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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years

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anyways yeah at this rate i can readily accept it as For The Best that winston’s just a funny little guy eternally, but then it’s always been a matter of like, not expecting him to become particularly prominent but like, looking to precedent like the secondary / tertiary axe cap boys who get fun little subplots because they’re Characterful if not as prominently Characters as others. and not like generally even the rare little plot threads given to say ben &/or tuk aren’t more unfortunate for them than not, b/c it’s billions, but they’re also not only the most solemnly dramatic harsh punishing experiences ever, even in terms of being particularly worse than the smaller, non plot thread glimpses we get of them suffering through any given workday....how it’s been like, well winston getting more attention would probably result in [negative experiences] for him, b/c it’s billions, but not like he’s not overwhelmingly more often having negative experiences now, with less attention

but anyways really it is like, well look at rian, rest in pieces. she’s intended to be A More Serious Important Character who does things but like. what’s she ever gotten to do. Being Taylor’s Mentee / one employee to talk or relate to has been about taylor, which is all well & good, but rian’s disgruntlement has not yet ever mattered in any way that really affected anything and apparently 6x08 was like oh is all that resolved b/c One Time rian managed to go “here’s external / third party proof about my disagreeing with you” and taylor managed to look at it and go “huh, yeah i guess so.” vs all the prior disagreements that were more about ideas re: how taylor should ideally operate and rian wanting to be a peer i guess, which, taylor recognizing the accuracy of information given to them doesn’t seem to require that. even the weird & puzzling “oh of course we’d consider each other as worthy potential love interests” thing seems to speak more to like, well you’d better hope the few other people who aren’t interested in life outside being at the office can provide all the social fulfillment you need re: friendship &/or dating, or else you’d have to choose b/w winning at work & the rewards of relationships that need time & effort you don’t have b/c you’re too busy winning at work. which is more taylor’s thing, and rian for some reason accepting their lead on that matter. and, of course, the “is it actually good or saying anything at all to go ‘here’s something that can happen to women that sucks. and here’s even a woman character going "yeah this sucks”’” matter, which has to be so contrived to happen at all that there’s no coherent explanation for why rian as a character would be operating like this, conveniently allowing xyz to happen so prince can show the audience he sucks (but not too much, the speculation that another reason the execution of the material is weird & offputting & not that successful is b/c it’s trying too hard to also make sure the audience feels confident that this wasn’t very sexual assaulty of prince, not too much anyways) like. and then there’s her just sharing out of nowhere relationship advice with wags that has nothing to do with anything about her, so far. would she assume a romance with taylor would be so [no secrets, world of openness] too, why would she think based on Anything that it would. although the same goes for like, where in there would she think that any of her interactions w/taylor would lead to Not the most painfully awkward one date you attempt and then never talk about again for everyone’s sake. why does she care about taylor’s feelings so much when she just unfazedly turns them down, except that that’s convenient to her being willing to hug taylor later if she’s not just put off or confused. why does she also need to reassure taylor that oh i guess she would’ve smashed them instead, but they’re too lovable? does that go for literally everyone else present, too? doesn’t seem to, because....?? and even if it’s not very likable that she’s just firing on all cylinders in sudden bully mode about winston specifically, that could be character material if anyone interacted with her as a character about it, but i guess winston interacting with her as someone who Liked her, and someone vulnerable to being hurt & who she’s interested in hurting, and then just someone who’s also always trying to be just like normal & amicable as coworkers, is all just him being a funny little guy, i.e. well he’s not a character and no other characters interact with rian as a character about whatever the hell is up with her acting like this in this realm lmao, so it means nothing....she’s not Really particularly more of a character than winston, she’s Also really only serving as a plot device for other characters, and despite this character supposedly having these trappings of the [any dignity / sympathy / seriousness / General Worthiness] that more prominent characters can get, her character also gets the cringe comp highlights reel lmfao like thanks, i do hate it so much. So.

