If I have evidence, I like to list it or, if I can, provide sources; but otherwise, I take care to qualify most things with phrases or disclaimers that will clue followers into the speculative nature of whatever it is I'm saying. This is because theories and "feelings" can blaze through a fandom like wildfire, especially somewhere like Twitter, where so many things are word-of-mouth or based on summary due to character limitation.

You know why mcyttwt was cancelling Andi? Only a handful of original Tweeters under the cancel Andi hashtags actually knew what clips or tweets to criticize her for, or tried to elaborate on that criticism. But because every other mcyttwt user was getting bombarded by their mutuals hate-posting about Andi on their TLs, the "negative feeling" towards Andi grew and grew, even if most people didn't even know what they were supposed to feel negative about, exactly. Our judgement works on a quick trigger on the Internet because of the amount of information we're receiving, and so, even a single bad word against someone you don't have too strong of an opinion on can fundamentally alter your perception of them, usually subconsciously. If the first thing you see about Andi, who you've only seen on a couple LOH's or a couple Punz streams before then, is a tweet along the lines of, "disappointed in Andi for her homophobia and joking about suicide," despite you having no context, you will most likely be pushed to the negative side of her. Thus begins the cycle of hatred, building up and up, leading to you searching for more and more criticism about Andi, whether speculative or not, until you solidly and genuinely believe she is a Horrible Person. It all starts with the vaguest fucking feeling, because that's all speculation has to go off of, and it snowballs into a fucking wildfire across an entire fandom. I'm not about to be another person to let feelings snowball and spread like that.

Now, I don't know what exact blog you're referring to, but as an adamant SBI enthusiast, let me flip the argument many SBI stans have for their speculation upon the genuity of Karl's friendship with the Feral Bois, onto SBI. What do we have to go off of for the genuity of SBI's friendship, anyways? Our perceived brother dynamic between Tommy and Wilbur could very well just be Tommy capitalizing on Wilbur's brand and continuing the charade until now because it's been profitable. Maybe Techno only continues to associate with SBI because he knows how much his fanbase likes headcanon'ing about SBI, so he puts up with streams with them so he can continue to feed his fanbase with dynamics he knows they're obsessed with. Maybe Phil would rather play MC with people his age, and actually dislikes that he's friends with a teenager, but sticks around because he profitted so much off of Dream SMP and SBI-related content. And what could any SBI stan have to argue with me on any of these theories? Just because SBI laughs around each other and seems fond of each other doesn't mean they're actually like that behind the cameras. They so seldomly stream or make videos together anymore, anyways, so maybe they've grown tired of keeping up the dynamic.

Everything I said could be interpreted as utter bullshit, and that's because it fucking is. I don't actually know what Techno wants to do with his life, or how Wilbur and Tommy actually feel about each other, or who Phil wants to fucking befriend. The same goes for Feral Boys. There's nothing wrong with stating your theories or speculation, but to treat them as fact or not at least qualify such posts with the fact that this is all based on your bias and opinion, and no substantive evidence, is irresponsible. Just because you feel like one or more of the Feral Boys is "clout-chasing" doesn't mean you have the right to tout that feeling as truth. I feel a lot of things about a lot of CCs, both negative and positive, but no matter how strong my feelings, unless they have substantive evidence backing them up, I have no right to treat them as facts with my followers.

#anyways this kinda went everywhere but oh well #discourse #fandom critical #karl jacobs #feral boys #mcyt #asks #uhhh yeah this isnt neg to any cc just to the way fandom will treat them

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

Text

A Chance for Faith Ch.10

Hello there all! I have another chapter! This is a direct follow up to chapter 7 “Finding You”. This piece was intended to be a few prompts that just all started to fit together into what we have now. So @unleashed111 and @jedi-mabari thank you for your patience and I hope that I could deliver on the prompt requests.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: There is a nsfw(ish?) bit near the end of the piece. Alcohol use and minor drug use.

Ao3

The tears that welled up in her jade green eyes cause his heart rate to increase, while the hand that reaches out to him sends him stumbling back a few steps. His back hits the counter, fingers gripping tight to the edge of it, giving a small shake of his head. She frowns, taking another step closer to him. He panics and slaps the money on the counter, it should be enough, mumbling for the attendant to keep the change. Chance’s knuckles burn white gripping the crate as he pushes past the woman, head leaning downward focusing on the bottles. She’s lying, there was no way that was his mom. She’s dead. Long gone.

The slam of the truck door, crate tossed next to him, nails digging into his palm as his hands wrap around the wheel. He’s gasping, chest burning, aching, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. She’s wrong, I’m not her son. I’m not her son, he repeats. His jaw tightens as his hands start to relax enough to grab the first bottle, its cap twisting off with ease. There’s no burn from the vodka as he makes his way through almost a quarter of the bottle. His eyes land on the woman as she works her way through the store, even from this distance he can see that the clothing identifies her as a member that lives on the compound. They are some of the most loyal, the ones that had the most faith, and were guaranteed a spot in New Eden so Joseph wanted to keep them close. Many of those people were from the days at the warehouse in Georgia and the lack of glassy eyes….She’s one of the originals, the ones that had joined somewhere along the road to Hope County.

Those eyes….something about those eyes….

She says his eyes remind her of her grandmother’s eyes. A good woman and someone she’d have loved to have met Chance had she’d not passed just the year before. I think the jade will darken as he gets older, taking after the man Andi thinks is his father.

“January twenty-fifth, nineteen ninety-four,” he mumbled, watching as the door opened and the woman moved to the standardized beige truck of the peggies. Chance took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, “Worst case is that she’s just confused,” Wrong! Worst case is a trap that’ll get you killed. As if it really mattered anymore. There really wasn’t anything more that could make his life worse. “Fuck it,” Chance stepped out of the car, jogging up to catch the woman before she drove off. Her eyes lit up, a smile crossing her features as she met his eyes again. He kept his distance, arms crossed with his back straight, “Look, for all I know you have me confused with someone else.”

She shook her head, “I’m positive that I don’t.”

He suppressed the eye roll, choosing to narrow them, “Either way, I guess it doesn’t hurt to talk to you at the very least.”

“Really?” She gasped, eyes going wide, “You’re willing to talk to me?”

Chance gave a shrug, “Yeah. Why not.”

She straightened out her smile only growing, “Well we should talk in a more private setting, so I’ll follow you.”

Chance gave a slow nod, “Right….you follow me,” To some destination I haven’t even thought of. He made it back into the truck, pulling out of the gas station watching through the mirror as she pulled out behind him. Home was out of the question, some random field wasn’t a good idea with how exposed it was, most buildings near here were boarded up and contained who knew what. Leave it to me to not have a plan, he thought as he scanned the road and area ahead of him. Finally a little farther up ahead on his left the baseball field with old fashioned dugouts, There were worse places to have potentially life changing conversations.

He slowed to a stop the dust billowing around him and the truck pulling up next to him. His hands shook, stomach turning once the car stopped, how he wished this was an after effect of the alcohol. It was now or never though, and he wanted to pick never. The bottle came to his lips once again, he just needed enough to get himself out of the car. This felt like the stupidest idea he had had since coming back here, hell it probably had to be the worst one in his life. If she was his mom, did she really deserve the time of day? Was she going to just make everything right again? She left him behind….

May 29, 1997

Andi Greene has no more chances. She will never see Chance as long as I can help it.

Twice. Maybe more that his father never found necessary to record, either way that was the last time his dad ever spoke of her.

Glancing over he caught sight of the woman staring straight ahead, Is she feeling the same as I am?, she was going to find out if this was her child and whether it was him or not in the end, there still had to be some kind of guilt there on her end….right? If it was him though….if she was right….

It couldn’t be, Andi Greene was long dead and gone.

Chance took another deep breath and made his way out to the dugouts, the slamming of a car door following him. The shuffling of the rocks beneath them grating his ear drums as Chance picked the home team. He pointed to the seat further in, “You can have that one,” she gave a nod settling herself, Chance grabbing another. He straddled the foldable metal chair, resting his chin on the back of it, mouth going dry. She stared at him, shifting, hands clasping and unclasping, Chance’s leg bouncing. He cleared his throat, readying to-.

“So I assume you have a lot of questions for me,” she said rapidly, “Just ask anything you want.”

He tilted his head cocking a brow, “Not really other than what your name is,” Probably should have asked that first, could have saved a bit of trouble.

“Oh. Yes. My name is Andrea Greene, but most everyone used to call me Andi,” Okay maybe it was possible, “And you’re still Chance I see.”

He frowned, “Why would I be going by any other name?”

“Dr. Ruicknar,” her jaw clenched, her eyes closing a moment while taking a deep breath, “well he believed that you should have been named Jason. So I just assumed….”

“Don’t think he ever really tried to change it. Knew that Chance was my name, always has been and always will be.”

She gave a thin smile, “Figures.”

He sat up straighter, thumbs tapping on the back of the metal, “Well a name doesn’t prove much of anything. The kind of stuff you just said is almost common knowledge around here.” Okay maybe the whole potential different name thing isn’t.

“You’re right,” she nodded, “Then ask me something that you think only your mom would know.”

I don’t have too. I can just leave. I never needed her before, “When did you leave me?”

She blinked slowly, looking down to her lap, “Of course, there would be no other question that you’d ask first,” her voice softer. “I always hate to admit this, I mean you’d think,” she gave a weak laugh, her smile thin, “that admitting it in one’s confession and getting it marked on your body would make it easier.” His eyes followed her hand as she rubbed the left side of her chest, she swallowed, “I was selfish, the first time I left, and well I’m sure you know of the second time.” She cleared her throat, sitting straighter, “So, forgive me, you’ll have to be a little more specific I’m afraid.” Chance’s palms began to sweat, words catching in his throat, “Unless you want to know about both,” she paused, looking him up and down. She gave curt nod inhaling, “Probably best you know of both of them. Make life easier for you. When you were three months old I left you with Dr. Ruicknar, back in ninety-four. I really wasn’t ready to be a mom and I-,” her voice cracked, taking a moment to right herself, “I wasn’t ready yet to pick you over my bad habits.”

It lined up with the story Chance had known, but it was hard to tell how much of the truth she was telling. She wouldn’t be trying to hold back her emotions like this if she was lying though….?, “What about the second time,” he asked in a whisper.

She sniffed, clearing her throat, nodding her head, “Right, well I didn’t want to leave you, my son.” A pride came to her eyes as she said those words, the smile falling as she looked away, “The second time I was forced to be away from you.” Andi’s eyes glimmered in the light, stray tears escaping them, the pride gone, “You were only three and we were finally starting to connect. Starting to become a family, you and me.”

Ding, Ding! We have a winner ladies and gentlemen, Chance tried his best to mask the shallowness of his breathing, she was right. She was, is, his mom. “So what happened?”

Andi looked out to the field, jaw tight, her breathing long and purposeful before turning back to Chance, “Dr. Ruicknar happened.” He flinched slightly at the venom in her voice, “He decided that I shouldn’t have you,” she rubbed her chest once again, eyes growing darker, “That I shouldn’t be your mother anymore.” That….doesn’t-. It doesn’t feel right, she crossed her arms, “He had no right to do that, just up and moving taking you with him while I was out of the house.”

Chance shook his head, laughing, “No. No. That’s-that’s not what happened.” The world spun a moment Chance standing too quickly from the chair, “Dad-He’d-. No. He was a good man, he’d never do something like that.”

Andi stood, slowly making her way towards him, “He did though,” her face softened, fingers gently pulling his face to meet hers, “Chance, he just wanted you all for himself. Was so desperate to be a father he spun lie after lie.” He wouldn’t, he always saw the best in people, he desperately wanted to cover his ears, tune out her voice, “To the courts, his friends, father, neighbors, everyone. All so he could make sure that I was out of the picture.”

The scar on the back of his neck burned, god he needed another drink, “If he wanted you out of the picture it was for good reason,” It’s all bullshit. Dad wouldn’t have lied, he always went for the truth.

“It’s the truth, Chance,” she looked evenly into his eyes, “Think about the Jessop girl. He planned to take her in, despite the fact that she already had a family.”

“Rachel has nothing to do with this,” Chance growled, stepping back shaking his head, “And even if she did-. No.” He turned away from her, “No, I’m not gonna get wrapped up in your little game or whatever it is you’re doing.” I just need to get out of here, It was stupid to give a woman that abandoned him twice the time of day.

“I’m not playing any games with you, Chance,” she followed after him, “I’m telling you the truth! You deserve to know the kind of man Dr. Ruicknar was.”

“Oh, fuck off! I promise you dad had his reasons,” Andi Greene has no more chances, “He was a good man and you’re lying to me!”

“I’m not,” he jumped inside the truck, as her hand reached into her pocket, “Look!” Andi held up a photo, gripping onto the door, another in her other hand. Chance stopped taking in the weathered photo a thin white line down the center from years of folding and unfolding, the picture showcasing a young woman and small boy. “This is you and me,” her voice cracking, “the day before he took you away from me.” She evened out her breathing as she made sure the photo was always at eye level, “We were happy, Chance. I was only staying with him to get back on my feet so I could give you the life you deserved.”

His hands shook, snatching the photo from her hand, focusing solely on the people within it. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, her smile big as her arms encircled the young boy. His hair looked to be a mess, curls unable to stay in place, he held out a stuffed dinosaur, the one from the museum not too far from the university campus, the smile lopsided but green eyes lit up with excitement. Chance suppressed the urge to rub the back of his neck, the tingling from the scar getting worse. He can’t recall any sort of memory looking at the picture, just that he remembered sleeping with that dinosaur every night, clinging to it becoming upset when he couldn’t sleep with it one night. Chance can recall the vague memories of trying to sleep, waking in a scare, running to his father still up grading tests, and falling asleep at the table in his lap.

“Did he ever talk about me, Chance?” Her words brought a lump to his throat, “Or even your grandfather? Either of them?”

“No,” he ground out, hanging his head.

Andi placed a hand on his shoulder, “Now you see why. They shouldn’t have done what they did, separating us like that.” She handed over the second picture, this one more weathered than the last, the color starting to fade, “But we’re together now. We can make up for the lost time.”

This picture was a baby picture one that he fuzzily recalled seeing once before, I can’t-. I can’t think properly, “This-. You have to know that this is a lot to take in.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away at the few tears falling without his knowledge or permission, “I know. I know it is, but I’ve missed you, my boy. My son.” Her smile….it's hard for him to find anything insincere about it. Her words….truth, mostly, possibly all of it. She takes a deep breath, “My Chance, I’ve missed you so much.” He doesn’t respond, how can he? It’s all too much at once. Chance turns away from her shaking his head, she swallows, nodding away the tears, “I’ve waited this long for you to return to me and I can wait a little longer for you to get your mind wrapped around this.”

This all had to be a lie, a hallucination like the ones Faith’s put me in, Her warm hands against his skin speak otherwise. There’s a comfort in her touch, one he fears, and if he lets himself feel it, embrace it even a little, he’ll just fall right into that comfort never wanting to leave. Maybe I’m already too far gone, all of this too reminiscent of those first encounters with Faith. He kept thinking it was just the drugs, Just like how it has to be the alcohol now, only to soon realize that it was something real. Those shadows of memories of a life he loved and wanted to go back to, back when things still made sense in the world.

