#and being on the newspaper that says she's stupid when she's specifically stated that she doesn't like being called an idiot

[mariacallous]

Editor’s Note: This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Margaret Atwood, Canadian author of generation-defining dystopias “The Handmaid’s Tale” and “The Testaments,” is used to drawing her inspiration from history.

Born in 1939, she based much of her fiction on true events of World War II and its aftermath.

At 83, Atwood got to witness another cataclysmic event when Russia began a full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

She had a birdwatching trip to Ukraine scheduled for March but didn’t cancel it until late February, thinking “surely they (Russia) wouldn’t do anything that stupid.” 

When the all-out war began, Atwood used her publicity to voice support for Ukraine’s fight. From joining rallies in Toronto to speaking at the Lviv Book Forum, Atwood encourages support from her audience and relies on historical context to make sense of the war. Sometimes that involves a fair share of doomscrolling. 

The Kyiv Independent spoke with Atwood on Oct. 14 in Palo Alto, California, to find out how she disentangles fact from fiction online, reconciles history with current events and what is her vision of Ukraine’s reconstruction.

The Kyiv Independent: In one of your interviews, you talked about the stories nations tell. More specifically, you were comparing Canada and the U.S. How do you view the stories coming from Russia and Ukraine right now?

Margaret Atwood: The Russian narrative doesn't really stand up very well, the “denazification” type of thing. If you're going to invade every place that has Nazis, you're going to have a long list. You can invade Germany, you can invade the United States, there are Nazis in both of them. You can invade Canada, we’ve got some Nazis too. So good try but not buying it. 

And the other one, Russia protecting itself — from what? Nobody in their right mind would ever invade Russia, it is too big. Everybody, who has ever invaded, has had a horrible experience.

The Kyiv Independent: In your books, “The Handmaid's Tale” and “The Testaments,” the propaganda spread is limited to the Republic of Gilead. Looking at how propaganda is spreading now — it extends far beyond the Russian borders, and it reaches everyone. How did this inform how you view propaganda?

Margaret Atwood:There's a difference between writing a novel and being in real life. So writing a novel, you are focused on what’s in the novel, but propaganda has always been widespread. I would say, since the newspaper, the radio, and the movies —  those were the big propaganda machines in the first part of the 20th century. After that, it became television as well. And now it's the internet, but it's nothing new. Fascism got a big boost from the radio. Then World War II starts and we get newsreels. We look at some of those old newsreels – it's pure propaganda. And the radio was also very big in World War II. That’s how people got their news mostly, plus newspapers but the radio was very immediate. And if you think that wasn't censored, you're wrong. Of course, it was.

The Kyiv Independent: In your books, the focus has been on the experience of women in authoritarian states. As we have witnessed in the war in Ukraine, women have been a great part of the war effort, both going to fight and volunteering. They also suffered from it greatly, as we see cases of sexual violence.

Margaret Atwood: This is not new. That goes back to the Trojan War. It’s an old motif, it's one of the things that always happens in war. But yes, wars are not good for women. They are not good for men either. Wars are bad but sometimes you don't have a choice.

The Kyiv Independent: Has the experience of Ukrainian women that you have been witnessing changed your perspective on what people can do in the moment to help them?

Margaret Atwood: No, it has validated it. Women were quite active in World War II and then their activities got papered over as it often happens. 

The Kyiv Independent: What are some of the things we can do right now to prevent the female experiences from getting papered over?

MA: You write about them. But it’s hard to write about things at the time they are happening. First of all, you don't want to give anybody away. And second, you don't have perspective because you're right in the middle of it and you don't know how it's going to come out. So, you don't know the importance of an action or a moment until afterward. And all wars are like that, old battles are like that. When you're in the middle of it, you don't actually know what's going on. And because it's very granular — these people are doing this, those people are doing that — we are not going to see how that all fits together until afterward.

The Kyiv Independent: During your talk at the Lviv Book Forum, you mentioned a Ukrainian anthology that you have been reading.

Margaret Atwood: Yeah, it's not a recent one. It's a couple of years old but they republished it at this moment. However, I predict that they're going to put together a more recent one. Since this (war) began, people must have been writing about it. So, when people say to me, “Well, what are you going to write about Ukraine?” I say, “It's not me who is going to write it, it's the people there…”

The Kyiv Independent: When did you start learning more about Ukraine?

Margaret Atwood: I have just always seemed to have known about it. You can't read much about World War II without galloping over Ukraine, galloping back over Ukraine. It’s just there. And I knew about the famine (Holodomor), of course. If you're studying anything about Soviet Russia, there it is. You can't avoid it — a very deliberate, wretched, bad. 

The Kyiv Independent: How have you been keeping up with the news?

Margaret Atwood: Doomscrolling a lot. Well, you often see things on social media before you see them in mainstream press. If you see them there, you are not sure they are real. That is the problem. So, I have a couple of keywords that I'm fixated on right now. A few weeks ago it was Lyman, before that it was Izium, right now it’s Svatove and Nova Kakhovka. So, I look them up every day just to see if anything has happened. Sometimes you wake up in the morning — what just happened? They blew up the (Crimean) bridge.

The Kyiv Independent: Before the all-out war began many people didn’t believe Putin would invade further. What do you think made many of us look at all the signaling and remain in disbelief?

Margaret Atwood: It's hope, and it's also rationality. They think “this would be so stupid, surely nobody would do it.” And they do it… So I explain to people that wars happen for two reasons. Somebody wants somebody else's stuff. And they think they can win. Sometimes thinking they can win is justified and sometimes it is not justified. But if there's no stuff that they want, they don't bother. Ukraine has a lot of natural resources, access to the Black Sea, and control of that area…There's a lot of reasons for wanting it, but none of them are the reasons that they are admitting. They're going with “the soul of whatnot” and the “essentialist whatnot” and “the novel whatnot.” But it really is the stuff. It's the loot.

Nobody starts a war if they think they can't win. They get into defensive wars for that reason. But they don't initiate wars unless they think they can win. That was a miscalculation, wasn’t it? 

If (President Volodymyr) Zelensky had left, it would have been game over. And you can't make it up: It's a guy who had a role playing the president of Ukraine, then becomes the president of Ukraine and becomes this heroic figure having started as a comedian. You just really can't invent it.

The Kyiv Independent: Were you following the 2019 presidential election closely? What did you make of it as it was happening?

Margaret Atwood: I was following it very closely. He is a script writer…I think people get more inspiration from movies than we give them credit for. A lot of politics is acting as you have probably figured out. Zelensky had a better act.

I don’t think he was prepared for it (the war). I think his military was prepared and he couldn't have done this without the backing of the military, obviously. 

The Kyiv Independent: In addition to non-fiction, it is valuable for people to read fiction to make sense of the things that are happening. Do you have any book recommendations, any dystopias?

Margaret Atwood: They are gloomy. So let us not speak of them right now. Let us instead speak of the project I'm doing called Practical Utopias. It has assembled 200 people from about 138 countries… We're giving them Lego blocks of new materials, new processes with the goal to make practical better possibilities. 

I'm gonna say something really quite annoying. These places that have been so destroyed, when they rebuild them — this is a kind of perfect place to put better into practice. And I'm guessing that a lot of people will be offering their inventions and services, their new stuff to make better from the ground up…So that is a positive way of looking at it. It's not what you would wish, you would not. You wouldn’t wish for this opportunity to have appeared but it could be an opportunity. It could be the template for the future — that’s my utopian vision.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Dummy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one of the Avengers who doesn’t tease you for being a little slow 

Masterlist

Now you weren’t exactly dumb.

You were just a little slow.

When you joined the Avengers last year, the team learned pretty quickly that your mind moved at a different pace than everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and it didn’t keep you from doing your job, it just meant you were the butt of most of the jokes. Every time one of your blunders happened, your intelligence would be mocked in some way. You knew it was all in good fun, but it hurt to it feelings every now and then. The only person who never poked fun at you was Peter. And for that reason, he was your favorite on the team.

“How are there 23 minutes left in this movie and I still don’t know any of the characters names?” Steve wondered as you all sat in the couch in Stark Towers, watching a movie on a particularly rainy afternoon.

“I think the main kids name is Phoenix. That’s all I got though.” Sam shook his head, just as confused as Steve.

“The dogs name is Benson.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“Who names their kid Phoenix?” Peter wondered out loud as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. The two of you were tucked into the corner of the couch, sharing a blanket and bowl of popcorn. You looked at him like he was crazy when you heard his question.

“Ummm, Joaquin Phoenix’s parents.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You turned your attention back to the movie as a silence settled in the room. You felt everyone’s eyes on you after a minute and looked around to see everyone staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What?” You asked shyly, shrinking down a little in your seat in discomfort.

“That’s his last name.” Sam stated, chuckling a little under his breath. You realized your mistake and felt your face heat up.

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice getting drowned out as the rest of the Avengers laughed at your expense.

“Did she really just say that?” Nat looked at the group with a playful smile. Everyone, excluding Peter, nodded as their laughter died down.

“Oh my God.” Steve chuckled. “That’s so stupid.”

There was that word again.

He didn’t mean it maliciously. Steve was the kinda of guy who ushered spiders into a magazine so he could let them outside. And yet, it still stung when he said that word.

Stupid.

You smiled sheepishly and tried to focus on the movie, snuggling closer to Peters side until it ended. You were fully aware that he was the only one who didn’t laugh, and you loved him that.

And maybe you loved him for a few other reasons too.

~

“Alright. Who has money for the subway?” Sam asked the group as he patted his empty pockets. You were on another late night trip to get cookies from a specific shop in Times Square, leaving without Tony’s knowledge. Everyones hands went to their pockets and collectively made a face.

“Not me.” Rhodey shrugged.

“I don’t have any.” Bruce added.

“I don’t even have pockets.” Nat realized.

“I have gum.” Peter proudly produced a silver wrapper from his pocket. “Oh wait, it’s just a wrapper.”

“You’re telling me we’re earth’s mightiest heroes and we’re broke?” Sam shook his head is disdain.

“I gave my last dollar to a guy in the subway for playing music.” Peter defended himself.

“What was he playing?” You asked him as you tiredly leaned against his arm.

“A mandolin.” Peter answered, making your face scrunch up.

“That’s a language.” You laughed at him slightly, feeling empowered by having the upper hand. Everyone looked at you and a few of them snorted.

“Mandarin is a language.” Bruce said gently, not wanting to embarrass you further. “Not mandolin.” 

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked to Peter for answers.

“A mandolin is an instrument, dummy.” Sam chortled. You smiled tightly as the group laughed at your mistake, looking down to hide your blush.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.” You laughed shyly as you tucked your hair behind your ear and pretending to read a nearby sign.

“That’s okay.” Peter spoke up in your defense. “They sound really similar. Plus like, French, French Horn. Who knows what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. “Or like, bra’s aren’t pointy anymore.”

Bruce nodded like it made perfect sense and Sam just shook his head as he texted.

“What?” You whispered to Peter, not knowing what he meant.

“He’s from the 1920s. He’s still adjusting.” Peter whispered to you out of the corner of his mouth before looking at Bucky. “That’s the spirit. Kind of.”

“FRIDAY is sending a car.” Sam informed the group. “This is never happening again. The cookies aren’t that good.”

“They’re pretty good.” Rhodey shrugged, but wanting the late Nate tradition to end. Sam looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Hell yeah they are. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

~

Bruce found you in the lab the next day with a pin between your teeth and a pencil behind your ear. Papers with drawings of suits were scattered around the table as you measured a piece of black fabric.

“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered as he took a seat across from you. You glanced up at him before marking a dot on the fabric.

“Mr. Stark asked me to help him with the new suits. I’m trying to make a fabric template for Nat’s gloves.” You told him as you smoothed the fabric out.

“Is it hard?” He asked, watching you intently as you worked.

“Not really.” You shrugged and took a step back to examine your work. “Okay. How many holes do we need? 1,2,3,4,5.” You counted your fingers. “Okay. Five holes.”

You sat back down and put five dots where her fingers would be to mark where you had to cut. You heard a slight chuckle from Bruce and looked up at him curiously.

“Did you just count your fingers?” He asked slowly, wanting to make sure he saw what he thought he had. “To know how many fingers Nat has?”

Your face burned when you realized how dumb you looked, in front of a scientific genius no less.

“Oh, Uh, yeah.” You stammered, feeling very insecure with him watching you now. You moved slower than before and second guessed moves you’d already made a hundred times. Bruce sensed your discomfort and got out of his seat, tapping the table twice as he thought.

“Have you ever heard the expression “the lights are on but nobody’s home’?” He asked you and you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I think I have.” You smiled, proud of yourself for knowing something.

“It reminds me of you.” Bruce said so politely that you didn’t realize it was an insult at first. He left the lab to find Tony, leaving you feeling embarrassed and a little hurt. Everyone knew Bruce could hurt you ten times worse with his words than the Hulk could with his fists, you’d just never been his target before. You slumped down in your seat and continued making the gloves, your mood significantly dampened from before he came in the room.

~

You walked into the kitchen the next morning, sleepily rubbing your eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss on Peters shoulder as you passed him, also more affectionate to your best friend when you were half asleep. You smiled at Rhodey, who was seated at the bar and skimming through a newspaper.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked him through a yawn as you got out yogurt and fruit for yourself.

“No. I needed my coffee first.” He smiled sleepily at you and held up his mug.

“Oh, you mean your sugar with a spoonful of coffee?” You teased him. “Yeah, it’s good you got that out of the way.”

“I prefer it this way. The sugar wakes me up.” Peter defended his drink as he took a sip.

“That’s what the caffeine is supposed to do, mi amor.” You laughed as you ruffled his bed head ridden hair. He was about to make a comeback when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” You remarked. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t eat eggs alone.”

“Well I’m here. And Rhodey’s right there, so you’re not alone.” You told him. “And I can grab Steve and Bucky. They’re just in the other room.”

Rhodey looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows and looked at Peter. Peter set his mug down and made a face at Rhodey that told him not to say anything. You looked between the two of them in confusion as you wondered what was going on.

“I meant alone as in without toast, sweetness.” Peter said gently, not wanting you to feel dumb for misunderstanding. “But I am glad you’re here.”

“Oh.” You faked a smile and shrugged like it was no big deal. Peter had handled the situation with ease and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you normally would. That is until…

“You know, Y/n, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Rhodey nodded before going back to his newspaper. You froze with your spoonful of yogurt midway to your mouth and looked at him. He didn’t actually call you dumb, but it was implied. You looked at Peter to see if he was thinking the same thing, but his face had nothing but kindness on it.

“You are pretty.” He agreed with Rhodey. “But you’re a lot of other things too.”

You cracked a smile and rubbed his back for a moment in appreciation.

“Thanks Peter.” You said softly and went back to your breakfast. Not wanting to worry him, you ignored the way Rhodey’s comment made you feel and tried to push it from your mind. But no hard you tried to focus on other things, you had one thought prodding at the back of your head.

You were dumb.

~

A week went by without anyone poking fun at your intelligence. You had a sneaking suspicion Peter had something to do with the lack of comments, but you said nothing. It was nice to have a break from all the teasing and it made hanging out with the team more enjoyable. You all lingered around the kitchen one day, eating all different kinds of lunch when Tony came in the room.

“Eat up, funky bunch.” He clapped his hands. “We have a mission in Alaska to train for and I need all hands on deck. Cap, do you think you can teach Peter that spinny thingy you do?”

“I can try.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a manicure. I’ll be back around noon.” Tony informed you all.

“Wait, I thought you said all hands on deck.” You tilted your head at him.

“I did. Which I why I have to make sure my hands look the best.” Tony waved flirtatiously, wiggling his fingers around like a teenage girl. He smirked as his action was met with some eye rolls and a few chuckles before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska.” Peter nudged you excitedly and you smiled with glee.

“Is Alaska the same as the North Pole? Or am I thinking of Antarctica?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No. The North Pole is all the way at the top. Alaska is below California. Like by Texas.” You said confidently, proud that you knew information that someone else didn’t. Your pride quickly dissipated when you saw the teams faces twist in amusement.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at you like you were joking. You shrugged, letting him know you weren’t. Sam burst out laughing and clapped his hands as the rest of the team began to laugh.

“Absolutely not.” Sam grinned as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes it is.” You insisted. “Look at any US map. It’s on the bottom by Hawaii.”

You were getting angry now. You knew you were right this time and they were still teasing you.

“No.” Bucky shook his head is dismissal. “No.”

“Alaska is below California on every map I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me I’m wrong?” You our your hand on your hip and stared at them.

“100%. I am 100% telling you you’re wrong.” Sam said between his laughter. Peter came to your side and showed you a picture of a map on his phone.

“Alaska is US territory but it’s not connected to the rest of the states. They just put it below California on maps to show it’s a part of the US. Thats not actually where it’s located.” He said quietly. You looked at the map for a few seconds before you realized he was right. And if he was right…

You were wrong.

“Oh.” You smiled apologetically and averted your eyes. “Oops.”

You turned around and pretending to clean up the kitchen to hide your searing blush. Your fingers clenched around your sponge when you heard the teasing laughter from behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder how you made it out of high school.” Steve joked as he threw out the crusts of his sandwich. The comment stung you and you began to scrub the counter faster so you could leave the room sooner. Peter could see your shoulders tense and put a reassuring hand on your back. You gave him a tight lipped smiled before putting your dish in the sink.

“I’m still wondering how she made it out of first grade.” Nat teased you and she poked your side.

“I can’t believe she made it out of the womb in the first place with nobody telling her where to go.” Sam said, making everyone laugh loudly. You abruptly threw a dish in the sink, making everyone go silent. You tuned around slowly and faked a smile.

“Haha. Yeah.” You forced a laugh. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You swiftly left the room before anyone could catch your tears. You felt stupid for even getting upset over it, but their words hurt. Feeling like you were always the dumbest person in the room was taking a toll on you, especially when you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Peter watched you leave with sympathetic eyes, feeling his own frustration bubble at the sound of the team laughing at you. He thought they had listened the first time he told them to stop making fun of you, but they clearly hadn’t. After seeing the pained look on your face, Peter made a decision.

It was never going to happen again.

~

“Ugh. I’m never gonna get this right.” Peter groaned as he messed up the move Steve was trying to teach him once again.

“You’re getting too much inside your head. Just let it happen naturally.” Steve instructed as he resumed his stance. Peter tried the move again, wiping out and landing on his side with a thud. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you spared with Nat.

“I can’t.” Peter got up and rubbed his arm. “I can’t do it.”

Steve nodded, like he was accepting Peters defeat. You stopped sparing and looked at Peter.

“Yes you can. Come on, Peter.” You encouraged him. “Everyone told Van Gogh that he couldn’t be an artist because he only had one ear but he did it anyway.”

The room feel silent, as it often did when you spoke, and everyone looked down.

“Oh dear Lord.” Rhodey sighed and hung his head and he snickered. You could see everyone else fighting back laughter or cracking a smile, yet saying nothing.

“What?” You crossed your arms in annoyance, looming to Peter for help.

“He chopped his ear off after becoming an artist.” Peter said kindly. “He wasn’t born without one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it.

“Speaking of ears, do you think of you shone a light in one of Y/n’s ears, it would come out the other ear?” Tony quipped, making everyone laugh. The tips of your ears burned as that feeling of stupidity sunk in again. You undid the Velcro on your boxing gloves and pretended to wipe sweat from your face as you rushed to the bin where the gloves went. You kept your back to the group and pretending to be putting your gloves away when you were really concealing your pained expression.

“Yes.” Nat jeered. “Yes I do.”

Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you turned around, making every effort to keep your face neutral. Your face didn’t give away any signs of sadness, but your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bin gave your true feelings away. Peter noticed this and felt his jaw clench. If you weren’t gonna tell them to stop, he was.

“Leave her alone, guys.” He commanded the crowd before looking at you. “Thanks for the encouragement, Y/n. I’m gonna keep trying.”

“It’s fine.” You nodded curtly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You walked out of the gym, pausing in place when you heard Sams voice.

“Hit the showers?” He laughed. “We just started.”

“Shhh. Don’t confuse the poor girl any further.” Bruce joked back. You looked back at the gym with your eyebrows knit together, taking a quiet step closer to hear what they were saying about you without you there.

“She’s probably like, ‘whats this magic closet that makes rain?’” Rhodey imitated your voice, making you sound as dense as possible.

“Knock it off guys. It’s not funny.” Peter snapped, but the teasing continued.

“Or like, ‘this shampoo says it adds volume, but I used it and I can’t hear any louder than before’.” Tony mocked you, skipping around a little like a child. Your face contorted in misery as they made fun of you. You knew who they really were, and they were good people. They didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, they were only joking around like they did with everyone. Steve was teased all the time for his old fashioned dialect and no one lets Tony live down the kimono incident. Still, all their insults and mockery cut you like a knife.

“Ahh, I love that girl.” Nat shook her head with a smile. “She’s so dumb.”

“She may be slow, but she’s entertaining as hell.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I said knock it off.” Peter repeated, getting a reaction this time.

“Aw. Peters mad because we’re teasing his girlfriend.” Nat pouted and pinched Peters cheek. She quickly realized how wholesome she was being and punched Bucky in the face to maintain her lethal assassin persona.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter grumbled. Now that you were out of the room, he was the next target.

“He’s right. Hey, maybe that’s why you guys haven’t gotten together yet.” Rhodey shrugged. “She’s too stupid to realize you’re in love with her.”

That was all you had to hear. You ran towards your with tears running down your face. Thanks to Peters advanced heating, he heard every heavy footstep.

“Okay. Maybe she is a little slow.” Peter shook his head in disdain at the team. “But you guys are idiots.”

~

You were quiet the entire way to Alaska, keeping to yourself and silently looking out the window. Peter attempted to talk to you once or twice, but he could tell you wanted to be alone. The Avengers completed the mission within a few hours with minor damage to the area. Peter focused on his job but found himself looking for you every now and then, being as you usually stayed together during missions. He didn’t see you anywhere and assumed you were doing your own thing on the other side of the field. He heart rest assured when he saw you boarding the jet, still looking reserved and aloof from the rest of the team. You took a seat by the window and rested your chin on your hand, looking out at the bleak landscape in front of you as the jet took off. Peter didn’t engage in small talk with the rest of the team and wistfully stared at you instead, silently willing you to cheer up.

“I think that went pretty well.” Rhodey nodded and the team agreed. “But where were you the whole time, Y/n? Picking daisies?”

Peter held his breath as you slowly turned around. You gave Rhodey a frigid smile and shook your head.

“We came during a blizzard so I used my powers to create a heated force field around the area we were in to prevent frostbite and give you guys and easier time seeing in the snow. We were also at a higher altitude than any of us are used to so I kept the air pressure to sea level standard.” You said simply. “And I assumed there would be smoke from the battle so I rounded up the nearby animals and made a separate for field around them to protect their lungs.”

The room went silent, something you were used to at this point. But instead of everyone falling silent because they were laughing at you, they were impressed.

“Oh.” Rhodey blinked in surprise, not expecting the answer he was given.

“I also picked this flower.” You smiled proudly as you produced a Forget Me Not from your lap. Peter couldn’t keep the grin from breaking through on his face. You were the center of attention once again, but in a good way this time. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with what you had done and it showed.

“I didn’t think about the altitude.” Nat realized.

“I had no idea there was a blizzard.” Steve added, looking dumbfounded.

“Because I kept you from knowing.” You shrugged. “I wanted you guys to focus on the mission.”

“I mean, I knew. I just didn’t tell you guys because I was so distracted by my buffed and polished nails.” Tony twiddled his fingers again, showing off his freshly manicured nails. You all laughed, breaking the tension in the jet.

“Well look at that.” Sam looked impressed. “Y/n knew something we didn’t.”

It was almost a compliment, but it still made you feel insecure. You didn’t want it to be this mind boggling every time you did something useful.

“Thanks, Y/n. That was really smart.” Peter said softly as he patted your knee. You put your hand over his and squeezed it. It was the first time someone called your smart, and it made you feel good.

“It was really smart.” Sam said skeptically. He stared at you for a moment before poking your side.

“What are you doing?” You swatted his hand away.

“Just making sure you’re still in there.” He eyed you suspiciously. Peter could sense the attention was making you uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“Are we almost home?” He asked Tony before peering out the window. The flight was a little over 7 hours on a normal plane, but the Stark jet was much quicker. The flight would only take a few hours, but Peter was not known for being patient.

“Yes, Peter. We are almost back at the tower. You can get your diaper changed and your bottle as soon as we get back.” Tony sassed him, making him shrink in his seat. Your body language had completely changed and your were now sitting straight, facing the group. Peter was glad you were feeling better and didn’t even mind Tony’s comment.

“Guys, let’s be civil. We’re all tired. We all want to get home.” You said calmly. “Let’s just focus on how pretty the sky looks tonight. Isn’t is pretty, Peter?”

He gazed at your profile as you looked out the window at the stars, admiring how pretty you looked from the side.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” He conceded without ever taking his eyes off you. You shot him a smile before looking straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Wow, the moon is huge!” You pointed time a large yellow crescent that could be seen through the window.

“That’s literally the reflection of my banana on the windshield.” Tony deadpanned. He may have been right, but it still looked pretty.

“Should we make a wish?” You asked Peter, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“On the banana?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “On the banana.”

“Why?” Rhodey asked. “It’s not like people wish on the moon.”

“It feels like we should.” You said with confidence.

“Yep. She’s still in there.” Sam chuckled. And just like that, your confidence receded.

“I hate it here.” Bucky sighed heavily and tuned out of the conversation.

“It must be so peaceful being you, Y/n.” Tony remarked.

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“Because instead of thinking about your problems and mistrials, you simply don’t think at all.” Tony said suavely. In only a better for minutes, you’d gone from being the hero to the laughing stock of the group. The sly comments and taunting laughter made you feel like you should stop opening your mouth entirely. You faked a smile and turned back towards the window, tuning out the rest of the way home. Peter chewed his lip as he stared at you, feeling useless to helping you out. The team just wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Knowing you weren’t in the mood to talk, he scooted closer to you and put a comforting hand on your back. You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to him point out the constellations the whole way home.

~

The next day, you and Peter were sitting in the balcony, working on some new gadgets for Mr. Stark when Peter made a startling discovery.

“Where’s my right web shooter?” Peter stood up in a panic when he realized it was missing. “I left it right here.”

“Maybe a bird carried it off.” You shrugged as you twisted a tiny screw into Peters left web shooter.

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” Peter stated. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me and turn me into a decorative rug if I lost it.”

“I’m being serious too. We live in New York and I see birds around here all the time.” You told him as you continued your work. “And you know the pigeons here are feral. A bird probably stole it to pay for his child support.”

Peter usually entertained your antics and joined in with his own batch of sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood. His web shooter was missing and their were actual stakes involved. Without his web shooter, he couldn’t be Spiderman. And without Spider-Man, he couldn’t be an Avenger.

“Can you be serious for once?“ Peter whined, picking up everything on the table to look under it.

“I’m just saying it’s possible, Peter. You never know.” You insisted as you put your screw driver down to help him look. You began looking in the flower pots on the windowsill that you and Peter had planted. Peter stopped his search for a moment, growing angry with you for wasting time. He didn’t know if you were joking around or genuine believed his web shooter was in the flower pots, but it made him frustrated nonetheless. A combination of his lack of sleep and stress over losing the webshooter manifested into a moment of unchecked rage.

“No, it’s not possible.” He snapped. “A bird didn’t steal my web shooter. God, do you have to be so stupid?” 

 The word hung in the air for a moment, settling in to the both of you. Peters eyes immediately softened, feeling instant regret for what he had said. You stopped trifling through the plants and slowly turned around.

“What?” You asked quietly. Peter tightened his lips into a line and tried to justify what he had said.

“I try to defend you but you make it so hard. Can you help me out a little here and not be so…” He trailed off when he realized he had only made it worse. Your face hardened and you looked disappointed in Peter, which killed him. He would have preferred anger or even sadness, but the disappointment killed him.

“So what?” You shrugged. “Finish your sentence Peter.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, really, go ahead.” You stated coldly. “You got this far. So what, Peter?”

He looked at you for a moment, getting that feeling of wishing you could turn back time just a few seconds to fix a mistake.

“So dumb all the time.” He finished his sentence with an unsteady voice. Your face scrunched up in a pained expression as you sucked in and let out a shaky breath.

“You were the only one who never called me that.” You whimpered before moving past him and going inside. Peter watched you through the open balcony doors as you disappeared into the hallway with a heavy heart. His mouth was open to apologize, but you were long gone. He’d seen you being ridiculed so many times already, and now he was the one doing it. All that talk about it never happening again, only for him to be the reason it happened. Peter couldn’t live with himself for another minute without you knowing how sorry he was. He took a step towards the doorway until he heard a pigeon land on the table. He watched it curiously for a moment as it pecked at the screwdriver you had been using before picking it up with its beak. It flew over to the edge and began to walk along the railing, still keeping the screwdriver in his mouth. Peter followed the pigeon, walking all the way down the balcony to find a large nest in the corner. He watched as it dropped the screwdriver into its nest, right next to his web shooter.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter.” Peter said in disbelief. Peter watched as baby pigeons poked out from inside the web shooter to greet the other pigeon.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter for his kids.” Peters eyes widened even more than they already were. Realized struck him and his shoulders slumped.

“She was right.” He mumbled, angry at himself more than ever. “I yelled at her and she was right.”

Peter wasted no time in rescuing his web shooter from the birds, offering them a nice biodegradable coffee cup in its place, and ran to the kitchen to make you a peace offering. He knocked softly on your door and didn’t wait for an answer before going in.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” Peter stiffly held out a mug with an awkward smile on his face. You looked at Peter from your bed, eyes puffy like you had been crying. You stared at each other for a long time, you with a death glare and Peter with his awkward smile. Neither of you said a word as Peter continued to hold out the mug. After two full minute of silence, a bead of sweat ran down Peters face as he looked around nervously, never breaking his smile. You let out an angry sigh and decided to throw him a bone, crossing the room to accept his mug. You looked into the cup for a moment before looking back at Peter.

“This is empty.” You deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to make tea.” Peter whispered, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve seen you make it.” You snapped.

“I forgot how to do it.” Peters eyes shifted nervously to the side.

“Bucky was in the kitchen, wasn’t he?”

“I know he hates me.” Peter talked over you as you groaned. “I know he does.”