meanwhile, winston’s function is also to be taylor’s funny little guy, but i suppose it’s just as well he never gets to interact with them Really, b/c it’s that matter of how like, the lack of attention from Everyone Else just insulates him, people have no object permanence about him, so as soon as he’s out of the room after they’ve dunked on him, that’s it; once wendy’s gotten the opportunity to validate her Own insights into this other new hire’s worth by listening to her about a supposed reason to fire winston that had never prior nor afterwards been relevant to anything, she’s never interacted with him again, much less tried to get taylor to fire him or anything, and now luckily she has no formal involvement w/tmc, so. but like, speaking of, wendy does get to interact with taylor all the time, and it’s like [the whole way that it is.] see: everything above about rian, despite being taylor’s personally & professionally favored employee, to the point that they just never remember winston exists really, or are just only always exchanging emails w/him just out of frame or whatever and we’ll never see or hear about it. lauren likewise, with the more predictable “this romantic relationship is doomed, b/c it’s billions” fate, with the double misfortune of how maybe she & taylor just having this too conveniently smooth sailing relationship meant a) we then didn’t see too much of it, b/c this is billions & you show what is conflict or plays into another plotline about conflict and then b) the breakup could stem from how avoiding more direct conflict just pushed problems aside until their resurgence could force an open conflict that’s just a final split because they don’t successfully argue through things b/c they don’t really seem to argue at all, except in a sort of [debate a moment and then set it aside indefinitely] way. sara was taken seriously, and yet. mafee being taylor’s friend is excellent, but again the matter of [if there’s not conflict or something that plays into more conflict elsewhere, we don’t see it] and that apparently his being their friend doesn’t mean understanding them any better than going “i always knew you were an emotionless killbot” nor being unwilling to express that, twice

plus there’s that taylor will listen to winston sometimes regardless of not having any established personal relationship with him, and that taylor will Not listen to others sometimes regardless of the fact they Do have an at least someone personal relationship with them, so if anything, the fact that they don’t take winston seriously / don’t really pay much attention to him maybe contributes to his always being around (since he’s not seriously embroiled in any conflicts, nor by being regarded seriously by taylor is he as much of a potential Cost to staying in this sunk cost conflict factory for them) so it could just ultimately shake out that he’s able to support taylor more successfully this way even via his extracurricular advice (so everything he’s right about that has to do with them & isn’t his quantitative input)

there’s also the fact that, of course, now there’s Philip to compare & contrast any [relationships with taylor] with, but a) that’s still all pretty new and b) it seems fairly Unique thus far, with their being essentially peers, which hasn’t been the case for taylor (except maybe Ish Kinda re: wendy, but they already tried having her as a business partner and it went so well) and their both being flexible characters who Can be petty and/or act as competitors and/or rivals, but don’t live & die by that nor even prefer to all the time / don’t want to righteously justify that & then center their whole existence around as much, unlike central characters and d) it’s not unlike what it seemed like the quants could’ve had lol as peers who could engage in little a petty rivalry but also choose to step away from that anytime to ultimately be amicable partners, & maybe even kiss if that’s on the table, go ahead and draw on that [completely wasted b/c idk what can be said about what the supposed quant duo here is meant to be about nowadays (well partially / mostly wasted; i do think it’s nonzero fun and they do clearly have momentary flashes of seemingly genuine, normal amicability that are as much a fleeting delight as they are baffling for their arbitrary & transient nature. clink!)] potential for this please lol, philip’s definitely actually intended / regarded as a character unlike winston i guess, and in fact i suppose taylor is the winston in this situation, ha ha, add it to the ever expanding list of Winnie N Tay Parallels / Similarities That They Could Bond Over / Talk About If They Ever Were Written To Converse Again Ever that is just forever hc territory i suppose lol