That ache, that never ending ache in his chest seemed to be disappearing now as he stayed letting her hold his hand. Calling him, calling him to seek out that baser comfort of being embraced by one’s caregiver. His chemistry begging, begging, begging for those chemicals tattooed on his hand to be activated within Andi so that he may in turn gain the serotonin lost over the years. That scar burns. Family, some kind of family, some kind of real family. The last of it right here before him.

The story she told, truth to it, yes, something just feeling….off. He rubbed the back of his neck, nails digging into that damn scar, he just needed to tear it off. The familiarity of how she told it….

He needed to go. Too much. Terrible idea. Nothing has been gained from it. Nothing….lies. So many of them still wrapped in some kind of truth. The only other people to bring any kind of perspective on them long gone.

“I’ve-. I gotta go,” Chance mumbled, pictures in hand, throwing the truck into drive, dust kicking up. Home, just go home, he repeated, the clinking of the bottles keeping time. Liar, liar, liar! She had to be lying. He was a good man, that’s what he remembered. He was a good man that didn’t just do things without good reason. Right? No, that was correct, it's his truth, the one he knows, the one he has to believe….it's the one he’s known his whole life.

There’s a blare of a horn, Chance swerving to the other side of the road, slamming the brakes. He looks up to the cars passing by, all of them belong to locals, Chance’s teeth grind, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He needs to get home, needs to clear his head, get back to that state of….

One more stop.

If he’s right about this being a hallucination or his brain playing tricks on him then having some of it won’t do anything to him. It won’t affect him. Hell it probably would help him with making the world, his world, as it should have been. Shouldn’t be too hard to find, just need to go to one of those shrines, they’ll be doing their duty of converting all that they can. Two miles. I’m pretty sure there’s one two miles from here.

He takes a long drink from the vodka, grabbing the handgun from under the passenger seat. The door slams and the two, Wait there’s one in the water, the three peggies look up at him, guns aimed. Come at me, His gun already out, the first shots shaky in their aim but effective to bring the two down, Civilian injured, but just in the arm. The one in the water rushes at him, fumbling for the gun on her back, Lucky me, one shot and a splash. Not even a second look at those he’s just rescued, picking up one of the member’s canteen filling it from the open barrel. Back on the road and home before he knew it….could even process it.

Crate placed on the counter, the bottle from the car halfway filled, Chance pouring in some of the Bliss, the liquid taking on a faint green tint. He gives it a good shake before drinking once more. In a near instant the shaking finally stops, breathing slowed, warmth flooding to his limbs once more. He lets his eyes open, finding the world around him….

clear….

peaceful….

Beautiful.

This is what he needed. This is what was going to help him. He just needed to think and why not just think in a place that was out of reality. “Rest.” He needed that too, Should do that first, he thought as more of the bottle disappeared letting himself fall onto the sofa. Never had it felt softer, more inviting. Singing, distant, clear, words he knew all from her voice. “Where are you,” the whisper echoing in the open expanse of….well where he was. “Faith,” he breathed out, “I need you,” his eyes closed with the feeling of her fingers brushing against his skin. Her voice closer now, lulling him to sleep, “Don’t leave me,” he pleaded.

“We won’t,” she whispered, lips cold as they pressed to his cheek….

“Just rest.”

As quickly as Chance landed in a dreamless sleep the world moved suddenly. Sharply. His head groggy as his eyes struggled to focus, stomach starting to roll. One more drink, he can wake up with another drink. The bottle felt lighter than when he laid down, the sky darker, Didn’t mean to rest that long. A hand stopped the bottle from reaching his lips, his eyes turning slowly to meet her blue-green eyes, a smile spreading on his face. “You’re still here,” he whispered, reaching out for her.

Faith nodded, placing his hand back on the sofa, “I told you I’d come back to check on you.” Her eyes looked to the bottle in his hand solemnly taking it in, her frown only growing, “How are you feeling today?” She swept a hand over his forehead, the curls clinging to the sweat on his brow, “It looks like you spent most of it sleeping.”

He shook his head, “I didn’t sleep,” she didn’t stop him as he moved to take another drink, “I was thinking.”

Faith tilted her head, “Oh? What were you thinking about,” her voice soft, softer than the last time she spoke to him. They fought? Yeah we did. We did and she came back?, “Chance?”

“Hmm, oh,” his eyes focused back on the room around her, “Her.”

Dark blonde eyebrows knitted together as she stared, “Her, who?”

“Mom.”

She flinched, opening her mouth a second before closing it again. She bit her lower lip, thinking for a moment, looking at her hands folded in her lap. “Your….mom,” he nodded, “Why? Are you wanting to find her?”

Chance shook his head, sitting up, “Don’t need too. She found me.” The world spun slightly, taking another drink to steady it.

“She….found you,” Faith moved to sit on the coffee table.

Chance nodded, “Yep. ya’know I’m sure you’ve met her. She’s been with you all for a long time.” He looked around the room, tints of green pressing through the darkness outside his windows, “Wait.” Faith looked up, fingers still holding her chin, “You think she’ll show up here?”

“At your house?” She asked, raising a brow.

“No, in the Bliss. In that big field you showed me,” he walked to the window by the door, “This house has to be there right? She could come and end up finding me again.”

“That’s-.” She shook her head, moving to stand next to him, “There’s no possibility of that happening,” Faith assured, her hand gently touching his shoulder.

“Your hands,” he placed a hand over hers, “Your touch,” Chance rubbed circles on the top of her wrist, “it’s so warm.” He stared down at it a moment more before he dropped it, walking to the canteen on the counter, testing the weight, “I didn’t take too much did I?”

Faith took the container from him, setting it back down, “No, you didn’t Chance.”

“Then why do you feel so warm? So….,” his fingertips ran down her cheek, neck, and collar bone, the lace scratchy against them, “Real.”

Her eyes searched his face, brow knitting together, “Because I am, Chance. You didn’t take enough to last more than a few hours.”

He frowned looking at the ground shifting, “Is that why my chest is starting to feel empty again?” Chance rubbed his chest, feeling the raised letters beneath his shirt, looking at Faith through his lashes.

The frown she wore, eyes sympathetic, answered enough for him. “You said you met your mom,” she started, “Is that why you-?”

“Started drinking again,” he finished, scoffing, shaking his head, “No. It all happened just a few hours ago.”

Her eyes widened, “And how did it go?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” The ache, the edges of the hole he could never close started to burn. That damn scar, all of them, but mostly the one on his neck and spread across his chest itched and burned.

“I-,” her eyes flicked to the hands at his side, one gripping the glass bottle the other balled into a fist, both sporting white knuckles. “I- Well I was just making conversation,” she smiled, her voice lighter, teasing with laughter, “Seems like we never just talk anymore, my White Knight.”

He blinked, locking his gaze with hers for a moment. He gave a quick shrug, “Huh. Guess you’re right.” Chance took another sip, rocking back on his heels, words starting to slur, “Never had much to talk about after a while.”

“Oh,” her smile fell for a fraction of a second, shaking her body out, “Well, there’s been some new developments it seems.” Easy, always easy to talk to, Chance’s smile returns, I can tell her anything.

“Sure,” he finished off the last of the bottle, Faith’s soft smile ever present as she watched him move, eyes turning sad. He grabbed another bottle, opening it quickly, “But she could be….well hmm I don’t think she’s really my mom.” He strode past her reaching for the photos on the coffee table, feet starting to tangle, “I know I’ve seen this one before somewhere,” he held up the baby picture, Faith tilting her head taking it from him. “I just can’t seem to place it yet. There’s just too,” he waved a hand over his head, “Just too much going on in my mind to find it.”

She flips the photo over, “I see,” squinting her eyes, fuzzy memories she can’t quite reach, play out. A simple handmade shelter in the woods and a manila folder.

Chance holds up the second one, “This one I’ve never seen before,” Faith’s eyes take it in, glancing between his eyes and the one on the small boy’s. It’s him, she’d know his eyes anywhere now. He taps it, “That dino toy though,” he laughs to himself, “I had one just like it.”

Another drink down, Faith starts walking around him, fingertips running along his shoulders, “So who do you think she is?” God, how did she manage to make her voice sound like a song. She takes the second photo placing them on the table once more.

“A trick,” he shrugs, “Maybe I just got stuck in the Bliss and there’s no coming out of it for me.”

She smirks, “Or?”

“Or some trick of your brothers’,” he laughs with a snort, “Probably Sunglasses, wants to get me to join you all.” She tilts her head, “Joseph said it wasn’t too late for me.”

“Are you really considering the offer,” her smile grows, “After all this time? All this protest and resistance, you’d really join the faith?” His eyes follow every movement of hers, contemplating if he should ask for more from her. Her whispered words in his ear brings him back, “Join us in creating a New Eden?”

“I-,” he stops, the questions sinking in. He didn’t believe, would never believe in some higher power, especially one coming from Joseph. That wasn’t the only reason why people joined religions, or why one would stay…., “No. No, I’m not considering it, just trying to think like you do.”

She hums, “You hesitated,” Faith says as she sits on the back of the sofa, ankles crossed, “Normally you never hesitate.”

“This isn’t some therapy session, Faith,” he snaps rolling his eyes, another swig of the bottle following, “No need to look that deep into it.” That woman’s wrong, she’s wrong. Just lying, just a trick.

“Then what would you rather do?” Faith smirks, the concern growing in her eyes, “Anything you want.”

He moves closer grabbing her hand, still warm, chest starting to feel hollow while the rest of him feels some kind of electricity. Why did they ever start this? Why did he ever start to let himself fall for someone that could also be a dream at any given moment? There was never a real good way to tell the difference anymore, was there? How many times did he find himself here with her like this?

He set the bottle down letting his now free hand run along her jawline and neck slowly, pausing where he could feel her pulse the best. He lets go of her hand placing it on her waist, feeling as her heartbeat increases.

“Real or not real,” he whispers, Please say-.

She takes hold of the hand resting along her collarbone bringing it to her cheek. smiling, “Real.” His breath catches, the pleas he had for her once it looked like neither were going to come back to the other, held back. She frowns, pushing some of his hair back, “Do you feel unreal, Chance? Or like none of this is real?”

He cast his eyes down, Can’t ever hide my thoughts from you, “I wonder sometimes,” the hand on her waist running farther along the curve of her, “Maybe this place is just some kind of afterlife.” He sighs, eyes slow to meet hers once again, “I just couldn’t take it anymore one day. Or they finally got me,” he’s spinning, falling, the longer he stares into her eyes, “But I just-Faith I don’t feel like myself anymore. I never do-.”

“Until that bottle is gone,” she finishes softly, Chance giving a small nod, shutting back the tears threatening to fall and close his throat. “Chance,” he opened his eyes to her sympathetic face, “What would happen if you felt like yourself again? Even just for a little bit.”

“Could think through everything,” he whispers, “The whole world….I can make sense of it all.”

“You think you’d have the answers you need,” she guided him closer to her, “The ones you want.” Chance nodded, resting his forehead against hers. If she was real then he needed to have this moment with her. Just needed to have her, the real her, the one that didn’t get angry when he’d refer to her as Rachel every now and again. Faith nodded, “Then how can I-?”

“Touch me,” his response was fast, Faith blinking in surprise. He took a deep breath, the smell of her flowers with undertones of fresh rain giving him comfort. This had to be the real her, had to be, “Just-. I need to feel….,” Real, alive, close, comfort, you, “Feel something other than….”

His words trailed off, Faith giving him a moment before finishing his thought, “Other than the confusion and pain?” He stayed silent, she nodded in understanding, “Is this what you need to help you,” her fingers started to play with the edge of his jeans, the bare skin she touched warming beneath it, She missed me too, didn’t she?

He tilted her chin to take in her face, “It would be a start I think.” There just above her eyebrow, the faint scar from those early days of the reaping, Been awhile since I’ve seen that on her, “But only if you’re really here, really you.”

She frowned, eyes misting, “Of course it's me, Chance,” she pleaded, “I told you last night that I’d come back to check on you.”

He brushed a thumb over the scar, “Tell me how you got this then.”

She tilted her head, cocking a brow, before exhaling slowly, “I got it because you,” she poked his chest, “got a grenade thrown at me.” She gave a small smile at the memory passing through the two of them, “I still don’t forgive you for threatening to cut my hair that day.”

Chance couldn’t help but chuckle, “I was really looking forward to adding Hairstylist next to sacrificial lamb on my resume.” She laughed, the melody one he could never forget, Real. This is real, “Besides I saved your life that day.”

“Again, only after you put me in danger in the first place.” Her fingers traced along the muscle and bone of his hips, “It was also when you pointed out the obvious point I had been ignoring.” His mind wadded through the memories, the feelings vague, muted by the liquor taking hold of him, “I tried, well try, to ignore the fact that I’m so easily replaceable.”

“Oh,” he looks to his feet, “I’m still sorry. It was a low blow.”

Faith shook her head, “You were right though.” Her eyes grew distant, hands stopping along his hips, “I used to think she was meant to replace me, you know.”

It took a moment for the name to come up, or well the name Faith knew her by, “Mary? Your sister?”

She nodded, eyes cast down, “Some days I wish I could have been more genuine in my kindness rather than keeping her close to keep her from replacing me. Or at least had more time to be genuine,” her voice cracks, “She always was to me.”

Chance ran his thumb along her cheek catching the few falling tears, “It weighs on you,” he started softly, “Those feelings of not being able to say goodbye, to make sure that the person knows how you feel about them,” Even if they are still alive.

She pulled him closer, face pressed into his chest, “You won’t just leave without letting me have a goodbye, right?”

I can try, his eyes glanced down to the bottle at his feet, I want a little more. Need a little more. “Not if I can help it. Even if,” he looked up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh, “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but even if ghosts and the afterlife turn out to be real, I’ll make sure you can have a nice goodbye.”

Her eyes widened at the admission, “Must really care about me to make that kind of promise.”

Chance looked back into her eyes, mind slipping into the blue of them easily, pushing some of her hair back, “I-. Rach-.” He took a breath to steady himself, her grip on him making it harder to grab for the bottle, “Faith I love you.”

Faith doesn’t say anything, eyes searching his face, his heart falling with each beat of his heart. Say something….anything. Say it back, the lump forming in his throat.

This was a mistake. He shakes his head, “Look jus-just forget it. Forget I said anything.” He turned away, cheeks starting to burn, stomach turning as he grabbed the bottle stepping away from her.

She grabs onto his hand, “Chance wait.” She jumped down walking closer to him, arms wrapping around him, kissing his cheek, “I know you do.”

“Do you just not feel the same?” His whispered voice hesitating with each syllable, “That why you won’t say it back?”

“Chance,” Faith closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, “I’d rather hear those words come from a sober mouth,” she laced her fingers with his, “You’re not the only one that has trouble distinguishing dreams from reality.”

He looked over his shoulder, the windows still grasping onto that green fog, “What do we do then, if neither of us can trust in what we see and hear? If we feel we can’t even trust the validity of our feelings?”