“Just go away.” You tried to close the door but he kept it open.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I came in here to apologize.”

“You see this?” You held up the mug for a Peter to see. “It’s my cup of care. And look at that” ,you dumped the cup over, “it’s empty.”

Peter stared at your demonstration with raised eyebrows, surprised that you were still able to be sarcastic when he hurt you. Peter took the mug from your hands and set it on the ground before slowly looking up at your face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said softly with all the sincerity his heart could give. You scoffed and folded your arms, looking to the side when you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Yes I am.” You said like you fully believed it, which was Peters worse fear. “Everyone says so. Even you.”

It hit Peter like a sheet of glass when you looked at him like that.

Like he was someone you didn’t want around.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Peter apologized. “That is not how I feel. At all.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never thought about saying that before.” You laughed sadly. “Everyone on the team calls me dumb. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter repeated. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Bullshit.” You snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“I’m not full of bullshit.” He whined like a child and gave you puppy dog eyes. “I’m full of regret.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as he gave you his best pout, willing you to forgive him. Finally, you caved and cracked a smile.

“I hate you.” You stamped your foot and hung your head, frustrated with yourself for not being able to stay mad at him. Peter opened his arms and you walked into them, arms still folded angrily. You bumped your forehead against his shoulder before moving to rest your chin on it as he wrapped his arms around you. Peter nestled against your hair and sighed, happy that you had forgiven him but still saddened that he had hurt you in the first place. He could see the pile of used tissues on your bed and it killed him to know he made you cry.

“I didn’t mean to call you that. I really didn’t.” He said softly. “I’m the one who’s been trying to stop people from saying that.”

“But they still do it.” You sniffled. “Everyday I get called dumb or stupid or scalene.”

“I think it’s obtuse, not scalene.” Peter reluctantly corrected you. You pulled away and little and let Peter wipe the tears from your face.

“Maybe they’re right.” You shrugged and looked Peter in the eyes. “Maybe I am dumb.”

Peter kept your face between his hands, staring at you for a moment before sighing.

“I once sneezed so many times in a row that I peed my pants.” Peter deadpanned. “I was 17.”

“What?” You chuckled as you wiped your nose.

“I saw Bucky try to take a piece of toast out of the toaster with his metal arm and electrocute himself.” He continued. “And I constantly see Tony bumping into glass doors.”

“I don’t understand.” You squinted your eyes, but sure what point he was trying to make.

“Steve still picks up the phone and asks for the operator. Nat leaves her curling iron plugged in all the time. I do not think Sam knows the address of where we live and I’m pretty sure Rhodey can’t do laundry. He gets all his stuff dry cleaned, even his socks.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You asked.

“Because were all dumb.” Peter concluded. “We all do and say dumb things. You don’t know where Alaska is and no one in this tower can read analog clocks. If we’re all dumb, then maybe none of us are dumb. Or we all are. Who cares?” Peter shrugged, making you laugh. “And you were right. A bird did carry off my web shooter. So no, you’re no dumb. Or stupid. Or obtuse. You’re, uh, you- you…” Peter looked down at he fumbled over his words.

“I’m what?” You raised an eyebrow. You could finish his sentence last time, but this time you were lost.

“You’re…” Peter tampered off again, staring at your confused expression for a moment before pulling you into a kiss. Your hands clenched into a fist and slowly uncurled as you relaxed into the kiss. Peter pulled away too soon and let his eyes flutter open. They met yours and you shared a moment of hesitation, not knowing what happened rest next.

“I’m gonna be honest lovey, I didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.” Peter chris joes softly, his breath fanning your face. “That was mainly improv.”

“You’re pretty good at improv, Parker.” You cracked a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I did a little bit of theater in high school.” He shrugged smugly, making you giggle.

“Mmm. I severely don’t want to hear about that.” You teased before kissing him again.

“Oh, I think you do.” Peter remarked. “Because I once went to the bathroom during intermission with my mic still on and the entire audience heard me peeing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23  @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @ohnothezombies @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind @quacksonfics @marshxx @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @buckybigbutt @cookiemonstermusic258 @awesomebooklover17

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

---

Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

---

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

---

Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

---

God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[tempestaurora]

Hi, don't know if you're still doing this but:

2 royal + 52 Marriage of Convenience 

Eddie and Buck 911

2: Royal Au + 52: Marriage of Convenience

alright i've read like four of these in the past two days so i've been trying to think up something original

personally, i'd tell the story of the buckleys, rulers of some made up country like genovia. the buckley king and queen, phillip and margaret, had three children: daniel, madeline and evan. tragically, their eldest grew sick at a young age, and prince evan was born in an attempt to save his life (although the family would never admit that to the world); evan's spare parts, however, must have been defective, for the young prince daniel died, leaving madeline as the heir to the throne

now, here's the thing about being royal: it sucks. no one tells you it sucks, but it does, and madeline (or maddie, as she prefers) and evan know this first hand, especially as maddie grows older and has to start looking for a husband

in walks doug kendall, a neurosurgeon, and by god does the country love him

so much so that evan, once old enough, decides to start travelling, start going around the world, because it's not like he'll be missed, right? he may be the country's beloved prince evan (the brightest smile and biggest heart of any royal they've ever known) - but he's not needed for day-to-day things

so he travels, and when he does, he does it in disguise. no guards, no royal escorts, no private planes. he even goes by buck, because its easier that way - and its not like genovia is a big country, so its not like he's going to get recognised

he's on a tour of the united states when he reaches el paso, texas, where a young eddie diaz, recently abandoned and divorced by his wife, and father to a four-year-old christopher, are struggling to make end's meet

one of eddie's three jobs is as a bartender at the bar that buck wanders into

and by god can they not stop staring at each other

i mean, a hot bartender with just the right amount of stubble who holds himself with innate confidence

and a hot patron with a birthmark above his left eye and an open smile like sunshine is just flooding out of him?

they get to talking real quick

and although buck doesn't mention being a prince, he stays at the bar long enough to hear all about eddie's life and current troubles (isn't the patron supposed to vent to the bartender? buck asks. hey i listen to people vent all the time, eddie replies, it's rightfully my turn)

and well, buck has an idea - a dumb idea, because he's a bit drunk, but an idea all the same

we should get married, buck says

what

buck shrugs. if i'm hearing you right, you just got divorced, your parents are threatening to take away your child - aka the light of your life - and you need insurance and money. if we get married, you're no longer a single dad working three jobs with no insurance - i dunno man sounds like a good idea to me

and eddie's not usually one to do stupid, reckless things, and he fully expects this to backfire in a ridiculous way, but goddammit - he's twenty six, he's allowed to do dumb shit occasionally, and buck is something he definitely wants to do

it takes a few weeks (they both think the other will back out, but neither does) and buck has to get a lot of things sorted privately and quietly, especially in regards to marriage licenses and visas, but idk he's a prince he can fast track that shit, but then the two of them are getting married at a court house, with just christopher and eddie's sisters to witness

(eddie hears buck's name as evan buckley for the first time on the day they get married; he does not recognise it in the slightest. he doesn't care about royals.)

(in those few weeks, eddie is blown away (and a little in love) with how good buck is with chris; there are several near-misses with either of them shirtless, fresh from the shower, or dressed up in a suit; and at least nine moments where they almost kissed but didn't and thought the other didn't want to)

helena and ramon, by the way, are pissed

eddie is thrilled

and everything's great - buck moves into eddie's house, ending his tour of america then and there in el paso; signs lots of documents and makes lots of phone calls; listens to eddie talk about the idea of moving to LA, of being a firefighter, of doing something he's proud of

and after one night when buck carries christopher to bed and tucks him in, eddie watching from the doorway, they return to the living room for eddie to immediately kiss him

buck kisses back, of course

its the next day that the news drops: prince evan buckley of genovia has secretly married a single father in texas

eddie finds out through the newspaper. he looks between it, then buck, then it, and says: what

and buck goes for a smile and says, surprise?

eddie's annoyed for like a minute and a half, but buck is too delightful and charming to be mad at for long.

buck's parents, on the other hand - boy can they hold a grudge

the story ends like this: buck and eddie travel to genovia with christopher; they introduce him around the family, around the country, and genovia is still surprised, but ultimately endeared by the family prince evan has made for himself, unaware that it was built on a dumb, drunk idea.

(what happens when they find out? eddie asks quietly, one night. why would they find out? buck replies. we're married, eddie, and not to be embarrassing - but i've got a massive crush on you, so i'm happy to see where this takes us)

in the epilogue, buck denounces his claim to the throne to move to the usa, LA specifically, and live with christopher and eddie there. maddie follows not long after, publicly divorcing her abusive husband and needing some time away. she eventually goes back, because being a royal may suck, but she's still instilled with a sense of duty towards her people - however, when she returns, many years later, upon her parents' abdication so that she may take the throne, she brings her husband, chimney, and their daughter, jee-yun with her

by that point, of course, eddie and buck are very happy, very in love, and are no longer married out of convenience, but joy

Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

[jjfics]

On The Run | 01

ship: Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader 

summary: The Hargreeves have to leave the Academy behind and run away to Dallas, Texas. The Reader is a lot more anxious than Five and thats understandable, but they need to focus.

series: read part 2 here

author: jane jack aka your girl jjfics 

words: 1950

warnings: mentions of blood, death and murder, (feelings of uncertainty and anxiety, flashbacks) and lots of angssst (why do i love writing angst thoughh??)

a/n: there will definitely be a part 2 so keep those notifications in checkk

It felt as if you could read everyone else’s thoughts through the silence. The car kept moving at a fast speed as you passed cities and villages. From time to time you would worry Five was going to lose control of the car, but he never even flinched. 

He just looked at the road before you; stress and worry were clear in his eyes. There was so much he needed to figure out. Who were you going to be from now on? And him? And his siblings? Were you going to hide forever? 

“Five” you whispered. He didn’t hear you. Or maybe he did and he chose to ignore you. “Five” you said again, this time catching his attention. 

He turned to look at you for a moment and then he focused on the road again.“What?” 

“Can we stop for 5 minutes at the next gas station, please? I have to wash my hands.” you said quietly looking down. 

He pursed his lips before he spoke again. “No.” Five was just being direct. The more time it took you to get to Dallas, the more vulnerable you became. 

Dallas…

You fell through the vortex a couple of months before Five arrived. With no idea where the others went or how to find them, it was really just you, all alone. You were the last one Elliot took a picture of before the chaos of the second apocalypse began. The alley was strange, and so were the people. Everything was different here. You were disoriented and scared. According to the confused strangers when you asked them the date, you were somewhere way before your birth.

First thing you realise when you don’t even have a home anymore is that you need money. It can be so crucial. But how will you, a nobody in the 60s, survive if all you knew how to do, was sing? Music was how you met your best friend Vanya for the first time: at an audition. And after that followed the concerts. The public loved the two of you.

So you did what you did best. 

One day, while walking aimlessly on the busy streets, searching for a place selling cheap food, you started singing your favourite song. A song no one around had ever heard, a song you danced to with Five once. People started to gather around you and listen as you went on. This was it, this is where you were in your element. Your father forced you to take singing lessons when you were four. You didn’t enjoy it at first, but you grew up to love it. People clapped and left you money before going on about their day. So you ended up spending the entire day there. By nightfall you had been given enough money for the whole week. 

You were leaning on a cold brick wall and eating a sandwich when you saw someone drop a newspaper. Curiously, you grabbed it and were shocked by the headline. 

“Young woman sings in front of a bakery stealing every Texan’s heart. Who is the mysterious singer to whom many would empty their pockets for a show? 

You had been living in an apartment above The Rosemary Club, the place you worked at now. You sang almost every night and earned a lot of money and visitors for your boss, so he let you stay there. 

One night, you had a special visitor. He wasn’t there to see you specifically; he was working, just like you. Luther went everywhere his boss went, he was his bodyguard. You made eye contact a couple of times but never spoke on that evening. You couldn’t even look at him without cringing away. Not after what he did to Vanya. Five might say that she’s the bomb, but in your mind, that bomb was pretty much activated by Luther.He tried to talk to you but you avoided him as much as possible. 

“y/n! Wait, stop running away, God!” 

“What do you want, Luther?” you gave him a cold look.

“To talk to you? Isn’t that what normal people do after they haven’t seen each other for a long time?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” you said and ordered a drink. 

“Jesus, y/n, what's wrong with you?”

“Do I have to remind you that we’re here because of you?”

“Because of me? What do you mean, didn’t you see how Vanya literally destroyed the M-”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” you cut him off. “Have you met anyone else besides me, you stalker?”

“No.” he admitted. ”I tried searching for Allison but they haven’t found her yet.” 

“Right. Amazing. Five? No news about him either?” His expression softens. He knew about your relationship with Five, and how much you two meant for each other. 

“No, I’m really sorry. I don’t know where he is…” his voice only getting smaller when he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You looked up from your drink and to the big man next you. “Then you can leave. I have to go get dressed.” You put your glass on the counter and left.

Your days in Dallas were easy. Life was always the same and you knew what to expect. Sometimes Luther and his boss would show up at the club and you would ignore each other. You sang, you were introduced to some people and you would make small talk with the bartender. Day after day, always missing your friends. Missing 2019. Missing Five. Your life was easy, but you were alone for the most part. You missed cuddling with Five before you went to sleep together and then waking up in his arms. You missed how he would come and pick you up after practise. How he would kiss you after every concert and tell you how proud he was of you. You missed him truly. 

The bow to the public mixed with a charismatic smile and a wave was how you always ended a good show. Walking off stage you rolled your eyes when you saw who came towards you. 

“There’s someone who would like to talk to you.” he said with a stupid smile planted on his face.

“I’m on break.” you tried to walk away. Luther grabbed your arm and spun you around so you would be facing him again. “Hey! What are you doing? Back off!”

“Believe me, y/n, you really should go talk to him” 

You eyed him suspiciously. “Well alright then.” you said sarcastically. “But keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Yeah, right, sorry.” he said and stepped to the side . “Come with me, he’s waiting outside.” he babbled before leading you to the main entrance of the club, one which neither of you used. This all seemed sketchy. If he was trying to kidnap you, I’d be no surprise. 

The air outside was cooler than usual. You crossed your arms and huffed. 

And then you saw him. Right there, alive and in front of you. He was well. He survived. 

He was still wearing his uniform, which was clean. He must've just arrived. 

You ran to him as fast your red heels allowed you to and he met you with a warm embrace. He still smelled exactly like himself. A day to him, months for you. Is this what it felt like for him when he was stuck in the future? You hugged him tight and inhaled his scent deeply trying to forget all these nights you cried, hoping he would come through the door and hug you. Hoping he would materialize in front of you like he did for his father’s funeral.

The man still looked young, but you knew damn well who he was. He wasn’t someone you’d forget that easily. Finally, he was here, with you. 

He pulled away and it almost pained you. It was crazy, of course, to think that after all this time you’d lose him again, but even as much as moving an inch scared you now that he was right here. 

“y/n.”

“Five”

Your lips melted together in the most awaited kiss of the century. Of all time maybe. His hands glued themselves to your waist again and you saw him perfectly in the dim light of the alley.

Your eyes were empty. You wanted to wipe your hands but the blood on them had dried already. 

“Five, please I need to wash my hands. I need to- I- I have to wash it all away- Please” 

He hated that he had to hear you beg and yet he couldn't stop. It’s for her own safety, it’s for our safety, he would think. 

“y/n we can’t stop now. Even 5 minutes could mean our deaths right now. Please understand” 

And you wanted to understand. You wanted to stay calm just like the rest, but they were trained. They’ve done such things before. You however, didn’t. Everytime you looked at your lap you saw her again. Laying there, lifeless. You saw the knife as it fell from your hands, making an awful sound when it hit the floor. Maybe if you’d wash them, the flashbacks would stop. 

“Please, I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t be like this. This is not- It’s not-” 

Your breath was uncontrolled. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw her again. Everytime you would inhale, she would exhale for the last time, again, and again, and again. You were fully sobbing now. 

Vanya’s hand softly touched your shoulder from the back seat and you flinched. “Shh, it’s just me” she cooed “It’s just me” 

You tried to relax a bit and then spoke again, hoping to get it right this time.

“I’m a bad person, Five. I just killed an innocent woman and… and I have her blood all over my hands.” you looked at him to find he was already looking at you. Guilt and regret were visible on his face. “I’m a killer, Five.” you wept. 

He reached your cheek with one hand and wiped your tears away. “She wasn’t innocent” he stated. “She’s killed many people.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m any less of a killer” 

“Well, then. I’m a killer too. More or less than my siblings here. So we are all on the same team.” he spoke calmly, as if the Hargreeves discussed murder at the dinner table every evening. Thinking about it twice there’s a big chance they did, when the old man was still alive at least.

“But you killed to survive, Five. You had to. I didn’t but she’s dead now.”

He huffed in annoyance. She’s not used to this. Take it slowly, he thought.

“You had to, too, y/n. It was self defence. If it wasn’t her then… well then let’s not think about it” he finished. Then I would be the one dead, you added, but only in your head because you knew how much he hated thinking about anything bad happening to you. He wanted you safe. You wanted him safe.

“Okay then. But as soon as we’re in Dallas we’ll stop and get new clothes.” you started to come back to your senses again. Right. You need to get to the city and find a way to trick the Commision. Or maybe you needed to hide. Or just freshen up and get on the road again. You didn’t know exactly what you were going to do, but if anyone found the map Diego was holding in his lap right now, they’d know exactly what your first stop was going to be. The Rosemary Club.

[leahseclipse]

May the show begin (Part 2)

May the show begin masterlist | Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Kidnapping, general criminal minds stuff, angst, cursing, blood, mentions of death.

Summary: While working on a case, y/n gets targeted by the unsub that kidnaps her.

A/N: Hello! Here's the 2nd part! Thank you to everyone who liked the first part, it means a lot to me!! I hope you'll like this one- I really do my best at every fic, I hope it's not too bad- lmk if you liked it- have a good time reading. - Lex

Don't hesitate to send requests, I'll be more than happy to write them!

Word count: 5.5 k

_______

"Y/N."

I woke up with a start after hearing a voice calling my name.

I looked around, but no one was there. I almost thought it was Spencer calling me for a second.

I immediately felt panic invade my whole mind as I realized the situation I was in.

The room was dark, which didn't reassure me at all, because I hated being in the dark, and in this situation, I wasn't even somewhere safe.

I'm scared.

I want to get out of here.

What is going to happen ?

I knew that the following hours, or even days would be the worst days I'd ever have, and I didn't even know if I would get out of here alive.

I couldn't be sure of that.

It didn't really take long until I realised that I've also been drugged. I was struggling to stay awake, and my sight was blurry for a while.

I even tried to move for a bit, but quickly noticed the ropes restraining me.

As I tried to dig into my memories, trying to even remember anything from yesterday, the only thoughts that came were the faint sounds of a car, and then...screams.

My screams.

The next thing I did after almost regaining full consciousness was to look at my own body; I had felt a soft fabric against my skin, but still couldn't guess whether it was my clothes or not.

Then, as I lowered my head,

I realized.

Someone had put a dress on me.

I knew that I had this on for a specific reason, but I still couldn't remember why.

I did my best not to crack under the pressure, because the more I'd look around, the more I'd feel like crying out of panic. My head was full of panicked thoughts, I prayed for it to stop, but I knew well that I couldn't. Not until I'd get out of here.

If...hold on.

I remembered something.

The dress.

It's what was on the women that are now...dead.

Right now, what I only wished for was for someone to find me as quickly as possible. I couldn't remain calm, knowing that I could eventually die here.

This wasn't planned at all, I never thought this would happen one day, I did everything to protect myself, be careful outside, and some guy, or girl, managed to get into my apartment to kidnap me.

And right now, being the nervous and dramatic wreck I am, I could only think of the worst things that could happen. And...that are about eighty percent accurate to happen, I'd say.

This really can't...I'm not done saying all of the words I need to say to Spencer, I need more time with him, my life can't end now, it can't end here.

We're even supposed to get married. We're too busy with work that we haven't planned anything yet.

I can't leave him behind like that.

I can't.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sound, causing me to come back to reality.

I suddenly heard the door opening, followed by footsteps; these becoming louder as the person approached.

"Hello there." He said, as I froze out of fear, his voice sending chills down my spine.

"I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I wished I could have processed this meeting in another way. But apparently, you were quite busy with your job. It was quite difficult to catch up with your schedule. So, I had to pay you an unexpected visit. It's nice to see you again y/n." He added, as he walked in front of me. I looked at him while he talked, but his face was masked, I couldn't see anything.

It's nice to see you again'? Do I...know him?

I still couldn't put a name on the voice, but I knew I did hear it somewhere. But the problem is that I didn't know. It could be an old friend, a colleague, a neighbor, but unless he'd say his name, I wouldn't know.

"You can talk, you know, I didn't say you weren't allowed." He let out a laugh, his hand touching my face, while he traced my jawline with the tip of his fingers.

"I...why am I wearing a dress," I finally let out, with a shaky voice. "And how do you know me…?" What I just asked was probably stupid when I thought about it after, but I was too terrified to think of anything else. These were the only words I managed to let out. I guess it's better than the curses. Maybe.

"Oh, the dress. I made it just for you. It's just a bit loose, sorry. I couldn't get your measurements from far, when I was watching, so...I did my best. I hope that you like it. I didn't want you to keep what you were wearing, it wasn't very pretty." He paused, probably thinking about the other question. 

"And, how do I know you…? Well, it's not my job to tell you, you're a big girl, so I think you can remember it by yourself. It'll come, soon enough. It's not difficult, you used to see it all the time, a long time ago, and kinda...recently." He said, as he put his hand on my hair, taking a strand between his fingers. 

This really has to be a joke. What am I supposed to do, guess your name until I get the right one?

"You really are...amazingly pretty. If I kill you, I can't keep you forever. That'd be a shame, really. I can keep you for a while, if you behave nicely. So, be an angel and don't make me angry, okay?" 

"Be a angel"...how am I even supposed to react to that?

"...keep me forever, why?"

"You see," He said, as he kneeled in front of me. "I couldn't keep watching you, you exactly look like my daughter would have looked like if she lived another ten years. But, some bastard killed her, and now, all I have left...is you. I can feel her presence through you, I know she's here. That's why I want to keep you for a while. You'll love me, soon enough. It'll be like the old days. I just, really am obsessed with you. It'll probably hurt your poor boyfriend, but I'm sure he won't mind if I take you from him. He won't."

He totally lost his mind. I don't think he's thinking sanely right now. If I take his words, his mind totally blew up when he saw me…like to the point he'd do things, without getting scared of consequences, he hadn't realised at all the risks he took, and I don't think he does right now.

I could feel the rage burning sensation in my body growing larger every second I'd look at him. He should consider himself lucky that the rope is too tight for me to move. Otherwise, he'd have no face anymore. 

I couldn't help but wonder why he would do that. Both my father and sister died when I was only 10, but I didn't go and stole someone else's father and daughter to replace mine. It took a long time, because I had to accept the death of someone twice, suffer even more, alone, in my room for months, but I coped with it and moved on a few months after, taking control over my life once again after the event I've been through. 

I know they would have wanted me to do that. They both hated it whenever I was sad.

"Why do...you just take girls from their families, to just end up killing them a few days after? Is making people suffer okay?"

"Look, if I do that, this way sweetie...the police will finally understand my anger. It's been two years, and they still haven't found the guy who killed her. I even wonder if they haven't forgotten about it, or given up. And after, they proudly appear in newspapers while a killer is still on the loose. Wow, look how great police is."

Is this how people are supposed to cope with the death of someone? Making other people suffer isn't the right way when you have to deal with a loss.

"Killing people won't resolve things, it's sad for you, but sadly, it won't bring her back. I won't." 

"We'll see that; if your smart-ish friends manage to find you. Unless they don't, you'll get to travel with me. Exciting isn't it? I know, right? You'll like it. I can feel it. You'll become my pretty little doll. Till you break. I hope it'll last long. We've only been together for half a day. We have plenty of time to get to know each other once again. It's been a long time since our last meeting so I'm sure we both have a lot of things to say. A lot.

"You're fucking crazy." 

"If you say so. But soon, you'll like- no, you'll adore me."

"Never." I exclaimed, glancing at him, my eyes filled with all the rage I felt for him in this moment. He'd be stupid if he didn't see that.

"You won't say that in a few days. I think you'll even beg-" He said, cutting off mid sentence, before I spat at his face. 

I knew the consequences of it, but I didn't regret it. Now, he'd know that I'm not his toy, and that I'll certainly not beg him for anything. 

He stepped back, chuckling, before hitting me in the face with his fist. Soon enough, a few drops of blood flowed from my nose, falling on the dress, as the tissue slightly absorbed it.

I didn't know if it was the punch or the effects of the drugs that I had just felt, but I suddenly felt tired as he hit me, bringing me back to the state I was in when I woke up.

"You bitch...who do you think you are to do that? TELL ME." He yelled, his voice filled with anger. Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew it probably was red from all of the anger he's been accumulating.

The veins on his hands contracted, surely meaning he was restraining himself from hitting me again, or even...strangling me. 

"I'm...not a toy...for you to play with. It's sad that she died...but I already said I won't replace her."

"I NEVER ALLOWED YOU TO TALK, SHUT UP!" He paused, taking a large breath of air, as he pointed at me with his index. "You'll do...whatever I'll tell you. If you care enough about the ones around you. That'd be a shame for them to die because of their...stubborn friend." He added, glancing at me as he left the room, aggressively closing the door.

I couldn't stop shaking the whole time he was in. I'd never imagined that this would ever happen to be one day. It happened to Spencer, and I was devastated the whole time. Watching him on the livestream, I couldn't stand it for more than a few minutes. 

And now that I'm in the same situation, he's the one that is suffering. None of us know if I'll get out of here alive. That's the worst.

Until they'd find anything about him, both of us had to stay there, wondering if the other was doing okay, and in Spencer's case, wondering if I would make it. 

I really prayed for that. I need to see his smile again, run my hand through his hair, cuddle in bed with him, all of the things I love to do with him, that I love him for.

No sound was coming from outside, either the walls of the room were isolated in order to not let any sound in, or the house was in the middle of nowhere. 

The only thing I could do while being tied up was to look around; of the two windows, the only one that would allow the light to go in was closed by the blinds, only allowing a short film of light into the dark place. The left one was being blocked by the shelf in front of it, so not any light came out of it.

Even if I would try to escape, how could I even do that? I was tied up to the chair by the rope, almost suffocating me; my hands were both restrained to the back of the chair, each hand on one side of it, so whenever I'd try to move them up, the head of the chair would block my hands.

I then looked more around, a lot of costumes were displayed in the room. Some were complete, some half done or in bad shape; he also had sewing kits, measurement tapes, a lot of stuff to sew, in general. 

There were some boxes in the corner, some papers, and...a pair of legs coming out of behind the boxes. Someone was lying there. 

A stream of blood was dripping from her tight, while the puddle of blood underneath her limp body slowly became wider.

Her skin was pale as snow, and I quickly came to the realisation that she was either dying or...already dead.

Tears soon began flowing down my cheeks, a quiet sob escaping my lips. I couldn't do anything to help her, the only thing I could do was to watch her die, if she was still alive. 

And now...he's really going to do the same to me…? No. It can't happen...it can't.

The thought of myself soon being in the same situation as them even went through my mind for a second, terrifying me. I wasn't sure of it, but it still could be one of the scenarios that could happen. 

Who could even know if he didn't kill other girls? From what we all know, two have been found, and plus the one I just saw, three, or more, I couldn't confirm that; they'd had to search the house, or he'd have to say it to me in one of his possible attempts to threaten me, otherwise, I didn't know if there was more, I seriously hoped that he hasn't killed other girls. 

But, from what I've seen from the way he was acting, he felt...pressured, in a way. I think that when I...got angry, which resulted in him realising that I wasn't going to be the perfect doll he expected me to be, something might have changed in his plans, he imagined that he'd keep me much longer, thinking that I'd be obedient, calm. 

He had his reasons to think like that, I think. It's not really in my habits to flip people off, I'm usually nice in general. Even with weird guys that try to flirt with me for example. I always try to be as nice as possible when trying to tell them I'm not interested. Some aren't really mean in general, they just need a talk to understand.

I had this one teacher in college, back then, I was taking theater classes, thought it might be fun to do that for my last year. It didn't cost anything, and I had nothing to lose if I tried it. It really was fun, I got to make some new friends, discover new plays, and the teacher was really nice with us. He was like a second dad. You could talk of anything to him, he wasn't the type of guy to judge you, he was quite understanding in general. He wouldn't force you to talk unless you wanted to, and wasn't the type to slide in personal conversations. He was pretty friendly, you couldn't really talk bad to him, he was always nice.

What was his name…? I think his family name was something like...Miller? 

Even if it really was that, hundreds of people wear that name, so I'm not even close to finding it; and I was not really in the mood to play guessing games.

I'm currently being kidnapped, so...it's logical.

The door abruptly opened once again, as he turned the light on, a sudden burst of light brightening the room, causing myself to startle out of my thoughts. 

My eyes involuntarily closed, whilst my vision got blurry for a bit, focusing back when it adjusted itself to the light.

His shadow appeared on the floor as he headed towards me; I could even see my own shadow, not having noticed that I was shaking so much until I actually saw it right in front of me.

"Let's have another chat, shall we?" He took a chair, sitting in front of me while taking the mask off his face. "Remember me now?" 

________

SPENCER'S POV

10 hours since the disappearance of y/n

I pushed the glass doors of the 6th floor's office, walking through the hallway, as I made my way to the conference room.

A few minutes ago, I had reached the point where I just couldn't think anymore, I just had to get some air before getting aggressive with the others out of frustration.

Even if I knew that it would be all of the anger I've accumulated talking, and not the usual Spencer they know, I preferred not to go outside with anyone.

I was too distracted over the fact if we would ever find her alive again. If it's the guy that killed the two women, it'll only be a matter of time before he kills her.

When I stepped into the room, I sat by the seat next to Morgan, putting my elbows on the table while my hands rested under my chin.

Papers were scattered all over the table, as everyone's voices raised, arguing on the proofs they had, trying to understand who could be behind that. We only knew what the guy was doing, but had no clue of who it was.

We barely had anything. The only thing we had in stock was that the guy was between 40-50, and that he probably was a theater teacher, but again, it wasn't sure.

The thing was that we didn't even know if this guy was from here or not. He could be a guy that used to live here, and moved somewhere else.