and it’s not unlike misalignments b/c [writer perspective] and [correct viewer perspective] that one can benefit from, such as that Taylor is the most important character in the series, which is About Them, but of course they could never be written as an endless conflict generating Central Character, and if they were, they’d’ve always been completely different from the [secondary turned main] character that they are. really, like compare “winston being a tertiary joke non character” to taylor getting Less Focus / Material vs the fringe bennie of that material being way better than it would be if it was Like chuck’s or axe’s or prince’s b/c who gives a shit. maybe people who enjoy those characters straightforwardly. which is akin to like, okay, give taylor more scenes Just Because the way those central men sometimes get. give them more monologues. give us more subplots about their just having a lower stakes issue to wrangle on some random wednesday ( ;] ) or some glimpse into their everyday goings on. but of course one wouldn’t want them upgraded to Central Character and all that that entails to get it. kind of like how it’s like, okay, looking at other kinda [funny little guy] side characters who are still treated more as characters / getting more material than winston does, can we have a Little of that energy for his material a little more? but at this rate sure just leave him right where he is b/c god fucking knows what might happen if billions gives Focus On Purpose to a character, it’s aptly a roll of the dice at least

it’s always the way that like, you don’t Really need some big overall shift, you could sprinkle little 5 second “inconsequential” interactions b/w winston and taylor in here, and that’s really all i’m asking for. but in actuality i’m not asking for anything at this point and certainly not expecting it, b/c at this point with how often we anticassandra things like writers go on our blogs and make sure to do the opposite, at this rate b/c of this post winston will get prominence in s7 only to get the “still a plot device really but worse off for the elevation” a la rian treatment, or written off a la [anyone else at tmc from back in the day], or not getting to have a better relationship with taylor b/c actually a more existent one would, in terms of the actual substance, be Worse, b/c taylor’s relationships are all like, barely clearing bars &/or often pretty wretched. except, knocking on wood, with philip maybe. the one real matter of Something That Seems To Be Set Up At This Point Which Seems Like It’d Continue Down An Enjoyable, Interesting Path Here. anything about winston in this au of [what if he was seen as a person, by taylor / tmc people] can continue to be hc’d, What Else Is New, coming back around to season four qualities. idek about rian like, expectations there are Bad, tfw a character gets the worse deal for [getting to be a character] vs winston getting to just be hanging out at least & Not having his material be consumed by [some like weird comments about other characters that just Have to be made & done this way, which is better than otherwise, right] basically. would say “like how it’s better he’s also surely Accidentally an autistic character so much” but that’s just like. more broadly true lmfao, textually autistic characters where the very premise of the choice for it to be textual isn’t uninformedly insulting to harmful for it Where. fucking society if this show that unknowingly provided tv’s first nonbinary character also had there be a Trans [Handshake] Autistic convo between them abt their Relating on various experiences, when taylor’s out here actively having to reach to relate to other very cishet people’s cringe comps, but that would be so interdimensionally brained & just a knife’s edge if they were doing it on purpose lmao. give them a conversation just about what’s Known, that winston is just forever judged to operate wrong / not fit in, that’s not a secret nor not technically canon

anyways nothing really new here lol but: the silver linings of what’s technically not the most Prominent angle on some character we enjoy but better than what those more prominent characters are getting (and/or giving). and that it just is how it apparently intractibly is like okay. when are we ever arriving here for the Usual premise of this thing or enjoying it in the Usual way, and/or [more straightforwardly] swapped in for [usual] there. in spite of low expectations for example, it’s still more fun when winston is briefly treated more normally, like 6x07, when he was still kind of treated worse & the normal treatment was out of frame, cut off in the intro or outro to scenes, and/or effectively barely in frame / with barely any dialogue for him. shoutout to the apparently one episode a season where taylor will talk to him specifically, and the one moment within that where they interact with him constructively or even positively. and everything else one can wring out of a season when your being here at all is through the winnie n tay route while billions went “obviously taylor would forget he exists & it took them a month to remember to email him to move from that basement to the upper floors” (and remembering how they didn’t give him an established desk in all of season four l o l upgraded from guy not v available for continuity bg appearances to guy who can be dropped in as a bg extra equivalent and be hanging out for his technical inclusion. vs every tmc gathering in season four excluding him except for fight night or the finale taylor midepisode monologue). anyways same as it ever was re: like let will roland act it up as winston and maybe give him less scenes that have to end with him withering, maybe give his scenes with taylor just the least ounce of flair in even implications they regard & even treat him normally, which has been seen at various points already. but where the one recorded actual hope / elevated expectation is just dedicated to taylor & philip like, okay, as ever, You Wrote This / chose to put this in the show, so here we are, can we enjoy More [straightforwardly, usually] around here lol. imagine