“Exist.”

“In this moment,” she smiled, taking the bottle from him, “We meet in the middle.” She took a long drink, nose wrinkling from the burn, “Or well I meet you there, and then we just exist in the other’s presence.”

He blinked, eyes wide, “You’d stay the whole night?”

She smiled, giving a small nod, “Just like I used too.”

“The nights where we just laid in bed-.”

“And talked, with my skin pressed to yours-.”

“Until the whole world was just you and me-.”

“The orange of the sun dispelling the barriers we’d set up-.”

“Our call to return to a world where-.”

“Neither of us really belong anymore.”

She brushed some of his hair back, unable to break free of his green eyes, his hands resting on her hips, breathing even once again. He was the first to move, guiding them to the bedroom, pulling the zipper of her dress down once in the doorway of his room. Faith let it fall, pulling his shirt over his head. Chance quick in removing the rest of his clothing as she followed his lead, sliding under the covers with ease.

Maybe it was the time they had spent apart or the feeling of being unreal that changed their thought process. They were only meant to lie there feeling the other close to them, not having their lips crash together, hands tangling in each other’s hair, and their hearts starting to race. He pulled her leg around him making sure it was secured around his hip before moving his lips down her jaw and neck. She let out a small gasp as he started to kiss across her chest.

Her fingers grasp at his hair, pulling his lips back to hers as he lays her on her back. She rolls her hips to meet his gaining whatever friction she can, Chance moaning into their kiss, hands gliding down her body. Fingertips trace the scarred sin before running up her body once again, pulling one of her arms away from him, lacing their fingers together, holding it down on the bed. She gives the lightest of pushes on his shoulders, Chance following her thoughts kissing down her body once more.

His lips and tongue trace every outline of her, her breathy moans filling the room. The heat radiating off of her only grows the closer he gets to her core. She doesn’t force him back up, doesn’t stop him from starting his act of worship between her thighs. She lets him watch as her back arches, the way her chest moves as her breathing deepens, listening to his name leave her lips as her fingers tangle farther in his curls. This. This is real. This is the woman he’d been letting himself fall for. Not the one who’s been coming to visit almost every night with her song that commands his actions.

There’s little time to recover when she pulls him back to her lips, the taste of her still lingering. He’s starting to strain, desperate to be connected to her when she pulls away, foreheads still resting against each other. There’s a moment where both catch their breath, Faith whispering, “I want you….,” her fingers running down the nape of his neck.

“I need you,” they say together.

“All of you,” he continues, “Every part of you.” His eyes travel down her body, every scar, curve, flaw traced and memorized, “For as long as I can have you.”

She traces a fire along his chest, letting out a ragged breath rolling her hips, “Let’s start with now,” she whispers, their bodies interlocking with ease. Easy, right, perfectly made for the other. How it all seems so obvious as their hearts beat in perfect rhythm, the slow and purposeful movements eliciting a duet of moans, sighs, and gasps. It's no longer a rage of fire and heat, not like it ever was, it’s slow and calming, always there.

Equal as Faith easily takes the lead, pushing him onto his back, Chance moaning out her name. His head falls back with a low groan as she starts to move her hips in a circle, nails gripping onto his chest. His hands fall and rise with the curves and dips of her torso, hips bucking to meet her movements. She increases the pace of their movements, Chance gripping onto her hips, both on the precipice of ecstasy, time slowing down around them.

Then all at once the pleasure hits them, engulfs them, their lips crashing together as they ride it out. The high lasting longer than it had before made the two of them work to catch their breaths. They smile, Chance giving a small chuckle giving one more soft kiss every little detail and sensation heightened and solid. They were both here, they both existed at this moment.

They were both alive.

It took a moment for the two to fall into place on the bed, silent as they adapted once more to just feeling the other’s warmth once again. Faith’s fingers traced the scars littering his body, mind searching for something to start with. “You know, I got a glare from John after that day, you know.”

“What day?” He asked, noticing how she shivered feeling the way Chance’s fingers traced patterns lightly on her skin.

Faith laughed quietly, “The day you first brought me here.”

“Ah,” he kissed the top of her head, “Why did Fashion Week glare at you?”

Faith smirked, pulling him closer, “I couldn’t stop thinking about how you called him Karen.” He gave a snort holding back his laughter, “I’m serious. The way you said it,” she gave a small shake of her head rolling her eyes, “There was just something funny about it and it kept playing out in my mind during our meeting. He said something that I think was vaguely insulting and the name slipped out when I tried to call him out on it.”

Chance laughed, burying his face in her hair, “Of course he would have to act like a Karen after I graced him with that name.” He looked up to the ceiling, hand moving over the curve of her hip, “I would have loved to see his face as you said it.”

“Maybe someday you’ll be able to,” she looked up, resting her chin on his chest, “once all of this-,” the smile she had starting to fade.

Chance nodded slowly, moving on his side their faces close, “Once all of this is over,” If it ever will be. His lips brushed against hers briefly before placing a light kiss on them, “My day to see Gossip Gabby really appreciate my humor will come. Even if I have to make it so.”

She giggled, “Do you have these nicknames written down so you can just pick from a list?”

Chance placed a hand on her cheek, bringing her lips to his in a deep kiss, forehead pressed to Faith’s when he pulled away. “You’ll never know, Princess.”

#a chance for faith #x: emo flower child #faith seed #faithxoc #chance ruicknar oc #mildly nsft #just in case #but yeah I'm done looking at this I can't anymore #its been months on this piece sorry

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caitlesshea · 4 years

Text

the way you showed me you care

“Shit.”

Booker jumps about a half foot in the air and almost falls off the couch at the sound of his phone ringing. It’s been months since anyone has contacted him, so long that he was beginning to wonder why he even kept it charged.

In some self sacrificial moments he thought about changing his number so they couldn’t contact him, tricking himself into thinking they would.

He fumbles forward and goes to answer when it blessedly stops ringing. Just because it takes an insane amount of alcohol for him to get drunk doesn’t mean he hasn’t spent the last couple of months trying.

Just as he lays back down on the couch it rings again and when he goes to answer it his stomach sinks.

Copley.

“What?” Booker growls into the phone and the voice on the other end just sighs.

“How soon can you get to London?”

“Why? Is Andy?”

“Everyone’s fine.”

Booker releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and rubs his forehead until he calms down.

“Then why?”

“London. How long?”

Booker holds his phone in front of him, trying to figure out the time and what day it is.

“Give me a couple of hours.”

“Fine. You remember how to get to my place?”

“How could I forget?” Booker responds dryly and he’s only slightly disappointed when Copley doesn’t say anything back.

“Do you need anything? Money?”

Booker swallows at the softness in Copley’s voice. They’ve always had a friendly enough relationship, one doesn’t get to the point of asking someone to help you end it all without being somewhat close. They always understood each other in that regard.

“That’s the last thing I need. I’ll see you tonight.”

Booker hangs up before Copley can say anything and he smiles as his email pings with a train ticket to London and a rental car reservation.

He takes one last look at his shitty apartment and grabs the duffel bag he’s had packed since he first got to Paris.

At the last minute he picks up the copy of Don Quixote that Andy gave him and shoves it into his bag before grabbing his keys and his current passport, a French one, for once.

Something about being exiled for a hundred years makes him want to be sentimental. And drunk. But he figures he can drink on the train.

In what feels like no time at all he’s pulling up to Copley’s weirdly modern house in the outskirts of London. Booker tries not to think about what Copley could possibly want, especially considering he dragged Booker to London for it. Before he even turns off the engine Copley is outside waiting for him.

“You made it.”

“Very astute of you.”

Copley rolls his eyes and Booker follows Copley into his house, setting his bag down on the couch.

“Gonna tell me why I’m here?”

“I need your help.”

“My help?” Booker asks as Copley hands him a glass of scotch.

Booker looks around Copley’s office, weird detective board still firmly in place, and waits for Copley to answer.

When it seems like Copley isn’t going to say anything anytime soon, Booker walks over to the board, heart clenching at seeing Andy’s, Nicky’s, and Joe’s faces reflected back at him.

“None of me?”

“You told me you were immortal. I didn’t really need to do any research on you.”

“Mmm.” Booker swirls the drink in his glass and smirks.

“Couldn’t figure out my real name could you?”

Copley smiles and Booker shakes his head as he laughs.

“You’re very good.”

“Oh, I know.”

Copley smirks at him and Booker feels himself relax for the first time in months.

“So, my help?”

“There’s a job.” Copley hands him an iPad and Booker looks it over. “Andy agreed, but I need supplies and I don’t want to put them on the radar of any of my contacts.”

Booker raises an eyebrow at that and he swears he can see regret in Copley’s eyes.

“Joe and Nicky can get them. They know who we used.”

“Joe and Nicky?”

“Just because they’re super old doesn’t mean they can’t use a computer.”

“But Andy?”

“Oh, yeah, Andy’s terrible.” Booker walks over to sit in one of the chairs as Copley takes the other. “But Joe and Nicky aren’t half bad and I’m sure Nile is even better.”

“Nile. A millennial she is.”

Booker laughs and hands back the iPad. “She giving you trouble?”

“She just wants to have social media, wants to see her family, the usual.”

“Well, Nicky and Joe have an Instagram.”

“They what?” Copley looks like his eyes are going to bug out of his head and Booker rolls his eyes as he opens his phone.

“Not in their names or anything. It’s one of those couple’s accounts. They never show their faces and Nicky thinks he’s funny, posting old photos of them, making people think it’s a filter instead of a yellowed Polaroid.”

“Jesus.”

“Just give Nile some ground rules.”

“And the family part?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.”

“Why?”

Booker looks up at Copley and realizes he’s genuinely curious. Booker takes a moment to spin his wedding ring that he stills wears and notices Copley still wears his as well. It makes something clench in his chest that he can’t really describe.

“Nothing good will come from her seeing them.” Booker ends up saying quietly and Copley nods.

Booker doesn’t know what to do with the look on Copley’s face. It’s not pity, or even understanding, but it’s something close, and that makes his heart hurt.

“Here.” Booker emails Copley the contacts and supplies he’d use for this mission and he waits for Copley to read it before getting up to leave.

“Stay.” Copley says as Booker walks past him. “For dinner I mean, and you can go back to Paris tomorrow.”

“Dinner.” Booker says, even though he packed for at least a week, and doesn’t want to look too closely at why he doesn’t want to leave.

“You cook?” Copley jokes. “You’ve had what, two hundred years to learn?”

“Nice try.” Booker walks into the kitchen with Copley behind him and takes a seat at the bar as Copley pulls out some food.

“Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?” Copley asks as he cuts up some veggies for what looks like a stir fry. “None of you have, actually.”

Booker swallows roughly at the mention of everyone else and he wishes he refilled his scotch before coming out here. One appears in front of his view and Copley gives him a wry smile.

“We don’t really talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“You know.” Booker waves in the general direction of Copley’s office. “Immortality, with anyone who’s not…”

“Ah.” Copley nods and throws the veggies and chicken he pulled out of the fridge into a wok.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Copley turns to look at Booker and Booker can’t explain it but he feels seen like he never has before. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

“I think you know the answer to that already, James.”

Copley nods and they sit in companionable silence while the food cooks. Booker wishes he had more to say, but the sting of losing his friends, his family, sits heavy in his throat.

There’s no Nicky to bet if Andy will guess all the flavors in the latest baklava. There’s no Joe to watch football with and cheer for any team who’s wearing the color green because ‘Nicolò’s eyes.’ There’s no Andy to…

He’s brought out of his musings by Copley’s shout.

“They have almost a million followers!”

Booker can’t help it, he throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months.

~~~

Booker was supposed to go home the next day. But it’s been almost three weeks and he hasn’t left.

It’s not that he wants to stay, that’s a lie, but Copley keeps asking for help on jobs or how to deal with the team and Booker, the martyr, can’t stop himself from asking for more information.

It’s not like he can’t figure out where they are. He helped them disappear in the world for almost two hundred years, he knows how they operate, but that feels a little too invasive, even for him.

“They want to take a break for a little while.” Copley sits down next to him with coffee and passes one to Booker.

That’s another thing. Booker isn’t drinking as much and his flask is in his bag. Copley brings him coffee, tea, water. Almost anytime Booker sees the man drinking something, he brings something for Booker, as well. Booker knows it’s a tactic to get him to stop drinking as much, but he finds that he doesn’t care.

“They do that.”

Copley just looks at him and Booker is reminded of the CIA Agent he met nearly nine years prior.

“When you’re as old…” Booker smiles at Copley’s look of interest. “Nice try. But breaks are good. And Nile is still new.”

“When will she stop being new?”

“When Andy thinks she’s ready.”

“For?”

“Honestly? Probably never now that Andy’s…”

“Mortal?”

Booker swallows and looks up at Copley. The storm brewing in his own eyes is met with a compassion he doesn’t deserve. He looks away before he does something ridiculous like cry but not soon enough for Copley to notice.

“Booker.” Copley breathes deeply, almost like it pains him that Booker is hurting. “How long is your exile?”

“A hundred years.”

“A hundred years?”

“Yeah.” Booker doesn’t even realize he’s saying the next part until Copley’s gasp. “A third of my life.”

“A third? So you’re two hundred?”

Booker sighs and figures if the man is letting him live in his house then he might as well be honest with him.

“I turned two hundred and fifty this past May.”

“Two hundred fifty…” Copley trails off with a look of concentration. “Seventeen seventy?”

“Got it in one.”

“Well, shit.”

Booker laughs at the look on Copley’s face. “You have a board of over a hundred and fifty years of photos of us and my actual age surprises you?”

“Well yeah, especially considering you’re the baby.”

“I am not the baby.” Booker glares at Copley without heat.

“Right. Right, it’s Nile. You’ve definitely got middle kid syndrome.”

“I resent that.”

Copley shrugs and it’s such an odd thing for him to do that Booker smiles.

“Forty two.” Booker says unprompted.

“Huh?”

“I’m forty two, give or take a few years.”

Copley turns his head to the side like he’s studying Booker and likes what he finds. “I’m forty three.”

“I know.”

Copley rolls his eyes. “So how did you die?”

“The first time?”

Copley nods and Booker thinks about telling him the glorified version of the truth or the actual truth and finds that he actually wants to tell him.

“Army deserter, fighting with Napoleon.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing, just don’t see you as an army guy.”

“It was the thing to do.”

Copley raises an eyebrow at him and Booker sighs.

“Alright fine, I was a forger, got caught, sent to war…”

“Booker.”

Booker shakes his head. “It wasn’t the last time I saw my family, although...”

“Family?”

“Wife, three sons.” Booker spins his wedding ring, watching as Copley’s eyes follow the movement.

“I never…”

“My youngest son died at forty two, cancer. I can still remember everything he said to me, screaming that I wouldn’t share my gift with him to help him.”

Booker startles as Copley’s hand comes down on top of his own, squeezing tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

Booker turns his hand over in a moment of bravery and squeezes back.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Copley sits back for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, then shakes his head as he gets up to grab a binder on his desk.

“What are you?”

“Here.”

Copley places the binder down on the table and Booker looks at it like it might bite him.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Booker opens it and sees pages of photos of himself. The photos that should be on the wall with the others.

“So you did have photos of me?”

“Just those and the few that are already on the wall. You’ve been with them a long time.”

“Not that long.”

“Longer than most people will ever get.”

Booker nods at that, thinking back to the time he had with his family, the time Copley had with his wife. It makes his heart hurt, when he thinks about everything he’s done.

“If I had your names I could find more.”

“Sébastien.”

“What?”

“My name, it’s Sébastien Le Livre.”

Copley smiles and the way it lights up his whole face is beautiful. The thought stops Booker’s heart for a moment, but then he lets it wash over him. For once, his attraction to someone else doesn’t feel like a betrayal.

“Booker makes sense now.” Copley smirks. “Although I think I like Sébastien better.”

Yeah, this man is going to be the death of him.