Some argued on the fact that he always lived here, some on the fact that he just drove here so many times that he ended up knowing the city, or some that someone else who actually knew the area drove with him.

We weren't really close to finding any constructive proofs.

As for me, I wasn't close to finding any mental stability yet. My whole mind was a storm, a storm that I don't think anyone in the room would be able to stop.

What if she was already dead?

Although I wished more than anything that she would be okay right now, I couldn't get this thought out of my mind since we knew she was missing.

Her face appeared in my mind, her wonderful smile with it. She would radiate so much joy, that it would always be enough to cheer the team up for a bit whenever we'd work on a complicated case.

She would always care about others before herself. 

Even if we would never ask for it, she would suddenly burst out of the office, and come back a few minutes later with coffee, or even take a few files behind our backs so that we could go home early. She'd take a lot from Matt, JJ and Hotch; but while they'd go home early, she would go home late. 

We would even find her the next morning in the conference room, along with the finished files next to her. We weren't that evil, so we would let her sleep a bit more. 

She'd eventually wake up with a start, claiming that she just closed her eyes and didn't actually fall asleep. 

I always liked it when she tried to cover the fact that she didn't fall asleep, it really was fun.

But, I don't regret once meeting her, I've been in love with her since her first day at the BAU.

She got in about two years after I came in and when I saw her I just...immediately fell in love. Back then, I had shorter hair, and wasn't as sociable as I am today. A lot has changed about my behaviour and personality since. And...I think most of that is thanks to her. She made me a better person. 

15 YEARS AGO, OCTOBER 2005

The previous day, we've all been notified of the arrival of a new member, coming from New Jersey, but Hotch didn't say anything else, probably to keep the element of surprise, and so that they could introduce themselves to us properly. 

We all were excited, a new member meant an additional person to join our family, a new co-worker, a new person to know, it really sounded fun.

The next day, on a Tuesday morning, at exactly 7:40, she entered the office along with Hotchner.

She was trying to keep up with Hotch as he was walking, he was much taller compared to her, so she had some trouble walking at his pace.

They both headed towards his office, probably to talk a bit, sign some papers, I remember doing that on my first day here.

A few minutes later, Hotch and her went out of the room, as she shaked his hand, exchanging a few words.

During the whole time, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. I even waited for her to come out, staring at the door for at least twenty minutes.

The others even tried to call me, but after a few minutes, I think they noticed that the thing I was focused on wasn't the files, 

It was her.

Finally, Morgan decided to come to my desk and move his hand in front of my face, as I blinked, looking at him in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"Hotch called the team five minutes ago, you were apparently too focused on the new one so you haven't even heard him calling us. If you don't want to get lectured by Hotch, get up fast."

"I wasn't focused on her..." I mumbled, while getting up, walking towards the conference room with Morgan.

I entered the room, noticing her next to Hotch, as the others were quietly talking together.

She glanced at me, and gave me a sympathetic smile before walking in my direction.

"Hi, you must be...Spencer Reid, right? I'm y/n y/l/n, it's nice to meet you." She said, reaching out to me.

It took me a few minutes to get out of my bubble, before I came back to reality, looking at her. "Oh, yeah, that's me. It's nice meeting you too." I said, giving her a handshake. 

"Everyone, I think you've all met her now, but let's welcome the new member of our team. She'll be working with us from now on. We all look forward to working with you, agent y/l/n." Hotch said, as everyone clapped once he was done talking, welcoming words following.

And, of course, the following days Garcia kidnapped her a few times in her 'batcave', for getting to know her more, y/n was probably polite, and liked her too much to refuse her invitation, so she would always come, asking Hotch if anything was planned. Penelope wasn't that evil to the point of letting Hotch lecture her.

I enjoyed every moment in her presence. The little time we'd have with each other was more than enough for me. But at the time, I wasn't courageous enough to confess my feelings to her. So, we just were two close friends.

Nothing more.

We really grew closer the following months, we would get coffee for the other one, eat on breaks when we had time, exchange files, but my most favourite things were to see her arriving in the morning, and walk her home at night.

She would always have this beautiful smile on her face whenever she'd greet everyone on her way in. Eventually, I stopped staring at her like an idiot when I'd see her, and talked instead.

She seemed to like my random facts a lot, so before she would arrive, I would write a fact on a piece of paper, and drop it on her desk. She liked that small attention of mine, and kinda began doing the same with cheerful words she'd write on paper or randomly say to me throughout the day.

Slowly, it became a habit.

Our habit.

I liked saying that. It almost sounded like...we were together. 

We weren't until, one day.

I suddenly came to her desk, and asked her out. It was now or never. Because if I hadn't done it back then, I don't know if I would have done it later.

Surprisingly, her first reaction was to cry. I got scared, thinking that she was about to announce that she already had a boyfriend or something else, but instead, she got up, and wrapped her arms around my neck, bringing me in a tight hug. I returned the hug, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"You took a lot of time to ask, I thought you'd never do it." She mumbled, loud enough for me to hear.

Soon enough, the team quietly gathered around, smiles on their faces. They wouldn't see that everyday, so might as well enjoy this moment.

When y/n broke our embrace, her eyes were still watery and a bit puffy because of the crying.

Before y/n even got to, I brought my fingers to her small face, wiping the tears from her eyes, which she immediately responded to with a smile.

Her smile.

That's the reason why I fell in love with her, and recently, asked her to marry me. 

"Hey, Reid. Reid. You there?" A familiar voice said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I then realized it was Morgan a few seconds after.

"Yeah, sorry. Overthinking. I just got stuck in my thoughts for a minute." I said, trying to keep up with what was said previously by listening to Morgan's short resume.

"He kept the first one four days, and the second two days." Emily said, tapping her pen on the table. "Which gives and doesn't give us a correct estimation. But, from that, we could possibly conclude that he would approximately keep her…" 

"Three or four days." I interrupted, while running my hand through my hair, in an exhausted way.

Everyone was exhausted at this point, we didn't even know if we would get the guy once, but mostly, we didn't know if we would be able to find her in time before he decides he wants to kill her. 

We would have this crushing weight on us if we wouldn't manage to save her. We'd not lose an agent, but a member of our family.

And I don't think we'll get up from that.

Derek, Luke and Matt always act like she's their little sister, they like to tease her, take things from her desk and wait for her to notice it, bring her the wrong order before saying that it only was a joke, they really like her.

Emily, JJ, Garcia, and Tara immediately became best friends with her, they really liked going out with her at night, or even hanging out with her in general. She wasn't a big fan of girl nights, but she'd come anyway, it distracted her from all of the stress she had throughout the week because of work. 

Which I understood, because even I like to throw myself on the couch and watch as many Doctor Who episodes as possible till I end up falling asleep. I do that, or just sleep. 

When you work there, get as much sleep as you can because you never know if you'll get called for a case, and when you'll get sleep when you'll start working.

And lastly, Hotch and Rossi are like the fathers she never had. Rossi often invited her to teach her how to cook, chat with her, watch tv, he really is considering her like she's his real daughter. 

Hotch always protected her, he likes to sit down with y/n to talk whenever she feels down, needs help with files, and she really looks up to him. He still lectures her sometimes, but he doesn't mean any harm. 

They both are like her fathers, the fathers that I'm sure she would have wished for. 

So, losing her would be the worst thing to ever happen to us right now.

From now on, every single second would be crucial. I could not permit myself to get distracted; it was a matter of life or death from now on. 

Even if I had to go to the guy's place myself, I'd do it.

I would risk my life for hers.

I would do everything for her.

She's my everything.

Her life always mattered more than mine. She'd always say to me that I should stop saying that, but I meant it, it was absolutely true. I would have never lied to her about that, or anything else.

She always supported me in all of the imaginable ways. She never left my side once. Even when I'd beg to stay alone, she would come anyway. She always came.

Y/N always felt bad when she couldn't come to a date we've had planned, by making sure to bake something for me the next day. I never got mad, if she couldn't come, it was totally alright.

Everyone would sometimes get sick, or too busy with files. But no matter what I'd say to her so that she'd know that it was okay, I would continually find something she baked for me on my desk. 

Losing her was my worst nightmare.

A nightmare that could become reality if we didn't find her in time.

"I'm sure we'll find her. You'll marry your girl, don't worry." Morgan said, a slight smile on his face. He probably was trying his best at being positive.

"I know you're supposed to think positively in these cases, but I just can't. If it's that guy, who knows if he's not going to kill her off, who knows if she's not already dead, I don't know what to think of anymore." I said, tears forming in the corner of my eyes.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. We'll do everything to find her. I promise, okay? Now calm down, you have to be strong for her."

"Yeah, I know, I know. We'll find her." 

The rest of the day consisted of piles of papers, some short naps, coffee, emotional breakdowns, everyone was overwhelmed by the situation.

I never had to deal with it before, so I didn't know what to do, how to manage all my emotions, I was completely lost.

Just a month ago, I proposed to her, and now we're supposed to get married. I don't even know when. 

It's not easy to plan something without it risking to be cancelled at the last minute because of a case. You can even get called at 2AM. 

These last weeks, we actually planned to organise the wedding, but just when we had free time to do it; two cases appeared. I'm even wondering if we'll ever have time to do the actual wedding at this point.

We were supposed to discuss it this weekend. Garcia even wanted to help us, she adores weddings. It's the first one she'll get to organise. She was so excited when I asked for her help. 

And now, all of our joy and excitement from the last days shattered in pieces when we heard of what had happened.

We all were devastated.

________

A few minutes earlier, Garcia had returned to her office, probably wanting some alone time. I knew she didn't really like to show her emotions in front of everyone, she finds it embarrassing. 

Everyone was pretty much doing the same, trying to stay strong even through I know we all were on the verge of tears.

I was about to walk out of the room to talk to Morgan who had come back to his desk, when my phone loudly vibrated. I quickly noticed that it was a call, whilst I answered, placing the phone to my ear.

"Spencer, you need to come, now." Garcia said, with a panicked tone, hanging up before I even got to place a word.

Apparently, she had sent the message to everyone; some of the team members were already there.

I headed into the room, as all my hopes shattered at the sight of what I've just seen on Garcia's monitors. 

I swore I almost heard her voice for a moment.

I wished for it to be true.

At that moment, I felt like everything around me was collapsing. 

Hotch was the last to come in, closing the door after entering, as he headed to where I was, his hand now resting on my shoulder.

We're almost there y/n. Almost there.

__________

Taglist: @amanda-rotigliano , @thatsonezesty13 , @eevee0722 ,

A/N (2): I hope you liked the chapter! I'm sorry it took so long,, I had a lot of struggle writing it haha- See you soon for the next and probably last chapter. The post that will close this story after the 3rd chapter will be the Epilogue.

[helenazbmrskai]

ONE TIME BOY [SPACE] FRIEND

👠Pairing: Jimin x fem! reader 👠Genre: makeover au, best friends to lovers au, gender bender au, beauty contest au 👠Warnings: light smut, semi-public oral (f and m receiving), mirror kink, cameo crazy girl hungry to be miss universe lol 👠Summary: Rejected by your long-time crush using the excuse of not being girly enough your best friend offers you his shoulder to cry on, his eyes land on the daily newspaper advertising the local beauty contest and he gets an excellent idea.  

👠Words: 10k

👠Masterlist

”Man, I’m impressed you got an A in Mrs Hoster’s class. It’s notorious that she’s a real bitch with gradings.” I hear the rustling of papers and an oddly familiar laugh overpowering the previous noise the corridor is empty despite those two and me apparently. I stop in my tracks not intently but hiding behind the corner, they have no idea I’m here it’s a blind spot but hearing his voice getting stronger they need to be walking this way.

Mrs Hoster? I’m in her class too. I peek around the corner to see to whom this voice belongs to it’s badly familiar.

”Y/N helped me write the essay so it was an easy job.”

I turned around just in time to avoid getting caught. I closed my eyes for a split second the cold white wall helped me to steady the beating of my heart. It’s Han and his friend I recall his name is something Wu? I’m not sure I don’t interact with Han’s friends he’s the one who always hangs around my friends.

”Did you slept together?” Wu asks and my face turns red immediately. How vulgar not that I’m surprised just caught off guard. Han laughs again.

”No, I’m not interested in girls like her. She’s like a boy.” Looking down on my clothes the baggy shirt and ripped jeans my hair is long at least. I know I’m not the most stylish girl on campus but calling me a boy was a bit harsh considering I wrote everything in that essay of his the only thing he did is writing down the title but I’m not going around school telling my best friend he’s stupid.

”I know, I can’t believe she’s roommates with Jimin maybe he thinks she’s another dude or something too.” The audacity.

”Don’t mention him he keeps his guards on whenever he sees me with her it’s annoying. I’m lucky she’s wiped because knowing that guy his humanitarian soul already told her she’s used and I need my grades. The only thing she’s usable for is homework.” The annoyance is evident in his voice I don’t need to look to imagine how he pinches his nose between two of his fingers while talking.

My teeth clashed together with anger. Calling me a boy is one thing but pulling the honey string before my nose is something only a jerk would do. Yes, he’s handsome I admit that and I hoped for something to go forward between us and how foolish I was to think that. He wanted to think we stand a chance it was his plan all along and he used me. Jimin warned me. He told me this will happen.

"Are you seriously going to stop being Han's little puppy?" The question stirs me awake I feel like someone under a spell after what I witnessed I became awfully quiet around my friend and she noticed the change in my behaviour immediately. We arranged this meet up before I overheard the conversation with Han in fact I was on my way to her when it’s happened my mood was pretty good. I can’t tell the same half an hour later.

I stop mid-bite and aim my sauce-covered index finger to poke her nose but she dodged it before I could ruin her makeup. I abandon the plan and instead I use a napkin to clean my hands I look down on my plate which is still full of comfort food I thought that if I drown myself in junk food it would lift my mood but I couldn't be any more wrong about this.

Rori almost doesn't catch the sound of my tired sigh because of the Mcdonalds’ heavily crowded space by the time lunchtime rolled around the corner it's a miracle that we were able to find a tiny table with two seats inside.

"I wasn't his puppy." I spit the words out gnashing my teeth. Not very ladylike but bloody hell that I would care since I’m a boy I may act like one. "Also it was just a silly crush not that it will ever be more. It's time to move on. I'm too old to have this stupid high school like interest." Yes, I’m a grown-ass woman studying at a University.

"Uh-huh." Rori rolls her eyes suspicious about my sudden change of heart if I'm going to, be honest, there is nothing more that could go wrong on this day I tripped in front of at least 10 people when I was going to the toilet just before I was going to tell my friend how I was humiliated by my crush of 2 years. A very good day if you ask me.

"Jimin knows about this?" I look her dead in the eye conveying the message without words knowing where this conversation going I abandon my food entirely I nibble on my straw drinking my medium-sized coke occasionally. "So he doesn't." She states it sarcastically with her light green gel polished nails annoyingly drumming on the surface of the table.

"It's none of his business anyway." I drink the last drops of the coke before tossing the empty cup on the tray nearly knocking the fries out of their container.

"Why the sour face Y/N. He would be upset if he heard that. Aren't you guys are like besties and stuff?"

Now is not the time to be jealous.

"He's not a cry baby Rori. And we are best friends without the 'besties and stuff'. I thought you liked him." She nods in confirmation stealing one of my fries chewing them in a manner that makes people disgusted.

”We are besties and stuff.” I tell her with a grin and she finally smiles too. We’re like two peas in a pot the memory is still vivid when I first bumped into her quite literally. I was panicking since I didn’t know the route to my first class and on top of that I overslept on my first day she was no better.

”But back to the topic, girl, I’m on your side Han is a five-star shit head. I’m glad you finally realised that.” She’s right like always.

”The resident fuckface, huh?” I sent her a lopsided smile and she raised her hand to give me a thumbs up. Her favourite game is to give people alternative names. Han’s called the resident bad boy around here, she has an alternative option that I begin to like more and more.

”That’s the spirit. Want a ride? It’s going to rain soon.” Rori uses the napkins to clean our mess on the table. There’s no need for sherlock to see why we are still single. We eat like a pig starved for days. Looking out the window her words seem to be accurate the clouds covered the sun and the temperature decreased.

”Nah. I’m just going to be like the protagonist in your favourite rom-com and walk home in the pouring rain sadness devouring my soul while I drench like a homeless.”

Rori rolled her eyes at my dramatic response. ”That was awfully specific.” I shrug, getting up to dispose of the leftovers into a nearby bin.

 With my eyes glued to the screen I pop another sickeningly sweet caramel popcorn into my mouth I surrounded myself with fuzzy blankets enjoying the late afternoon with binge-watching my all-time favourite series. Warming my cold feet under the comforter I remind myself not to forget to turn down the heater around the time Jimin comes home.

My hair is wetly clinging to my back soaking the headrest of the sofa I take a glance outside it’s still raining hard. As soon as I got home I changed my clothes but let my hair dry itself without making any effort it doesn't matter if I get sick or not. This way maybe I can avoid Han for a few days at least. Walking in the rain like a kicked puppy was not something I anticipated while waking up this morning but I guess I have to work with what I have.

After I was beyond the sadness the anger came, remembering all the times when he asked me to help with his essays or research projects and like a fool, I went out of my way to do that. It's for the better honestly if I observe the situation from a different perspective he was just using me and it's time for me to get over this silly crush of mine. I don’t even know what was I thinking.

Knowing what’s best is one thing but I'm still hurting I was pinning after him for over two years we share the same classes and we run in the same circles of friends. How can I possibly avoid him when I have to see him every day and skipping classes is not an option? It’s ridiculous and I’m not five anymore to solve my problems cowardly.

The only thing went right this day that Jimin is caught up with his classes so he won't be coming home until late. He sent me a text earlier that his professor wanted to keep that lesson which was cancelled last week so he won't be home as usual.

I didn't want him to see me like this so I embraced all of my pent up frustration and let everything out so I can act as if nothing happened when it’s time to face him. I can imagine how pissed off Jimin would be if he knew I didn't take a shower after arriving home in my soaked clothes and instead I rummaged through our apartment to seize up every gift and memory regarding him to throw it out. The passerby’s probably thought I’m some kind of a crazy chick throwing out my boyfriend's stuff from the 8th floor into the rain as a form of revenge and maybe they’re not so wrong considering that I just yelled through the window and told everyone to fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend but it felt good enough not to care.

I don't want to tell Jimin what I overheard since he always told me Han is a jerk and I shouldn't have wasted my time on useless scumbags like him. The plot twist is that he was right but I don't need to hear that I stopped denying that I knew that deep down but too stubborn to admit it.

I wanted my high school crush to notice me and have my silly happy ending. But in fact, this is not a Disney movie and I’m not a princess with a destinated prince charming. Knowing Jimin’s kind heart he would never rub salt into my open wound he would rather sit with me and watch sappy romcoms saying those sweet nothings like I'll find someone who deserves all of my attention and stuff like that. He would never say ‘I told you so’ in a mocking tone spicing it up with an eye roll like Rori did not long ago.

"Gilmore girls? Uh-huh, I smell something fishy here missy." Surprised to hear my roommate I glance away from the tv giving his form an attentive look. Jimin shakes the droplets out of his hair placing his umbrella next to the pile of shoes by the door after he got rid of his boots the keys metal clinking heard as he dropped them into the bowl on the counter. He stops in his tracks taking in with his eyes my torn up appearance.

"Why is your hair wet? You didn’t walk home in the rain, did you?" He hastily takes off his jacket and throws it on the couch sitting down next to me.

I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn't hear when the front door opened. I shrugged, indicating that it's no biggie I glance away from him and stare at the tv watching as the romantic scene unfolds on the screen. Fucking perfect even my favourite show is making fun of me.

"Did you forgot to bring your umbrella again? I told you this morning that it'll rain sweetheart." Distracted by the sweet words of worry I let his comforting heat envelop me as our sides pressed up together on the couch. To an outsider, it would seem like he lectures me on my goldfish memory but I see it in his eyes how worried he looks the soft glint in them always tells me how much he cares about me. Jimin envelopes me in a hug stroking my arm up and down in vertical movements attempting to warm me up.

"I'm fine." I tell him I bury my nose into the juncture of his neck the cold touch awakes goosebumps along his skin he shivers but pulls me closer to his warm body. It’s nice being here with him I would go that far saying that I could almost forget why I was in a bad mood before.

"You're freezing cold Y/N." So warm I could sleep like this even though I turned up the heater the cold seeped into my skin I was struggling to keep myself warm maybe it was a mistake that I didn't head for the showers after arriving home. But throwing his stuff out felt so good knowing myself I would do that again, call me impulsive.

"Sorry." I murmur it into his skin he chuckles as he circles my waist with his arms to push our chests flat against each other his warm palms stroking my back the warmth trickles through the thin t-shirt I'm wearing. So this is how it feels like to have your personal heater suddenly I’m jealous of his previous girlfriends.

Not that I was ever not. Jimin is like a living equivalent of a beautiful enigma. Handsome like he was sculpted by the gods itself paired up with a very sweet and honest heart he is a jackpot well hit. And then there’s me not particularly pretty or nice and he still calls me his little angel or nowadays he seems to call me in all sort of sweet names, princess, shortcake, baby name it all he said it.

"Will you tell me why are you upset, baby?" Here we are with the nicknames again I wonder if he noticed it or he does it subconsciously. Of course, he knows something is up with me he reads me so well that it's kinda scary sometimes. Am I an open book to him or is he this generous and caring?

I always envied his caring personality in campus everyone likes Jimin he acts like an angel he listens well and gives good advice he encouraged me when I was planning to leave my studies and drop out on my second year. We are roommates since my first year here he is a year above me and through friend’s advice, we moved in together.

At first, I was resisting intimidated by the thought that he is a senior and I was just a newbie but he never stopped trying even though that I didn't show any reaction at first he kept talking to me and showering me with tiny gifts like cute notebooks and one bite foods he did most of the housework too since he claimed that being new to all of this I should focus on my studies until I got the hang of everything telling me that he was very stressed in his first year so he understands my struggles. I often think about if he is true or not that he is not just existing in my delusional head because he’s an amazing friend and an even more amazing roommate. It feels unreal that I have him.

"It's stupid." I hide my face I try to enjoy the rhythmic sound of his chest heaving lulling me to sleep. I don’t want to burden him with my rant.

"Nothing is stupid for me in the regards of you." The soft words make me keen he aligns our faces so he can meet my eye I scowl at the lost contact and he smiles seeing it. I'm sure he is aware of the reactions he extorts out of me.

"Do you want a punch?" I poke his forehead using my index finger trying to get rid of that charming smile but it just grows wider. My plan always backfires.

"Always so violent." He grabs my finger scraping it lightly with his teeth playfully seeing the horrified look on my face he smirks after attaching my soul back to my body I pull my finger out of his mouth yelling and smearing the excess saliva onto his shirt in disgust.

"Ugh! What is wrong with you?" I yell moving to the far side of the sofa looking at my finger in disbelief. He stands up clearly entertained by my reaction but he turns back before entering my room.

"Where's your blowdryer? You'll get sick if you leave your hair like this." Folding my legs under me I lock eyes with his waiting ones.

"In my drawer." I tell him and he gives me a confirming nod in return.

He comes back after a couple of minutes he has my drier in his left hand motioning for me to face away from him on the sofa so he could get access to my hair. I get comfortable as he plugs in the electric part while delicate fingers comb through my locks untangling the knots before turning the device on.

"I wish you would take better care of yourself Y/N. What would you do if I weren't here?" I lean into his gentle touch loving the way he rubs my scalp it feels like a massage not like how I usually blow dry my hair.

Now that I know what it's like I want him to dry my hair every day. But that's how Jimin works he always makes sure I'm alright he puts extra care into his motions silently helping me unwind. He’s like this with everyone and I’m aware of that but manages to make me feel special every time I guess it’s a special skill he has.

I scoot a little closer to Jimin’s body while walking which didn't go unnoticed by either on Han’s or Jimin’s side but it’s not enough to halter Han's wide smile as he greets me. As usual, he ignores Jimin and the feeling is mutual nothing out of the ordinary. I greet him back but lacking the enthusiasm which used to lace my tone. Now it’s something out of the ordinary.

"Hey Y/N, so when are we going to do that project I talked to you about? I'm free after classes today how about we meet up at our usual spot in the campus cafe?" Jimin was going to excuse himself from the situation as he did every time before but this time I hold him in place by his long sleeves I gritted my teeth holding back my witty comeback alongside the punch I want oh so badly to deliver, but what would I get out of it? He'll just jump to the next girl with better grades to help his ungrateful ass and I'm sure he won't give a flying damn about me or my feelings.

"Actually I have plans later with Jimin." I tell him holding onto Jimin's shirt for emphasis. He's lost for words for a second I never told him no before but he composed himself quickly offering a smile but this time a little tight-lipped.

"Oh, I see. Then how about tomorrow?" I let out an annoyed huff. Just who does he think he is?

"Listen to me very well resident fuckface because I'm going to tell you this once." The threat apparent in my voice he automatically steps back not used to the tone I deliver while I step forward. In the corner of my eye, I catch Jimin’s silhouette keeping his laughter inside because of the name Rori got him. It felt good to finally say it to his face.

"I heard you. Was it funny to use me? You're saying that I'm ugly and ungirly for you to date but happily let me do your homework since it's the only thing I'm useful for. Yes, I had a crush on you and yes I knew you were using me but it was a bit too much even for me to hear you laugh with your friend saying that you are not interested in fucking a boy." By the time I was done talking Jimin's protective hand found mine but I was too furious to appreciate the gesture to its full potential.

"What? I .. I didn't mean .. that Y/N I was just fooling around. Don't be a baby about it." Hearing the response angered Jimin he stepped protectively in front of me and grabbed him by the collar. I was afraid that he's going to hit him but I wasn't worried about Han. I was worried about Jimin he's too nice to hit someone.

"It's ok Jimin. Let's just go." I place my palm on his shoulder I felt calmer since I let out all my pent up anger he looks back seeing my worried expression he lets Han's shirt go.

He must mistake my worry since he strides to the building where his morning classes are held with a sour face. I go after his retreating form ignoring the yells from Han he is not important at the moment.

We planned an early morning coffee together what a shame we had to collide with Han on the way now we don't have time to grab it but I don't want Jimin to think I was protecting Han because that's not the truth. Jimin was always more important than him and he should know that. What would be even nicer than that to not voice it out and still being understood. Where is his mind-reading power when I need it?

"Jimin!" I yell his name I caught his arm as he was about to enter the building I dragged him to the side not wanting to make a scene out of the situation or block the entry.

"Can you listen to me for a second." I plead in a calm voice he looks at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He's not angry nor happy he looks completely neutral which is scarier to see than him acting all angry.

"I didn't want to meddle with your business Y/N because it's not something I have the right to do but I can't watch it anymore that you let this pathetic crush of yours destroy you. He was toying with you the whole time and you didn't care. Are you stupid or something? And even now you are worried about him. He deserved a punch but I guess since it's ok with you.."

"Stop." I warn him. He acknowledges the hurt in my eyes but it's too late. He regrets how rude he was I can see it in the way he shamefully hangs his head low.

"I wasn't worried about him! I was worried about you! Even though he deserved that punch I didn't want you to be the bad guy at the end." I tell him the reason. Knowing Han’s spineless nature he would have spread rumours about Jimin being aggressive or even worse.

"Baby." He starts but I shake my head not letting him comfort me with his touch. He's going to be late anyway. He needs to go to class his teacher is strict on punctuality.

"Don't baby me. Is that what you really think of me? A fool?" Onlookers started to form in the vicinity the only thing missing was the popcorn in their hands. Why everyone here lives for the drama?

I know I wasn't always reasonable but Jimin should know best that it was a crush and I never had a real relationship to compare it to and I was, yes, foolishly preserving the false hope that someday maybe we could be something.

But it happens to all of us, no? I just wanted what everyone else has someone to call and introduce as my boyfriend.

I'm lonely. But hearing it from him from all the people I know Jimin was the one I was comfortable with talking about this since I knew he wouldn't make fun of me.

"I'm just concerned about you. Please Y/N don't look at me like that." He wrapped his fingers around my palm stroking the flesh with his thumb hoping to get back to my right side. He has a habit of being touchy in reprehensible situations.

"Let's talk about this later. You'll be late for class." I take a glance at my wristwatch taking it as an opportunity to shake his touch off.

"I don't want you to leave angry." He catches my wrist before I could walk away. We rarely fight so Hoseok is stunned into silence when he sees us in this position.

"Hi Hobi." I greet him before taking my leave this time Jimin doesn't stop me.

"I appreciate the attempts Jimin but you know it's not edible right?" I look up with hopeful eyes that I don't need to take a pity bite. He's very sweet but he definitely doesn't get the skills in terms of cooking and I would like to live a happy and long life.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't know how else to ask for your forgiveness. We never fight and I didn't know what to do."

I take this chance to really look at him. He has my apron tied around his waist with bold letters the words 'kiss the cook' labelling the front I remember I got this for my birthday last year from him he's kinda cute in it I admit that. He fidgets in his spot in front of me taking my silence as a bad sign but I'm not someone who holds grudges for long and Jimin is one of the few people I can't even do that with even if I tried. He's just too nice.

"I know you were just looking out for me. I know you didn't mean it because I know you." I tell him offering a smile along the way so he won't overthink it and in hopes of we can get rid of this plate of trash he dares to call food.

"You're very important to me you know right?" He murmurs the words into my hair he hugs me tight and I hug him back stroking his back reassuringly. The angle is not the most comfortable one considering that I’m still in a sitting position so I had to twist my torso to hug him back and he’s taller too.

"Of course I know Jiminie." I beam.

"You never call me Jiminie unless you want me to feel better. You should be angry with me and flipping the dining table on my face." The way he pouted while talking made the situation funnier.

I laugh at the image.

"I know I'm a bit violent sometimes, but you don't think I would really shove the dining table into your face right?" I gently push him back to see his eyes I'm actually concerned if he knows that or not.

"I know." He nods giggling at how concerned my face looks.

"Good. Now that we talked about this, clean this mess up so I can cook something that can be consumed." I shoo him to start cleaning.

”Have you ever entertained the idea of reaching out for the military to get this listed on the biohazard weaponry?” I playfully ask and he gives me a glare. It was worth it.

He pecks my cheek before he begins loading the burnt food inside the bin. "What would I do without you?"

I hope it’s not an actual heart I see in his eyes because maybe I have to consider flipping that dining table.