#winston billions

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anakah · 2 years

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I find the é in Varré's name interesting because you only see it in like… 2 other places. Merchant Kalé and the misércorde dagger (favored weapon of the surgeons). I remember meeting Varré and Kalé back to back and thinking that I'd be seeing far more names with non-English characters only to be thoroughly disappointed. However, it does make me wonder if there's some connection between the Varré and nomadic merchants. As far as I'm aware, there's nothing out there that directly says that they're related, but there also isn't anything that says they aren't... So we know that Mohg kidnapped the white masks, and we can probably guess the same thing happened to the imprisoned merchant we can find tucked away in Mohgwyn Dynasty Mausoleum. There isn't any good reason presented in game as to why Mohg might want some random merchant, but I'll get back to that later. It seems like the surgeons were taken in the early in Mohg's process of figuring out the whole blood thing, given they were abducted around the same time as Miquella. We can only "meet" two of them, one being Varré (notable exception among surgeons), and then Nameless White Mask, who invades in the blood swamp 3 whole times. I don't think he's trying to protect anything, considering he's in the swamp and not the mausoleum. He just wants to kill us that bad that he comes back 3 times in quick succession. At least Anastasia, Tarnished-Eater waited a while. IMO he's representative of what happened to the surgeons. After Mohg abducted and forced them to take the accursed blood, they became so blood-drunk and violent that they can't even remember their own names. Except Varré, of course, who is... fine? Considering the alternative, he's really chill. Even when we're trespassing in the Mausoleum, we have to go out of our way to invade him. If he defeats us, his reaction is of either pity (First Step/Church) or regret (Mausoleum), like he takes no joy in it. I'm not denying the fact that he's a sadist, but he really doesn't seem that bloodthirsty. Which, again, is weird considering the White Masks were known for their murdering and he was given the accursed blood, which makes you even more murder-y. It might speak on what he was like before Mohg did who-knows-what to him and the other surgeons. That, and/or he has some influence from another outer god that protects him from the effects of the blood. Which finally takes me back to the imprisoned merchant, and also my theory. It's not impossible, but there's nothing concrete here, I'm just speculating. Let's say, for the sake of this, that before Varré joined the war as a surgeon, he was part of the merchant caravan, probably having been born into it. That would explain the aforementioned name thing. His disdain for the Two Fingers is also there. We know the merchants have an intrinsic (though definitely not happy) relationship with the Three Fingers, which would be what shielded Varré from the accursed blood's effects. Mohg might have realized this and abducted a merchant to see if he could replicate the same thing that happened with Varré. And presumably it worked, the merchant is a normal guy. It's also good to point out how Mohg, the Omen (who is an illusion of the Lord of Blood, like Margit is to Morgott) protects the entrance to the merchant's tomb and the Three Fingers, deep within the Subterranean Shunning Grounds. They're even more dangerous to Mohg's plans than everyone else's if they can override the Formless Mother's influence, on top of their "MAY CHAOS TAKE THE WORLD" shtick. Although, the latter is more than enough to warrant he and Morgott working together to keep them sealed. It's just another potential connection.

#elden ring #white mask varre #varré #mohg #man ive been racking my brain for a while now about his lore. it leads to more questions than answers.#i think im satisfied. but #if anyone has any info that would confirm/add to/deny anything. please share

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

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It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One. I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then....

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left.

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact. You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues.

It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down.

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck.

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace.

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront. It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network.

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags. And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere.

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye.

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you. It just felt right.

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic.

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much.

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together.

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions.

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success.

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well.

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again.

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move.

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about.

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed.

Kevin.

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks. Chris was in a rage for a week.

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding.

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else.

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth.

Maybe you too could be friends.

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm. He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond. He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later.

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play.

-----

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him.

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris? This is Y/N. I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you.

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry. I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone. You just never believed that Chris would really move on. And you didn’t know why.

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries! Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed.

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot.

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him.

And that wink.

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed.

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off.

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology.

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging.

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin. You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped.

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option.

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend.

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics. His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy. Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered.