~~~

Booker should really admit that he’s not leaving Copley’s house. They’ve traveled to a few places and Booker’s taken a couple of solo jobs and gone to some of his safe houses to get some of his things but it’s been three months of him living with Copley and helping him with the team's jobs and he can feel himself slipping into a dangerous normalcy.

You can also cut the tension between them with a knife. Booker doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants James Copley, but here he is three months into the first solid home he’s had in over two hundred years, and all he wants is Copley.

Which is to say, he’s a little miserable. He can’t mess this up. He can’t mess up the one friendship that’s become as vital to him as breathing, he can’t mess up the chance to help his family, even if they don’t know it, and he can’t mess up the chance to spend at least some of his hundred year exile with this man.

Booker’s trying to figure out how to at least see if Copley’s interested in maybe making their relationship something more when he hears a loud crash from the kitchen.

“Shit.”

“You okay?” Booker looks around at the mess in the kitchen, a little shocked to see any part of the house in such disarray.

“Yeah, sorry. I was looking for something.”

“What?”

“A cookbook. My wife’s.”

Booker’s heart seizes at the mention of Copley’s wife. It’s not that they haven’t talked about her, hell Booker’s seen more pictures of her than he’s ever seen of another person, but something twists in his gut, burning hot like jealousy, and he hates it.

“What were you trying to cook?”

“Huh?” Copley’s looking around frantically and not really paying attention and Booker puts his hand on his arm to stop him.

“James.”

Copley looks at him and visibly relaxes as Booker bends down to look in the cabinet Copley was cleaning out.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Booker finds what he thinks Copley is looking for and stands up to hand him a small book that has pretty cursive writing on the front.

“Here.”

Booker looks into Copley’s eyes as he takes the book. Their hands brush and Booker swears the butterflies he feels make him feel like a teenager again, which is honestly impressive.

“Sébastien.” Copley says in his infuriatingly elegant accent and Booker feels himself moving closer, so close that he can feel Copley’s breath against his own lips.

It only takes a second, and then Booker is surging forward and kissing Copley, who drops the book and wraps his hands around Booker’s waist.

Booker reluctantly breaks the kiss when the need to breathe becomes too much. He looks into Copley’s eyes and is pleased to see a similar look of want reflected back at him.

“What are we doing?” Copley whispers as Booker presses up against him and pushes them into the counter.

“Whatever you want.”

Copley takes that as an invitation and he surges forward, Booker grabbing onto his hips to stop the momentum as he feels Copley’s tongue seek entrance into his mouth.

Booker gets so lost in the kiss, so lost in pulling Copley’s shirt from his pants and undoing the buttons to his shirt that he’s pretty sure he’s never been kissed like this before, and that’s saying something.

Before Booker gets what he really wants, which is Copley somewhere horizontal, Copley breaks the kiss with a shout.

“Shit.”

“What happened?” Booker’s looking frantically at Copley. “James!”

“Cut myself.” Copley looks at him as he pulls his hand in front of him to show the bleeding the knife that was on the counter behind Booker caused.

Booker helps him bring his hand under the water as he grabs a towel. As soon as the blood washes away Booker turns his hand over looking for the cut and doesn’t see any.

“Where’d you cut your hand?”

“I, I don’t know.” Copley’s looking at his hand like he’s never seen it before and Booker doesn’t think, he just grabs the knife and slices Copley’s hand again and then his own.

“Sébastien!”

“Just look.” Booker wipes the blood away from his own hand and Copley’s and places them next to each other as they watch both wounds heal.

“Holy shit.”

“Does this mean?”

“I don’t know what it means. Usually a person has to die for us to figure it out.”

“Uhh, about that.”

“We can deal with this later?”

Booker leans in closer to Copley and kisses him again, magically healing immortal hands long forgotten.

~~~

Except, not so forgotten, when Copley shoots awake in the middle of the night, grabbing his head and nearly throwing Booker out of bed.

“James?”

“Sorry, nightmare.” Copley looks over at him and then turns on the light and Booker can see the worry lines on his face.

“Tell me.” Booker says as he reaches up to cup Copley’s cheek as Copley leans into him.

“It was nothing.” Copley shakes his head as he scoots closer to Booker. “The team.”

“What about the team?”

“Nothing, probably just nerves for the next job.”

“James. Tell me what you saw.”

Copley sighs as he lays back down and Booker hooks his leg over Copley’s as he waits for him to speak.

“I don’t want…”

“I’ll be fine.” Booker says as he leans in to kiss Copley. “Tell me.”

“Andy and Nile were training, Joe was sketching something and Nicky was cooking.”

“Shit.” Booker lays back down and rubs his hands over his eyes. “We dream each other.”

“We?”

“When there’s a new immortal.”

“So you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. This hasn’t happened before.”

Booker looks over at Copley and sees that his eyes have gone wide and he has a panicked expression in his face.

“Hey.” Booker turns on his side so he can pull Copley closer. “We’ll figure this out.”

Copley nods just as his phone starts ringing. They both jump at the noise as Copley shows him the caller is Andy.

Booker tries not to listen but it’s kinda hard when he’s hugging Copley and he misses the sound of Andy’s voice.

“They’ll be here tomorrow.” Copley says as he drops his phone on the nightstand.

“Alright. I can get out of your hair.”

“What? Sébastien, no.”

“I’m not supposed to see them. Hell, I’m probably not supposed to even be speaking to you.”

“Sébastien.” Copley runs his fingers through Booker’s hair. “This is your home. I want you to be here.”

Booker can’t help it, he kisses Copley like he’s never going to be able to again, as he reaches over and turns off the light.

~~~

Morning comes all too soon and Booker hates it. This sanctuary he’s built, his home, according to James, is about to be overcome with people who hate him.

“I can meet them somewhere else.” Copley says as if he can read Booker’s mind. Wouldn’t that be something.

“No. They’re probably almost here anyways.” Booker would know, as he broke his own vow and tracked them, just so he knew how much time he’d need to prepare.

“Do I even want to know?”

“No.” Booker smiles and Copley leans down to kiss him just as the doorbell rings.

Booker holds tighter to his coffee cup as Copley lets them in and for the first time in almost a year he’s looking directly at Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky.

“Booker!” Nile says delightedly as she practically skips over to hug him. He sinks into the hug, grateful to at least not have burned this bridge.

“Hey, Nile.”

Nile pulls back and Booker looks over to Andy, who looks the same, if not well rested, and he hugs her, too.

“Book.”

Book squeezes her again as he steps back. Booker looks at Joe and Nicky, who stand formidable and together but with their heads tilted to the side like they’re trying to figure something out.

“Did you dream of Copley, too?” Nile asks him and before Booker or Copley can answer Andy gasps as she looks across the living room.

Everyone turns toward her and Booker instantly realizes what she’s looking at and so does Copley. It’s Booker’s copy of Don Quixote that Andy gifted him last year.

But that’s not all, no, she’s going to notice Booker’s boots by the door, his laptop on the table, his sunglasses and motorcycle helmet on the shelf. It looks like he lives here, because he does.

“You didn’t just get here today, did you?” Joe asks him as Andy looks at him smiling.

“No.” Copley answers as he comes up to Booker and places a hand on the small of his back.

Booker can’t help it, he leans into the touch and turns towards Copley to give him a small smile.

Booker chances a look back at the others and feels warm at the sight of Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky all smiling at him.

Nicky walks over to him and pulls both Booker and Copley into a quick hug.

“It’s destiny.”

#the old guard #booker x copley #bopley #booker accidentally on purpose moves in with copley #mentions of alcoholism

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wisteria-lodge · 4 years

Text

Character Analysis: Sorting The Old Guard

@sortinghatchats has a brilliant personality/character analysis system based on the four Hogwarts houses. At this point it’s become much more interesting and nuanced, which is part of why I’m moving away from using the names of the houses.

Here’s how it works. Everyone gets two houses – a Primary House and a Secondary House

YOUR PRIMARY IS YOUR MOTIVE. IT’S WHY YOU DO THINGS.

LION Primary’s sense of morality and ethics comes from inside. Things just feel right or they feel wrong.

BIRD Primary gets their morality and ethics from the world outside them. They decide what they think is right.

BADGER Primary is focused on the good of the group. Who cares if something is technically “moral” if people are getting hurt?

SNAKE Primary is a lot like Badger, but instead of protecting the group, their highest law is the well-being of the individual people they love.

YOUR SECONDARY IS YOUR METHOD. IT’S HOW YOU DO THINGS.

LION Secondary gets their power from being direct, honest, completely themselves. Their “plan” is just keep going until someone stops them. If they see a locked door, they kick it in.

BIRD Secondary collects tools and skills. They build things, find things, learn things. If they see a locked door, they go through their box of keys until they find the right one.

BADGER Secondary is fair, hardworking, and shows up. They’re good at getting people to trust them, and good at getting people to help them. If they see a locked door, they knock.

SNAKE Secondary knows the right mask to wear for each situation. They’re adaptive. They go in the back way. They find the third option. They’re the ones who know how to pick the locks.

And now let’s talk about The Old Guard. Also, SPOILERS.

***

Nile Freeman is a bright Badger primary, defined by her groups. “I’ve got people who love me,” is the first thing she tells the team. And follows that up with, “I’m a Marine.” We meet her in uniform, part of a squad. Getting back to her family is her main motivation. (And it’s a “my family” thing - not a “my mom” or “my brother” thing.) Family continuity and family history mean everything to Nile, and that’s so Badger. Religion is also used as visual shorthand for “Badger” a lot, and Nile’s got her cross necklace. And she doesn’t want to kill people. Doesn’t matter if they’re the bad people who killed her, they’re still people. Badgers can’t ignore that.

Nile’s challenge is figuring out a way to separate from her family (and become an immortal commando) while still keeping her healthy, shining Badger intact. And she does it by expanding. It’s not just about protecting America and her family anymore. She looks at the wall outlining all the good the Old Guard has done, and her community expands to include them, and all of humanity.

She’s definitely got a Lion secondary. Yes, she’s willing to run into the villain’s stronghold with a bag of guns and not much plan - but this is an action movie, that stuff is kinda a given. I’m thinking more about when she has to lie and say her miraculous healing factor is an experimental skin graft – she hates doing it, she’s so bad at it, you can see her skin crawl. Nile is powerful when she is able to just lay out what she believes. People like Agent Copley and the Afghani women just feel the honesty and conviction bleeding off her, and come around to her way of thinking.

Nile also has a Bird secondary model. Smashing down walls isn’t appropriate all the time, so a lot of Lion secondaries learn to use one of the mellower secondaries as backup. Nile’s Bird is subtle, but it’s there. She applies her anti-militant training to the situation, and thinks they should “follow the money.” She can identify a Rodin sculpture across a dark cave. And she spends a while trying to reason away the fact that she’s immortal (considering hypnosis, drug trips, all that fun stuff.)

Andromache the Scythian aka “Andy” is also a Badger primary. But a very old, very tired, very burnt one. She’s been protecting humanity for about ten thousand years, and she feels all the people she wasn’t able to save. Andy starts off the film doubting whether any of it mattered, if she was actually able to protect her community at all. Because she can’t protect everyone, she is forced to shrink that community down. She can protect Nile, Joe, Nicky, and Booker – and that has to be enough.

The situation with Quyhn is a good look at the sort of darkness that can live inside a Badger Primary. Because Andy stopped looking. She could have spent hundreds of years pouring money and time into finding Quyhn - and neglected the rest of her team, and by extension humanity. But Andy’s a Badger primary. That’s not a thing she can do.

(A Snake primary would never have stopped. Someone like Nicky would burn the world, if that’s what it took to get Joe back.)

If your preferred weapon is an ax or a hammer, then you’re a Lion secondary. That’s just how it works. You are too direct and too smashy to be anything else. Ms. “I always go first” Andy, leader of the group she thinks of as an army? Even when she’s discouraged and exhausted, her Lion secondary is still so loud. She has a bit of a Bird secondary model: she sets up rules like “we don’t do repeats, it’s too risky,” and establishes code words linked to specific maneuvers. But you can tell she’s a little uncomfortable with that kind of thinking. She wants to hit things with an ax and give inspirational speeches. And also threaten people.

Which means that Andy and Nile match perfectly. They are both Badger Lions with Bird secondary models. And that makes perfect sense. Nile was “born” at the same time Andy lost her immortality. They are both warriors. Nile is the one who will “go first,” when Andy isn’t able to anymore. She’s the one who gets Andy’s ax at the end. She’s the new Andy. Andy’s redemption comes with waking her Badger primary up, and training a replacement. Or as she puts it, “I think you showed up when I lost my immortality so I could remember what it was like (…) that there are people still worth fighting for.”

Nicolò di Genova aka “Nicky” fights for Joe. It really is that simple. His backstory tells you everything you need to know: he fought in the Crusades until he fell in love with a Muslim, and had to choose. On one hand - religion, country, job, society, security. On the other hand - the man he loves. For Nicky the answer is obvious. Because he is such a Snake primary.

As long as he’s with Joe, he’s fine. Agent Copley is trying to explain himself, Nicky doesn’t care. “I’m sure you’re bringing us to the person who paid for your betrayal. There’s a TV [on this plane] Joe!” The villains can talk all they want about the greater good and moral imperatives and changing the world. Nicky is just bored. “A fine justification. I’ve heard it so many times before.” None of that stuff matters to him.

His secondary is harder to spot, underneath the really loud primary and the really loud Lion secondary model. But I think I see a Badger secondary. Nicky’s a caretaker. He brings Andy her favorite candy, sets up Nile for the night and shows her where to sleep. Joe says that Nicky’s heart “overflows with a kindness of which this world is not worthy,” and I get that they’re in love, but that’s still some serious character testimony. I’m also going to throw in the fact that Nicky’s a sniper. Being a sniper is not like hitting things with an ax. It’s all about getting in place and being careful and patient. Badger secondary traits.

Yusuf Al-Kaysani aka “Joe” actually takes the time to lay out rules he lives by. Which is interesting, because the only other people in this film who do that are the villains. Those guys are not motivated by personal loyalty: they’re either Lion or Bird primaries motivated by “the greater good.” The Old Guard is a very Loyalist movie. When we get our big Theme Scene, the French shopgirl tells us, “Today I put this on your wound. Tomorrow you help someone up when they fall. We’re not meant to be alone.” That’s the ethos of the movie. It’s very Badger.