"You would be still relying on the emergency food your mother sends you." I reply with the same playfulness he momentarily stopped every movement to look back at me, surprised that I know about his little secret.

"Who told you that? It was Hoseok, wasn't it?" He manages to look at me with narrowed eyes.

"It's fine. You do a lot of stuff for me so cooking for you is really nothing. And I love how you eat like a pig it means you really love it." The narrowness dissolves into a big grin and dilated pupils.

"The girls I dated didn't phrase it like that." He chuckles.

"What did they didn't like about that? You are so adorable when your cheeks are full of food. I mean I was going crazy about your munching noises but I'm used to it now." I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly I remember how at first I wasn't able to sit at the same table as him I always disliked the sound of munching but now I don't even notice it sometimes.

"I know what Han said hurt you Y/N. But you know it's not true right?" He asks in a more serious tone the previous light atmosphere went gloomy so fast.

"Which one? That no one would want to fuck a tomboy like me? Or that I'm only good for making others homework?" I say it jokingly but he was buying none of my bullshit. He knows I'm still pretty upset about it.

"Neither of those." I'm flattered how severely he stated it at least one of us are confident in me.

"How would you know that? I didn't do either of those for you." I roll my eyes anyway I'm not that easy to convince. Self-love and rainbows and shit are not something I'm currently feeling. Saying nice things is what flows through Jimin’s veins more than blood. He is that nice.

"You are beautiful Y/N and I have an idea of how we are going to get back at Han." The lunatic laugh he does scares me but I curiously ask what he meant by that.

"What's that?" I ask straining my neck to see the advertisement. I shouldn't have done that. The article on the front page alarms me with bold letters. Under the words a girl with very white teeth on display putting the toothpaste commercials to shame. The catchy slogan seeping out of her mouth ’try out your beauty here and don’t forget the most important thing is not winning but also to gain experience’ What a full of crap saying. Only the ones who don’t win say shit like that.

My skin pales as soon as I see the way Jimin eyes me.

"The hell to the fuck no. A beauty contest? Are you insane? I'm not going to do that." Only for my words to fell on deaf ears.

"Is this really necessary Jimin?" My voice is full of uncertainty. I don’t remember the last time I went to see a hairdresser maybe when I was back in my hometown. And if I remember correctly it was for my high school graduation. Time flies fast.

"Yes, it is babe. You're going to look the best I'm sure you'll rank first place and make your ex-crush poop his pants." I roll my eyes but I can't help the laughing noises escaping my sealed lips. The assistant shows me the seat that I take with a shy following ’thank you’. I’m suddenly feeling nervous about this.

"At this point, I would rather do this because of you. I want to make you proud of me." I avoid his eyes I feel bashful enough that I dared to say it out loud for him to hear.

"But sweetheart I'm already proud of you." His palms rested on the back of my chair we were still waiting for the hairdresser to start her magic on me. We lock eyes through the mirror in front of me due to the eye contact Jimin’s eyes turn darker with a feeling I can’t truly decipher I haven’t seen him acting like this. I open my mouth to question his stare when the assistant’s high voice interrupts me.

"How long have you been guys dating? You're such a lovely couple." I catch Jimin’s widening smile he’s watching me not rushing to correct the girl like I do.

"Oh. We are not dating! Just friends." I tell the truth blushing.

"My pardon, I thought..."

"Anyone would be lucky to have such a cute girlfriend." Jimin cuts the girl’s apology making me focus on him again. Why is he like that? It’s not normally how he is. No, he’s just being nice again, right, that’s the reason.

"I don't know about that." I shyly comment. Don’t know what else to say.

Only then I can finally breathe when the lady arrives Jimin takes his place further away sitting down on one of the chairs in a row before the wall at the other side, scrolling through his phone since the professional said it will take some time to finish.

”Do you have something in mind?” I think for a while before shaking my head I haven’t thought about that honestly. It was Jimin’s idea in the first place.

”Um, curling it? Cutting the dead ends?” I offer and the lady nods with a friendly smile she starts working soon.

After the hair salon, we went shopping for a dress. He did all the reading while he applied for me and made a list of things we needed to get done before the Pageant. The first was to get my hair fixed the second one is to find a dress for the ending ceremony.

I struggle to bound the backside of the dress but to no avail, I can't reach the zipper on my own.

"Jimin?" I call his name rather uncertainly but it's the better option since I don't want the guy shop assistant with the rude attitude to touch me plus I trust Jimin. It's just a dress he saw me dressed up before so I don't know why I can't calm down the stupid pounding of my heart. It’s probably because of the way he stared at me through the mirror I tell this to myself.  

"Yes princess, do you need help?" Now is not the time to think about inappropriate thoughts it’s Jimin we are talking about. A friend. I clear my throat before speaking hoping that the words will come out steady.

"Actually yes. I can't get this dress up can you come in and help me?"

I hold the front of the dress not to reveal too much skin this dress is so tight that I needed to get rid of my bra since my body won't fit in the front of the dress otherwise, I'm pretty sure the line of my panty shows as well but it felt too much to remove.

"You look beautiful." The praise made my heart melt his eyes shimmered in adoration as he found my gaze through the mirror he maintained eye contact while he reached for the zipper of the dress he touched the upper part of my ass accidentally my cheeks flushed in pink he rested his other hand on my shoulder keeping the dress together. What’s with him and mirrors? He seems to act differently when one’s around.

"Thanks." I whisper bashfully the tiny booth suddenly feels too hot not sure if it's from embarrassment or from something else I cannot put my finger on. He steps back admiring the dress and how I look in it with the help of his hand still resting on my shoulder he turns me to face him he looks up and down memorising my body seeing his gaze I feel exposed even though I know I'm wearing clothes. Partially.

"Hmm. So pretty." He slides his fingers down the length of my arm with gentle motions stopping at my elbow pushing my body flush against him my back collides with the booth's thin wall with a soft thud as I tried to gain back some distance.

The sweet cologne hits my nose with his eyes hooded he looks down mere centimetres away from my lips. He licks his telling me without words that he wants to kiss me looking between my lips and eyes for confirmation but he is soon done waiting.

I was about to protest when he leaned in which results in that our teeth clash but it doesn't deter him from kissing me harder connecting our lips together firmer with the pad of his finger Jimin caresses my jawline guiding my face to follow his lead. I can feel the soft press of his warm tongue asking for permission when the shopping assistant calls for us.

"Everything is alright?" He asks I'm sure he has his own ideas what's happening in here. We pant into each other's mouths we separated as soon as the assistant's voice reached our ears but Jimin didn't step back as I thought he would.

"Yes. The zipper was stuck but it's fine now." Jimin tells the guy and he seems to let that stay at that not intruding further. Jimin's cheek appears to be as pink as mine which makes me a little less nervous.

 "I don't want to do this." I protest what feels like the 100th time this day.

We are currently sitting in the library and looking up topics for me fashin magazines littered in the tiny table and for almost 30 minutes since we got here Jimin's knee painfully touching my thighs under the table but I'm too afraid to voice it out.

Am I a bad person? Moving on this fast and pinning after my best friend like an affection starved bitch. Han was a jerk but Jimin is very nice which makes it ten times worse.

After our shared kiss in the changing booth, Jimin seems too normal. Am I the only one affected by it? I’m at the conclusion that it wasn’t even real and my head just played tricks with me cruelly. What frustrates me more is that I haven’t got a full taste and it’s affecting me nonetheless.

”Hmm.” He hums distracted not paying attention to my whining. He turns a page his face lit up as he positions the magazine to let me see its content. There’s a tall girl in a nice dress and each side there’s an article about manners. I almost roll my eye at that. Manners and I are not very familiar with each other.

”What about it? I thought I just have to say I want world peace and cry a little but you actually think about the topic I have to talk about?”

I remember him saying that in one of the rounds I have to talk about a chosen topic for ten to fifteen minutes. He’s more serious about this than I thought at first. Why do I find his determination cute and hot at the same time? Something is clearly wrong with me.

”World peace? It’s not Miss Congeniality Y/N.” He puts the article down laughing with his head thrown back but soon composes himself when the librarian warns us to be quiet or we have to leave.

”Yes, Jimin be quiet.” I retort however my smile vanishes when he leans closer his hand flat against my thigh.

”Did you say something?” His breath fanning my face he keeps his voice down this time. I don’t dare to look down his hand is awfully close to where I don’t want it to be and especially not in a library.

It’s like a switch is turned off and on in him at the most unexpected moments.

"You're being touchy again. Are you going to glare at every single male until we are done?" The corridor is busy with people and Jimin refuses to leave my side opting for helping me find the sitting room.

I wasn’t feeling nervous when I woke up this morning but getting closer and closer for the competition to end the nerves making my stomach flip in an uncomfortable way was getting stronger with every second.

"I'm just making sure you are safe, sweetheart men are wolves you know." He secures his jumper to cover my front. This bikini wasn't even that revealing for fuck's sake. Although he’s unnecessary protectiveness was enough to channel my focus into something else.

"You are a man." I state the obvious looking deadly into his eyes articulating the word ’man’ for emphasis.

I'm kind of done with his overprotective behaviour. He kissed me and now he thinks he is some kind of older brother for me. I honestly don't know what to think. And the way he teased me in the library. There’s no way he wasn’t aware of his hands on my body.

"But I'm allowed to look at you they're not." The little whiny edge in his voice doesn’t melt me this time he’s being childish. It sits on the tip of my tongue to say what makes you think that you have my permission, but I refrain from doing so.

"Jimin it's like the same when we are at the beach it's just a bikini and they will see it eventually when I go on stage." I decided to use another approach instead.

"I'm suddenly not sure about this. How about we get out of here?" The hand holding the jumper up strengthens on my body.

"Calm down. You made me do this so we're going to do this." I say it like there’s no room for discussion.

Two people were eager to make their existence visible while we were bantering I can’t say I was dying to see Han and his new puppet. Han wasn’t even aware it’s me next to Jimin I guess a little dress change and makeup do wonders.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here?" I can’t say the same. Despite the thought, I remain silent but thinking again I straighten my back and call her out on her words. She’s a year above us I remember this girl because she’s always noisy in class. She retakes one of our classes that’s why my year knows her in the first place.

"Are you asking or stating it?" I roll my eyes Han's hand curves around the girl's waist holding her close.

Really her? He must be fucking her because there’s no way she can write his essays for him.

"Y/N?" Han's unsure voice makes me satisfied. Call me now ungirly you prick if you dare. But I can’t relish in the feeling because her highness speaks again.

"I meant it's nice that you are here since there will be a winner and we always need a loser." I’m not going to mention how unreal this girl looks. Her hair is blonde but it’s the doll-like artificial kind of blonde. It’s stereotypical but her voice is making me cringe it’s like she swallowed a toy duck the kind which whistles when it’s clenched.

"Hold your fake tits Y/N's going to win." I never heard Jimin using explicit words before I'm shocked beyond belief. Han’s eyes linger on the way Jimin holds me close, it looks like he knows something I don’t.

"5 minutes!" Hearing the yelling of the staff it's our cue to leave.

"What was that?" I'm struggling to hold back my laughter. We finally arrive in front of the door where a huge sign says the sitting room.

"She insulted you. I'm not going to watch this chick looking down on you." It’s just now that he releases his hold letting the jumper fall.

"And I'm thankful. The only validation I need is from you Jimin. Do you really think I look ok?" I’m nervous it’s totally out of my league to be here. The thoughts about those two leaving my brain easily.

"Look ok? You look gorgeous. Keep that in mind that after this day no matter what happens you'll remain the winner in my eyes." He massages my shoulders his fingers dig into my flesh in a calming manner.

"That means you’re going be proud even if I'm last?" He shakes his head in disbelief he has more faith in me than I have in myself.

"Don't say that. Have a little faith in you darling."

I smile as soon as I saw Jimin's figure lingering by the door our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror I put my flowers down on top of the dressing table reaching for him to receive a congratulation hug. I can’t say I'm disappointed that I'm not finished in the first place but I'm kind of happy because I ranked third place which is quite the achievement on my part and it all thanks to Jimin.

Grabbing my hips when he gets close enough he crashes our mouths together in a hot kiss moving his lips skilfully against mine with unconcealed eagerness like he waited years to do that. He steps closer traping my body between his body and the dressing table angling my head to slip his tongue into my mouth. He’s not as gentle as before.

"Jimin." I pant. "But I didn't get first place." I reason but he shuts me up with another kiss on my abused lips he gets my lower lip between his teeth basking in my reactions I let my eyes flutter open seeing his face this close he looks like an angel the only thing giving him away is that his eyes hid not so innocent thoughts.

"I told you. You're a winner in my eyes. Do you want your reward sweetness?" He kisses my earlobe after releasing my lip whispering into it before he moves down to pepper the exposed skin on my neck with wet open-mouthed pecks.

"Jimin, we are in public. Someone might see us." I try not to give in so easily but it was hard controlling my needs since the sexual tension grew tenfold after our little kiss inside the changing booth and the library. Shit, his mouth feels good on my heated skin.

"They're celebrating the winner no one will search for us for a while. How about we hold our little celebration as we wait?" The suggestion makes my eyes roll back into the back of my skull my legs shake in anticipation and he grins seeing my lust-filled expression.

"You're unbelievable. Do you want to fuck me in a dressing room while anyone could see us? Is that a kink of yours?" My head clears a little as he backs away looking at his reflection behind us in the mirror.

"I'm not going to fuck you here baby." His eyes focus on me again caressing the skin on my waist the gesture is lovely but I can't help feeling disappointed hearing his words. Of course, he wouldn't want to fuck me what was I thinking. We are talking about Jimin he could have everyone, of course, it's not me who he wants.

"Oh." I cannot help but let out a disappointed yelp he must sense my anxiety since he continues.

"This is just the foreplay don't be disappointed cheesecake. I'm planning on worshipping your body and we have no time for that here. I'm willing to wait to fuck you till we get home until then I just need a quick taste." He plays with the band of my underwear showing his intentions he undoes just the right side of the bow keeping the material in place revealing a part of my skin there.

"Bold of you to assume I'm going to let you." Hearing my mocking voice he places his palm against my heat making me moan out with how precisely he moves his fingers. It was embarrassingly easy to make me shut up and he loves it.

"Did you say something? I didn't hear you." He never falters his ministrations his index finger slips under the fabric feeling the wetness that gathered there he moans into my ear after he places a quick kiss to the underside of my collarbone.

"I said hurry the fuck up." I take hold of his biceps the slow-motion his one finger provides soon feels not enough to satisfy me.

"Since it's your prize I'm not going to tease you this time." He slowly drops down to his knees seeing him in front of me is enough to moan out and he cannot stop the light chuckle leaving his lips the lips he’s going to wrap around my heat.

"I was waiting to get you out of those the moment I saw you in them." He plays with the other side of the bow which is still in place. Once it’s undone he shoves the material into his pockets. I realise that I don’t know much about him at all in the field of sex. We never talked about it but I knew he’s not a virgin.

"Hmm, that's why you were covering me the whole time? It was not because of the boys, was it? You covered me so I won't give you a boner while we wait for the staff's call." He chooses this exact moment to lick a long drawn out stripe up my folds sucking on my clit in a teasing manner. He hooks a hand under my leg to position it and lift it onto his shoulder for better access. My long-nailed fingers pull on his hair.

"You figured me all out, baby. Now less talking and more moaning." Ending his statement he dives in my legs shake due to the pleasure he sure does know his ways around a women body. I wonder how many partners he had but I need only one finger to slip inside to forget every thought I had. I whine at the stretch not because it’s uncomfortable but because it’s not enough I’m so wet that I could take him right then and there.

”Please, Jimin. Please.” At this point, I’m not even sure what I’m begging for but luckily Jimin knows exactly what I need. The neediness not only evident in my voice and soft mewls but in my body as well in restless shaking it makes Jimin smile against me he caresses the inner side of my thigh his tongue on my clit draws eight shapes his fingers slow but reaching deep it’s obvious he’s trying to extend my sweet torture.

At first, only using one finger then it’s quickly turned into two scissoring it occasionally making me ready for his cock the thought of him being inside of me automatically makes me clench around his fingers. The way he emits little sounds of appreciation while going down on me is a huge turn on. I doubt he feels better than me right now but sure does it seems like he enjoys it a lot more normally guys do.

”J-Jimin.” I stutter his name his tongue and fingers starting to feel too much for me to handle I fidget as much as I can while Jimin’s hands holding me in place I can’t hide away from the feeling and he doesn’t stop.

He speeds up his movements not listening to my silent pleas to stop the way he licks up every drop and welcoming the new waves of wetness makes my head spin. ”I’m going to cum.” I warn him I grab the side of the table I need something to hold on tight to ground myself against the intense feeling of my fast approaching orgasm. ”Ah J-Jimin.” He hums with his mouth wrapped around my sensitive bud I close my eyes so hard that I start to see red dots in my vision. He doesn’t stop even though I reached my high with shaky fingers I can finally pull his head the sight I see when he looks up to take in my fucked out face almost makes me push through another orgasm itself.

Jimin uses the back of his hand to wipe off the leftover wetness gathered around his mouth and chin it was glistening in the sun provided light. As he gets up from the crouching position he slowly lets my leg touch the ground again he starts doing calming smooth circles on my hipbone delivering light kisses on my lip waiting for me to get back to my senses.

He gives me the sweetest smile I have ever seen on him. Almost makes me forget how he was between my legs a few minutes prior.

"B-baby what are you doing?" I could hear the ragged breath he sucked in through his nose it takes time to get on my knees since they’re kinda shaky I grabbed his hipbone to steady myself on the ground looking up at his face with a proud smile.

I caressed the soft flesh under his shirt I could feel the muscles contracting under my light touches. I look in front of me to study the outline of his dick he’s hard and he’s hard because of me.

"It's not fair of me to take and not give back the favour don't you think?" I palm him through the rough material of his jeans he moans significantly loud it earns a huge grin on my part and an embarrassed smile on his. Cute.

"This day is all about you. I'm going to show you how proud I am because of you." Despite his words, his opposition was weak he let me palm him he wasn’t able to keep his eyes open when I applied more pressure. I love the way he’s so responsive to my every touch and the high pitched tone he moans in the back of his throat. The whiny edge of it encourages me to do better because I certainly want to hear more of those.

"By letting me blow you. Pants down." I raise one of my brows waiting for him to remove his pants for me. His eyes reopen when he doesn’t feel my hand on his body he looks down where I’m sitting on my legs knees bent he sucks in a shaky breath, pupils dilated and he finally nods he clears his throat to sound more collected.

"Shit. Fine."

"In any other situation, I would love to hear how vocal you are Jiminie but right now you need to keep quiet for me. Can you do that? Hmm?" I tease him I take a good look at his member his grith is quite impressive he’s thicker than it seemed when it was inside his boxers. Before I could change my mind or make Jimin embarrassed because of my staring I wrapped my fingers around him there are a few inches I cannot reach and It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.

"This feels so g-good." I collect the precum to help me move up and down his shaft, after a louder whiny moan on Jimin’s part I decide to hold him firmer he throws his head back both of his hands grabbing the table’s edge he’s holding back not to thrust up into my hand the pulsing vein visible as he bares his neck.

"A-ah please slow down, i-it's too much." Reciprocating the favour I lick at the tip while speeding up my jerking motions the double pleasure forces a loud whimper to escape his parted lips.

A knock interrupted our moment Jimin's body goes rigid afraid that we'll be caught. I withdraw my ministrations letting his shaft leave my mouth with a wet pop. Despite the risky situation, I can see it on him it requires a lot of self-control on his part not to thrust back into my mouth.

"Yes?" I answer going back to deliver a kittenish lick to his tip not letting the newly released precum go to waste Jimin stutters biting his lip hard not to whine out. My voice sounded worn out but the staff member didn’t pay attention to it.

"The closing ceremony will start soon." So she’s here to inform me.

"When?" I ask between licks I found the throbbing vein at the underside of his cock following the line up from the base to tip a low grunt leaves Jimin's lips I automatically gaze at the door but thanks to the noises of the people outside of the door the sound is lost within these four walls.

"15 minutes."

I hum against his dick in acknowledgement the vibration shoots another pleasurable wave up his spine immediately Jimin's fingers strengthen in my hair. "I'll be there." I pull away for a second to offer my answer to the assistant. She leaves after that.

"Let's bet Jiminie. Do you think I can make you cum within 15 minutes?" His eye flutter shut groaning when I apply pressure again using my hand to pump his full length this time it's easier due to the spit from the previous help of my mouth.

I use the heel of my palm to smear down the newly formed precum leaking from his tip he's extremely sensitive to my every touch I continue licking the tip circling my mouth around the head of his cock the pretty high pitched moans getting significantly louder but I let him he's close anyway.

"Y-you don't have to s-swallow it."

"Shit. You swallowed." I liked the way his eyes darkened by the discovery the salty taste won't be my favourite flavour but it was alright also this way it left less of a mess.

I need to be presentable soon. My jaw hurts because of the long use but it worth it seeing Jimin's fucked out state he looks even prettier with a sheen of sweat coating his spotless skin. It makes me proud knowing he’s like this because of me.

"Are you alright?" I comb my fingers through his messed up hair his fringe sticking to his forehead looking me up and down behind his long locks framing his eyesight with bedroom eyes slightly closed still trying to get down from his high.

"More than okay, baby. More than okay."

Circling his hands around my waist he pulls me closer until our bodies fully pressed together he rubs his nose into my pulse point kissing it I feel the faint pressure of his teeth that I grab the back of his head to pull it away. He whines because of the denied access but lets me pull him back.

”I can’t have a hickey Jimin, I don’t want everyone here to know what we did in this dressing room.” I reason but he seemed to like the idea, I hit his chest with a serious expression at that his wide smile starting to piss me off.

”Fine, fine. I’m surprised you still have the energy to be this violent. Jeez, woman.” Jimin wets his lips with his tongue his face shows satisfaction and cockiness. I wonder how many girls were able to see this side of him.

”We have limited time Jimin. I need to get that dress on.” I decide to ignore the smirk and move I don’t have much time before I need to get back out there and this dress is so tight to get on and now I’m sweaty too. ”I need help.”

”I would rather get you out of it though.” I turn my back to him so he can get the zipper up.

”Of course you would.” I roll my eyes following the sarcastic sentence.

[maxxfields]

sober nights and traffic lights

Max would never consider himself mentally ill. He also would never tell anyone he had anxiety. But all the bullshit he went through as a child, it isn't shocking to know that he does. Through the years he’d always kept it on the downlow and never made a big deal of it. Ignoring it himself most of the time. And he got pretty good at it. Until recently. Having his first panic attack in years was so foreign to him. He didn't know how to cope with it nor did he ever remember feeling like this. What is the word that describes feeling too much and nothing at the same time? Being a professional writer it infuriated Max that he didn’t know what that word was. Whatever it was, that is how he felt right now. Numbness and exhilaration? He didn't know how he was feeling both at the same time, it was like a dream and a nightmare. There was also a very high chance it was both of those anyway because the events that had happened over the last couple days could not be real.

He had slept with Gabby Hunter.

Gabby and him had slept together.

He had spent the last 3 days living every moment of that night over and over wondering how it happened and thinking it probably won't ever happen again. Normally Max was the kind of guy to sleep with a girl once and never call. But this time he couldn't be that guy. He didn't want to be that guy. But here he was 3 days later, being that guy.

The morning after he ran away from her, he felt completely debilitated. After getting home the fire in his lungs had not dwindled. It was so painful for him and so overwhelming he almost went to the ER. But Max knew they'd never take him seriously. There was nothing wrong with him other than wanting to not think about real things. Forcing himself to take some meds, Max went straight to bed.

He awoke in the late afternoon to a voicemail and a text. He looked at the messages on his phone for a minute before listening to the voicemail. She seemed hesitant and quiet. It made him feel a little relieved and guilty at the same time. Today was really too many emotions for him after spending most of his adult life not thinking about any.

“....You’re my best friend…” those were the last words he heard before his brain started to fail him again. After everything he was not thinking about and hoping for the last few months vanished again. She had called just to make sure they were okay, that they were still friends. Somehow in this moment he felt like he was in high school again getting crushed by the girl of his dreams. And there they were again another roadblock. This time he felt so much for her and she didn't feel that way for him. All Max wanted to do was disappear. And with that thought, his body moved into action before his mind was made up.

3 hours later he was on the highway in his car with a suitcase thrown together. He honestly didn't know where he was going, what he was doing, how much clothes he packed, or how long he was planning on going. He just knew he needed to not be in that house. Those weren't the sheets made dirty by them, but he still felt it somehow.

The first night he ended up at the border of California and Oregon around midnight and decided to pull over. He spent most of the time listening to news podcasts and yelling at some of the interns from his office. Just because he was taking an unexplained sabbatical didn't mean that the world stopped and news didn't need to be told. It was nice to have an outlet for a while but still not be in the office or in the city. During his drive he started to think about his mental health and how he had gotten to this point. He remembered as a child wanting to have his parents approval so bad he morphed into something he wasn’t, and then he remembered in high school having the girl of his dreams completely break him senior year right before they were suppose to start their new lives at college together.

All of those things turned Max into the man he is today. He ran away to college in a different state, took a last minute slot in a shitty dorm at one of his safety schools instead of going where he and his parents had originally planned. And with that new start, he closed all the doors to his past behind him. Inventing the stone cold asshole he was now, and not allowing anyone to break the cracks. Yet he had allowed someone to do just that, multiple times now. And everytime he swore this would be the last time he left her in, and yet that stupid redhead kept charming her way into his life and into more than just that.

The events of last night started washing over him, from the party all the way to being in Gabby’s bed and it was starting to make the panic in him rise again. Finding one of the shittest motels on the side of the road, Max called it a night. Knowing he probably could have driven 20 more minutes into an actual city to find a nicer hotel he could afford, the man didn’t care about luxury right now. He just wanted to take a shower, rinse off all the thoughts he had and be unconscious.

In the morning, he awoke feeling very out of place, and maybe it was cause he didn’t have a routine. Since the day he went off to college and reinvented himself, he had always been a man with a routine and a workaholic. Therefore, waking up in a strange place was very weird to him and he started to get antsy and anxious that he wasn’t going into work today. After sitting with himself for a few minutes remembering why he was here and why he needed to runaway from things he felt a little better, but he still wanted to be productive. He checked out of the hotel and went driving around the closest town he could find. It was still very early in the morning, since he was in the habit of waking up before the day really began to go to work. But the man did find a cute coffee shop with several newspaper stands in front ot it. He paid for a small breakfast and grabbed a couple of the papers to read and stay in tune with the world for a bit. Sitting in that shop for a couple of hours he had a moment to write an article. It was definitely not something he would ever publish but it helped him clear his mind a little more. The article was based on an event several of the local papers he had grabbed had covered, but he felt that each article didn’t tell the whole story, and it infuriated him that an editor would allow something like this to be published. So in the name of journalism and in the name of calming his nerves, he wrote a better article for them. Reflecting on the piece of news he had finished writing by hand, he realized that it had been a few years since he had actually written anything. And he didn’t realize how much he had enjoyed it.

When he ran away to college, he decided he was going to throw his entire future plan to the wind. No more law school like his father wanted, he was going to figure out what he wanted. His freshman year at UCLA, he took a bunch of classes that he would never have thought to take, and ended up getting really good grades in a bunch of writing classes and history classes, especially the one he took that was specifically about Al Capone. When it came time for him to pick a major, he decided he wanted to pursue writing, but he wasn’t into the thought of writing fiction crap or picking a career that would be useless. Therefore he settled on journalism, it attracted to both parts of the things he was good at, and allowed him to have a job once he graduated. During the years after his undergraduate education, he worked at various news rooms, stations, and other publications while also getting his Master’s in editora journalism. Which is how he landed the pretty rough and prestigious job he had now. But being an editor and in charge of a paper, didn’t allow him much time to enjoy the things he once did. And through his adult life he focused more on things outside work to numb himself like he had for years. College had definitely instilled a lifestyle of booze, sex, and work for him. One that he had maintained for years.

It wasn’t until after Gabby left that he realized how broken he really was. He started going to therapy during that time, and faced some demons. And even though he was better mentally and was able to work through stuff. He still had anger management issues and was always a stressed out individual. It wasn’t until this moment, sitting in a coffee shop hours away from his home and his job that he realized how much of him he had pushed away. How much he didn’t let himself feel, enjoy, or think about. Therapy only helped him through some, but it was not his time to do the work and make himself a better person. One that wouldn’t fall apart just cause one girl in his life wanted to stay friends with him even though he wanted more.

Midway through the day, he had walked through some of the shops around the little town and was starting to feel antsy again. Even though he kept telling himself he deserved a vacation and needed to take this time off, he couldn’t. Not right now. Relaxation for himself was definitely going to be a priority, but he couldn’t change who he was, and that was a planner. Getting back in his car and driving south again, he promised himself he would go on a proper vacation this year. Actually take some time off, plan something, and pack with purpose.

As he climbed back into the car, he pulled out his phone for the first time all day to set up directions and pick out which podcast he was going to listen to when he saw them. Multiple messages from Gabby.

Fuck.

She wasn’t going to be the girl who demanded more after a one night stand? She wanted to try to be something more than a one night stand?

Damn it.

The man had fucked up again. This was the second time in less than 3 days he found himself racing to her house to apologize. What was he even gonna say or do that would make this better? Was she gonna accept his apology and allow them to figure this out? Did she really want more than friendship between them? So many questions were running through his mind right now and none of them had answers.

Turning off the radio completely, Max drove the 8 hours back to San Francisco in complete silence. Finally allowing himself to think about all his feelings, hers, and what the hell it all meant.

As he got closer to the city limits he got more and more groggy, it almost being midnight again. The man was not a night owl and this was now the 3rd night in a row he was not in bed before what was technically the day after he woke up. More than anything he wanted to go to Gabby, but he knew if he went now he’d just end up upsetting her. This time he wasn't gonna to go over there to get yelled at, fuck, then leave. He wanted to go over and talk. Persuading himself to go home and get some rest he’d come back in the morning.

And like an idiot he did just that, completely ignoring his phone and the angry messages it received while he was driving.

Awaking him again, a little later than his usual alarm, he realized how tired his body actually was. And how much it needed that sleep. Because he felt anew now. Clear. Ready to have the hard conversations.

This time it really did feel different. He felt ready. He felt almost relaxed. He was about to go get his girl. And with that mentality he went and showered, put on a nice outfit, drove to a flower shop and a coffee shop before heading to her place.