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance. Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set. Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over.

“What can I get you, Sir.”

“I don’t need a drink. I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party. I need it to be extra special.”

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see.

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.”

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin.

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be. You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills.

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking.

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN! WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.”

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban.

“Listen to me.. Listen. I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent. You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him. He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face. Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred. That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan. Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad. Chris was so sweet. You thought about him and you thought about Kevin.

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.” You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.

“Word?” You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand. The one you knew he jacked off with. You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm. Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again.

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.”

Then you snapped out of it.

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him.

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?” Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.”

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell.

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

You looked at Kevin, too. You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.”

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him. The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you. “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?” You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard. Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.”

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it. He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe. He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own. He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue. You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage. He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him. You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long. You pulled it out with a pop.

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X. He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more. His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.” You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City. He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.

“So you want me to feel you up?” He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you.

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass? Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game.

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too. It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult. He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down. Is it true?”

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand. Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris. Only you.. Since you and I….” Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again.

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly. He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!” Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted? You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh? You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?” He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.” Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him.

“Please!”

“I know why.”

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit. He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly.

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick. He didn’t have to move. Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him. He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?”

You searched his face. He sounded like he was about to cry. You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid. You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris. I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly. You on your knees for him again was a dream.

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you.

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you. It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought.

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give.

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet.

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you.

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done. You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.”

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor. He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know. None of that meant that we’re back together. That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?”

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own. You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.” You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove.

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees. He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body. He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you. He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

---

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.

“We’re going to Aruba?”

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching. That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.”

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower. You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog!

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#Chris Evans #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #soft dark! chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans fan fiction #Chris Evans angst #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans reader insert #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans 40th #chris evans birthday celebration 2021

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exxay · 3 years

Text

Spoiler Alert, Ptilopsis' voice in her head is a lot more deadlier than we thought

With the release of the Operator Modules, HG has taken a very interesting decision into how they want to incorporate them.

And of course, just like OD, they decided to fucking kill it.

Currently, we only have a translation of Ptilopsis' module, and holy hell there's a lot to dig into, so let's start sentence by sentence:

"If Originium really has the power to store information, then we can decrypt and translate, the whole Columbian scientific technique will soar again!"

"I reached a bottleneck. The current electronic calculation facilities are insufficient to deal with the complex amount of signals from Originium. I need a more suitable calculation device."

So basically, it all started with a researcher's revelation in that-an originium shard can act as a goddamn rtx3090+corsair memory module on steroids. And with it, send Columbia into a technological revolution. Except, they're trying to fit into a 16-bit cpu. So they needed a better one.

"Using humans to calculate?! This is a daring thought, I... need to consider the feasibility."

Love how instead of commenting on it's ethicality, the first thing they think of is "Can it work?", Just a small reminder of how inhumane Rhine Labs are.

"The creation of a human decryption system model has been completed. Now, we need an experimental subject with clear thought and quick reflexes. Best to have good understanding of calculators and data."

So the PC is built, now they just need a case for it, and it had to be a really good one to, they don't wanna waste it.

"The candidate has been selected. Experiment subject codename: Ptilopsis."

And lo and behold, why not choose the living computer herself?

"There is nobody else more suitable than her in the whole Rhine. Although the head suggested to conceal the experimental risks, but I still let her know about the various possibilities of the experiment. This is my duty as a citizen of Columbia, and as a person."

Showing just how amazing Ptilopsis, alongside another reminder of Rhine Labs' way of doing things. Don't let the little text about the person asking for their consent, if MuMu has shown us anything, for all we know Ptilopsis could have been "Convinced"/ But that's probably just an assumption, she could have very well thought that it was for the best.

"She agreed. She agreed! I just know, I just know she would agree! I didn't choose the wrong person!"

Then again, who really knows?

"The preliminary main points and operation procedure has been taught. She learns quickly. Tomorrow, the experiment will begin. I believe that we can embrace Columbia's future with open arms!"

"The experiment was very successful. Various data are within the controlled boundaries. As long as this pace is followed, a little, a little... No, no no no, it shouldn't be! Quick, quickly shut it down--"

Honestly, were we expecting anything less? Experiment was going amazingly right, until everything went horribly wrong.