Joe gets how Badger Primaries work. He gets Andy, and the best example of this is when he comforts her by saying Quyhn “would be insane” by now. He’s basically saying, “you don’t have a responsibility to her the way you have to the rest of us, because she’s not really a person anymore.” It’s dark, but so is Andy, and that line of reasoning would make sense to a Badger primary.

Joe also understands Nicky’s Snake primary. He knows he’s Nicky’s world, and he never stops demonstrating that. He has Nicky’s back when they fight (Nicky passes things over his shoulder without looking). He has Nicky’s back when they sleep (as the big spoon). He learned Italian for Nicky, and when Nicky is freaked, Joe just shows up with that “his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia” speech. But that speech is also him explaining his worldview to the guards, the same way he bothers to tell them, “You shot Nicky. You shouldn’t have done that.”

When Nile asks, “Are you good guys or bad guys?” Joe responds, “Depends on the century.” He is interested in those large moral questions, and the answer he has decided on is a combination of Andy’s Badger morality, and Nicky’s Snake morality.

And to go with that really complicated Primary, I think Joe really is just a straightforward Lion secondary (another reason he gets Andy). I mean... he literally headbutts people.

Sebastian “Booker” Le Livre, whose nickname is a very silly pun, is the most vaguely drawn character. I’m not sure if he turns Nicky and Joe over to Merrick because he wants to die, or because he wants to find a way to help Andy die. Or both. But either way, he is a very burnt Snake primary.

Booker seems to be the only one who kept up contact with his family after learning he was immortal. As a result, he got to watch his son die painfully with “hate and despair in [his] eyes,” blaming his father for not loving him enough to save him. It’s been about 150 years, but Booker is not over this.

That is a very Snake primary love, and when it comes down to it, Booker is a Snake with no people he can throw himself into loving the way he loved his son. (No wonder he drinks). He wants more emotional intimacy from Andy than she is able to give him - not in a romantic way, they have more of a sibling dynamic. But look at the betrayal in his eyes when he learns she’s lost her immortality: “Andy, look at me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is the exchange right after Booker betrays the team:

JOE: You selfish piece of shit. NICKY: Joe, leave it, please… BOOKER: What would you know of the weight of all these years alone? JOE: You’re a very pathetic man Booker. NICKY: Joe, stop. BOOKER: You and Nicky always had each other, right?

Nicky is sympathetic. He’s a Snake primary like Booker, he knows what living without a Person must be like, he knows exactly why Booker did what he did. Joe doesn’t. He only sees how Booker has failed to look at the big picture (like Joe would have, because he’s a Bird, that’s how he thinks) and that he made an objectively dumb call. Joe is angry at him for the rest of the movie. But the others, who know what it’s like motivated only by personal loyalty… they kind of get it.

To round things off, Booker is a Bird secondary. You can tell by the way he collects skills. He’s the operation coordinator, the quartermaster, the driver, and the tech guy. He’s also not afraid of a plan with steps. Nile calls him, “the brains of the operation” (although she’s probably being nice). Still, Booker is a good example of the way Bird secondaries aren’t always smart. His plan was pretty objectively terrible, but that was because his primary was so compromised.

tl;dr

Nile – Badger/Lion (Bird model)

Andy – Burnt Badger/Lion (Bird model)

Nicky – Snake/Badger (Lion model for fighting)

Joe – Bird who has built Nicky’s Snake morality, and Andy’s Badger morality into himself/Lion

Booker – Burnt Snake/Bird

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Pure Blood 35 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

Words: 2,084

Warnings: Mentions of death

Masterlist:

Chapter 34 Chapter 36

"And what was it like having the whole train to yourself?" James asks sitting next to me.

“Lonely,” I sigh. "But I was able to sleep better."

He nods.

"Well, Jenna still doesn't know I'm here. So, it's your turn to help me catch up with all the gossip.”

“Sorry, Singh. But I won't be your gossip consultant,” He huffs.

"Oh, come on! I know you're a gossip. Even more than Sirius!”

“I am not a gossip. I only find out about events on accident.”

“Ha!"

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Everyone is nervous about graduation. They’ll make a ceremony and a small party here. What else? Regulus looks bleaker than usual. Sirius has tried to talk to him, but it's impossible. Peter tried to invite someone to graduation. The first attempts failed, but then he got someone from Slytherin, I really don't know how it happened, but I'm happy for him."

"What about the plan with Lily?"

His face lights up and he smiles, I can even see his cheeks blush.

"It's going well,” He clears his throat.

"Tell me something else, please,” I say, lightly hitting his leg with the crutch Jane told me to use for another month.

“I asked her out,” He laughs like a small boy. “At first she seemed uncomfortable. They were all staring at us, but Merlin! She was beautiful. She always is. Then she agreed to go on a date with me! We went to the three broomsticks and I told her about my family and she finally told me about hers, everything improved when she felt comfortable around me…”

I smile at the sound of his voice, he looks genuinely happy.

“Then we went to the bookstore. I know, the only way I’d be there would be because Remus asked me to, but with her, everything seemed more interesting. She explained to me what some of the books were about. We kept talking, we ate sweets,” Little by little he was sliding on the couch all the way to the floor. “We got to the castle and I wasn't thinking of doing anything else, but she kissed me! To me, Persephone!” He reaches the ground, melting completely at his own words.

"So my advice worked."

He looks at me and nods.

“You’re dating, then?" I ask. He climbs back up to the couch.

“I haven't asked, but I'm waiting for the right moment. After the kiss, she was happy, but embarrassed, she didn't want to ruin anything. Maybe I'll take her to a nice place…”

"Or you’ll just blurt it out.”

"That makes more sense.”

We both laugh.

“Glad to see you like this, James. Truly. It seems like it was worth waiting so many years, right?"

"Maybe. If I hadn't been an idiot, we would have been together longer. If I had listened to you, but it doesn't matter anymore. Thank you, Persephone.”

"You're welcome, James."

“Now, I know that's a stupid question, but. You'll be okay?" His tone is serious now.

I shrug.

"I don’t have any other option.”

"But it's something you want, right?"

"It's complicated. I'm sick of just waiting for bad things to happen, for someone else to control me. I no longer have the family I thought I had, but I don't have control either. I'm afraid of not knowing what to do now, without someone telling me what’s next.”

“Complicated," He makes a face and I nod.

“Yes, but I try to hold onto what I have left. Apollo and Jane, Atlas has been a great help. You, Sirius, Jenna. I don’t know…”

"I have a theory.”

"I hear you.”

“You’re hurt, and maybe that also affects. Just think about it, you can't move without that crutch, you have a very ugly neck scar and your left arm is still broken. Maybe when you're fully healed, you'll feel better, you know, therapy, going out, sticking to a routine a bit. By the time graduation comes you’ll walk better.”

"Could work…”

"Persephone Amelia Singh!" Someone yells.

"Oh, Jenna already knows you're here,” James mentions.

“Hadn’t noticed,” I replied sarcastically.

***

“Thanks," I say when Lily grabs my backpack, we both walk towards our classrooms. She laughs and I look at her confused.

"A few years ago, you would have insulted me for even being in the same hallway as you.”

I feel my cheeks burn.

"You're not going to kick my crutch in revenge, are you?" She laughs again.

"No, calm down. The good thing is that now we’re friends.”

"It's strange. But I do not regret it.”

"Neither do I,” She stops and gently touches my arm. "I also wanted to thank you.”

"Why? I just arrived yesterday–”

"For helping James,” She says.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know you helped him. I thought someone had done it and once I saw you alone talking. Don't worry, it's not a bad thing. I guess we both just needed a push. Now I feel like a fool, but I'm glad that everything is going well…”

"I really don't know what you're talking about, I don't talk to him that often,” I say. She laughs.

“Persephone…”

“Perhaps you're imagining things, Mrs. Potter,” I say with an innocent smile.

"Persephone!"

***

"Are you sure you're comfortable?"

I roll my eyes and smile.

"I'm sure. Don’t worry.”

“Okay."

Potions class continues, but I still feel Sirius's gaze.

"Now what?"

"You don't look comfortable.”

“Have my arm and leg bandaged will always bother until it heals, it's not like I'm in a perfect position to be comfortable Sirius. I'm fine, now pay attention…”

After a few minutes, not only does Sirius's gaze return, but now he's just playing with a lock of my hair. I let him pass, at least he's quiet.

"Professor Slughorn. I'll have to ask students Black and Singh for a moment,” says Professor McGonagall.

Slughorn nods and points at us. Sirius takes my backpack and helps me off the bench. We both leave the room, following the teacher.

"What is it, Professor?" Sirius asks.

“I'm afraid, young Black, this is not good news. But there’s someone in the principal's office looking for you."

"I-it's not someone from my family, is it?" I stutter.

“No, Miss Singh."

We got to the office. The Headmaster is at his desk talking to a woman.

"I'll leave you alone," says McGonagall.

Dumbledore finishes speaking and points to us. The woman gets up and sees us with a sweet smile. Her hair is black and short, she wears a black dress.

"Andy?" Sirius asks.

"Hello, cousin,” she answers and they both embrace.

I missed something, I'm sure, but at this point I just want to sit down. My leg is heavy and the silly stairs up here didn't help at all. I sit in the other chair near the desk. Sirius and the woman talk about things.

"How does it feel?" Dumbledore asks me, drawing my attention.

"I'm improving,” Then I remember something. "You and I have unfinished business.”

He smiles.

"Maybe for another time.”

"I just want to know how you knew…”

“I can't see the future if that’s what you were thinking. I knew that sooner or later something was going to happen, but I had no idea how serious it would be. Yet you are still here, healing,” He winks at me with amusement.

I still don't know what to think, it's quite suspicious, but I'm still in school, so I can't make a claim on him.

“She's my girlfriend, Persephone, I turn back and smile, shaking the woman's hand. "Percy, she's my favorite cousin, Andromeda.”

"It was about time that little Siri introduced me to a girlfriend!” I raise my eyebrows and look towards my boyfriend.

"Siri?"

He blushes.

"A silly nickname,” He complains looking at his cousin. We both laugh.

"Sorry I couldn't stand up, my leg was killing me," I say with a grimace.

"Oh, don't worry, honey. I understand,” She sits in the chair next to me.

"I think it's time to tell the news, dear," adds Dumbledore. Andromeda’s smile disappears.

“Yes,” She clears her throat. “After hearing all about your families, I knew it would be my duty to tell you if something happened. Guys, I'm so sorry. Alphard passed away last night.”

"What?"

Andromeda takes my hand.

"It's true, darling. I know this is horrible news…”

"B-but how?"

Alphard's tired face appears in my mind. Was he sick? Dumbledore and Andromeda share a look.

"The medical report says it was a cardiac arrest…”

"But you know these are dark times," continues Dumbledore. “And we suspects the old families. They both had reasons for not wanting Alphard on their way…”

“Is there a possibility that my family is in all of this? Do the aurors know? Someone must investigate it. We can't just leave him like this…” My hands are shaking.

“As Miss Tonks said. The report is done, I'm afraid we can't do anything. You know they’re very good at hiding anything that stains their reputation."

"Where is he buried?" Sirius says. I turn to see it. His face is pale and he seems about to throw up. "I don't think my mother buried him with the others."

“Ted agreed to put him together with his family. I hope you don't mind,” Andromeda answers.

Sirius shooks his head and looks down.

"He wouldn't have wanted to be with them anyway,” His voice breaks and his cousin stands up to hug him.

"Can we go to the funeral?" I ask the director with teary eyes.

“I'm afraid that's another risk, miss. If the assumptions are correct, they would be waiting for you both. You better not leave Hogwarts until they finish.”

"I'll take care of everything,” says Andromeda, separating from Sirius. “I promise you that Alphard's memory will be remembered. Many of his friends have written to me and asked about you.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

"Thank you…”

She smiles taking my hand and caresses Sirius's cheek with the other.

“He would be very proud of you. And above all, he would like you to remain close and safe.”

"In addition to giving you the news, we must speak of a small inheritance you have received from Alphard," says Dumbledore.

“Alphard knew that his life was in danger, so he hastened to leave some things to you,” continues Andromeda.

I nod wiping my tears. Andromeda sits Sirius in the chair and Dumbledore reads us the will. I don't even bother to ask why the Headmaster is responsible for giving us this. I only hear his distant voice.

In the end, Alphard left us the money that he had kept in his vault. Sirius got his house and some things he couldn't use until he’d graduated.

"This too," says the director, handing him a red velvet box. “Along with an indication. 'Use it when you're ready,’” He recites.

Sirius takes it, but he doesn't open it, just nods.

“And for Persephone Singh, this,” He hands me a long box of the same material. "Alphard indicated that this necklace once belonged to his late beloved, and he knows that it’ll be in good hands.”

He opened it, and I see a beautiful necklace of small green diamonds. It’s a very simple and elegant necklace. I smile wistfully.

Andromeda says goodbye, but not before agreeing to a small meeting with her husband and her six-year-old daughter. Sirius and I walked through the hallways of the school. He walks me to my common room. We stop at the entrance.

"I'm so sorry Sirius," I whisper. “I know that Alphard meant a lot to you. He was the only one who treated you like you were his son…” I close my eyes and feel some tears escape them.

I feel his arms surround me in a strong hug.

“He also treated you as his daughter. He loved us very much, Percy.”

We hugged each other for a few minutes, crying.

“Now more than ever we must go on, Percy. May Alphard's death not be in vain,” He says as we part. He takes my face and wipes some tears. "We are in this together, my love.”

I nod not knowing what to say. He kisses my forehead, and hugs me one last time. The first thing I do when I enter the Slytherin common room is look for Jenna and try to cope with the pain that will not go away so easily.

Thanks for everything, Alphard Black.

Taglist:

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoon @madmaiden2890 @ren-ela @avipshamitra @auroraawrites @findzelda @lizlil @siriusmuch @chloe-geoghegan1 @reverse-hxlland @may-rapp @the-specific-oceans @eveft @secret-obsessions @theeicedamericano

@xkonpinkx @inkandpen22

@littledeadgirlwalking

@yunloyal

@bloodorangemoonlight

#Pure Blood #Sirius Black #Sirius Black x reader #Persephone Singh #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Regulus Black #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fanfic #twoidiots writing

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Family Drama.”

I did not sleep in today, and have written you a story.

Warning: there are a few mentions of drugs and addiction, but not a ton

He had never felt so defeated.

As the Taxi door opened, and he stepped out onto the quiet residential street he had to hold back his shame and kept his head high. What would his family think? Should he even tell them? Well of course he should, that wasn’t an option anymore. If he wanted to make them proud he was going to have to make himself ashamed for a little while.

Waffles whimpered at his heels.

He looked down at her with a small smile, “Alright, alright, you’re right, I’ll shut up.”

He rubbed her ears and walked up the concrete stepping forward onto the grass as a group of kids whirred past on hover-skates. They turned upon seeing them, voices suddenly raised pointing and waving at him as they rolled past.

He raised a hand to wave back, but quickly turned to the front door.