He knew Red would be pissed at him at first. But he was hoping they could talk through their stupidity and move past it all. Past these few days. Past these few years even.

When he got to her place and knocked on the door no one answered. He should have figured she was at work, but he kind of assumed knowing she'd be stewing at home alone with a glass of wine. Thinking maybe she went out to get food or something he stood around for a little while wanting to be there when she got back.

After 30 minutes he got a call from an unknown number. Without even thinking, since most of his employees had his phone number and he rarely saved any of theirs. He answered.

[simwoman2002]

Xenophobic for Piper and Nick V?

Here you go! Thank you for the request!! 😊💗

Original List

  “Hey, synth! A word?”

  Just by that simple address, Nick Valentine could easily discern that this guy was going to be a complete, old fashioned jerk.

  And he had been having such a wonderful day. Well, that is, until Diamond City’s newest security guard decided to come over and officially ruin it.

  But Nick had his fair share of synth-haters in his lifetime, and this man was no different from all of the rest. So, when the guy kept on asking questions and prodding, Nick just sighed, allowing his cigarette to rest between his lips as he leaned against Takahashi’s counter.

  “Look, fella, I’m not looking for any trouble, alright?” Nick told him, his gold orbs shifting in the direction of the security guard.

  Naturally, this statement did not go over well. If anything, this actually seemed to anger the guard more, and Nick clenched his jaw slightly, knowing well that a blowout was well on its way to happening.

  “You being here is trouble! In fact, I oughtta just lock you up for—”

  “Hey, hey, hey, what’s the deal here?” a voice suddenly piped up. Nick turned to look behind him in the direction that the sound came from.

  Standing there quite ridiculously in a somewhat oversized trench coat was a lanky girl that almost resembled a reporter. Of course, given the somewhat crudely printed “PRESS” stuffed in a deep fold of her cap and a small notepad clutched in her hand, it was no surprise that the word reporter was what was dredged to his processors.

  She was a cute kid, there was no doubt about it, and the cap somehow managed to add to this silly, harmless, adorable look. She couldn’t have been any older than seventeen, and she had attitude oozing from her gaze and posture.

  Ultimately, Nick had to swallow a slight smile and a chuckle at the sight of her. She was honestly one of the strangest sights he had ever seen. And that was really saying something considering the state of the Commonwealth.

  “Kid, this is none of your business, so stay out of it,” the security guard told her, trying to raise himself to his full height in an attempt to intimidate her from her goal. However, Nick could not help but note that the man was truly not much taller than the girl even with his straightening.

  “Besides, this synth,” the guard spat as if the word was some sort of filth between his teeth, “is a danger to us all.”

  “I beg to differ, sir,” she boldly proclaimed, her entire expression turning to one of extreme determination.

  “This is grown-up business, okay? So scurry along and play with your little friends,” the man told her, and Nick immediately frowned at the condescending tone that the guard took with the kid. If it was not obvious before, it was certainly apparent now that he was definitely new around town.

  “Oh-ho, that’s cute, officer. But I’ll go. Just as soon as I take a few notes so I can draft a little article about how Diamond City’s finest are bullying citizens,” the girl breezily told him, withdrawing a pencil from her pocket as she started jotting down some things on her little notepad. The officer’s posture sank a little as he stiffened.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You see, I’m new in town, but I just happened to lug an old printing press with me when I moved in so that when I got settled in here, I could make a Diamond City newspaper. Or well, more specifically, a Commonwealth newspaper that traders and potential settlers from all around can read to keep up on Great Green Jewel events,” she explained, and Nick smirked, knowing precisely where she was going with this statement.

  “Y’know, I actually am going to have you to thank for my first headline,” she continued, her face lighting up with the statement. He shrunk back a little as she stepped nearer.

  “‘Armored Bullies: Diamond City’s Finest Gone Wrong,’” she called out loudly enough for several people around to turn and look at the scene unfolding. The guard glanced about as she spoke.

  “Ah, yeah… That’s a keeper,” she commented to herself, scribbling a little in her notebook. The man shook his head, trying to collect himself.

  “Look, kid, I’m just doing my job,” he told her, attempting to deter her, but she just looked at him innocently, widening her eyes.

  “Terrorizing people is your job?”

  “No, that’s not what I said—”

  “Readers are gonna find that interesting,” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows and writing on her notepad.

  “Alright! I’ve got better things to do than fight with a stupid kid. Danny needs me anyway for… security… business,” he told them, quite obviously searching his mind for something intelligent to say so that it did not appear like he was running from a teen with a notepad. The girl smirked lightly at him, waving her notepad as he turned and stomped off in a huff.

  “Xenophobic moron,” she muttered under her breath with a humorless chuckle as her expression faded, watching him as he straightened and tried to rejuvenate his sense of pride.

  Nick gaped in mild surprise, watching as the girl tucked her notepad and pencil away in her pocket and nodded her head resolutely.

  “Well, well, you sure showed him who’s boss,” Nick stated after a long moment, shaking himself from his stunned stupor.

  The girl turned her attentions to him and grinned, offering a hand.

  “Piper Wright, investigative journalist,” she introduced herself, and Nick instinctively extended his right hand. It was only a moment too late when he truly considered the fact that it was his more robotic hand, but just as he was about to withdraw and offer his left hand instead, she took his right one without hesitation.

  “Nick Valentine, detective,” he introduced after the surprise of her complete lack of trepidation had worn away, and she chuckled, withdrawing her hand and placing it on her hip.

  “Huh. We’re kind of in the same line of work, aren’t we?”

  “How’s that?” he asked, furrowing his brow, and Piper raised an eyebrow with that sass that Nick was beginning to think was simply her personality instead of some sort of defense mechanism.

  “Well, we both go poking our nose in places we shouldn’t, right?” she pointed out.

  “I guess so,” he shrugged, tilting his head and offering his agreeance with the statement as he smiled at her slightly. He had to admit that he was rather impressed and taken aback by the girl. She had more spirit than anyone he had seen in a long time.

  So, going on an impulse, he gestured to the stool beside him at the bar.

  “Why don’t you take a seat, kid? I’ll buy you some noodles,” he told her. Piper’s eyes lit up with the invitation, and she looked at him with a slight smile.

  “Really?” Piper asked, and he nodded.

  “Sure,” he warmly addressed her, and she beamed, wasting no time in sitting down. After only a moment, Takahashi had dipped a bowl of steaming hot noodles and Piper was happily indulging.

  After a moment of watching her, he shook his head with a grin.

  “Y’know, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, my dear fellow snoop.”

[strikearose]

Uncovering Passione's Underside (1/1) GIOMIS

What one can learn by listening to what the secretive Passione's staff have to say about their Don... One-shot, GioMis, Post-canon, Humor, G+ You can also read it on ao3 here!

For as long as many Passione members could recall, Agnese Bianchi had always been there, grumbling as she would mop the hall floor and nagging at fellow cleaning employees and ruthless gang members all alike. It didn't matter how long their felonious resumes were, she simply couldn't stand slackers. Years of working within that specific industry had forged her strong character - she was honest, hardworking, and probably a tad too outspoken too about her aversion for mobsters, but she still knew better than to ask silly questions like some other people did.

The housekeeper glared at the man who'd been chatting up the new cleaner (and therefore, preventing her from mopping up the floor as she had explicitly urged her to) for the last half hour. His name was Trado, Trattore, or something that sounded way too much like Tradittore anyway: he was one of the Don's many henchmen. Ever since he had started working there, he had taken that annoying habit of snooping everywhere, making idle chitchat with the household staff during rush hour.

The old maid cleared her throat, grabbed her cleaning cart handles, and pushed it unceremoniously between the pair. "Is that what you call cleaning the reception room? Signore Giovanna wants it sparkling clean: go fix it now or apply for another job already!"

Her harsh tone worked just fine: the young employee, caught red-handed slacking work, gasped in surprise and mumbled a brief apology before leaving in a hurry. The man, however, didn't seem the least concerned about her admonition. He simply smiled and raised his hands in self-defense - and lord if there was a way he could possibly piss her off even more.

Agnese chose to simply disregard his presence and rummaged through her pockets to find the key she needed.

Click.

As it opened, she began to push her cleaning cart over the door sill with some difficulty.

"Need some help?"

Agnese sighed when she realized he was still there. Who the hell was he taking her for?

"I don't. As always, I'm doing just fine on my own."

To her dismay, it seemed that her sharp answer didn't manage to get rid of the gangster. For God's sake, couldn't he just go bother someone else, literally anyone but her? There was nothing Agnese hated more than to have someone watch her every move.

...

Or perhaps slackers.

Slackers who intended on watching her every move.

"So, for how long have you been working there? They say you'll bury us all..."

Agnese rolled her eyes as she finally managed to get her cart through the doorway.

"Long enough to have seen my fair share of slackers come and go..." The cleaning lady truly wished he'd get the memo this time. She had seen it all: louts in suits with fake good manners and scarred faces, but also men that seemed to be way too nice and curious for their own good. To her, that last species was the worst: they were wolves in sheep's clothing.

But of course, Trado (or Trattore or whatever was his name) didn't appreciate the subtlety of her response, and he continued his questioning: "You've been there long enough to have known the former boss, right? The one before Don Giovanna, a real freak apparently... "

Agnese tensed at that: she didn't like where the conversation was heading. She was unfortunately all too familiar with those office gossips. A little over five years ago now, Passione had gone from having no official face, to Giorno Giovanna's gracing every streets' corners. Rumors had it that the young, brilliant, man had brutally murdered the Original Don in the span of a week. Others thought that Giovanna's was his son and that the boss had simply granted himself a well-deserved retirement.

She couldn't care less about what had truly happened: Don Giovanna gave her a monthly salary as well as direct, concrete instructions. And those were the two things that mattered to her. He was good at that, giving clear orders to the people to his service. And it was nicer to serve him than to obey blindly the weird requests she'd receive by mail like before.

"Don't you really have anywhere else to go?", the cleaning lady suddenly turned to the man she had heard approaching but was relieved to see that he had not dared to enter the Don's office. He was looking at her, peering at what she was doing, from the door's threshold. "If you want a piece of advice, stop being so damn noisy."

The gangster laughed and at that, Agnese wished she could just sweep him out of the room.

"Relax! I'm new here, I'm just curious. Don Giovanna's pretty nice, he won't murder us over some harmless chitchat."

The Boss of a criminal organization, a nice man?

It was Agnese's turn to snort.

Yeah, she guessed it was the kind of public image he was adamantly working on And some people seemed to believe it: newspapers were reporting less traffic, a decline in thugs harming citizens' and tourists' safety. The astounding sums of money he was giving to local shelters, hospitals, and public schools were also common knowledge: rumors had it that the city council was even thinking of naming the brand-new biological museum, founded thanks to his many donations, after him.

As a boss, Agnese considered him to be pretty decent  - well, as decent as being the Don of a criminal organization could possibly allow him to be considered. After all, he was well-educated enough not to leave clothes and magazines scattered everywhere like the previous boss and some of his most favored underlings did.

But as a man, there was no way she could possibly tell if he was nice. Agnese was just an old, tired cleaning lady: she never pried into the Don's private life even though she guessed there were things that couldn't escape her lack of malicious curiosity. Details such as notes and silly doodles scribbled on his desk, scraps of paper (of extremely dubious content) discarded in the garbage can she needed to empty or sweaters which were at least two sizes too big for him lying on the normally spotless ground of his room...

Sighing, the old maid was about to close the door behind her when she noticed it: the stupid smirk on the gangster's face. The stupid knowing smirk they always had whenever they would bring up the one topic she had no desire to discuss.

How she wished she could just spray him with a window cleaner to wipe it out of his face.

"You know people say 'bout them, right? I'm sure it's complete bullshit but..."

The answer Agnese gave him was the same she would lecture her own underlings with: "One thing I know for sure is that the Underboss always carries his gun on him... And the Don sure doesn't need one to silence people. So just drop it and mind your own business."

With a last sigh, she finally shut the door closed and started her heavy work. However, even though the noisy snoop had left, Agnese felt her mind drift to her first encounter with the Don as she was dusting the ancient bookcase.

It had happened about four years ago, on a late December afternoon - was it because she had arrived too early or because he had stayed in his office later than usual, but the door had been left open so she had loudly pushed her cart inside. The old cleaning lady had instantly understood her mistake - after all, there was little mystery about whom that man was... Who else would dare to enter the big boss's office in his absence?

Golden locks, emerald eyes looking right at her with mild surprise: he obviously had not been expecting her.

"Oh, it's already that time of the day," his chin tilted high and proud, the mafia boss had flatly made that statement.

Not knowing what to say, Agnese had simply nodded and taken a discreet look at the massive clock behind him. 8:17 pm. He was definitely the one behind schedule, not her: she was just on time.

Not that she could say it aloud anyway.

"I didn't know you were still in there, Signore Giovanna," while her head was slightly bowed as a sign of respect, she had not apologized for her intrusion. She had nothing to apologize for: boss or not, he was the one messing with the established schedule. "I'll come back to clean your office later."

Don Giovanna had however soon dismissed her concern with a motion of his hand.

"It's fine, you can start working now. I was about to leave anyway."

The old housemaid nodded and was about to approach the bookcase when she had stopped right on her track, seeing the state of the ancient Victorian carpet. The boss had a rather keen hearing as he almost instantly turned his attention away from his papers to peer at Agnese, understanding what the problem was right away.

The blood hadn't just spattered on the carpet - there were traces of it on the sofa. And on the cushions. As well as on the desk's marble border.

And of course, the Don had to insist on furnishing his office with pristine white furnitures  - even the smallest stain could be spotted from miles away.

Well, at least to look at the bright sight, Agnese realized that she wasn't the one who had to take care of the body, to each, his own mess: scrubbing out the carpet was already going to be a real nightmare.

"I apologize for that," the voice of her employer was surprisingly gentle, and it had taken her off guard. "I'll make sure the floor is covered properly next time."

As unbelievable as it might sound, the Don had kept true to his word: she hadn't been able to find a single drop of blood in his office ever since.

And she had even gotten a raise in the following week.

**

Rumors had it that Don Giovanna was capable of prodigious deeds that a rational mind could not possibly explain: that dazzling smile of his could enchant things and bend them to his will. Some prominent figures from all parts of the world, whose identities shall remain hidden, had apparently come out of his office miraculously cured. But rumors also had it that the reason why his public appearances were becoming more and more scarce was because of a growing sensitivity to daylight.

So Agnese paid very little to no regard to them. Most of the time, like Tradutti had stated, it was indeed complete bullshit.

However, later that night, as she undid her bandages to observe the state of the burn on a forearm (a stupid domestic accident involving a boiling teapot), Agnese was amazed to find her epidermis completely smooth. There was no more blistering or dead skin: her forearm was of a softness that contrasted with the rest of her body:the astronomical amount of tiger balm and aloe vera used could not possibly explain that. So as much of a skeptic as she was, the cleaning lady was forced to admit that it had to be somehow related to her earlier encounter with the Don.

As soon as she had stepped outside his office after tidying it, she had spotted the mafia boss in the hallway. He was accompanied by five or six men dressed in equally expensive suits. Among them was a face quite familiar to her: the city mayor who was making it to the news because of yet another corruption scandal.

The last thing she needed was to get involved in this ugly mess, so the cleaning lady kept her head high and bravely pushed her cart forwards. What she wasn't expecting however was for the Don to stop her.

"Did you injure yourself?"

She had had no choice but to peer down too at her bandage and lie through her teeth: "It's nothing, Signore."

His face showed no emotion, but he took a step towards her and delicately grabbed the injured arm before she could protest. His grip was somehow gentle but tight: there was no way she could escape from it. It was a literal iron fist in a velvet glove.

Agnese could still recall feeling the gazes of the Mayor and his bodyguards on her, they had also stopped walking to stare at her. Her heart rate had momentarily quickened when the Don's hands had brushed over her wound, his emerald eyes never leaving her confused expression. A sharp pain had set her wrist on fire... And then nothing.

She no longer felt a thing - it was as if it had never happened: Don Giovanna had taken a step back and addressed his subordinates, and they all had resumed their walk, any concern about the poor old maid definitely forgotten. The only one who had graced her with something (a strangely amused smile) before leaving was Guido Mista.

The Underboss truly was something. He often reminded Agnese of her own son: way too careless and untidy. His room was a literal nightmare to clean: most of his cashmere sweaters (which he had no problem leaving on the floor for all that mattered) needed to be hand-washed, and he also had the specificity of returning several times a month completely riddled with bullets.

The fact that he was somehow still alive despite his many injuries was as much a real blessing to him that it was a curse for her.

After all, Agnese was the one who had to clean up after him: and there was nothing easier than to track him because with Underboss Mista came blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

From the pavement outside to the sheets of a certain person whose name shall remain unknown.

...

The kitchen timer rang and Agnese was brought back to reality.

She couldn't say for sure if the Don was responsible for this miracle, but she still wished he could have also helped with her rheumatism too.

━━━━━ ༻🌱༺ ━━━━━

Unlike Agnese, Rolfo Giardino was still fairly new at that whole managing-not-to-get-mixed-up-in-mafia-mess-while-working-for-them dilemma. This gardener may have had twenty years of experience, nothing could have possibly prepared him for what was about to come.

The headquarters' gardens themselves were very pleasant - they were spacious and ideally located. Starting from scratch, that is to say from an austere backyard where some pathetic trees were beginning to wither to this authentic example of Giardino all'italiana, adorned with classical sculptures, flowering shrubs, fountains and ornamental parterres, had not been easy at first but Signore Giovanna had agreed to pay the price without thinking twice and the result was worth it.

Now that it was done, now that Rolfo and his team only had to maintain the garden (meaning watering the flowers and cutting the hedges one or two times a week), he guessed the job would be pretty nice if it weren't for all those mobsters who, for some reason he still couldn't gather, enjoyed watching him work. That, as well as those dreadful echoes of gunfire and screams which would shatter from time to time the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.

The rustling of water, the birds' chirping, a loud explosion from within the building... A nice sunny day overall.

Some of his employees were still refusing to work there despite his best attempts to reassure them: for as long as they would stay away from the actual building, it was not like something could happen to them, right? Still, they were places where even Rolfo himself did not like to approach, near the window overlooking what he thought was the Big Boss's office for instance. He had been forced to come close (way too close) to it because of his client's special request to have ivy and white roses gambling along this wall.

He had started working on it on a day when the weather was so mild that the window had apparently been cracked open for once - and the uncanny noises and groans that had escaped through it had scared the gardener to death. He hadn't dared to peer inside to find out what was really happening: the last thing he needed to know was what the Don of Passione's private torture sessions consisted of. Ever since that unfortunate incident, Rolfo had not ventured any closer to the damn white rosebushes. The branches were becoming too long, they were clearly starting to block the path of light, but as long as the Don didn't make any complaint, Rolfo would leave them be.

But on that day, however, the poor gardener saw red as his eyes fell on the figure loitering near that damn window: who was that son of a bitch was stepping on his flower beds!

"Hey you fucking moron: Move! Can't you see you're ruinin' my work?" Rolfo's shout managed to hit the bull's eye. The criminal was startled by it and half a dozen of armed men (probably criminals too) suddenly burst out the building to see what the hell was happening. He sprinted in the direction of the jerk and threw his pair of pruning shears at him. The gardening tool narrowly missed him - it crashed against the window instead (which, thank lord, did not shatter after the impact), but still made him leave. The stern face of Giorno Giovanna soon appeared, his head comically peaking out the building.

The Big Boss frowned when he realized that five of his men were gathered outside, frantically looking for someone, and took a deep breath: "Did one of you just threw a rock at my window?" He sounded confused, and to his credit, that was quite understandable.

Rolfo felt all adrenaline leave him abruptly - he could feel on him the murderous glares of literal murderers, who would have probably murdered him on the spot were it not for the presence of their Big Boss. He had no choice but to come clean: "Uhh, I do believe it was my pruners, Signore. I apologize, I swear they weren't aimed at you. It was for that damn...- uhh, I mean, that employee of yours!"

The Don didn't seem the slightest taken aback by the choice of weapon. He ran a hand through his braided locked and motioned for the others to go.

"You're saying that someone was eavesdropping on me just now?"

Rolfo looked down for a moment before answering: "Uhh, probably? I mean, he was stomping on my rosebushes near your window, that's for sure. They're Blanche Moreau's you know? They took weeks to arrive from France, weeks to finally blossom in Italy's sunlight!"

The mafia boss frowned at that, and Rolfo just knew he understood how valuable these roses were. After all, the Don seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about plants and lots of stuff: rumors had it that they were going to name that new museum after him so...

Signore Giovanna looked behind him and seemed to be addressing someone in the room: "Make sure to find him."

Curiosity overcame his initial reserve: standing on tiptoe, the gardener finally peered at the window to see what was happening inside. The office seemed incredibly spacious and clean: a dark-haired man, behind the desk, was adjusting the position of his cap on his head.

"Kay, I'll climb down the window to catch him faster! The fucker must be hiding somewhere close!," as soon as the man finished speaking, Rolfo couldn't help but react straight away.

"No, you can't do that! You'll ruin the other bushes!"

Both mafiosi looked at him for a moment and the old gardener realized he might have spoken out of turn, but the Don settled the matter for them anyway:

"He's right, I do like these Blanche Moreau's: go around my office Mista. And please, your zipper." That last part had been uttered quietly, but Rolfo had still managed to pick up on it. His devout Catholic mind would probably have been offended by it were it not for the sudden realization which left him quivering.

How on earth was he able to peak so clearly at the window now...?

"That fucking son of a bitch!", at that the mafia boss frowned and looked at him quizzically, but Rolfo couldn't halt the stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. It was too late. "He chopped it off! The whole branch!! It's all gone!"

**

Rolfo had promised his wife he would never get too close to the mafia, even though those paychecks sure were quite weighty. And yet as he was now, comfortably sitting in a well-made leather seat, a cup of coffee in his hand, he thought that for a first time within the shady building he had tried to avoid entering for so long, things were actually looking pretty normal. A week had passed since the unfortunate roses incident, and he had been surprised to receive after a subsequent sick leave a call from the Don's office. He didn't really have much choice, so he had shown up on time and was now patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Don Giovanna will now receive you."

Rolfo followed without a word the pretty secretary - she too looked way too customarily pretty to be involved in that kind of business. It was only when he passed under the massive arch of the door that he became fully aware of what was happening: the head of the Italian mafia had summoned him here.

As expected, it was the Don's spacious office, the one he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the window free of rose branches. The room appeared to be spotlessly clean - hell, it even smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and fresh lemon. Definitely not what he was expecting it to look like. Oddly enough, the very first thing he noticed was the tarp on the floor: that gaudy blue plastic was seriously clashing with the rest of the pristine white furnishings.

"Good afternoon, Signore Giardino. Is that the man you spotted by my window the other day?," Rolfo met the gaze of the mafia boss who was calmly standing to what soon turned out to be a man in bad shape, feet and fists bound onto the chair.

On the other side of the suspect, nonchalantly propped against the desk, was the gangster who had wanted to hop out the window.

All three of them were looking at the gardener expectantly, and he heard behind him the sound of the door closing. Of course, the pretty secretary couldn't stay.

"I can't say for sure Signore. See, I was so focused on the combat boots trampling my bushes that I didn't pay too much attention to his face..."

He hated the bastard who had wrecked his work, sure, but to rush him to such a tragic fate...

"Cool, then check it out!," the underboss had spoken with a casualness contrasting with the cruelty of the angle in which he twisted the poor man's leg. Rolfo had no choice but to look at the sole of his boot.

...

The fucking bastard.

There were still manure and rose petals stuck to it. And those were no common rose petals - they were large, fluffy and creamy white. They had been violently snatched away from a Blanche Moreau's sepal.

The gardener hardly needed to speak up to convince the mafia boss - the lethal look he was giving the tied-up man was already enough evidence.

Umberto Tradduto's fate had just been sealed.

Rolfo couldn't say what prompted him to look outside, but after that he only overheard bits of the conversation whispered in front of him: what was he was seeing right now was far more chocking anyway:

"I leave it to you for now Mista. I'll dispose of him later."

"Another donation to the museum?"

"Not this time. I think he'll make a fine aphid instead, that way our gardener will be able to settle his score with him."

Rolfo wasn't even pretending to be listening to what was being said anymore. He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a step towards the window and the two mafiosi, deep in their discussion, didn't notice it immediately.

"Keep your evening free, we'll be paying a visit to the mayor tonight. I'm getting tired of the spies he keeps sending here."

"Tonight? Hey, do you know how much it cost me to book the entire restaurant?"

The Don cleared his throat as if suddenly reminded of the other two's presence: "The sooner the better. I'm sure she won't mind. You'll reschedule your date later."

Mista was about to protest, but he fell silent as he realized where the gardener was standing: "Hey man, what the...-"

But Rolfo overstepped his role again to cut him off. His eyes shining with emotion, he turned towards the mighty Giorno Giovanna and addressed him as if he was a true deity.

"How...- How did you...? This is prodigious Signore!"

Behind him, blocking the light from the window, were proudly standing three beautiful unscathed roses branches.

━━━━━ ༻ 🚗 ༺ ━━━━━

Alfredo waked up completely startled as he heard someone bang on his window: dozing off at the wheel was a rookie mistake, he was well aware of that - but still.

"Hey open up!"

The underboss' voice was agitated - something very rare for such an easy-going man, so Alfredo immediately unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle to assist him. Mista was backing up the big boss, a hand wrapped under his shoulders to help him stand.

The driver shot a panicked look at the small cottage they had just come from: what the hell had just happened in there?

Alfredo glanced at the Don's patent leather shoes - he was dressed as reverently as usual - and then at the underboss' worn-out leather jacket: even though they were clothed as if they were going to very different events, they had asked him to drop them at the same address: the mayor's private country hous. He had followed the itinerary scribbled on the paper an informer had given him a few hours before. It was the driver's special talent: being resourceful. Even without a precise address, he always knew how to bring his customers to the desired place.

His clients never asked him how it worked, and in return, he never made any remark on the state they would return to the car in. Or to question why they seemed so keen to surprise the mayor at such a late hour of the evening.

Alfredo was even willing to give an extra hand if needed, occasionally overstepping his role of a simple driver if the client was likely to be a good tipper.

He opened the passenger door for the mafia boss, but to his great surprise the latter stopped him right there:

"I'm fine. Just open the trunk instead."

Alfredo tensed up but said nothing as he went back to his seat to retrieve his leather gloves.

It was another kind of extra service: helping them to get rid of incriminating clues. Well, it wouldn't be the first body dumped in the back of his precious vehicle, and certainly not the last. As long as they would pay for the subsequential cleanup, he didn't mind.

"How many bottles have you stolen?," The underboss had ushered that question to the boss not discreetly enough, and the driver allowed himself a relieved sigh.

No bodies on the horizon, then?

No scandal of the mayor's disappearance making the headlines on the next day?

Great, he'd be able to go back to bed sooner.

As he passed next to the two mafiosi to open the trunk, Alfredo noticed the two bottles of prestigious champagne that the Don was clutching tightly against his. chest. Oh wow. The underboss, on the other hand, was eyeing Giorno with a bewildered look, as if it had just occurred to him that the mysterious gigantic box he had been forced to carry from the cottage contained more bottles.

"Guido please, go fetch me a last one," the Don was less assertive than usual - you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Alfredo awkwardly stood next to them in silence as he waited for his next instructions. Charcoal and emerald eyes were engaged in a long, fierce battle of dominance, neither of them breaking contact. Hell, it even seemed to Alfredo at some point that the Don fluttered his lashes - but that could also be exhaustion talking.

Years of working within that specific industry had taught Alfredo how they would inevitably settle that growing tension between them.

Once again, for as long as they would pay for the subsequential seats cleaning, he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first indecent make-out session to happen at the back of his precious vehicle, and probably not the last.

A partition wall was always between Alfredo and his clients. Until now, he had never managed to catch them red-handed, but he had heard of those rumors. And he, better than anyone else certainly, knew for a fact that the Don had never sought to have good company brought to him. He'd always travel to his secondary residence alone while the underboss was the kind of man who preferred to drive there by himself.

Apart from the occasional names slips, he had never witnessed any tender gesture, he had never overheard anything remotely ambiguous. The details that had tipped him off were more subtle, or well usually at least they were. They would simply sit a little too close to one another, with no free seat between them - the pair was never five feet apart so that to speak. But right now, unless he would turn off the parking lights, there was no way Alfredo could pretend he wasn't seeing the Don's right hand slowly lowering far too low along the other's back. It was clearly no longer a question of keeping his balance.

"Fine," the Don let out a dramatic sigh and the driver nearly said hallelujah - now that he had admitted defeat, they would be able to leave at last! "If you won't do it, then fine I'll ask our driver instead."

Holy shit, what the hell was going on that night?

Alfredo quietly took a step back to exit the scene but it was too late - both mafiosi were already looking at him. If they were seriously intending on making him break into the mayor's house, he sure hoped they were ready to give a real good tip.

Fortunately, the underboss shook his head and rolled his eyes (had they just swapped personalities?), before reluctantly talking: "'kay you win I'll go. But then, we're outta here." Mista put the box inside the trunk and headed back to the cottage, leaving the driver in the company of the big boss who didn't seem quite inclined to enter the car yet. So Alfredo had no choice but to stay with him outside, on the chilly night and very awkward silence.

It was only after the third hiccup of the Don that the realization came down to him: he wasn't injured by any means, he was just completely drunk.

"Umm," Alfredo knew he wasn't supposed to question his boss, but the silence between them was becoming seriously uncomfortable. "So were you celebrating something Signore?"

The mafia boss looked at him for a long moment - god, the poor driver sure hoped he hadn't made a mistake, before shrugging: "Not really. I simply like Champagne, especially when I'm not the one paying for it."

Who could have thought that someone who spent so much on luxury clothes could be stingy?

Alfredo decided to politely answer. "Yes, I've heard you own several vineyards in Europe Signore. It's clever, I'm sure you never run out it..."

At that, the mighty Giorno Giovanna ungraciously hiccuped again, and the driver had the decency to pretend not to notice it.

"Mhhh.. You don't get it," had the mafia boss just snorted in contempt? "It's not so much about the Champagne itself as it is about the pure satisfaction of having taken possession of it... The mere contentment in knowing that the stupid mayor will never be able to savor it now that it's mine, you know?"

No, of course, not. There was no way Alfredo could possibly relate to that: it must be one of those crazy rich people whims.