There was no way he was ready to interact with people that weren’t his close family.

He walked up the step and held out his implant to the door, it would open when it knew it was him.

The lock clicked, and he reached forward ready to finally relax and let off some steam.

The door clicked open, and he was immediately assaulted by a wave of sound.

“ADDIE!” He was grabbed around the shoulders and pulled into a massive crushing hug. It took his brain way longer than it should have to figure out what was one person, but then again, there was only one person he knew who called him Addie…. Like a fucking dog.

“Uncle Ben?” he grunted

The man set him down on the floor and slapped his back. Below him Waffle growled nervously, but she was ignored, “It's been YEARS. We had no idea you were coming.”

The sound of kids screaming reached his ears and a t least five of them came rushing into the hallway.

“Hey that’s not fair, I wanted to be a pony too!”

“But I was one first, you can pick something else.”

Uncle Ben turned, “Hey everyone! Guess whose back!” His legs swiveled uselessly under himself as he was dragged through the hallway and into the living room, where the entire extended family seemed to be crammed.

He blinked as the group turned into an uproar upon seeing him.

“What is that on his face?”

“Did you really lose a leg?”

“It’s been so long?”

Aunt Marry got up, “Lost all your baby fat finally.” He winced as she grabbed him and pinched his cheek, which wasn’t really for pinching anymore, or honestly had never been, but when he had more of a baby face she had always done that.

“Tell us about space!”

He was shoved onto the couch with Jeremy on one side and Grandma Vir on the other.

Jeremy gave him a look.

He grimaced back as Waffles crawled under his feet resting her head on Jeremy’s shoe.

“Where is dad?” he muttered to Jeremy, and his older brother leaned in to whisper, “where do you think. Hiding in the garage while mom entertains.”

“Coward.” Adam replied with some amusement.

That was just like their dad to avoid all extended family, even his own.

“Wait, wait, everyone calm down, our little Addie is Commander of the UNSC. You all remember when he was just a little guy who used to believe in flying saucers.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. Uncle Ben had always made fun of him as a kid.

His grandma looked at him from across the room, “What is that on your face?” She repeated.

He sighed, “An eyepatch grandma.”

“Why are you wearing an eyepatch.”

“Because I lost my eye.” He sighed.

She put a hand to her chest just as his mother came walking into the room, a Trey in one hand an apron tied around her waist and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked more than a little frazzled.

“Martha, why didn’t you tell us he lost an eye!” She sighed, “Because I didn’t want to worry you mom.”

“How is the army still allowing you to command a ship with a missing eye?” Uncle Andy wondered

“He flipped up the eyepatch and the mechanical tech hopped to life nearly freaking out as it tried to track all the faces in one place all at once.

Gasps, “IS that a mechanical eye!”

“Yes.”

His other grandma put a hand over her face, “and he used to have such pretty green eyes. Now look at them, he looks like one of those cyborgs! Did you know some of those people intentionally cut off their limbs to look more like that.”

Martha sighed, “That’s not how it works mom.”

His Mother’s sister waved at him from across the room. He smiled back, he had always liked her, “I love your eyepatch, it looks cool.”

Her husband grinned, “Space pirate.” he nodded sagely.”

Adam tilted his head across the room where he found David and Jordan squished against one wall sitting on the floor Jordan mostly sitting in David’s lap as they tried not to take up any space.

His brother grimaced at him, he grimaced back.

His mother's father leaned forward his steel grey hair and serious face set, “So tell me Adam, what are exactly your duties in the UNSC.”

The entire family rolled their eyes at once, some not even discreetly. He only got involved in conversation if he considered it “useful” and that meant all of the thing other people didn’t want to talk about, money, religion, politics, family history……

“Er, well Uh.”

“After commanding an entire fleet of ships you would think he’d be better at public speaking.” Uncle Trevor announced from where he was hidden behind the piano.

Adam frowned and cleared his throat, “I am fleet commander of fifteen UNSC deep space vessels for both exploration and military combat, but my primary directive is to foster good will with alien races , and save others from destruction, subjugation and slavery while expanding our knowledge of the universe through prolongued deep-space exploration.”

“Ohhhh his directive!” The rest of the family oooooed as well, but it was mostly sarcastic in nature.

His niece, Kimver walked into the room and crawled up to sit with him and Jeremy leaning against both of their arms as she played on her handheld. Kimber’s new obsession seemed to have shifted into vintage gaming. Glancing over her shoulder he could see her throwing tiny white and red balls and strange looking animals and a very pixelated screen.

“Have you met any sexy alien ladies.” Ben butted in

The rest of the family raised their eyes to the sky. Grandma looked almost offended.

“Ben would you stop with that.” His wife muttered from where she sat on a chair in the corner.

“What the whole LFIL thing is legal now, so he totally could have met some sexy alien babes.:

“It’s not a joke Ben, those people had a rough time of it the past few years.” David piped up from the other side of the room.

“Why the GA decided to legalize that behavior is a mystery to me. The world really is getting more wicked.” Grandpa muttered,

Adam clenched his fists, “Actually, Grandpa, I convinced them to lift the ban.”

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

Adam wished he had just shut his mouth.

“You what!”

“Look I spent a lot of time around LFIL members when I was securing the GA hall from protestors. I met a lot of them, and they are just good people who want to be left alone to do what they want. So yes, because of my position I was able to walk into the GA council chambers and convinced them to lift the ban.”

They stared at him.

“But what they are doing is wrong, it’s like bestiality.”

He felt his fists clench, “Grandpa if you ever met an alien you wouldn’t say that. They are sentient being that can consent, and if they can do that than it isn’t bestiality, and also stop calling my friends animals. My ship is staffed by some of the best alien crewmembers I know, and I wont have you comparing them to cattle or dogs or whatever else you want.”

The room went quiet.

Grandpa stepped out in a huff.

HE sighed and leaned his head back against the wall with an audible thud.

His mother walked over and handed him a stack of cookies with a smile on her face that said: Sorry about that.

He took the cookies greatfully shoving one completly into his mouth to avoid saying something else stupid.

“So, does this mean you DID find a sexy alien girl.” Ben wondered and was immediately elbowed in the ribs from two sides producing a grunt of surprise.

“So Jeremy, how long have you two been dating.” Adam looked over Jeremy’s bulk towards where a petite red haired woman with grey eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her face was squished into the other side of the couch.”

Sensing him looking, she waved a hand with a bright smile, and he waved back.

“Almost a year now.” Jeremy beamed putting his arm around her.

“Should we be expecting an announcement from you two soon?’

Everyone groaned, “Grandma!”

Jeremy’s girlfriend took it like a champ and continued to smile unaffected.

“Speaking of relationships.”

Dear god please descend from heaven and rapture him straight to hell, not that, that's how it worked but anywhere but here would have been great

“Adam, when are you finally going to settle down, how old are you now 25?”

He wondered if he prayed to satan hard enough he could summon a demon to swallow his soul whole.

“I know have you ever even dated anyone”

“Kissed anyone?” “Kissing is fun, you should definitely try it sometime.”

“You're grandmother definitely needs more grandkids.”

Oh the irony, the thought bitterly to himself.

At his feet the dog whimpered.

“You know there is this really pretty girl who works down at the corner store, I think she might do really good for you, a very down to earth girl. You could get promoted into a better paying desk job at the UNSC work 9-5 it would be a dream.”

Jeremy placed a hand on his shoulder, “Actually, Adam is more of an action guy, right Adam/”

Adam gave a weak smile, “Yeah.”

“Oh, he’ll grow out of that, besides you wouldn’t want to put a family under that kind of stress. It’s like you’re never home.”

“Space is my home.” He grumbled

“Don’t be silly, humans weren’t meant for that sort of thing, besides your obsession was cute as a kid, but now that you’re older, you really need to start thinking about the future and having kids before you’re too old.”

He wanted to scream and bash his head against the wall.

“You know what though, how about that cute younger guy that works at the DMV, he looks about your age Adam.”

“I’m not interested in having a family right now!”

The room looked at him quietly, “You asexual or something?” Uncle Ben piped up awkwardly.

Adam felt his face go red, what kind of question was that? No, no uncle Ben I am not horny, or yes, yes uncle Ben I would love to find some hot person to plow just not right now.

And in front of the entire family?

Because he really wanted to have an extended discussion about his sex life with his entire extended family.

Waffles whimpered at his feet.

And then like an angel she descended from the sky to save him, either that or a billowing superhero cape like the saint she was. He couldn’t decide, angel or superhero, but decided on both.

Supermom, and part of her costume is angel wings and a halo.

“Adam why don’t you take waffles outside, she sounds a little nervous. Maybe take her out through the garage?”

He nodded and bolted to his feet like there were rockets firing from his ass, and hurried towards the door with the dog trailing at his heels.

Voices faded behind him, and he quickly hurried through the door and into the garage, where he found his dad sitting with Thomas on a set of lawn chairs drinking cold sodas and watching the clouds pass overhead.

They turned as they heard the door open.

“Adam! We didn’t know you were coming, pull up a chair.”

He did so and unfolded it between the other two men sitting down as Thomas handed him a drink.

“They drive you off too?” Thomas grumbled

Adam looked at his brother. Thomas was looking a little better than usual. His hair was only a little bit scruffy and his scraggly beard was at least trimmed. The tract marks in his arms had faded to pale scars on his arms.

“Yeah, uncle Ben asked about my love life in front of god and all his creatures. You?”

“Rehab. “

“I thought you were out of rehab.”

“I am, which is why I would rather not talk about it.”

“You doing good?”

“Yeah, got a stable job now, so that’s nice, go to meetings twice a week. One more month and I'll be six months sober.”

“Awesome, congrats.” He paused, “You know what, bet I could get you a job as a stuntman if you wanted.”

Thomas laughed, “Maybe I'll take you up on that. Once this job bores me to tears, which it will.”

“Did grandpa bring up LFIL.” Dad asked turning to look up at him

“You know he did.”

“He’s been meaning to ask you. He’s worried that spending so much time up in space has confused you.”

Adam snorted, “Don’t stargaze to long dad, the stars will make you extrial.”

“So that’s what dark matter is.” Thomas muttered and the three of them laughed. Waffles had climbed up on the chair with him and curled up on his legs to fall asleep.

“So what are you doing back here?” Dad wondered, “I thought you had just taken time off.”

He sighed, “Yeah… but things got complicated….” He paused, “Ever feel like no matter what you try to do you keep failing at it.”

Thomas raised a hand “You mean my life.”

More laughter.

Then he got serious again, “Been so stressed lately that I can barely function as a person, has the UNSC questioning whether they should ground me or not. My friends set up an intervention, and it turns out that I am a raging control freak.”

“Could have told you that.”

“You got that from your mother.”

He glanced over at thomas, “What do you mean, could have guessed that?”

He shrugged, “Come on Adam, did you ever do anything you weren't sure you could do properly. Like riding a bike, or swimming, or how you threw a fit if we moved literally anything in your room, or how you had to have everything arranged on your plate before you ate it, or….”

“Yeah yeah ok. But I’m a fighter pilot, that's kind of not-”

“Yeah that is the most control freak job ever. You have to be in so much control that traveling at more than three times the speed of sound won’t kill you. Imagine the amount of control you need to fly in formation without killing everyone.”

“Alright I get it.” He grumbled.

“So what, you try to do everything yourself?” dad grunted

He turned to look at the older man, “how did you know?”

“Every school project you ever worked on in a group, but you just ended up doing the entire thing.”

“I thought that’s just because the other kids were lazy and weren’t going to do their jobs.”

“Or because you wouldn’t let them and they just gave up on trying.” Dad responded

Adam sighed and sunk back against his chair, “I had no idea.”

“Welcome to personal growth, how may we kick you in the balls.”

He sighed, ‘I just, how can I be a leader without losing my identity and becoming boring and stuffy. How can I still… I don’t know, be happy and have fun when I have a job like this…. Or am I just not meant for it.”

Dad waved a hand, “You were born for it, but you need to remember that while, most of the time, you can be friends with the people you work with sometimes you need to stop being their friend and be their commander, which entails doing some things that aren’t so friendly. At the end of the day it is a ship, so you have to make them and allow them to do their jobs, fun comes later.”

“How am I supposed to reduce the stress?”

He glanced at thomas who shook his head, “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be a recovering heroin addict.”

“You just have to find something you love doing, and then take a little time every day to do that thing which you love. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

He sighed and looked out at the deepening sky.

He really hoped so

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 3 years

Text

Dickie said "shut up, you ain't marrying her and I ain't either. Let me (finish) selfishly read this" and he wiped a tear from his eye "this is my family, too, and I never knew what my family been through" And he turned his back on Matt Hagan and he went inside, so he could cry without an audience and can learn about the strongest, most winning, most brave and hard working people he's ever known.

They refused money for food, they thought it came from Snoop, not the Agency.

So Snoop bought them food and water anyway and always told them "you go, you get more"

Snoop spent about $60 on them when they could got $100 every week.

"You saved us from Human Trafficking, we don't want anything else"

Snoop was bugged. Frustrated.

One day I said. "Snoop. You know what they want? They want you to call the cops on them"

"You know what? Sabrina. Shut up. .... You know what? What else? NO!! WHY WOULD I DO THAT? STOP ME WITH YOUR SHIT!"

"Well snoop, I saw me two vacant buildings out there when I was out snooping around. We call Jess. We PAY THEM to fix it up as apartments. They ain't no beggers, see? Then we call the cops on them and FORCE them to live in them. Call them our runaway children or something. Or do a cops blogger where we let them in our little secret. See? Tricks trick."

Snoop put his hand on mine. His giant African American hand on my tiny white lady hand. I thought How different we held a hammer. His hand so big and mine so small. I thought How he was a foot and a half taller nearly it seemed and how tallest work would be easiest for him. Then I realized. I was handicapped. I couldn't work under those types of conditions. I could barely stand. The pain was insufferable.

I jerked my hand from under his. I didn't mean to. It was just.... I wasn't all woman I wanted to be.

And I had anger and disappointment on my face and tears in my eyes.

He peeked at me while his face was still down praying.

And I said "snoop I can't work. I feel like a fraud. I tell these kids all day long they can be anything in the world. And yet I fan barely stand. Walk. And I know hitting a hammer and throwing a ball fan put me in pain for days. How can I keep telling these kids they can win?!" I slammed my hands on the table,

He looked at me with all the hate in the world And growled "YOU JUST DO"

And He swiftly got up and wrapped his giant long arms around me. Andi sobbed for what seemed like hours. Then I sat down.

"So what are we gonna do about these homes?" I looked up his tall frame.

"We're gonna call Jess. Were gonna call payroll and get all them kids on and then we gonna call the cops and make them move in" he smiled at me as if he didn't know my misery.... But he was a bad hider of emotions. Not only did he know it. He felt it, too.

"Ah snoop!!" And I laid my head on his shoulder. And smiled. I sat up "okay! Now we got to get the little kids hammers and DESTROY all the hard work they do!"

He laughed.

"Just the plastic ones -- at first. Then we tell them the kids went all at it after we gave them the day off with pay -- just to be generous. How the little ones escaped me and tore into the sheds and destroyed all their hard work with hammering.... THEN! We will see if they will forgive them and actually teach them a little something with tools that they could use in the future. It could be an adventure!"

"Oh Miss Pippi (Longstocking) only you. Done!"

"Okay then cool. So then it could be (plus) a half day off while they assess the damage"

"With plastic hammers"

"To teach them the rights of belongings. How its unfair and bad luck to undo anyone's hard work. Then we tell them we have to with hold their lunch. And while the older ones eat then we make them sit and watch. Telling them they csn only have crumbs. Cause I tell you snoop. I've never seen a crumb drop on my carpet. They eat CLEAN. THEN they get ice cream and cake. The older ones do. But then we feed the babes. Of course! We always do!"

Spoiler: the kids threw down harder about me saying they could beat anything they wanted with the hammers unless Jesse said not to -- mostly omitting the Jesse part and they had a right to destroy shit that wasn't theirs. Than about not eating. Because they been yelled at unfairly and were gonna hijack the Candy Shack and were making plans. Which they did anyway.

Morale of the Story: the whole education turned inside out. The older kids, The Hobos, learned it was okay to take what they needed.

And Jesse tattled on us about us calling the cops. Well, I was concerned some might run so he asked those that might to stay late. He asked their feelings about cops and their reactions in passing. And funningly, some ran like Hell when the others were escorted in.

(Jason Line, the first one out, faster than the devil himself and the last one in)

Another time we called the cops just to See what they would do and we had to get a search party to find Jason Line.

They were grateful for what little they had. Not only not expecting more, but also turning it down.

Going hungry.

Their histories no one knows.

Their secrets kept for decades.

They weren't homeless. They were simply houseless.

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Caught in his web, Chapter 34

Chloe was nervous when Loki wanted her to go with him to work one Sunday morning.

She was a bit grumbly too because she had wanted to have a long lie after being at college all week and getting up early. But Loki dragged her out of bed and coaxed her into the shower with him, waking her up with a good fingering in the shower while he washed her. Ignoring his own arousal in the meantime.

Once dressed, they both went downstairs for breakfast. Then Loki took her out to the car where Nelson was waiting for them. Ethan and Samuel were already in the car, too.

Loki noticed that Chloe was quieter than usual and looked rather nervous. He knew she would be worrying about why he wanted her with him. He didn’t have any plans for killing anyone, and he decided he wasn’t going to do it on front of her again unless absolutely necessary.

‘You may be wondering why I’m taking you into the office today.’ Loki grinned.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him a bit, but noticed he was grinning and so was Ethan and Samuel, confusing her a little. But also unsettling her. ‘If you’re going to kill someone, I’d really rather not be there.’ She said quietly and shifted nervously.

Loki chuckled. ‘I don’t have any plans to, doll. But there is a surprise. I need you to look after someone for me.’

Chloe continued glaring at him, still not sure if she liked where this was going. ‘Who is this someone?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ His grin grew even larger.

She wasn’t sure whether she should be more nervous at that or not. But she tried not to think about it for the duration of the journey to Loki’s office.

When they arrived, they went inside and Loki was greeted as usual by the receptionist being a little flirty. Chloe felt slightly jealous at that, though she wasn’t sure why exactly… But she found herself grabbing his arm as they walked past. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Loki, making him feel pleased as punch.

When they got to the top floor, Loki’s office, Chloe saw Ben was there and so was David and Michael. But she didn’t understand who she was supposed to look…

‘Oh my god!’ She squealed when she saw a German Shepherd puppy bounding over towards them.

Loki laughed at her reaction as she crouched down and greeted the sociable pup.

‘This, is who I need you to look after today for us.’ Loki said, crouching down to pet the puppy too.

‘Really?’ Chloe asked, her face had lit up entirely.

Michael walked over and handed Chloe a lead for the puppy and a bag of his things. ‘My wife was desperate to get a puppy. But she had to go visit her mother for a few days, so I couldn’t leave him at home alone.’ He smiled.

‘What’s his name?’ Chloe asked.

‘Bear.’

‘He’s absolutely adorable.’

‘You’re in charge of him for today while we do business. Here’s a key card for the lift.’ Loki pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to her.

‘Thanks!’

Chloe enjoyed her time with Bear. She played ball on one of the empty floors down below Loki’s office, took him out for short walks along the street to a small open space of grass. She had to take him there regularly for potty breaks.

But the best part was of course all the puppy cuddles!

Loki had her join him for lunch. Ethan went out and got them a takeaway. Loki and Chloe ate it alone in his office, with Bear. Michael, Ben and David had to go out somewhere.

Chloe felt her heart melt entirely as she watched Loki snuggling with Bear. The puppy was licking all over his face, making him laugh.

After lunch, Chloe took Bear out for a toilet break again. On her way to the small green she passed an ice cream stand that had opened up, so she got an ice cream on the way. She was waiting for Bear to do his business and enjoying her ice cream when she had a weird feeling that she was being watched…

She scanned the area and spotted someone sitting on a bench not too far from her. He was wearing sunglasses and a cap, looking at her over his newspaper.

Feeling uneasy, she hurried Bear along and started heading back.

While going along the pavement, she glanced back over her shoulder and noticed the man was now following her. So she scooped Bear up into her arms and walked quicker, the poor puppy couldn’t walk very fast with his tiny legs.

‘Chloe!’ The man called out from behind her.

She stopped and turned, confused at how he knew her name. As he reached her, he removed his glasses and she recognised him as one of the officers that had came to the house yesterday. The one who had given him the card… What was his name again? Oh yeah, Officer Stones.

‘What do you want?’ She snapped at the officer.

‘I know who Loki is and what he is capable of. I was hoping you would’ve contacted me by now, I can help you if you tell me the truth.’

Chloe was slightly lost for words. She shook her head and started backing away from him. ‘No. Leave me alone.’ She turned and tried to get away, but he quickly moved on front of her again, blocking her way.

‘Listen to me, Chloe. Your father is’

‘I don’t care about him! He sold me!’ She snapped, stunning Stones slightly.

‘What? In what way? Tell me, I can help you!’

‘No, leave me alone!’ She shouted, earning a few glances from some passer-by’s.

‘Are you alright, love?’ A man asked, stopping. He glared at Stones.

‘No, this man is harassing me.’ Chloe said.

The man turned more to Stones and managed to put himself between him and Chloe. ‘Leave the woman alone.’ He snarled at him.

Stones put his hands up in defence, knowing it wasn’t worth to continue right now in public. He then skulked away, Chloe felt relieved.

‘Did he hurt you?’ The man asked.

‘No… I’m ok, thank you. I’m just going in there… Thanks.’ Chloe motioned to Loki’s building.

The man nodded and he walked with her to the door, making sure she got there ok. ‘Thanks again.’ She nodded.

‘No problem. Take care.’ He said kindly.

‘Chloe?’ David called, concerned as he got out of his car and saw her with a strange man. ‘Who’s this? Everything ok?’ He glared at the stranger.

‘Yeah. This kind man helped to get rid of someone who was harassing me.’ Chloe said quickly, so David did think the wrong situation.

David’s face immediately relaxed a bit, but he still looked concerned. ‘Who was harassing you?’

‘Officer Stones…’

‘He was an officer?’ The man asked, confused.

‘It’s a long story.’ David said. ‘Thank you for stepping in for her. What’s your name?’ David shook his hand.

‘Andy Rogers.’ He smiled.

‘Well, thank you Andy.’

‘No problem at all, I’ve got a daughter of similar age. I’d hope that someone else would do the same for her if needed. Take care.’ Andy nodded to them both and headed off.

‘Did Stones hurt you?’ David asked as he went inside with Chloe, opening the door for her.

‘No, he just wouldn’t let me get back here. Until Andy stepped in, luckily.’ She told him.

‘We best tell Loki. Stones is getting too big for his boots now.’ David grumbled.

Chloe snuggled into Bear when they got in the lift and started heading up.

‘Give me a cuddle!’ David said, reaching out for the puppy.

‘Aw, I thought you meant me!’ Chloe teased, making David laugh. He put his arm around her too and gave her a squeeze.

‘You are cute but I’m afraid the puppy is cuter.’ He winked at her.

When they got to Loki’s office, they filled him in about Stones. Loki was furious. But he made a quick call to James and asked him to find out about Andy Rogers and to send him some money as a thanks. He was glad someone stepped in.

For the rest of the day, when Chloe had to take Bear out someone went with her. She didn’t really mind though. It was either David, Samuel or Ethan, they kept arguing over who would go with her. Mainly so they could get puppy cuddles. It made Chloe laugh though, nobody could resist a puppy!

It was after six and Chloe was just sitting on Loki’s chair with Bear sound asleep on her lap. She was almost falling asleep herself because she was getting a bit bored now.

She jumped slightly when Loki returned. He chuckled upon seeing her on his chair. He perched on his desk and smiled down at her and Bear.

‘Come on, doll. Time to head home.’

‘Huh? Where’s Michael? Is he not collecting Bear?’ Chloe asked.

‘Oh, yeah. That might have been a little lie.’ Loki grinned.

‘Huh?’

He laughed and reached out to stroke her hair back behind her ear. ‘Bear is yours. I picked him for you and had Michael collect him this morning.’

Chloe’s eyes widened. ‘What? Seriously?’ She squeaked.

‘Seriously.’ Loki nodded, delighted with her reaction.

‘Oh my god! Thank you so much!’ She laughed and, being careful not to squash or drop Bear, she hugged Loki tightly.

‘You’re welcome.’ He smiled and pressed his nose into her hair for a moment. ‘Now let’s go home and get him settled in.’

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #caught in his web

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

first blood

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: angst, general asshole-ness.

word count: 4.6k

description: part 3 of 5. how did you become ransom’s glorified babysitter? and why the fuck are you keeping this job? who knows. you hate it, you hate him, but... the money.

note: tumblr is being super shitty rn so I can only post on mobile, but I really wanted to get this off my desk! will add a read more and properly link later 💕

prequel to the assistant && four christmases, spoiler free loves.

You have to do this.

You don’t think your eyes will ever feel normal again. They were dry and scratchy. There were no more tears to shed. You’d buried your Mom two months ago, but you didn’t know how it would ever feel okay. She did everything for you and Julia. Everything. She worked hard, made pretty good money, allowed you to have a part time job and just focus on school. Julia was in this really nice private school, she played the cello now for fucks sake. She had friends and was talking about maybe starting soccer soon, but after funeral costs and your sister’s tuition the life insurance money was running out.

You had to sell the house.

You’d moved the two of you into a small apartment right outside of Chinatown. Not the safest area, but not the most unsafe either. You’d be fine. You had each other, and she needed you to do this. You had to do this.

For her.

You sat uncomfortably in the cheap office chair, sitting across from a woman with too many papers on her desk, everything sloppily arranged around a couple of potted succulents and a framed picture of her and her three kids, no spouse.

“So your last job was in tutoring?” She asked you. You shifted nervously in your seat, nodding your head,

“Yeah, I tutored a high school student in English and Math.” You needed some water. The cheap pencil skirt and blouse you were wearing made your skin itch. She types into her computer some more.

“So why are you here?” She asked, “Why not continue tutoring?” A few more clicks and then more typing.

“The family I worked for paid me pretty well,” You admitted, “But she’s graduating this year and they didn’t need me anymore, I don’t really,” You cleared your throat, “I don’t really have much job experience outside of that and I need to start making money now… I’ve put out job applications but haven’t really gotten any luck.” Not with the income you needed anyway. The woman nodded. The plaque on her desk said her name is Stacy Chandler.

“Alright, here you are.” A printed page, address, date, and time. A job. Clerical work. Data entry. You have to do this...

“How was your last day of school?” Julia sat heavily at the kitchen table, backpack slumped on the floor next to her. She buried her face in her arms.

“I’m never going again.” Came muffled from her mouth. She lifted her head to look at you. The beginnings of puberty. You’d recently gone bra shopping for the first time. Real ones, no more training bras. You’d recently taken her to the dermatologist for her acne, but she’s not good at remembering to put on the expensive creams you bought. What a hard time. You don’t envy her.

“Luckily for you,” You smiled, placing a fudgy brownie in front of her, “You don’t have to go back for three whole months!” She rolled her eyes heavily, taking the brownie and disappearing into her room presumably to sit on her computer until dinner.

She was feeling the absence of your Mother just as you were. You weren’t sure what to do here. You loved your sister and you know she loves you too, but in the last few months it’s just been closed doors and a few parting sentences. Only because you had to work so much. Only because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses where you’d think she would feel normal for a while. It would help ease the burden of being in your mid-twenties and suddenly feeling like a single mother. Of course you can sleep over at Mila’s house, her family is going to their cabin for the weekend of course you can go!

You didn’t know what to do other than keeping her in school and alive. You weren’t ready for this. But the only other option was your estranged aunt who reeked of mothballs and was constantly asking you if you were married, or dating, or ‘You’re Mother wouldn’t have wanted this’. No. It was very clear that your Mom wanted the two of you to stay together, and that’s how it’s going to be.

This summer she was going to spend with her friend Mila at their family’s lake house. Mila’s mother was a stay at home mom with six kids under the age of 12 and would be planning to spend the summer pintresting activities and projects with them while simultaneously getting out of her stuffy-old 10 bedroom, 8 bathroom mansion. Lucky her. Lucky Julia.

The apartment would be empty without the 12-year-old pre-teen for three months, but Julia has really been looking forward to it. Her bags were packed and ready by the door.

You hugged her tightly in front of Mila’s house, burying your face in her hair, partially not wanting her to go, but otherwise knowing that she’s going to have a better time than you could ever provide her. “Okay, you can let me go now.” She shifted in your arms, trying to pull away.

“Just another minute.” You mumbled, pulling her in tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.” She laughed,

“I’m gonna miss you too.” The two of you pulled apart and you tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her sweet face.

“I love you,” You said very seriously, “If you ever want to come home just-”

“I’ll let you know.” She was getting impatient, the car Mila’s mom was taking to the lake house, a beautifully large black Range Rover sat packed next to you, they were waiting. “I love you too.” She slowly backed away towards the car.

“If she gets homesick, my husband still comes back every week for work so he can bring her home if need be,” Andrea was her name, Mila’s Mom. “She’ll be fine.” Andy was really nice. She made a lot of the food the two of you had eaten in the early days after your Mom’s death. Her gentle reassurance soothed you slightly. It made driving away a little easier, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell as you entered your apartment, alone. For the first time in a while. You didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

You sunk down against your front door, staring out into your living room, tears rolling down your cheeks in the silence of the home. Dirty shoes lined up against the wall, throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch, dirty dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and somewhere you’re sure under all of it was the will to pick yourself back up.

You just didn’t know if you were ready for that quite yet.

But you did it anyway.

More clerical work. More data entry. More bills going half paid and others being ignored all together. Student loans you didn’t even want to think about from a school where you hadn’t even graduated. Medical bills you didn’t even know where to begin paying back, itchy stockings, and uncomfortable shoes. With every day that passed you reexamined your life. How did you get here?