Not that he could say it out loud, of course. The night was getting colder and colder, so he hoped the underboss wouldn't take long to be back.

"Would you like a bottle?," the Don's question took him by surprise so the driver, out of reflex, shook his head.

"Good, or you would have had to convince Mista to go back."

The stingy rich bastard.

Alfredo couldn't believe he was thinking that of him, in any other situation he would never have allowed himself to think that of Giorno Giovanna, but there were at least eight bottles in the trunk, he had seen them. And the Don knew that.

Fortunately, the underboss chose that exact moment to reappear and slam the trunk door shut after charging it with two other bottles.

Discreet much?

But whatever, the Don seemed rather pleased with that and finally agreed to go inside the car - his customers' satisfaction was what mattered the most to Alfredo.

After all, with good service came good tippers.

And that night, in exchange for the obvious promise to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed, the underboss sure went overboard with the tip.

━━━━━ ༻ 🧹 ༺ ━━━━━

It was now 8:20 a.m.: even though the day had started way earlier for Agnese, she had had to wait for the mobsters living upstairs to rise and shine, so she could proceed to clean their rooms. It was by far the task she hated the most: grabbing her heavy cleaning cart, she pushed it towards what had to be the cleanest place of them all. The Don's private quarters, starting with his excessively large bathroom: since the fancy tiles there took the longest to dry, she would then continue with his connected bedroom.

However, as soon as she stepped foot inside, Agnese almost fainted at the horrible sight that met her eyes.

Clothes, confetti and popped balloons were scattered everywhere, pieces of glass were covering the soaked floor, and an astronomical amount of what furiously smelled like Champagne had been dumped into the bathtub, splattering the walls and the carpet- hell, it even seemed like some of it was still fizzing inside.

Up until now, she had thought that she had seen it all, that nothing that the most wicked mind was capable of, could possibly surprise her. But that was a whole new level of a mess.

Thankfully, the inscription on a balloon (the survivor, the only one that had not exploded yet) was what prompted her not to hand the culprit her immediate resignation letter.

The Don's birthday would only happen once a year.

And with some sheer luck, she'd be able to negotiate her well-deserved retirement before the next one.

**

That morning, Guido woke up because of a cuss word that reminded him very much of his native Italian countryside. He had no idea what time it was:  Giorno's expensive alarm clock having been inadvertently smashed the night before. He yawned gleefully and stretched out his arms before turning to face the lumpy shape beside him.

The mighty Giorno Giovanna, drool on his chin, was muffled in his blanket, and it didn't seem from the look of it that he'd be getting up any time soon.

He was probably dealing with a hell of a hangover right now - served him right for the astronomical quantity of Champagne in which he had literally bathed and drowned. Giorno would decidedly never learn from his past mistakes. Well, he was very much looking forward to taunting his lover for years about that unfortunate late birthday episode.

There was no way the mafia boss would be able to conduct his meetings of the day - changing the planning wasn't something to worry about even though it would piss the hell out of Fugo for sure. Feeling compassionate about what was awaiting Giorno, he gently patted what he thought was his head (?) and smiled as he heard him grumble in return. How cute.

Guido finally stood up to start his day, he would smuggle him some Ibuproben later but first thing first, his much-awaited morning tinkle. And a long hot shower. Yeah, that way he would perhaps find a ploy to avoid dealing with Giorno's responsibilities instead of him. While he was not hungover, the late night's events had completely drained him of his energy.

Giorno's bathroom truly was something: it was way more spacious and tidier than his own. To him, it was a literal spa: cool extra-powerful water jets, a gigantic glass shower cabin AND a massive marble bathtub, a myriad of bottles of heavenly-smelling shampoo, conditioners, shower gels and body lotions everywhere - hell, there was even a housekeeper politely handing him a towel.

...

Holy shit.

Trying his best to cover his naked glory, Guido Mista could only stutter pitifully:

"Uhh.. Yeah, so about that new raise of yours we were discussin' the other day..."

This would only be the fourth time of the year, so at this point...

[halothenthehorns]

MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY

Remus did not look pleased one little bit about accepting the book. He hated how they'd grown almost content, getting so many pleasant chapters in a row and then the huge finale of the Cup, just to have such a terrible one right after. He was terrified the trend would continue, but being afraid of something had never actually stopped him from doing anything, let alone in regards to a book, so he kept going.

Arthur woke them all very early the next morning, packed down the tents with magic, and only gave a vague wave to Mr. Roberts as they passed, while he called out a cheerful 'Merry Christmas!'

Lily's mind flickered back to her earlier worry that to many memory charms couldn't be good for him, and to have something so powerful taken away as well, oh she really hoped he would be okay.

Mr. Weasley spotted Harry's concerned look and promised he would be fine, some people got a little hazy with such a large memory being altered. When they reached the sight to collect their Portkey, there was already a huge queue all clamoring to get out of there at once.

"Cannot blame them," Remus sighed.

Arthur managed to get his way to the front, have a quick conversation with Basil, and returned back with a Portkey to take them home.

"Least they didn't have to wait on the Diggory's," Sirius sniffed.

    They walked back down the hill with little spirit, too tired to do much of anything, but were all caught off guard by a shrill voice shouting in gratitude they'd returned.

"Molly," they all muttered in surprise, considering the time it was a wonder she was awake, but even more surprising was that this reaction meant she knew what had happened already.

Upon reflection though, the four of them weren't that surprised, the Daily Prophet was known for staying on top of the news, though not always in the best light.

Molly was sprinting up the drive towards the lot of them, colliding first with her husband and dropping her newspaper in the process, which fell to the ground letting Harry read the title explaining that terror had happened at the Cup, including a photo of the Dark Mark.

Mrs. Weasley was still sobbing into her husband's shoulder, but quickly turned watery eyes to check and make sure all were still present, before her eyes caught sight of the twins and she latched an arm around each neck and pulled them in, crashing their heads together.

"Ooh," Lily sighed, completely understanding why she'd feel particularly awful for those two.

"Think now would be a good time to drop the bomb they won a gambling bet," Sirius smiled weakly, "I don't think they'd get in quite as much trouble for it."

Lily shot him a look, but as his joking tone hadn't quite smothered his own happiness at the scene, she didn't say anything.

The twins tried to protest their treatment, but Molly kept crying into them now that she felt terrible the last thing she'd done before they'd left was yell about their O.W.L.'s!

"This is really sweet," Remus smiled widely without a trace a humor.

"Bet it only lasts a day before they find some new way to tick her off," James chuckled, not really able to pick up his own poking fun at the situation.

Arthur finally managed to detach his wife from her kids and convince her to come inside so he could explain things to her, muttering at Bill as he passed to grab that paper so he could read it. Once Mrs. Weasley had calmed, Arthur did indeed read the print and found it full of the wrongdoings on the Ministry's part at the Cup.

"All the standard tosh of the paper," Sirius snorted.

He demanded of no one who had written it, then seemed to catch sight of the name Rita Skeeter.

Harry felt a vile shot of annoyance at once, a scowl appearing when he heard that name, but it was diminished as always when Remus kept reading so he chose not to pay it any attention.

Percy at once jumped in at how furious that woman made him, how she'd gone on about his useless report and had instead been trying to say they should be out hunting down vampires, going on to list the Guideline specifically explaining why this wasn't even a thing, when Bill cut him off by politely asking him to shut up.

Causing all four boys to crack up laughing, they were all liking Bill more and more as this kept on.

Mr. Weasley hadn't even been listening and had kept at the paper, stating in surprise he'd been referenced. Mrs. Weasley choked on her tea in shock, saying she hadn't seen that, and Arthur quickly corrected it hadn't been by name, just his passing comment saying that nothing had happened that night.

"There was no more information to give," Lily scoffed.

Rita Skeeter had added her own thoughts to that saying it probably wouldn't be enough to squash the rumors about bodies later being removed, causing Arthur to scoff that now she'd said that there certainly would be rumors.

"Why do I get the feeling Arthur has previous experience with this writer?" Sirius asked.

"She certainly sounds more like a tabloid then a reporter," Remus grumbled.

Arthur gave one last heavy sigh before telling his family he'd have to run into the office because of this. Percy agreed he'd come, he could hand Crouch his report on cauldron bottoms in person.

"I'm sure that'll be the highlight of his day," James sneered.

Percy sprinted up the stairs without another word, while Molly tried to protest Arthur's leaving, saying he'd just gotten home, and this had nothing to do with his department. Arthur gently corrected her he may have made things worse.

"No one in the Ministry would know it was Arthur who said that," Lily arched a brow in surprise. "This Rita person could have pulled that comment out of the air."

"Arthur really doesn't have a reason to feel so responsible," James nodded in agreement, "he didn't do anything wrong."

Arthur left for a quick change of clothes, and Harry couldn't hold in the question anymore of whether he'd gotten mail while he was away.

They all eagerly shut their trap in hopes Molly would say yes to that one.

Molly distractedly said nothing had come in.

Then they started to get a little fidgety, all eyes flickering to Sirius and away. Sirius tried for a scoff, scolding all of them, "oh relax, just because I haven't responded already," he hesitated for a moment, wavering and trying to come up with a reason for himself, before asking Harry, "how long did it usually take me to reply?"

"Less than two weeks," Harry gave a shrug he didn't really feel.

"See," Sirius really did relax back this time. "I haven't even gotten his letter yet, are you lot really going to be freaking out the day I'm late?"

'Yes' was the collective mental answer all of them had, but none of them bothered to answer him aloud. They'd take the paranoia and be wrong with relief every time than think for even a second Sirius had been captured, none of them could stand another year like the last one.

Harry's two friends looked curiously at him, and he heavily suggested he go dump his stuff in Ron's room. Ron and Hermione agreed that would be a good idea and came along.

"Absolutely subtle," Sirius started to snicker, then switched to scowling at his two friends when they wouldn't quite watching him with unease. If they didn't lighten up he was going to have to start doing something drastic.

They waited until they reached the privacy of Ron's room before demanding of Harry what that had been about, and he finally told them of his scar hurting a few days ago. Their reactions were near perfect to how Harry had predicted them.

"It's good you know your friends so well," James muttered, finally turning away from Sirius. He wasn't done worrying about him yet, and frankly he wouldn't be until his name was cleared, but at least this was a mildly entertaining distraction.

Ron began demanding to know that You-Know-Who hadn't been around Harry this time, right?

Lily really did start laughing at that. Harry's spot on imaginary Ron had been perfect.

Harry agreed he was sure no one was there who shouldn't be, but it was strange. His dream had been about Wormtail,

Remus managed to spit out that name with the same amount of contempt he would have with the word Mudblood, or werewolf, or a number of things he wished he'd never in his life have to mention again.

saying he couldn't clearly remember details anymore, but they'd been talking about murdering...someone.

"I get the feeling they could have filled in that blank," James mumbled, wiggling just that little bit closer to his son no matter how stupid he may have deemed it in retrospect.

He hadn't been able to say the word 'me' because Hermione looked more than terrified enough.

Lily was doing a remarkable reenactment of that expression now, and she had the knowledge Harry was going to be fine. It was still making Harry feel just as bad for his mum as his friend, but was unable to help soothe either of them.

Ron tried to comfort all of them it had just been a nightmare though, nothing to worry about, but Harry disagreed. Stating how odd these coincidences were, his scar had hurt, and three days later Voldemort's sign appeared in the sky.

"Why, why on earth can't we just have one year where we don't even have to mention Voldemort's name?" Remus groused.

"Because my life would be too boring otherwise," Harry muttered.

Ron snapped at Harry not to say You-Know-Who's real name, but Harry ignored him as always. Reminding them of Trelawney's prediction last year.

"Haven't been able to forget it yet, but thanks for the reminder," Sirius muttered, that prophecy had nearly been his undoing, and even when he'd found out it hadn't related to him it was not a pleasant look back.

That finally distracted Hermione from her fear, giving a huffy laugh at Harry for believing anything she said.

"You never told them she made a real prophecy?" James asked in surprise.

"Never got around to it," Harry shrugged, giving Sirius an absent nudge as he said, "had some other stuff on my mind that night, and then I was trying to forget about it there at the end."

Sirius though had something much more entertaining to say as he gave his best friend a superior smirk and demanded, "so you do admit prophecies are real now?"

"Can't hardly deny it when Harry had one smacked in his face," Remus sighed, already being able to tell where this was headed by Sirius' pompous tone.

"Then you owe me years of apologizes for calling me a loon in believing in them," Sirius crowed, his smile stretching wider every second as he glanced from one friend to the other. "Go on, I want to hear you say it now. Prophecies exist!"

"Oh knock it off Snuffles," Harry sighed, for some reason the idea of Sirius talking about this was setting him on edge, but even as he finished he ended on a pained hiss and went cross eyed, trying to understand why he'd call Sirius that. After blinking away a few bright spots, he saw he wasn't the only one.

"Now why would you know that name?" Remus asked first. "I only called him that a half a dozen times, back in our fourth year."

"I've never heard this one," James raised an even more surprised brow at his two friends.

Sirius shrugged with nonchalant as he said, "it was during our Christmas break, and I got a head cold. Kept sneezing and body parts kept randomly turning into a dog, we didn't master our transformations until fifth year," Sirius added on for Harry. "Remus kept laughing about it every time and started calling me Snuffles all week. By the time you," he broke off with an old wince at the fact he couldn't add on the other name without substituting a swear word, "got back, the joke had died off."

Harry nodded in understanding, but none of this answered their original question, why on earth Harry would know any of that. The whole matter had successfully distracted both Sirius and Harry though, so Remus decided to keep reading now while he still could.

Harry defended the Divination teacher though, saying it had definitely been a real prediction this time, even quoting the parts about the Dark Lord's return, reminding the end results had been Wormtail's escape that night.

Now Remus regretted it and wanted to go back to admitting Sirius had been right about something, it was certainly easier to stomach then thinking on that. Through a red haze he glanced up and saw the other four were a mask of boiling hatred again, so Remus collected himself and put on the most tragic face he could muster as he said, "alright Padfoot, I admit, you were right about prophecies. Never again shall I argue with your unending knowledge, about this," he quickly tacked on, already knowing he was going to regret giving in the moment Sirius attempted to replace his bloodlust with a satisfied smirk. It didn't really work, his jaw was still clenched too tightly for the expression to look natural, but the fact he even attempted a smile made it feel worth it to Remus.

No one could think of anything else to add until Hermione again asked about Hedwig. Harry said he'd written a letter to Sirius asking about this, and Ron agreed at once that was a great idea, he'd have an answer for them.

"Why on earth would they think that?" James demanded at once, far more up for pestering his best mate then giving in to him. "You hardly know the difference between Devil's Snare and Mandrakes."

"Oi," Sirius hooted. "What's those evil little plants got to do with knowing about this Dark stuff? I know plenty about that, more than you."

James looked like he was about to keep pressing in, with a highly amused audience of Remus and Harry, but Lily gave Remus a hard nudge and waved him on, still wanting to get through this chapter more then watch them snip at each other no matter how much it made her feel better.

Harry agreed, though expressed he was worried he'd thought Sirius would reply by now. Hermione reminded they had no idea how far away he was, it would take longer than just three days. Harry agreed with a heavy sigh.

James kept his superior expression in place even as that feeling of jealousy returned, still wishing in vain he could have replaced that sentence with his own name.

Ron quickly changed the subject by offering Harry to come play Quidditch, he knew all of his brothers would join in, and Harry could try the Wronski Feint.

"Oh that's a brilliant idea," Lily sighed, "because one life or death experience isn't enough for you in a twenty-four hour period."

"Stop exaggerating Lily," Sirius snickered, "Quidditch is good for him, helps him work out the nerves."

Hermione snapped at him in a 'I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive' sort of voice

"I get the feeling she has to use that voice often," Remus chuckled.

by saying Harry didn't want to play Quidditch now,

"Oh yes he does," Harry laughed, the idea of trying out that move again now still present.

that he should want to go to bed, but Harry interrupted that a game sounded fun.

"Best to cut her off before she could keep going like that," James snickered, "she'd be tucking you into bed before you knew it."

He went rummaging for his Firebolt as Hermione stomped out muttering about 'boys.'

"I'm sure there were some other things mixed in there," Lily rolled her eyes, on complete agreement with Hermione on that.

The narrative jumps in by saying that for the next week, neither Percy nor Arthur were home much. Percy could be heard saying over dinner the Sunday before they were due back at school how the place was in an uproar in a pompous, superior tone.

"I swear that's the description you give after everything he says," Sirius snorted.

"And he doesn't deserve it one bit," Remus agreed.

People kept sending Howlers complaining of what all had happened, and wanting reimbursement for their stuff. One Mundungus Fletcher was wanting compensation for his twelve-bedroom tent that had been destroyed, but Percy knew for a fact he'd been sleeping under his own cloak.

"What an idiot," Lily scoffed, "did he really think he could get away with that?"

"I've heard of stupider things he's tried," James shrugged.

Unlike before, where he'd still felt to unsure to hardly even speak up, Harry had no qualms this time inserting himself into the conversation and asking, "how do you guys know him?" In hopes to ease some of the pressure in his skull telling him he should know that name anyways.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's," Remus shrugged, "does a lot of things for the Order most members either can't, or won't do because they don't have the same ah, connections."

"Friend is putting it lightly," Sirius snorted. "Dumbledore keeps bailing him out from the stupider crimes he gets caught doing, so Mundungus does whatever he asks." Then he turned to Harry and put much more bluntly, "he's a criminal, never made an honest living in his life, but he's pretty fun to have around. Dung's always been good for a laugh, and he can get you some really cheap things most won't normally go after."

"You are not endearing me," Harry finally laughed to show he'd gotten the message. All of this helped somewhat, he was now quite sure this was the same way he knew the same man, but there was still something missing. A connection he was sure he had to the name, but of course that wouldn't come to him.

Molly was not paying attention to the conversation, glancing repetitively at the clock where all of the Weasley family's names had replaced the hands, and instead of numbers it indicated such things as work, traveling, or home,

"I love that," Lily said instantly, her eyes brightening with want.

"I wonder how they got ahold of that," James ruffled up his brow thoughtfully, his mind already spinning with the idea he'd like to recreate that for his family, that nasty little pang reminding him of the count of hands he'd have now rather than if he'd heard about this just a week ago.

"It was an anniversary present for Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, "I think Mr. Weasley made it, though I have no idea how."

"Fascinating," Lily said honestly, adding this to her growing list of things she had a mind to say to the Weasleys when she planned to meet them in person.

"I do wonder though," Remus said with some surprise, "why she was so worried about her family if she had that. It would have said whether anything bad had happened to them."*

"There's a difference in a clock telling you, and seeing them in person," Lily said mildly.

"Besides," Sirius shrugged, "considering the time they arrived back, I'll bet you she just saw that paper and sprinted out the back to wait, I don't think that would have crossed her mind till later, and they came back soon enough she didn't have time to check."

as well as lost, hospital, prison,

Lily couldn't help but snort, thinking 'oh that's lovely.'

and, mortal peril.

"Sounds handy," Sirius snickered.

"That's where your hand would be all year," Lily shot back.

Sirius went wide eyed and pressed his hand to his heart as he cooed at her, "awe, Lily, you'd put my name up there?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she tried to say with a straight face, though the effect was ruined by her twitching lips.

All of the hands but Arthur's currently pointed at home, while his was at work. Mrs. Weasley gave a heavy sigh as she said to no one in particular that he hadn't been working this much since the time of You-Know-Who.

"Why would Mr. Weasley's job be involved in that?" Harry asked in surprise. "If he just informs people about what Muggle stuff is?"

Lily wasn't a hundred percent sure herself, as she'd personally never even spoken to Arthur in real life, and only had a vague idea of where his office even was in the Ministry, but she knew for a fact she had to send owls down there all the time for other things besides just what a Muggle object was so she offered, "it's a bit more than that dear. I don't think you quite realize how often wizards, mistakenly or not, involve themselves in Muggle affairs. Whatever any department does, Arthur would have to make sure to check it over and make sure it doesn't interfere with anything to do with Muggles. This Dark Mark business," Lily heaved a huge sigh in sympathy for the Ministry falling into even a portion of the pandemonium it was on a daily basis to her in this timeline, "it causes all sorts of mayhem at the Ministry to keep that sort of thing under wraps from the Muggles no matter how far away they were. All those wizards panicking and fleeing the scene for instance, apparating away in their panic and landing in Muggle neighborhoods for instance, could have shocked any number of them, you see where I'm going?" She finished with an expectant look.

Harry nodded in understanding, his sympathy for the Weasley patriarch suddenly doubling.

Saying his job was working him to hard, and his dinner would be ruined by the time he got here. Percy said that his father had brought this on himself with his mistake.

James's mouth opened with a little pop as he gasped, "is Percy really agreeing with the Ministry over his own father with that nonsense?"

"What a little prat," Sirius nodded with a heavy scowl in place.

Saying he shouldn't have said anything until he'd spoken with his Head of Department about the press,

"He is the Head of his Department," Remus snapped, stunned that he was defending Arthur from one of his own kids. Bloody hell, he remembered this random snap of information from when Ron had said it two books ago! How could Percy be acting like this?

Lily had always had the most sympathy for Percy, she found his position in the family more sad than annoying like the rest of the boys seemed to, but even she was getting a little fiery over the way he was acting now, there was no excuse of taking your jobs side over your family's.

Harry's thoughts were in perfect alignment with his mother's, wondering why on earth all of this Percy talk felt like a bad omen.

but Molly cut him off with a snap that Percy was not going to sit there and blame his father for whatever Skeeter had caused! Bill agreed with his mother, saying if their dad hadn't said anything, Skeeter would have just said no one at the Ministry had bothered to give a comment, all while keeping his eyes on the chessboard he was playing with Ron on.

That was a quick distraction, all of them vividly remembering the last time Ron had been mentioned playing chess, at least this time the pieces weren't life sized.

Harry gave a happy smile at this, saying, "Bill was the only one who could play Ron and actually be a threat to him."

Still going on to say that she didn't like anyone, she'd done some interviews of the Curse Breakers once, and she'd called him a 'long-haired pillock.'

"Well this woman's just getting more and more charming," Remus scoffed.

Molly couldn't seem to help herself as she did agree it was getting a bit long, but Bill cut her off with a quick no.

"I get the feeling that must be a daily occurrence," Sirius snorted, brushing his hair out of his own face.

Rain was pouring down outside, the cozy little scene in the living room displaying all of them sitting around in comfort working on something. Charlie was currently tending a fireproof balaclava,

"Why would he need to fix a fireproof anything?" Harry asked in surprise, having been too invested in his own project at the time to ask.

"It can still get worn out even when it's not set on fire," Lily shrugged, "I'm sure Charlie has to do that on his own all the time, considering how little he's home."

Harry was polishing his Firebolt, and the twins were off in the corner muttering over a piece of paper.

"Subtle," James snorted, thinking they'd at least have the sense to make more order forms outside of their mother's point of view.

"I think they're just asking for another argument," Remus nodded.

Molly seemed to notice this at the same time as Harry, as she snapped at her twins what they were up to? Fred responded at once with homework.

"Right," Sirius exaggerated the word to the extreme.

Mrs. Weasley scolded they were still on holiday, and George agreed they'd just left it a bit late.

"Now that I'll believe," Lily snorted.

She was still glaring at them as she demanded to know if those were more to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?

"Can't restart what they never gave up on," Remus smirked, as clearly no matter what their mother said, those two had this in the works for some time.

Fred turned hurt filled eyes on her, reminding that if the Hogwarts express crashed tomorrow and they died, did she really want to pick an argument with them about this?

Lily gave a small sigh, she didn't really think it was right to pick on their mother for that reaction she'd had, but it didn't erase her own laughter blending in with the boys at their picking.

Even Mrs. Weasley laughed at her son's picking, but then she quickly turned to excitement when she saw Arthur's hand finally switch from traveling, and then seconds later, home. She was already bustling towards the kitchen before Arthur could call out, and he came into the living room looking haggard. He picked listlessly at his meal as the told those around him that Skeeter was still causing all kinds of problems, now she'd found out about Bertha and that was going to be another Ministry blunder headline. Percy agreed Crouch had said weeks ago someone should go looking for her.

"Did he really need to add that?" Sirius muttered, fighting down the compulsion more with every line he spoke to smack Percy.

Arthur grumbled back they were just lucky Skeeter didn't know about Crouch's involvement with that Dark Mark business, that would be a headline for weeks.

"If that did happen, his grounds of clothing his elf would make a bit more sense," Sirius quirked a brow in surprise, "so I guess if you think about it, he was just doing that preemptively."

"I cannot believe you're really going back and saying that was okay," Lily balked at him.

Sirius rolled his eyes at her and said, "What? I still think they were over the line treating her like that, but we all know Crouch has such a large stick up his arse it's not really surprising he'd think that way. If you consider the way he is now, I wouldn't be surprised one little bit the second something Dark is connected to his name he'd throw it to the wolves."

"You're depressing me," Lily sighed, slumping back into the couch without argument for that.

Harry was getting a bubbling feeling in his gut, something in him telling him Sirius was very close to the mark and none of them realized it, but of course he couldn't begin to imagine details of what this was.

Percy was getting a temper now as he said everyone here had agreed Crouch had nothing to do with that!

James scoffed as he snapped, "I wouldn't be surprised if Percy just said that and no one argued with him. While yes he's right," he rolled his eyes, "you don't need to go shouting at them for it."

Hermione shot back Crouch was lucky the Prophet didn't know how he treated elves!

Sirius couldn't help a surprised little snort of laughter, that's what Hermione had caught on? No one else would bat an eye at that part.

Percy sighed at her, trying to defend his boss that such a man couldn't have disobedient servants, but Hermione hotly cut him off and corrected slave!

"Eh," James waved his hand vaguely, "I think Hermione's exaggerating the term a bit."

"I don't," Lily snapped at once. The more she heard about this, the more she was kicking herself or never having looked farther into it. "What's so different with house-elves, and treating people that same way?"

"The practice of house-elves being attached to wizarding families goes back centuries," Sirius rolled his eyes, "it's practically as common as wizards themselves."

"Just because it's old and traditional doesn't make it right," Lily ground out. "You're saying that these beings that are clearly as human as Remus shouldn't be treated the same."

"Hey," Remus yelped, "don't drag me into this." His eyes were getting wider the longer this dragged on, he actually began edging away from Lily as he sensed a true fight coming on and he did not want to be in the middle of this.

Sirius was clearly getting angry now, his glare actually holding some real threats of violence if she kept this up, she shouldn't have dragged Remus into this! His voice came out more of a growl now, "that's not fair and you know it. Don't you take a shot at him when they're two completely different things."

"How?" Lily insisted, her eyes narrowing clearly showing she wasn't going to back down one bit. "You tell me how treating something as lesser than you as a slave isn't that far off the mark how werewolves are treated, like a pariah."

"OKAY!" James finally got out louder than them. The baby in Lily's lap, already squirming in agitation at all of the raised voices, actually began wailing then, causing Lily to break away her glare and begin soothing her son, admittedly still more flushed than usual. James wasn't looking much better himself, alternately scowling at his wife for making Remus clearly so uncomfortable, and Sirius refusing to back down and just let the matter go. "You two knock it off, there's no since acting like this towards each other. Let Remus finish this chapter, then you two can have it out somewhere where we don't have to hear it."

Lily finally convinced baby Harry to stop crying by then, sitting back into her seat, and still throwing haughty looks at Sirius, which he was returning. Harry and his father exchanged an uneasy look, James had been hoping that someone cutting them off would make one of them admit it was time to let this go but that clearly wasn't the case. Remus still looked a little shell-shocked, but at a nod from James he decided to keep going.

Reminding that Winky hadn't been paid. Molly cut into the argument by telling her children to go upstairs and make sure everything was packed.

'I should take notes' Harry mentally thought, still frowning at all four of them. He'd seen them argue before, and he never liked to watch it.

Harry got to his feet and followed Ron up to his room, where Pigwidgeon set up a flutter when they came in. Ron threw him an owl treat to get him to shut up, and Harry watched the little owl with worry as he said it had been over a week since he'd seen his own.

"You said yourself she normally takes twice that long," James sighed, running his hand through his hair in agitation, as if he needed another thing to worry about.

"Well yeah, but I don't know. I was kind of hoping since this one was kind of urgent, he'd find a way to get a reply quicker," Harry offered with a shrug.

Harry then asked Ron with real worry if Sirius had been captured.

Lily's skin tone went back to normal, and then a few shades paler in shock. This was not the first, nor certainly the last, time she'd been ticked off at Sirius for some careless comment he made, but she was suddenly struck once again by this horrid future they were listening to and realizing these little spats they had may be numbered. It didn't completely erase her agitation towards him, but it certainly made the want of cursing him lessen.

Remus flinched as he got that out, but Sirius quickly jumped in and soothed them all with a smug smile, "oh please, those numbskulls couldn't find the broad side of a barn. There's no way they're going to find me."

"You're confidence is instilling," James muttered, unable entirely to stop his leg twitching in agitation.

Ron scoffed at the idea, saying that news would be plastered all over the papers.

"And there's that," Harry sighed, trying to show that had comforted him a lot more than it had. He really didn't like to think of Sirius being captured, it set him on edge in the worst way, though thankfully he wasn't getting any kind of feeling about this. So this must mean it never happened to him, right?

Harry agreed for now, and went about packing away his stuff, most of which were his new school books and some supplies Mrs. Weasley had gotten him while he was away, grateful she'd remembered his potion ingredients as he'd been running low on some.

Lily just couldn't seem to erase a frown from her face this chapter, the expression only increasing as she got her own shot of envy at Molly doing all of this for her son. She'd have loved nothing more than for the simple task of going to Diagon Alley for her son while he and his father went to that Cup, and this little reminder it had been someone else smarted more than she'd been expecting it to with her current mood.

Ron was at his own trunk, and made a disgusted noise of surprise as he pulled out a maroon dress with lacy cuffs.

That was such a random thing that Remus finally broke the bad vibe of the room with a snort of mirth, all five of them cracking a real smile at Ron for some deranged reason being handed a lacy dress-robe.

Molly entered at that moment with some last minute clothes for them, and Ron tried to hand the dress to her, saying he'd gotten something of Ginny's by mistake, but Molly corrected that it was for Ron, his new dress robes. Ron yelped in shock, and Molly said that's what their school supplies list had said they'd need this year.