A new job, a new office. Temp assigned, but you knew who worked here. The building that housed it stood tall against the Boston skyline. Contemporary. You sat comfortably in a cushy office chair. The plaque on the desk read Linda Drysdale, CEO. And you waited.

You hadn’t seen the Thrombey’s, let alone the Drysdale branch of the family, for five months. Zero contact. Joni had talked to you last, thanking you for helping Meg, but also trying to sell you eye cream. “You really should invest in taking better care of yourself.” Which was her kind way of trying to tell you that you look old. Thanks.

You couldn’t imagine what Linda would want you for. You’d been doing some filing, they were transferring all of their documents to digital and hired extra help to do so, you were one of three hired from your particular temp agency, but yesterday she had called you personally and asked you to come in for an appointment today at 3 pm. And here you are.

Waiting.

There was a portrait of her family on the wall. Linda herself sitting in a high backed intricate chair, her husband Richard standing to her right, and to her left was her son, Hugh. He went by his middle name Ransom. They were stone faced, serious looking. This painting seemed ridiculous. If you didn’t know the Thrombey’s you’d think it was there to be ironic, as a joke, a play on what rich families were like.

But they were a rich family, and this is what they were like.

Linda was self-serving. She only ever talked to you when it suited her own interests and as soon as she was satisfied she would quickly direct her attention somewhere else, to someone more important. She used you to get what she wanted and when you served her purpose you were gone. She had no time for anyone, only her father. Anything for Harlan.

Richard was a predator. He was always making an uncomfortable comment about either your body or your face. He stood uncomfortably close at times and liked to settle a hand on the small of your back. He was a well kept man, throwing his wife’s money around like it was his own. He kept a money clip of hundreds in his pocket.

Ransom was a piece of shit. He was a self-centered egotistical asshole who was sure to make your life a living hell every time he saw you. There was always a comment, a jab at your clothes, your hair, the fact that you are poor. He once ‘accidentally’ threw your cardigan away because, “I thought it was one of those fucking rags you dust with, I didn’t want it touching my burberry.” He, like his father, felt predatory. Something about being a rich white man just really got them going, and the money clip with the hundreds… a learned habit.

“Alright,” Linda’s voice came from the doorway, you turned slightly in your seat. She was on the phone, “Well we will send Michael out to show them the properties instead, I’m sure we’ll find something they like.” She gave you a finger, hold on, even though you’d been sitting here patiently waiting for her for close to twenty minutes now. “Okay,” She continued, “Sounds good.” Sitting down in her chair, tapping a few keys to illuminate her computer screen. “Alright now, bye-bye.” She took her phone from her ear, looking down at the screen before placing it face down on the desk and smiling at you.

You knew that smile. She wanted something.

“So, Y/N right?” You nodded, “I see you’re looking for work.”

“Well, I’m with a temp agency right now but-”

“Would you like something a little more permanent?” A permanent job? The Thrombey’s had paid you very well to tutor Meg, better than you were making now. Granted you had only worked 15 hours a week when you were tutoring her, so $20 an hour didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but if they were looking for something, anything full time…

“Absolutely,” You smiled, shifting in your seat, “I’ve had trouble being hired because my-”

“Okay so you’re going to need Ransom’s number, and you’ll start tomorrow.” Your smile dropped.

“Ransom needs a tutor?” You asked skeptically. She laughed.

“No, he needs an assistant.” She gestured towards herself, “I can’t keep telling him when or where to be for family events and he has a fairly active social life so I’m gifting him an assistant for his birthday.” Oh.

“I uhm,” You really didn’t want to work for Ransom. You REALLY didn’t want to work for Ransom. “How much would it…?” You trailed off nervously.

“My father paid you $20 an hour to tutor Meg, yes?” She asked, typing something into her computer, no longer looking at you.

“Yes, he did.” You moved trying to see what she was typing without bringing too much attention to it. She was drafting an email.

“So I’ll pay you the same. Ransom will set hours for you and decide what days of the week he’ll need you and what else he wants you to do,” She waved her hand dismissively, “Cleaning, cooking, whatever.” She scribbled on a post-it before peeling and handing it to you. “Here’s his number and address, you can go over the particulars of your job tomorrow morning.” You opened your mouth to speak again, ask her the million and one questions you have but before you could say anything she dismissed you, “That is all.” She said. And she was done with you.

She got what she wanted. And now she wanted you to leave.

So you did.

“Well,” He grinned, “Linda really scooped you up from the bottom of the barrel, huh?” You stood on Ransom’s front porch. The only texts you sent and received last night were ‘What time do you need me to be there?’ and an hour later the reply of ‘11’. The scumbag was standing in the doorway, leant against the frame, looking down on you. In more than one way.

“Can I come in?” You asked. You really didn’t want to do this. But a $12 an hour temp job versus $20 hour stability… hard to beat. He smirked, pushing off the frame before looking you up and down, turning to disappear into the house.

“Take off your shoes.” What a fucking joke. His house was a mess. Clothes thrown haphazardly around, a pile of dishes not in the sink, but on the counter. Abandoned cups, tv was rolling on in the background, some political documentary. The house, while contemporary and clean, well kept on the outside. The inside looked like a frat house during rush week. You didn’t want to take off your shoes in fear that you’d step in vomit or something worse.

He grinned off to the side, “Had some people over last night.” He explained, drinking what looked like orange juice from a coffee mug. The vodka bottle that was capless on the counter led you to believe that orange juice wasn’t the only thing in the cup. “You can start by cleaning up.” He gestured around, sinking back down into the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else you can do when you’re done.” The fucking prick.

You shut the door a little heavier than intended, slipping your sneakers off and placing them by the door. “You’ve got a laundry room?” You asked, he didn’t look away from the television,

“Basement.” And he was done with you too. The tone was very, don’t talk to me. Which honestly you were grateful for.

You cleaned up his messes, the red solo cups that littered almost every surface in every room, laundry was running in the basement, dishwasher working hard to sanitize the first round of plates and cups that could fit, the others waiting patiently in the sink as you wipe counters and dusted picture frames, the thick film of unappreciation. He didn’t care about his house, his furniture, the art that cost more than your apartment that lined his walls. His clothes, while having an extensive closet, some were threadbare and with holes.

He didn’t care.

And it made you angry.

You thought of the furniture you were able to keep from your Mother’s house, well oiled and kept. No scratches. The fabrics of the couches and chairs carefully cleaned and maintained.

His sheets were stained and you were unsure when the last time he had washed them actually was. The dampness made you gag. It wasn’t long before you were cleaning under his feet. His ankles crossed and feet resting on the coffee table as you straightened the area around him. You felt his eyes on you, briefly, but ignored it.

“Do you have any real clothes?” He asked suddenly. He stood from the sofa, rounding it to pull the vodka bottle back out from the cabinet you’d placed it in, pouring heavily into the coffee mug before leaving the bottle and the orange juice carton he followed with next to it.

“These are real clothes.” You stated, coming behind him to put the items away. He scoffed,

“I’m important,” He claimed, “I go to parties, events.” He took a large mouthful of the screwdriver he’d just made, “You can’t wear clothes like that if you’re gonna be babysitting me the whole time.” You rolled your eyes,

“I don’t have to go. You set my hours, I don’t-”

“As much as I love the whole, ‘I’m poor and don’t care what I look like’, thing you have going on,” Ransom laughed, “You’re gonna be around me, and as a reflection of me, you need to look presentable.” He gestured to the demin shorts a t-shirt you were currently wearing, mismatched socks on your feet. You felt your face flush. “And slap a little makeup on.” You rolled your eyes at that. Fucking dick. He smirked when you didn’t reply, turning back around to leave you and disappeared upstairs.

He didn’t come down for a while. In that time you’d finished cleaning the living area, the house looking a complete 180 from where it had been when you’d originally entered, it was nearing dinner time. Your stomach was growling and you’d realized you had been cleaning for five hours without stopping.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sense of accomplishment because Ransom came down the stairs not a moment later, dressed for his evening. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d drool. He looked good. Patterned slacks, chelsea boots, a lightweight white button down, blazer over one arm. “Let’s go.” He said, not stopping on his way towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” You felt gross, covered in grime from cleaning, sweat dried on your skin you knew you probably didn’t smell amazing, hair frizzed up in a bun. He didn’t answer you, continuing outside. You sighed heavily, throwing the pair of socks you’d just matched back into the laundry basket before slipping your shoes on and following him outside.

“C’mon!” He yelled from the front seat of his beamer, sunglasses on his nose, he was annoyed with you. Whatever. You sat heavily in his passenger seat, the dickwad not even giving you time to close the door before he was speeding down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You asked again. One hand on the wheel, the other’s fingertips brushing against his lower lip he looked at you from behind his sunglasses.

“To dinner.” He smirked, looking back towards the road as you merged onto the interstate.

He was a fucking asshole. If you hadn’t thought he was before you definitely knew now. You were surprised the hostess even let you into this place. It was expensive, and you were very, very underdressed. Point taken Ransom. Thank you. Fucking prick.

He took glances at you ever so often, seated a few feet away from him at the long banquet style table that housed all of his ‘friends.’ Gorgeous women and equally as gorgeous men who had money to burn. You weren’t sure any of these people have ever worked a day in their life, much like Ransom himself. You’d met a few of them before, briefly, when Ransom would show up and ask Harlan for money before disappearing for a week, one or two of them would be in tow bragging about going on some guy’s yacht or flying out to some private island.

Regardless, they weren’t talking to you. You were a strange interloper, easily ignored, but only after a few poked fun at the stray dog at Ransom’s heels. It only stung a little bit when he laughed with them. You were wildly uncomfortable. You poked at your deconstructed salad, the little bits lined neatly up on the plate, a smear of salad dressing beside it. This menu was ridiculous. Why were you here again? You were so hungry and this was not your speed at all. Ransom’s booming laugh met your ears and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

Fucking asshole. You hoped he would choke on one of the olives in his martini. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked. He fucking smirked, cheersing you with his martini before it met his lips again. You could kill him right now.

The money.

Technically you were still working. As the sun set behind the horizon. You’d been at work, technically, for about 10 hours. That’s $200. Okay, you can do this. You can do this.

You know he did this to embarass you. He made it clear when you’d pull up to the restaurant to give you a taunting look. Whether the dinner was already planned or he had planned it after the conversation about clothes and makeup earlier was anyone’s guess. You had the feeling it was the latter.

He’d paid the bill after all.

The entirety of it.

You’d wished you’d ordered more.

Afterward a giggling girl took your place in the front seat, you glared at the back of her head from the back seat,

“Ransom.” She whined, leaning over in her seat to press her lips to his neck, “I want you to fuck me.” Lips around his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. You shifted your gaze to the window, the city landscape passing your eyes as you’d pulled into another valet parking, a bar this time. A nice one.

Ransom and the bubbly girl from the car ride over slipped hastily into the bathroom, he’d sent you a dark look before leaving you to your own devices. Looking over the cocktail list while sitting uncomfortably on a bar stool while your boss was fucking a girl who’d laughed at you for being a ‘dog’ earlier in the bathroom of a bar that had a $20 old fashioned and their most expensive wine came with a thousand dollar price tag.

“You lost?” Another smirking asshole, sidled up next to you at the bar as you took a sip from the beautifully balanced old fashioned you’d tacked onto Ransom’s tab. He was handsome, the guy bothering you, almost everyone in this room was handsome. The lights low and romantic, candles on every table and across the bar, soft music played from the piano across the room where a man sat gently stroking the melodies to create the ambiance of the room. Close, cozy, romantic, and dark enough to forget yourself in.

“Oh c’mon honey.” The man slipped onto the barstool, thighs spread wide around you as you face away from him, his hand meeting your back. “I can help you find what you’re looking for.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You glanced over at him,

“I’m fine thank you.” Another sip, damn this drink was good. He chuckled, moving in closer, drifting a hand down to your thigh.

“Don’t be like that.�� He laughed, “You obviously don’t belong here honey.” His hand traced your bare thigh, “You’ve gotta be wanting some company.”

Ransom had returned face flushed and you could almost see a tiny bit of white on his nose, but it was quickly rubbed away. He sat on the opposite end of the bar, the girl from earlier taking his lap. He looked down at you briefly, he had to have seen how uncomfortable you were, how this guy was breathing down your neck. He ignored it, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“I don’t want any company,” You shoved the man’s hand away, “Have a great night.” He leaned back in his seat, downing his drink before leaning back over to put his face in yours.

“Fucking ugly bitch.” He spat, standing from the stool, “Tryna give you a little charity here, you could've at least been grateful.” You wanted to leave. He shoved your shoulder slightly as he walked away from you, no doubt going to bother some other unsuspecting woman in his radius.

You needed some air, taking the last sip of your drink you’d scooted back from the bar, walking by Ransom to take your exit, walking out into the summer night. It was early summer. It was still only 60 at night. A chill went through you. You hadn’t expected to be out so late, the comfortable denim shorts and old ratty t shirt you’d chosen to wear had obviously been a mistake for this day. Ransom made sure to make you see that.

The bar was on the harbor, and it brought in a breeze that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You checked your phone, the battery almost dead. Julia had been texting you periodically, but not as much as you would have liked. You scrolled through the most recent messages, you asking how her trip was going and what she was up to and her stilted replies. She was busy you supposed. She didn’t need you, but right now you really needed her.

This night has been a massive blow to your self-esteem. You’d never felt more ugly and unwanted in your life. You just wanted to go home, but Ransom wasn’t done yet. You looked at him from the window, his fingers were gone between that girl’s thighs, they were both drinking expensive cocktails, completely oblivious to you.

He’d watched you exit, not giving it much thought it seemed, because he hadn’t made any motion to bring the night to a close, but you weren’t really expecting him to. It was Ransom’s world and you were just living in it. You worked for him. And you wondered if this is how every day is going to be from here on out. You really don’t know if you could do this forever, but you knew you didn’t want to go back inside.

So you didn’t.

Thankfully Ransom stumbled out about thirty minutes later, girl from earlier on his arm. “Let’s go.” He said. Valet pulling the beamer around he threw you the keys, “Take me home.”

He sunk down in the back seat, high and drunk. His words almost incoherent. Her’s were no better. They sloppily attacked each other in the back seat, indecently. And you were pointedly looking anywhere but in the rearview. Soft grunts and moans made you uncomfortable for the fourth time that night. Your skin crawling in unease as the girl’s giggles turned into breathy moans. Your foot sunk against the gas pedal in hopes you’d get back to his home faster, tears welling up in your eyes. The cry on the way home was going to be so good. So cathartic.

The gravel crunching against the wheels of the car was a sweet relief, so was the haste in which you left the keys in the car, running and skipped to your own car. His eyes met yours through the darkness as he was leant up against his car door, slacks loose around his hips, the girl’s lips attached to his neck as her hand worked quickly between his thighs. He smirked, waving a sarcastic ‘good-bye’. You turned your eyes to the road, cranking up the radio as you began to cry.

You didn’t want to do this anymore.

A text came through right as you finally laid down in your own bed, snuggling into the covers, ready to forget the night.

See you at 9.

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#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #chris evans

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