"Wonder why," James said just a tad too loudly, hoping to keep on this laughing mood as long as possible. "Think Hogwarts is hosting a dance?"

Harry felt a buzz ring through him, somehow knowing his dad wasn't too far off, but also getting the impression it wasn't an event he was fond of.

"I think it would be a nice idea," Lily couldn't help a little smile now, warming to the idea the more she spoke. "Perhaps a Valentine's day thing, I always said Hogwarts should indulge in more school events."

"From memory, every time they've tried, it's been a disaster," Remus snickered. "I've heard tale of this one time they tried a school play over some fairytale novel, that didn't end well."

"Won't know until Harry gets there," Sirius cut in, perhaps still being a little more surely then was called for, but still too agitated to admit it.

Lily shot him another glare, she had been trying to play nice, but clearly Remus took that as a hint to move on now while he still could.

Ron was still balking at the material, stating he'd never wear a thing like this! Molly cut him off by saying everyone wore them, his own father had some.

"Just like that eh?" James raised a brow in surprise, forcing some good mood at Sirius whether he wanted it or not. "I'd like to see that, I'm sure seeing his father in lace would make Ron feel better."

Harry gave a happy laugh at the image, while Sirius did crack a smile for James's benefit.

Ron grumbled he'd show off his bum before he put that on.

"That'll be a day at Hogwarts," Remus snickered.

Mrs. Weasley snapped he was being silly, Harry had gotten some too.

Causing Sirius to really laugh this time, along with the other three, while Harry went beat red in surprise and fear for what this could mean.

Harry began digging through his stuff in surprise, but came up with something much closer to his school uniform, except it was dark green.

"Which is how most dress-robes look," James cackled. "So I don't know what was running through Molly's head with Ron in mind."

The smile trickled off of Lily just a bit though, not having to think hard on why the idea of Molly picking out that for Harry would give her a pang of sadness.

Ron saw it and snapped why he hadn't gotten something that looked more like that, and Molly couldn't help a faint blush as she said she hadn't a lot of choosing on her budget for Ron's.

Causing all of them to stop smiling at once. It wasn't so funny now that they realized that.

Harry looked away in shame, knowing he'd happily split all his money with the Weasleys,

"Wish I'd just done it, they couldn't argue the point once it's in there," Harry muttered, fidgeting in place.

but he knew they would never take it.

"That's why you don't ask permission," James smirked.

Ron snapped he refused to wear his, and Mrs. Weasley snapped he could just go ahead naked then. Asking Harry to make sure he got a picture, she needed a laugh!

"It's nice to see Molly with a sense of humor," Sirius sighed.

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her, and at that moment Pigwidgeon began choking on a too large treat. Ron was grumbling that everything he owned was rubbish as he went to go unstick his beak.

Remus closed the book uneasily, looking between Sirius and Lily like he still expected a bomb to go off, being as clear and silent as he could the chapter was over, then looking longing at the door like he wanted to make a run for it while he could.

HPHPHPHP

Forewarning you guys now, the next chapter won't actually be a chapter, but an actual argument between Lily and Sirius about the house-elf topic. I set it up to much to just have them keep avoiding it, and since it keeps coming up so much in this book I decided I'd get their views up and as clear as possible now.

Thank you all as always for your endless support of this fic! No spoilers but, Oh My God The Cursed Child! I'm thinking about waiting until the next reading chapter and posting my opinion on it, or do you think that's a little cocky? Do you guys even really care what I think about it?

*Question offered by maana999. If you guys have any questions, even from one of the older books, or just something you'd like to point out and seen discussed, I implore you to say something, I love them all!

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: Darriness

Author : @darriness​

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends on which of my fics we're talking about. For Fic A Day, I usually just spew the whole chapter out in the evening and then I'll read it over once or twice before posting. The whole process has been known to take no longer than an hour (though sometimes longer). For my linear longer fics I revise constantly (too many times to count) while I write, and then my beta reads them over usually at least twice, and then after I make all the changes she suggests I'll go back once or twice to read the whole thing. How many times I do that last step usually depends on how soon I plan to post. For 3 on 1 I probably read/revised that fic a hundred times while waiting to be able to post it for the Big Bang.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Hmmmm, probably Life In A Year but only because I wrote 365 chapters/fics without a second set of eyes looking at them to tell me when I made stupid mistakes (I've caught a few as I've reread chapters over the past couple of years.) I probably wouldn't change the stories themselves though. I would just want to fix the silly grammar and spelling errors.

What do you look for in a beta?

Someone willing to put up with me? lol I didn't use a beta for a long time. The only reason I got one is because I did a Glee Fic Exchange and one of the 'rules' was that you had to have a beta. Luckily a Tumblr friend of mine offered to help and has been my exclusive beta ever since (I don't mean exclusive like she can't beta for other people, but she's the only person I use as a beta). If I were looking for a new one (which I hope not to have to do ever!) I would want someone who is enthusiastic, able to catch sneaky grammar and spelling errors (I like to think my work isn't riddled with obvious ones), and someone available for me to bounce ideas off of (if I ask you a question about a fic and it takes you a week to get back to me? That idea is either gone or I've already worked it out myself).

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I don't think *I* would want to write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there. Are there fics I would like to see the story continue for? Of course (though do you think I can think of any specific fics right now? Of course not lol). But I would like the author to do the writing, not me.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I call most of my fics, that aren't clearly AU, 'canon adjacent'. I follow canon pretty closely but there are three main things I always 'conveniently forget' about canon when I write - Finn's death, Blaine cheating, and Klaine breaking up. Most of my canon adjacent fics take place after canon ended but I do still follow the history of canon except for those things listed above. Oh, and I usually 'forget' Puck existed at all. I'm not sure he's been in my fics at all after that whole thing happened.

Talk about a review that made your day.

Here comes the cliché but legit true answer - ALL reviews make my day. Getting a notification email that someone left a comment on AO3 never fails to make me smile and clicking on people's reblogs on Tumblr to see if they've left comments in the tags is a lot of fun for me! The fact that someone took the time to comment on my silly writing? Blows my mind. I will say though that the comments I got nearing the end of A Life In A Year (including the last day) were especially satisfying. They were congratulations about finishing the year and as I was feeling pretty proud of myself, having other people share their congratulations was really special.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I don't think I've ever gotten a rude review luckily! There was one on one of my very first fics in fandom (that I posted on FF.net, it's not even on AO3 or Tumblr) that felt the need to correct an error in my grammar but I wouldn't necessarily have called it rude. I felt it slightly unnecessary but I actually took their comment to heart and think about it every time I go to make that error in my writing today.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

I don't feel qualified to give advice but here we go. WRITE AND READ AND HAVE FUN! Your ideas are never going to get put on paper (or document) and you're never going to improve your writing if you don't actually write! Even if you don't think it's very good (I'm sure it's good!) if you don't write it, you can't improve. Write, and then get someone you trust to read it and help you make it better (or even take a course!). Also, READ. And I don't mean read your own writing (well yes, read your own writing) but read OTHER people's writing. Read fic, read books, read the newspaper - the reading and writing skill are so interconnected that your writing will improve the more you read! So READ! And then write some more! And lastly, have fun writing and reading. If it's not fun, then it's not worth doing it. It shouldn't be a chore or a job and even if it IS your job? If you're not having fun then it's still not worth doing in my opinion.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?

I love discussing all my fics with other people! I'll choose two fics for this answer though that I don't get to talk about a lot with other people and wish I could more - Roadie and Evolved. I love those fics/verses personally and wish I could really discuss them with people :)

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Narcissistically? Rereading my own fic. I love going back to an old fic of mine and reading through it again. It's simultaneously a comfort because I know it so well and a bit mystifying because I think 'I really wrote this?'

***

Check out Darriness’s Fics: 

Roadie -  Blaine Anderson is the lead singer of one of the most popular bands in the United States. His life is chaotic but he loves it. One day, a new sound engineer joins the tour and turns Blaine's already chaotic life upside down.

Like You Wanna Be Loved -  A new boy moves in and catches Kurt's attention...but everything is not as it may seem.

Quality Time -  Kurt and Blaine try a little quality time activity together!

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week 2020: Day 1 - First Meeting

Summary: After a crappy post-college first year, Laxus jumped at the opportunity to leave town for a week for a road trip with his friends. He intended it just to be a week away with his friends, but when he meets an unfamiliar stranger, the vacation turns into something much more. [Fraxus Multichapter]

This was written as part of the annual Fraxus Week event hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​​. This year I’ve decided to make an eight-part multi-chapter fic out of the prompts. They might not be in the correct order, but I think the end product will be worth it. Hope you all enjoy it.

You can read this on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, and under the cut.  Read the other chapters from this masterlist.

Chapter One – Getting Aboard

It had been Bickslow's idea.

Nobody would think it, but the blue haired idiot was perhaps the most caring of the group, the mother figure, in a way. He wasn't the most conventional 'mom friend', and it certainly didn't diminish his enthusiasm to get drunk off his ass when the opportunity presented itself, but he was always the one keeping an eye out on his friends and knew when something was wrong. Apparently he had seen something was wrong with all three of them, and had come up with this plan on how to fix it.

A road trip to the Grand Canyon. None of his friends knew where the idea had come from, nor did they know why he insisted on renting an RV and driving there instead of getting the train. But the man had this enthusiasm about him that was cast upon them like a spell, and they couldn't find a way to fight it. Perhaps they all knew they needed the break.

Laxus was damn sure he did.

It had been just shy of a year since his graduation from college, and his plan had been to get a job in a gym being a personal trainer. That hadn't happened. He'd gone to many job interviews and nothing had come from any of them, and each rejection had been like a punch to the gut. He knew he couldn't just use his grandfather's money for ever, so had gotten what was meant to be a temporary job in an office while he looked for more appropriate employment. That had been nine months ago, and he hadn't been near to an interview for his chosen career in over half a year.

So far, his post college life had been a failure. Perhaps he had been naïve to think good things would happen instantly, perhaps he just needed to be patient. But the idea of getting away from everything for a week was what he needed.

Even if it was in what he could only assume was a crappy van.

Even if he had to wake up at five thirty to get on the highway before the majority of traffic, for some reason.

Even if one of the people he was traveling with was a stranger.

He had known Bickslow for the longest. They had been friends since they were kids and, although Bickslow moving away for college had meant they weren't as close as they once were, Laxus still considered the man his closest friend. He was chaotic, loyal, and overall just a fun guy. He could be obnoxious, but who couldn't?

Evergreen had come later, when she transferred into their high-school and Bickslow had dragged her into their small group. She was a little haughty at first, but that was clearly a defensive state she took on as the new girl. As they got closer, she showed a snarkier and quick-witted side. She fit in with the two men like the missing piece of a puzzle, even if she had a stupid insistence of hitting them with a fan when annoyed.

But now there was Freed.

Laxus didn't know all that much about Freed. He knew that he went to the same college that Bickslow and Ever did. He knew that he lived a few towns over, about half an hour's drive. He knew that he was a literary and science major. That was it. But both Bix and Ever thought well of him, so he was probably a good person.

"What time is he coming?" Makarov asked, cupping a mug of coffee while sitting at the kitchen table.

"Should be a few minutes," Laxus shrugged, biting into the toast he'd made for himself.

"I don't get why you have to leave this early," Makarov commented, glancing at the clock handing on the wall as sipped his drink. "You're going to be driving for days on end, you'll get caught in traffic anyway. You might as well sleep in to an appropriate time."

"Nobody asked you to see me off," Laxus quirked an eyebrow. He agreed with the sentiment though, he'd much rather leave later and deal with the traffic.

"No, but you seemed determined to bump into everything as you were getting ready and to make as much noise as you could. It's hard to sleep through that," Makarov grinned, clearly trying to get a reaction out of his grandson. "Besides, it's been years since I saw your friends, it'll be nice to see them again. And that new boy you'll be travelling with, I want to mee him too."

"We're picking him up later," Laxus said, crunching another bite of toast; he had burned it.

"Ah," Makarov nodded.

The two men fall into a comfortable quiet, the silence being accompanied by the radio Makarov had insisted turning on despite complaining about all the music they played. Laxus ate his breakfast while his grandfather read the newspaper. Once Laxus was finished, he checked the small suitcase that he had packed for himself to make sure it had everything he needed, then sat back at the kitchen table and waited for his friends to arrive.

A few minutes later he got the text saying that Bickslow was outside. He cracked his back and walked to the front door of the house he shared with his grandfather, and looked upon the large RV that had been parked at the foot of the driveway.

It was an impressive looking vehicle, and probably a good model. The idea to go on this road trip had been made in March, giving the four of them four months to save up enough to hire something relatively luxurious. Bickslow was hanging out of driver's seat window with a wide grin on his face, clearly happy that his plan was starting. Laxus found his enthusiasm infectious, and a small smile graced his lips as he approached.

This was exactly what he needed to put aside the disappointment of the year.

"Hey man," Bickslow greeted with a voice too loud for the time of the morning. He looked past Laxus and grinned wider. "Hey Mr D."

"Morning Bickslow," Makarov greeted from the doorframe, smiling. "Is Evergreen not with you?"

"She's in the back, sleepin'. Told her that it'll take a hell of a lot of beauty sleep not to make her look like that, but she didn't listen to me," He cackled at his own joke, and Laxus chuckled as he saw a hairbrush hit him in the back of his head. "The big guy wake you up, Mr D?"

"What do you think?" Makarov laughed, and Laxus glared at him. Since when was it a known trait that he couldn't keep quiet in the morning?

"See you in a week-old man," Laxus waved his hand, hoping to stop the taunting conversation between his friend and relative. "Try not to die while I'm gone."

"Cheeky brat," Makarov retorted with a grin. "Have fun kids."

Bickslow gave a response in the affirmative while Laxus pulled open the door of the RV, climbing up the steps. It was as nice inside as it was outside, with a small table and seating nook, a cooking area, a bed at the back and a small room that Laxus assumed would be the washroom. Laxus absently wondered if either he or Bickslow would manage to fit in the shower, given their size. But still, it was a nice vehicle and would be more than enough for their week inside of it.

Laxus walked to the front of the vehicle and took the passenger's seat, grinning at the sight of Evergreen with an eye mask on while buckled into the seats surrounding the table. The seat was comfortable enough, and Laxus found himself smiling at the vehicle.

"She's nice, right," Bickslow grinned in reference to the RV. "Best one they had. Turns out four of us not having any fun for months means we save a lot of money."

"Glad to hear it," Laxus chuckled. "I half expected you to pull up in some crappy van with a piss stained mattress in the back."

"Oddly specific there Dreyar. Speaking from experience?" Bickslow grinned, and it was clear that his excitement was going to make him completely obnoxious throughout the week. As annoying as it was, Laxus wouldn't have it any other way. "So, just gonna put this out here. Sleeping situation. The bed at the back fits two, and the table folds away and makes another single bed. Obviously, they'll be two of us in the back. So we can either have Ever and Freed sharing the single bed 'casue we won't fit-"

"Like hell I'm sharing," Ever snapped from her seat. "It'll be cramped enough as it is."

"Or we take turns each night with one of us in that chair," He nodded to the seat Laxus was sitting in. "It reclines and turns slightly, so they'll be enough leg space. It's basically like a plane seat without anyone behind you."

"I'm sure we can manage with that," Laxus nodded. "Wouldn't wanna piss of medusa," A hairbrush hit the back of Laxus' head this time. "How many brushes do you have?"

"Five, they each do different things," Evergreen grunted from her seat, and Laxus chuckled when he saw her put the mask over her eyes again.

"How can they do different things?" Laxus asked.

"They just do, it's why they're all different shapes and have thinner and thicker prongs," Evergreen sighed. "Ask Freed when he gets here, I'm sure he'll know. And that way you won't be talking to me and I can get some sleep."

Laxus decided not to push his luck, knowing that his friend had enough strength to throw a hair dryer at his head, as well as the morality to do so. Instead he leant over to Bickslow, who had pushed the key into the ignition, and spoke softly.

"Why would he know much about hair brushes exactly?" He asked, and Bickslow looked at him with confusion before realisation hit him.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting that you know basically nothing about him," He laughed, turning the key, and starting the engine. It was a powerful machine, and Laxus appreciated it. "Freed's got really long hair, keeps it pretty well looked after too. Goes down to his ass, don't know when he last had it cut. It looks good on him though. Oh, and it's green. Like, bright green."

"Really," Laxus furrowed his brows. "Everything you've said about him makes him seem pretty… strait laced I guess."

"He is, kinda. He's just got green hair," Bickslow shrugged, smiling wide. "He's kinda contradictory when you get to know him. You'll love him, I know it baby."

Bickslow revved the engine unnecessarily, waved out the window with an overly loud 'Bye Mr D!' as he did so, and started to pull out from Laxus' neighbourhood. Laxus gave his grandfather a small wave in goodbye, and saw the old man return the gesture. He leant back in his comfortable chair and allowed the gentle vibrations of the vehicle moving to calm him, closing his eyes softly as the warm sun hit his face through the front window.

This was exactly what he had needed after the year he'd had, and even the idea of being in the RV with a stranger didn't put a damper on his mood.

~~~

It had taken about forty minutes to get into the town Freed had lived in, and only a little while longer to get to his apartment. The building wasn't the nicest looking place in the world, and Bickslow explained that Freed lived by himself and financed his own life through his student loan and a job. Laxus didn't judge him; that was an admirable thing to do and he couldn't look down on his because he lived in a slightly crappy apartment building.

Honestly, for some reason he had expected a spoiled kid.

"Could you go up and get him?" Bickslow asked, looking towards Laxus.

"Can't you text him?"

"Nah, he takes hours to answer any texts, so I never know if he actually reads them quickly or not. Don't wanna be waiting down here for ages," Bickslow shrugged, and then grinned. "Besides, it'll give the two of ya a chance to get to know each other before you get trapped in here with us. Makes it less awkward."

Laxus sighed, but nodded. He was almost certain that getting to know Freed was the only reason he had been chosen to find the man, but he couldn't prove it as he didn't know if Bickslow's claim about his texting etiquette was true or not. He shifted his way out of the RV, Bickslow shouting the man's apartment number and the code for the door as he did so. Once he closed the door, he could swear that he heard the two speaking in the van, but ignored it.

The apartment building wasn't run down, but it was lacking luxury. Paint was peeling off some of the walls and the elevator opened with a horrid creak. Laxus walked into it and pushed the button for the ninth floor.

A ridiculous bubble of nervousness entered his stomach as the elevator started to ascend. He had never been talented socially, and his communication skills were both blunt and often uncared for. This had meant he never truly got used to being around new people, and it took him a while to warm up with most people. And now he was going to be stuck in a pretty small RV for around a week with a man he didn't know. He knew that his friends were good judges of characters and they assured him that they'd get along, but Laxus still could be nervous about meeting him.

Once the lift had found the right floor, Laxus looked around and settled on the sixth apartment's door. He knocked it curtly, the sound echoing awkwardly in the hallway. Laxus fidgeted for a moment before it was opened, revealing Freed.

"Oh," The man said in a velvet smooth voice. "Hello."

"Hey," Laxus greeted. "I'm Laxus, Bickslow might have told you about me. He said to come get you."

"Of course," The man said, and offered him a smile.

It was a nice smile. In fact the entirety of the man was nice to look at. He had long green hair, as Bickslow had said, and it was tied up in a high pony tail. A few green strands had fallen down to frame his face, accenting his sharp features, and pronounced bone structure. His outfit portrayed a fit body, and the unassigned top button showed a small slather of a firm chest. He had piercing blue eyes, a small black mark high on his left cheek, and thin lips.

When his eyes flickered down, he saw that the man had two large sports bags at his feet, clearly his own luggage. Laxus was suddenly reminded of why he was there, and snapped out of his split-second trance.

"You need help with them?" He offered.

"I'm fine," Freed assured him. "Although you could hold this if you don't mind."

He reached for a shelf in his apartment and picked up a small plastic thermos, handing it to Laxus. The blonde took it and looked at it with confusion. "Doesn't it make more sense for you to hold your own drink. I really don't mind taking a bag."

"It's not for me," Freed explained, lifting his bags out of his apartment, and placing them down to lock the door. "I shared a morning class with Evergreen, and she was snappy enough at eight in the morning, let alone half six. I assumed she might need some caffeine."

"Yeah, both me a Bix got a hairbrush thrown at us already," Laxus laughed. "Probably a good call."

"I would have made the two of you one as well," Freed stated as they walked down the hall. "But I don't know what you drink, and I don't believe that Bickslow needs any help in being overly energetic."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure my grandpa's neighbour is gonna complain because of the shouting," Laxus grinned a little as he called the elevator. His friends were a topic he could handle.

"I'm surprised he didn't try and get my attention by yelling from the sidewalk."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that the only reason he sent me up here is so we can talk without them being there," Laxus admitted, before wondering if it was appropriate to say so. Was it meant to be a secret?

"It makes sense," Freed nodded. "They haven't really told me too much about you. I know your name, that you're a year older than us, and that you went to college to become trained in sports science and physiotherapy. That's essentially it."

"Well, that's all true," Laxus said as he walked into the open elevator. "I haven't gotten a job in my field yet, so I took a temp job. But I'm still looking. Bix said you've got a job as well as going to college?"

"I'm a waiter at Blue Pegasus, a restaurant a few blocks away," Freed explained. "It's not the most interesting work, but the pay is enough to keep me stable. And sometimes I'll get a meal at the end of the shift for free, so I can't complain."

Laxus nodded, understanding the conflict of working at a job that doesn't thrill you without having the option of quitting. The elevator started to slide down, and a repetitive tone began to play in the small box. Neither man spoke, and Laxus would have expected the urge to fill the silence, but it didn't come. For whatever reason, he felt comfortable with not speaking when Freed was around, something that didn't happen to him often.

Thinking back, the last time he had been okay in silence with a stranger had been Evergreen.

They reached the bottom floor hallway of the building a moment later, and Laxus held open the front door for Freed so the man could walk out without dropping his bags. When they walked into the morning sun, Laxus found himself momentarily transfixed by the sight of the man under natural light.

He looked radiant.

His slightly paler skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his perfectly brushed hair shimmered in the light. His eyes even seemed to sparkle as he approached the comparatively dull vehicle that was their home for the next week. Laxus' grip on the thermos tightened slightly as he walked forward.

"Just opened the storage," Bickslow commented from the window. "Put your bags in there, so we have space."

Freed nodded, walking to the small storage cubby that was opened from the side of the truck. He placed his bags down and opened it, and Laxus walked beside him. Freed placed one of the bags into the RV's trunk equivalent, and Laxus lifted the other to do the same. It held a fair amount of weight to it, and Laxus found himself impressed that the man had managed to lift this and another bag without any difficulty. Maybe the bulging in his sleeves wasn't just vanity muscles, as Laxus had assumed.

"Thank you," Freed nodded towards Laxus, closing the storage space.

"It's fine," Laxus assured him.

The two men climbed inside the RV, being greeted by a still too cheery 'welcome to the party bus' form Bickslow. Laxus saw that, in his time in the building, Evergreen had taken the front seat and was reclining in it with the eye mask on and a blanket covering her body. He rolled his eyes, placed the drink in a cup holder on the dash, and looked back over the RV's interior. The only place you could sit while it moved were in the table booth that Freed was sitting at. Laxus took the seat opposite him.

As he got into the leather booth, he saw that Freed had taken out a novel and was scanning the paged with quick moving eyes. The sun was hitting his face just right and illuminated it in a damn impressive way. Annoyingly, Laxus blushed

"All aboard," Bickslow yelled. "Next stop, the Grand Canyon."

And, with a pleasant nervousness in his stomach as he looked at Freed, Laxus found himself excited for the journey.

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

If you're still taking those 5 headcanons asks- two sugars au headcanons?

Ooh I defo am!

Not sure if you wanted specifically OT3 headcanons or not, so I'm going to go with the universe in general:

- Gertrude got Jon the job at the archives! She just walked up to Elias and was like "I need another research assistant, hire my grandson" and Elias breaks out in cold sweat like "please don't say Gerry, please don't-" when Jon walks in all uncomfortable and shy like "Um hi, Gertrude said I was going to have an interview?" and Elias is so relieved he just hires him on the spot.

-Tim works as a journalist at some newspaper, and he's always in a constant state of terror at being caught when he accompanies his brother to break into abandoned buildings, he has a reputation Danny!

-Martin lied on his CV of course, and the added bullshit ended up implying he was like 32 (by the time Jon meets him he's taken to saying he's 40, even though he has the worst case of babyface syndrome) when he was only 17. Elias saw right through it and he was like "unfortunately I do not have a position right now but-" and he sent him to Peter with a 'recommendation letter' that just said "hire the kid or I call off the wedding". It was initially just a prank on Elias' part which backfired terribly when Martin turned out to be ruthlessly efficient, now he wants him back but Peter is Not giving him up.

-Tim meets Martin at a press conference when Peter says some WILDLY stupid shit and the quiet, formal-looking assistant by the corner whispers "he just had to follow the fucking cards how could he fuck that up?!" And Tim decides he's going to keep this one.

-Tim and Jon had a Big Fight once because Jon refused to help him find Danny at one of Danny's friends Nikola's wild parties. Danny was sitting next to Tim the whole time, and Tim and Jon were both drunk as fuck. It was very serious and very dramatic, and Sasha definitely did not record it all.

-When Gertrude finally retires, she recommends Sasha for the position of Head Archivist because "Jon I love you like my own grandson but Sasha has earned this" and Jon is like "Thank God I have no idea what I'm doing"

-In this universe the Institute and the Archives are a place that compiles records of the supernatural, and they also do some research on how the stories are influenced by the changes in culture, and vice-versa. Jon has to keep up his careful pretense of skepticism because he's kind of a scaredy-cat and these things make him nervous af.

[angelsandacceptance]

The Day of the Black Sun

Usually, when the girls woke up, they didn’t see a man standing at the edge of their beds, staring at them.

Chase wakes up, and upon sitting up, is greeted by the sight of Castiel, the look on his face the constant confusion he seems to wear. Chase lets out a shriek, causing Harley to bolt up, ready to fight whatever might be there.

Harley looks very surprised to see only Castiel there. 

“What the actual Hell are you doing?” Chase demands. 

“Heaven has a job for the two of you,” Castiel says simply.

“And heaven can’t wait for us to already be awake?” Chase sighs. “How long have you been watching us, anyway?”

Castiel blinks. “I’ve only been watching for an hour.”

Harley looks at Castiel in disbelief. “Right. An hour. That makes it totally okay then.”

“A seal is dangerously close to being broken. You need to stop it from happening.”

“I thought you had your fellow angel soldiers protecting the seals,” Chase says, climbing out of the motel bed. Castiel watches her carefully, and she can’t tell if he looks more annoyed or tired.

“You really think this is easy. More of my brothers have died in this past week battling for seals than in the past two thousand years.”

“Didn’t you say you haven’t been on earth in two thousand years?” Harley asks. “That makes your statistics skewed.”

Castiel gives her a harsh look.

“Okay, so heaven has a job for us. Can we at least get dressed and eat or something?” Chase asks.

“Of course.” Castiel stays staring at them.

“Um, Cas?” Chase asks.

“Yes?”

“Can you, you  know, come back after we’ve changed?” Chase asks, making a shoo-ing gesture. He narrows his eyes at her. 

“Bye bye, my angelic acquaintance.”

“I will be back,” he says. Castiel then disappears, leaving the girls staring at the wall, blinking in confusion. 

“Doesn’t poof, my ass,” Chase snorts. She shakes her head and starts to change. By change, she simply shrugs on a flannel over her tank top, slipping her loose jeans on. Harley on the other hand has to wiggle into her skinny jeans and throw on a band tee. There wasn’t really a reason for Castiel to leave, other than Chase wanted to talk to Harley alone. “So, what do you think he wants us to do?” 

“Save the world. Risk our lives. Y’know the usual.”

“How very typical.” Chase pours herself coffee. “Do you think he’ll let us get pie first? Even a muffin would suffice.”

“He better. I don’t get my pie, I start ripping throats out.”

“See, even though I know that’s a legitimate thing for you, I gotta say. I totally agree with that mentality.”

“What’s the point of being a vampire if you can’t make light of it?” Harley shrugs.

“No point that matters.”

“I am back,” a deep voice says. 

The girls turn to see Castiel in the same place as before, as though he’d never left.

“Man, you gotta loosen up,” Chase says. “Ever tried looking more, y’know, human?”

“No.”

“Cas, that really wasn’t that long. You’re lucky I mastered getting dressed in under a minute because I was always late to school. Poof like that and you’ll be labeled a perv.”

“I do not understand. I do not have any intention of seeing you in a less than modest state.”

“Again with the need to loosen up,” Chase says with an eye roll. “It’s a joke, Cas.”

“Kinda. Seriously though, lengthen your poofing periods.”

“You’ve been given time. Now, you have a job to do.”

“What is this job?” Chase asks.

“A seal is being broken. A ritual you have to stop, that causes a solar eclipse. You must find the demon performing this ritual, and stop it.”

“Any other information you can give us?”

“No.” Cas turns away slightly, concentrating on seemingly nothing. “Time is almost up. I will send you there now.”

“Pie. We need pie. I don’t get pie, I start ripping throats out.”

Cas looks vaguely startled, looking at Harley strangely. “You get physically violent when you do not have pie?”

“She does,” Chase says, shrugging. “Can you blame her? Pie is life.”

Cas’ eyes narrow, and he just takes an unnecessary breath, blinking slowly. “I do not understand.”

“I’m a vampire, kinda, sorta. It’s complicated. But basically cherry pie is the only thing that can assuage my thirst for blood.”

“I see,” Castiel responds, nodding slowly. “But, as for your job. I will send you there now.”

Before either girl can protest, Castiel has closed the distance between himself and them, placing three fingers on each of their foreheads.

***

Chase and Harley suddenly find themselves standing on the sidewalk of an old looking town, each holding a piece of pie by the crust which promptly breaks and falls on the sidewalk.

“Well,” Chase starts, looking down at her now empty hands. “At least he got us the pie.”

“Too literal for his own good,” Harley sighs.

“Okay, so first things first. We find a lead on wherever this demon might be. I say we start at the local diner that this town has got to have. What state are we even in? They better have apple pie, because I am not in the mood to mourn what is currently at my feet.”

The girls begin walking around town, getting their bearings and looking for a diner. Finally, they spot one. 

“Brimstone Diner. What are we? In medieval times?” Chase jokes. 

“I think it sounds cool, but then again I am a sucker for a renaissance festival.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like a must for us sometime. Dean would totally be down for it too. He’d probably get way too into it, but like, on the down low.”

Harley nodded and the two friends went into the diner and ordered some pie. Apple for Chase and cherry for Harley.

“So, what’re you girls in town for?” the older waitress asks them. “Oh, don’t be surprised, dear. We don’t get a lot of new folk, so it’s easy to spot ‘em.”

“Oh, uh,” Chase starts. “A friend sent us here. Told us about some fantastic spots to work. We’re journalist photographers.”

“Stupid question, but where are we?” Harley asks the waitress, who according to the nametag is called Agnus.

Chase shoots Harley a look. So does the waitress, though it isn’t the same look. 

“Did your friend not tell you?” She asks, slightly concerned. “Why, you’re in Ocean Springs, Mississippi.”

Chase laughs it off. “He did tell us, but Nova here probably wasn’t paying attention.”

“I’m just really forgetful.”

“Well, that’s quite understandable, dear. My memory ain’t what it used to be either.” The waitress laughs slightly, waving her hand. “Anyway, let me go grab you your pie and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thank you,” Chase says, trying to be polite.

“Thanks, Agnus, lovely meeting you.” Harley says, waving goodbye.

Agnus brings them their pies and goes off to talk to another customer.

“So I guess we should head to the library after this? Find out what ritual can cause a solar eclipse.”

“Good idea,” Chase says, taking a bite of pie. She looks down in surprise, suppressing a moan of delight. “Holy God, this is good pie.”

Harley takes a bite of her pie, “Oh yeah, the best.”

The girls eat their pies, suppressing many a moan.

***

Our awesome, badass heroines spend hours at the library combing through book after book. They had tried so many different sections, trying to find the information in lore, religious texts, and mythology. Hell, Chase had even tried looking in historical cases just in case - even though this seal has obviously never been attempted before. She was simply desperate.

               “Hey, I think I found something,” Harley says, looking up, “By the souls of these seven victims I bind the sun and moon to my will. The moon shall block the sun and the seal shall break.”

               “That’s foreboding,” Chase says. 

               “It doesn’t specify what the seal is, but I think this is our gig. It calls for, get this, three virgins, two orphans, one fetus conceived out of wedlock, and the soul of a witness to the supernatural.”

               “Okay. Wow. That’s a lot of human sacrifice,” Chase says, absorbing the new information. “Also, an unborn kid? That’s just gross.”

Chase walks over to Harley’s side of their table to read the specifications of the seal. “Harley, look at this part. Because it’s an entire eclipse, it has to be on a full moon, right? When’s the next full moon?”

“Tonight,” Harley groans.

Chase lets out a long sigh. “Of course it is. Thank you, Castiel. Your timing is, like always, impeccable.”

“At least if we prevent it tonight it’s another month till they can try again?”

“True, but does this mean it can be attempted monthly? Because I did not sign up for this. Castiel can kiss my foot if he thinks I have the time, energy, or patience to deal with this every single month just to stop the apocalypse.” 

“Maybe they’ll just give up on it if we stop them?” Harley says, hopefully and unsure.

Chase shrugs. “I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“Damn demons. I swear Lillith is the bane of my existence.”

“I mean she is, quite literally, the bane of everyone’s existence. Honestly, she should get a hobby. I’m going to suggest knitting the next time I see her.”

“Knitting may be too hard though. She might go on a murder spree to vent out her knitting frustrations. What about crocheting.”

“Yeah, but isn’t she currently going on a murder spree to vent out her like, daddy issues? Crocheting is easier, true.”

“True, but a hobby is supposed to distract from that, not make it worse.”

“True. Wait, how did we start talking about this again? Moving on, where do we start in stopping this demon from breaking this seal?”

“First things first, I think we should look for potential victims.”

“Okay cool. I would say we do what we normally do, but considering Cas sent us here with no supplies, I guess we’ll have to do it the hard way. By gossiping.” Chase fakes a shudder, but is smiling nonetheless. 

“God, I hate gossiping with strangers. Shall we start with the town’s gossip column?”

“Sure.” Chase stands, overdramatically stretching. “Let’s get this bitch over with.”

***

Chase and Harley make a quick exit from the library and begin walking around town, on the lookout for anywhere they might find a newspaper, or signs for missing people. 

Finally, after wandering around for a while, Harley spots a newspaper stand. Quickly scanning through articles, there’s a prayer request filed under the town gossip section. It’s an anonymous request for a woman named Jessie Salinas, who has found out she is pregnant, and is also not married. 

Chase looks at the little article in disgust. “What a shitty thing to do to her. She’s obviously found out not too long ago, so you submit an anonymous ‘prayer’ request basically outing her situation to everyone? And it’s not even to ask for help! Just “keep her in mind”. People are so gross.”

“The worst part is they were probably ‘friends’ if Jessie told them.”

“Ouch, you’re right. I swear, if you were to do this to me, I’d probably hurt you.”

“I would never!” Harley says in mock offence knowing her friend didn’t actually think she would do it.

***

“Oh, look,” Chase says. They walk over to a tac board, where a missing person sign was hanging. “Thank God. I mean, not thank God, or. You know what. Whatever.”

The sign shows a picture of a boy around thirteen with blond hair. The name reads Jacob Stevens, and he was reported missing four days ago. 

“Well, I guess we have a couple leads?” Chase says questioningly.

“Now we just need to find five more. Should we head to Jessie’s place? Make sure her baby’s still kicking.”

“That’s probably our best bet. It’d be harder to figure out everything else first,” Chase agrees. “Where do you think we’ll find her?” 

“If we can get our hands on a computer finding her address shouldn’t be hard.”

“True. Back to the library?”

“Libraries, a hunter’s best friend.”

Chase laughs and they turn around, heading back the way they’d come.

***

Chase groans, hitting her head against the desk. “No address with that name pops up when I search it and- Oh my God, I’m an idiot.” Chase frantically backspaces, then types it in again, but this time searches for Jessica Salinas, and then grins proudly at her friend. “Found her. She lives not too far from here. West side of town, near the church.”

“Good, I’m not a fan of walking.”

“Tell me about it. He could have at least sent us with Jack.”

“When does our angel friend think things through?”

“Fair point. So he’s a friend now? Versus an ‘angelic acquaintance’?”

“He at least tried to give us pie.”

Chase shrugs. “Fair enough. Now, onto finding Jessie.”

“Off to find the Jessie, the wonderful Jessie of Oz.”

***

Chase and Harley stand on the porch of an older looking house, the paint peeling on the outside, but the garden of poppies looking very cared for. Chase reaches out a hand and knocks on the door. 

“I have my badge on me still. If you want to play cop.”

Chase reaches out and knocks once more, this time a little louder.

“Sounds good. You can introduce us then. Remember, I gave you the fake name Nova earlier. Best be consistent.”

“Coming!” A frantic female voice calls. Chase gives Harley a sideways glance, shrugging and taking a step back. A woman suddenly opens the door, her brown hair messily framing her face where it falls out of a haphazard bun. 

Her eyes are wide, but her smile wide and friendly. “Hi! Sorry, do I know you?” She asks, looking back and forth between the two girls.

“Hi,” Harley says, flashing her badge, “I’m agent Nova, this is agent Barry. We’re just asking around about the disappearances. Are you Jessie Salinas?”

Jessie, at most in her early twenties, looks confused for a moment. “Yeah, I am. Of course. Has there been another disappearance from the orphanage?”

Chase glances at Harley. “We are looking into the ones that have taken place. As far as you are aware, how many have there been?”

“Just the two I know of, oh, silly me. Would you like to come in?” Jessie opens the screen door, gesturing for Harley and Chase to enter the house.

“We’d love to,” Chase says. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Jessie leads them into a small, but cozy, living room and gestures for them to sit on the couch. “So, you are searching for the two orphans right? Jacob and Nathan?”

Chase shoots Harley a glance, a silent plea to say something, because she herself is unsure of how to proceed.

“Those are the ones. Have you been smelling any odd smells? Maybe rotten eggs?”

“Um, excuse me?” Jessie asks. “You mean around my house or around town in general? Because the old bar always smells like something went bad, but I don’t see how that’s got anything to do with those poor children.”

“Sulfur was found at the scene of the abductions. It could be an environmental clue. It could lead up to the kidnapper.”

Jessie nods. “Oh, okay. You’re only looking into the orphans, right?”

Chase nods. “Yes, though if you have knowledge about any others, we can pass it along to our partners. Have there been any other signs of sulfur that you know of?”

Jessie shakes her head, frowning. “I’m not one to ask about that. Though you could always ask the Crawfords. Their daughter went missing a couple weeks ago, but we aren’t sure if there is any connection between the two.”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to pass along the message.”

“If I may ask, where did you learn that I may have any knowledge on the disappearances?”

Chase casts a long sideways glance at Harley. “Well,” she starts slowly. “We have reason to believe that another abduction might occur, and we wanted to investigate any of the younger adults in town. There seems to be an age progression with each kidnapping.”

Jessie shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sure I have no reason to worry. If you’re asking around town, I’m sure you’ve heard about my, uh, situation.”

“We believe your situation may put you at higher risk.” Harley says regretfully, “Our Unsub might see it as a two for one.”

Jessie lets out a nervous laugh. 

Chase leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, trying to seem more open and comforting. “Is there anyone you know in this town that has given you any reason to fear for yourself or your child. An ex-boyfriend. A friend. A random person that hurled an insult at you. Anything of that sort?”

Jessie shakes her head. “No. I mean, there are plenty of underhanded comments, but only what you would expect from a small town this conservative. But I don’t think I can name anyone that has threatened me.”

“Has anyone shown more interest than you would deem normal? Like, I don’t know, an old teacher or mentor. Anyone you trust based on circumstance, but wouldn’t have thought would normally reach out to help you.”

Jessie pauses. “Not really, no. The only person that I really talk to about the baby is one of the supervisors of our church. She has been great help, because she herself has had three children. Just some advice on how to take care of myself. But I don’t really talk to anyone else about it and no one else has reached out.”

“What’s her name?” Harley asks.

“Vanessa Wali.”

Chase nods, sitting back. “Well, thank you. And if you do hear anything from anyone that seems out of the ordinary, let us know.”

A phone rings from the other room. “I’m so sorry. I have to get that, it might be my doctor.” Jessie gets up and leaves the room.

“Do you want to stay with Jessie or go question Vanessa?”

“I can go do the questioning if you want to stay here. One thing I do have to wonder though. I thought the person we’re looking for is a demon, right? Jessie says she only meets up with Vanessa at the church. How is that possible?”

“Maybe the demon isn’t working alone? I don’t know. It’s our best lead so far.”

“True. That and the bar. Jessie mentioned there’s been sulfur smells there. I can check out both. I’ll call you after I meet with Vanessa, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan partner.”

***

Chase finds herself in an old Methodist church fit with everything stereotypical, from wooden pews, to a bell in the bell tower on top of the steeple. She hesitantly opens the doors, praying to the God she now knows is out there somewhere (though she isn’t sure if she should take Castiel’s certainty to heart yet) that Vanessa is there today. 

Scanning the room, she spots a pastor near the altar, shuffling papers, likely sermon notes. She approaches him cautiously, a hand in her pocket, ready to grab the knife at a moment’s notice. 

“Hi, can I ask you a question really quickly? Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you,” Chase says, keeping her voice quiet in the mostly empty room.

“No, no, always happy to help a child of God.”

Chase flashes a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “I was told I could see a Vanessa Wali. Is she here today?”

“She actually isn’t. What did you need her for?”

“Oh, I was told to see her to pick up some medication for Jessie. You know, Jessie Salinas? Do you know where I can find Vanessa?”

“She should be at her house, across the lane where the cherry trees are.”

“Thank you! Have a nice day.”

“Of course!” He exclaims in a bright tone. Chase waves, taking a quick exit. She rushes over to the large house across the way, the aroma of cherries strongly taking over Chase’s senses. 

Chase immediately recognizes the sickly sweet smell of Valerian Root hidden in the cherry scent. Chase shakes her head, pinching her wrist to stay alert, hoping the Valerian Root is coincidence. Of course, when has anything in her life been purely coincidence?

A symbol scrawled hastily over the door looks like it could pass as religious, but Chase immediately recognizes it as an occult sigil. Well, shit.

Turning on her heel, Chase redirects herself from the front porch. Pulling out her phone, she hurriedly calls Harley, already booking it back to Jessie’s house. Harley’s answering machine picks up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Harley. You better be fine, or I’m going to actually kill you.”

The door is ajar when Chase rushes up the porch steps, blanching. The room smells of Valerian Root, a thickly sweet scent that makes Chase’s eyelids droop, and she curses under her breath.

“Harley, I swear to God.”

***

Harley noticed a sickly sweet smell creeping into the house and turned to Jessie. Jessie’s eyes began to droop. Harley managed to fight off sleep a little longer before collapsing. When Harley came to, Jessie was still out and they were both tied to a pole in what looked like a basement. 

“The bar,” Harley mutters under her breath, realizing the demon knocked them out with... Valerian Root? 

That doesn’t make sense. Valerian Root is more of a witchy thing. There were seven other people in the room, but only two were free. Two women were standing by a table. They were conversing over a large pewter bowl. Harley couldn’t hear them. She started undoing  the rough rope behind her.

“Hey assholes, why don’t you untie me and we’ll see how this plays out,” Harley says, pulling the witch and demon’s attention away from the ritual and onto her.

“How are you awake already?” A woman in her late thirties with short light brown hair asked, “The Valerian Root should still be affecting you?”

“I’m not exactly normal.” Harley spit out.

“My, my, you’re a fun one,” The other woman says. She was in her twenties with long black hair. Her eyes flashed black for a second. “I’ll almost miss you when you’re gone.” 

The demon crouches down to Harley’s level, “I’m Hazel. These are your new friends. Rueben, Stephanie, Evangeline, Jacob, Ray, and you’ve already met dear sweet Jessie,” Hazel listed off the names pointing to each corresponding person. “But who are you dear? Hmm?”

“What’s your pay grade? Must be pretty low if you don’t know who I am.”

“I want to hear it out of your pretty little mouth.”

“You aren’t too bad yourself. Are you the one that tied me up? I’m not opposed to bondage.”

“You wish. You’re vermin that’s wandered into my trap. The dirt on my heel. You’re a disgusting worthless halfbreed.”

“And I’m damn good at it.” Harley sneers. She gets free of her bonds, grabs Hazel’s head, and slams it down onto her knee dazing the demon. Harley pulls her gun out and shoots at the witch hitting her in the shoulder. 

***

Chase rushes into the bar and sees Harley shoot a woman with short hair in the shoulder. Another woman straightens and goes to attack Harley from behind. Eyes widening, Chase rushes up in time to stab her short pocket knife into the back of the woman’s neck.

“Harley, the demon blade!”

Harley spins around and quickly assesses the situation, taking her demon blade and stabbing the woman in her stomach. The woman’s body collapses, the demon now gone. With a quick shot to the head, the witch is also dead. 

Chase breathes heavily, putting her gun back into its correct place in her waistband. Harley starts untying the kidnappees. Chase shortly follows suit.

“I’m hungry. Wanna head back to the diner?”

“That sounds like a great idea. Let me drop an anonymous tip to the local police and I’ll be ready to go.”

After doing just that, Harley and Chase find their way back to Brimstone Diner. 

“How is it that you manage to get kidnapped by a demon and a witch?” Chase teases, Agnes, the same woman who served them earlier, walking away with their orders. “Losing your touch?”

“That witch made a Valerian Root knockout bomb.”

“I figured. Cherries can only hide the smell so much. Honestly she should’ve known better. The Valerian mixed with the cherries just made the entire place smell like it’d been drenched with cough syrup.”

“I’m just lucky I came to when I did. Guess it’s one of the benefits of being a halfbreed.”

Chase wrinkles her nose at the word. “I suppose.”

Agnes comes back with two orders of pie, gives a smile, then walks off to serve other customers. 

Harley and Chase immediately begin to eat, the day’s efforts having made them extremely hungry. 

“You saved the seal,” A male voice says. Chase and Harley snap to attention, startled by the sudden appearance of Castiel. Castiel sits next to Chase in the booth, and stares between the two girls inquisitively. 

“Can you stop poofing everywhere. You’re gonna give me a heart attack,” Harley complains.

“I do not poof,” Castiel replies sternly.

“‘Cept you do.” Harley fires back.

Castiel just sighs knowing that it is a waste of breath to argue with her.

“Why do you sound surprised, anyway? About us saving the seal?” Chase asks.

Castiel looks at them both carefully. “I did not predict the outcome of this attempt to be successful.”

Chase looks at him, vaguely annoyed. “You sent us on a hunt you thought we’d fail? Then why even send us?”

“My brothers and sisters were busy.”

“Well next time let us grab weapons and stuff. We barely scraped by on what we had.” Harley says, annoyed.

“It was best you go immediately.”

Chase rolls her eyes. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind taking us back once we’re finished with our food, that’d be great.”

Castiel nods slowly. “Alright.”

***

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to poofing,” Chase says, disoriented after being transported back to the motel. “Also, quick question, you did tell Sam and Dean where we were, right?”

Castiel suddenly looks more uncomfortable than normal. “They were both otherwise engaged. Dean should be able to fill you two in on what happened to him.”

“And Sam?”

“Sam is an unreliable source,” Castiel says evasively. 

“How is Sam an unreliable source? We’ve known him longer than you,” Harley questions.

“Dean is about to leave to find Sam. You can catch up to him easily, since he only now left.”

“Okay, thanks. Wanna tell us where we’re going?” Chase asks.

“425 Waterman,” Castiel responds quietly. “But, I’m warning you. You won’t like what you find.”

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Sleep Tight For Me...I’m Gone

Lately I’ve been writing these Better Days Are A Toenail Away™️ posts in Microsoft Word, selecting all and changing the font to Garamond, which is so readable and beautiful, and posting the Word docs, paragraphs by paragraph, inside these Tumblr drafts. It makes things look nice, to my old fashioned sensibilities, but fixing errors is a time-consuming and needlessly convoluted four-step process.

First, I have to copy, then delete the paragraph containing the error. Then I open the doc. and paste the error-ridden paragraph back into Word. After I find and fix the error, I need to save it and copy and paste it back into the post. It's time-consuming because I’m not just copying a paragraph. As you can see from more recent post, what I copied looked more like a photograph of the paragraph, not the words themselves written in Tumblr’s default font Arial. For an example of this, see below. I like the way it looks like old newspaper clippings. I posted an article about how my fent dealer John Smith kept getting robbed, and had resorted to putting a machete in front of his front door as a way of preventing this, a lever of sorts, which is plainly visible in the video I posted,

So today I’ve given up on trying to make my posts look like books or zines, and have given into the Tumblr font, which is about as pretty as a horse with his snout shot off.

There are two much longer posts I’m working on right now, one about Nirvana and one about Soundgarden, respectively, and how both bands were very unlike their public perception, but those posts are taking a lot of work so I’m putting them on the backburner because today is some dumbass corporation’s day where it tries to synthesize mental health and profit and the end result is as baldly capitalist and clumsy as you would expect. 

I’m not gonna name the company, or repeat their stupid fucking slogan. As far as I can tell (which isn't very far), talking about my trauma has never made me feel better. And in fact it has sometimes made me feel worse, because in telling you what hurts and scares me, I’ve given a part of myself away that I can’t get back. When you’re like me, and you’ve lost everything multiple times, sometimes the only form of power you have is how you choose, or do not choose, to tell your story. And in a world where everybody wants to tell “their truth,” silence is power. 

You don’t get to know me, sorry. I’m not gonna hand you my life, both my bad and good experiences, and conclude: “Welp, that’s why I’m so fucked up. Case closed.” 

Honestly, I used to be a little confused, or miffed that my former partner (who is an amazing person btw, in every respect) almost never spoke about some of the traumatic things she’d experienced in her past. I took it as a sign that she either didn’t trust me, or she didn’t think I would be a sympathetic listener, or the mere fact of my gender precluded her from sharing because I couldn’t truly understand what it was she had gone through. It’s not like I ever asked her to talk about it, but I did say, once or twice, “hey if you ever wanna talk about that stuff, I’m around.” She never took me up on it, and I let it go. 

But as I watched her, and saw her life unfold, over the years we spent together, I began to realize I wasn’t exactly in any position to be telling her how to live her life or how to be mentally healthy. After all, she has found success in a number of avenues, both creative and occupational, and I’ve found neither. I'm not saying the fact that she didn't talk much about her trauma is the reason for her success. I'm saying that she's forged a better path through life than I have, and maybe I should take a cue from that.

She never told me what to do, per se. It was more like living by example. But because I’m pretty dense, and a severe addict, our time together actually sorta reminds me now of that Cornell lyric from his first record: She’s going to change the world. But she can’t change me.

I have certainly found that talking about how shitty my life is only makes me feel more shitty, not free, or unburdened, or better. If you wanna talk about your problems, and you find it helpful, more power to you. Just don’t wait for a corporation to tell you it’s okay to not be okay. 

When Chris Cornell died I was so shocked. Of all the grunge icons he seemed the most stable, and he'd survived the rise and fall of two major label rock bands. If anyone had survived the media machine that chewed up and spat out Staley, Cobain, and to a lesser extent Andrew Wood and Shannon Hoon, it was Cornell. He would be the last guy to support hashtag activism like #StarbucksMyLifeSucks. Chris Cornell actually loved to fuck with the best laid plans of corporate rats. Molson once had a few promotional concerts in Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, called Molson Canadian Rocks Arctic, with both Hole and Soundgarden playing to a crowd of flown-in grunge fans and bemused locals. But the whole anti-corporate thing grunge was known for actually came through when Courtney Love told the crowd she “use[d] Molson Canadian to douche.” Lol. Here’s a photo of Love arriving in Tuktoyatuk.

Cornell told the same people “so we’re here because of some beer company? Labatt’s?” Both artists’ jabs are funny. Cornell’s was a bit more subtle, but that’s what Cornell was like. 

So today’s post is about Chris Cornell’s suicide, more specifically the media’s reaction to it. For whatever reason, when Cornell died, every single news outlet, from CNN to Fox to CBC, posted “Black Hole Sun,” as if it’s the only song he ever fucking wrote, or – and this is far worse – the only song he wrote that’s worth hearing. The problem with this is more than twofold or threefold. It's fucking hydraheaded. 

Not only is “Black Hole Sun” a mediocre piece of music, it’s a complete misrepresentation of Soundgarden’s sound. 

Now, I’m a huge fan of the A.V. Club series HateSong, in which public figures gleefully talk shit about the one song they hate more than any other song in the world. The Max Bemis (Say Anything) one where he talks about Nirvana’s “Rape Me” as a terrible rewrite of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is terrific, but comedian Anthony Jeselnik’s HateSong takes “Black Hole Sun” apart, and I love it. I think the best line is: I think the more I hear it, the worse it gets. AVC: After the song became a huge hit, Chris Cornell said that he’d written it in about 15 minutes. AJ: I totally believe that. I don’t believe that Soundgarden likes that song. Like, I remember Eminem once said that he knew his song “My Name Is” was going to be a huge hit because the first time he heard it he was annoyed. It’s something about an annoying song that just grabs onto people. But I don’t think that anyone likes “Black Hole Sun.” I’ve never heard of anyone who likes it. I don’t understand why it gets played so much. It’s become a summer jam, and it’s not a summer song at all. Jeselnik is right that Soundgarden didn’t think much of the song. Guitarist Kim Thayil wasn’t kidding when he disparagingly called it the “Dream On” of their live show. And Cornell himself, known for a meticulous approach to his songwriting, had admitted that with “Black Hole Sun”was “probably the closest to me just playing with words for words’ sake, of anything I’ve written. I guess it worked for a lot of people who heard it, but I have no idea how you'd begin to take that one literally.” I mean it’s obvious from the opening lines that Cornell is just playing with words and how they sound: in my eyes/indisposed/in disguises no one knows What songs would have been more appropriate for Cornell’s untimely death? Glad you asked! Cuz there’s like…fucking at least ten that would have been better. I’m not tryna be one of those “the deep album cuts are better maaaaaan,” but with Soundgarden, it happens to be true. With some bands, the single are their best work. With other bands, the singles are the hors d’oeuvres for the entrees. So what deep cuts would have celebrated Cornell’s death a bit better? Well, to begin with, Superunknown’s strange and stately closer “Like Suicide” would have worked, for obvious reasons.

“Tighter and Tighter,” a song that is actually about the moment of death and what it might feel like, is one of my all-time fav Soundgarden songs. Not only is it a creepy and prescient prediction of what Cornell’s death by hanging himself may have felt like, it’s opening line is a good description of the personification of death: Shadow face/Blowing smoke and talking wind

Another sample lyric: “A sucking holy wind will take me from this bed tonight/and bloody wits another hits me and I have to say goodbye/sleep tight for me, I’m gone/and I hope it’s  a sweet ride/here for me tonight/cuz I’m feel I’m going/feel I’m slowing down.” 

The morning after Cornell’s death hit the news my buddy and bandmate James told me that en route to work his phone, which was playing music randomly through his car speakers, landed on “Tighter and Tighter” and he had to pull over because he was tearing up. 

“Fell On Black Days” is another song about depression and mortality. Cornell had the following to say about the song: “Fell on Black Days” was like this ongoing fear I’ve had for years ... It's a feeling that everyone gets. You're happy with your life, everything’s going well, things are exciting—when all of a sudden you realize you’re unhappy in the extreme, to the point of being really, really scared. There's no particular event you can pin the feeling down to, it's just that you realize one day that everything in your life is fucked! 

Now, if that’s not a cogent and even-tempered explanation of suicidal thoughts, what is? Why else would Cornell have admitted to being “really really scared” by his depression unless he knew what that depression could ultimately leasd to? Here’s some lyrics to “Fell on Black Days.” Dig the high literary use of “whomsoever” and “whatsoever.” Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life Whatsoever I fought off became my life Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile sunspots have faded and now I’m doing time cuz I fell on black days

Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now Whomsoever I’ve cradled...I put you down I’m a searchlight soul they say but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right I sure don’t mind a change but I fell on black days how would I know that this could be my fate?

Eagle-eared listeners might think this version different from the album version. They are right. The rendition in the video was recorded live off the floor @ Bad Animals, the Seattle studio owned by Heart, where Soundgarden would record Down on the Upside. 

“Boot Camp” is a scary meditation about loss of agency that for years was tied with Zeppelin’s “I'm Gonna Crawl” for Creepiest Song to Cap a Discography, until Soundgarden reunited and released King Animal.

“Taree” is about ghost light, influencing events after dying and features Cornell’s most exhausted, convincing “yeah” @ 2:57.

“Applebite” is a Matt Cameron-penned ponderous clunker about Adam’s original expulsion from Eden. Doomy and death-laden.

“Let Me Drown” is a song about letting someone die.

“The Day I Tried To Live” is frequently cited as Soundgarden’s finest achievement, its odd time signature somehow sounds straight, thanks to Matt Cameron’s brilliant time keeping.

“4th of July” is a song about a post apocalyptic urban landscape, where the speaker isn’t sure whether he is seeing fireworks or bombs. 

“Limo Wreck” is a cool death song and has an eerie 9-11 prediction. “Building the towers belongs to the sky/when the whole thing comes crashing down don’t ask me why.” 

ANY of the above songs would have been better than that fucking asinine dirge-like major key fuckaround that has somehow not just become Soundgarden's signature song...but their ONLY song. 

Does nobody remember Johnny Cash covering “Rusty Cage?” 

“Outshined?”

“Burden In My Hand?”

“Blow Up The Outside World?”

Did none of these other songs get stuck in the electric head? (The electric head is Rob Zombie’s term for the technologically advanced culture we have found ourselves enmeshed in, or imprisoned by. It was the subtitle for White Zombie’s 1995 hit album Astro-Creep 2000: Songs of Love, Destruction, and other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head.)

For my money (which ain’t much honey), the song that best fits both Cornell’s artistic integrity and the sad circumstances of his suicide is “Tighter and Tighter.” I once wrote a whole article on the way artists use “yeah” as a placeholder or as a way to convey emotion when words themselves aren’t adequate. Dig that tired, world-weary exhausted “yeah” at 5:35 of “Tighter & Tighter.”

Or the creepy line going into the first chorus: remember this...remember everything’s just black or burning sun. Not that I agree with such a bleak worldview. It’s a writer’s line. And Randy Bachman has said, “when you’re a writer, you’d step over your own mother.” That’s the Cornell I want to remember. Not that he would step over his own mother. By all accounts he was a committed family man. I mean, I want to remember the Cornell who created strange atmospheric sonic worlds, who explored the dark side that sadly, eventually won out. His otherworldly beautiful music is what I choose to remember about Chris Cornell, not his estate tastelessly exploiting “Black Hole Sun” by using a line from the song to title a posthumous Cornell album of covers No One Sings Like You Anymore. Sigh.

First Cornell’s widow said this was “Chris’s last album.” Okay. What about the Soundgarden songs he recorded vocals for before he died? Kim Thayil was pretty diplomatic about it when asked recently. Cornell did record vocal tracks for the follow up to King Animal.

Kim Thayil: “Given our love for Chris, I do not see us reconfiguring without him.”

But he makes it clear in this interview that Cornell’s widow Vicky has those tracks and won’t release them to the band. Maybe because she blames the band for Chris dying that night? She’s not wrong to believe that they would have known, and seen, what kind of shape Cornell was in, at least at the venue, maybe not later at the hotel.

Kim Thayil: “It’s entirely possible that a new Soundgarden album will be released. Certainly. All it would need is to take the audio files that are available. I tighten up the guitars. Ben does the bass. We get the producers we want to make it sound like a Soundgarden record.”

Interviewer: “Is there an obstacle stopping that?”

Kim Thayil: “There shouldn’t be. There really isn’t. Other than the fact that we don’t have those files.”

Interviewer: “They’re not under your auspices?”

Kim Thayil: “Right. It would be ridiculous if [the record wasn’t made]. But these are difficult things. Partnerships and...property.”

You’re just gonna keep those wav files? And why title his covers album Volume 1 if it’s his “last album?”

Oh right. $$$

No one does sing like Cornell, but is “Black Hole Sun” really the best thing he ever did? The best song he ever sang? Should an album of covers be the last thing he gives to the world?

The only honest answer is no.

Sleep tight Chris. You’re gone.