"Emergency measures have been activated in time, but she still... received injury. The brain..."

And so comes into play, "The voice", more details further in.

"And Oripathy..."

No shit, infused originium shards? Didn't they learn from Ifrit? Or maybe, Ptilopsis came BEFORE Ifrit? Hmm, so many revelations.

"(Intermittent crying sounds)"

No idea whose these are, but most likely? It could be Ptilopsis herself, or maybe the researcher, they seemed to have more morals than we thought.

"The higher-up has already requested for resuscitation. But, but like this..."

Wait? Resuscitation? Holy shit did they send her into Clinical Death? Holy fuck. And what's with the hesitation? Was she gonna be even deader?

"It's my fault, it's all my fault..."

Yup, more morals than usual.

"According to the message that she received before, I made a chip that can be inserted into the human body. This thing should be able to replace some of the functions of her brain."

Ok wow, so, Ptilopsis, already knowing shit was gonna fuck up somehow (Thanks' Milo), asked to make a backup chip than be inserted to the human body. So that she'll still pull through, pretty hardcore.

Wait? Like the promotion chips? Does that mean the promotion chips are inserted into the operators we use? Or are they different chips?

"Some department heads laud this idea a lot, hmm, I know what they are thinking."

Oh, so if I'm interpreting this right, some -not all- of the heads in Rhine were against this, but obviously, not because of anything ethical mind you.

"The implantation worked. She had no reaction."

"She woke up! But some problems occurred... in her language abilities."

"Error Hase"

"She tells me, there is another voice in her mind. A voice that does not belong in the boundary of known language. This thing will put a heavy burden on her psyche."

"The pain can only be reduced by using a robotic language system."

Ahhh, the voice, just like how Ifrit has a "voice" in her head constantly arguing and vying control. But we all know that it isn't just a voice, it's a literal fucking ENTITY, so does that mean Ptilopsis also has her own entity she constantly holds back? And just like what she tells us in her third trust line.

According to Ptilopsis "It is, in fact, quite burdensome to speak in this manner. But this is a necessary measure to prevent the system nexus from being devoured by that other voice. Doctor, if I become rampant, please guide me back onto the right path."

Love how it shed's more light onto such a mysterious habit that i wanted to know of.

"She is the first living person in Columbia with an implanted chip. This is an achievement."

"But to her, the land is no longer the same."

Sad for Ptilopsis, she can't look at anything the same anymore, though overall this sheds some more light on her relationship with Silence. More at the end.

Wait a minute-

"I also implanted a chip in my brain. Now the wound still hurts a little. But I want to know, what change did the information from Originium bring to her."

Oh, oh no.

"That voice, what is it?"

OH NO

"I will repeat the experiment." --Rhine Lab, Unknown project leader, recorded.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO

Unknown Researcher whyyyyy, you were so close, you were so close to greatness!!!!

Anyways, "repeat" would imply that Ptilopsis is actually the original subject, meaning she was the first to be implanted with artificial originium shards, and sub sequentially, artificially infected.

This could also mean that Silence learns about Ifrit's existence through Ptilopsis, and then leading to the "Flame Demon Incident".

Ptilopsis considers Silence her closest friend and Savior, in fact, even being more than willing to participate in a "Secret Project" of hers, which she SHOULD be reporting to the higher ups instead. It could still be her being a bit rebellious instead of being close friends, but as she said.

"I met Dr. Silence at Rhine Lab. I provided big data analysis and risk evaluation for her on a secret project."

Hmm, more to think about.

Speaking of, whenever we think of the "Flame Demon Incident" we think of Saria, Silence and Ifrit, but what about Ptilopsis? Silence would have probably learned about it on her own since she was helping oversee the project, but how would she learn of the, ehem, "Less well known aspects." Though that's just speculation on my part

So much to think about, what about you? What do you think about it?

Personally? Call McDonalds cuz I'm McFUCKING LOVE IT

#arknights #Ptilopsis #so interesting #and sad #goddamn i love arknights #i diagnose you with arknights #Lore Post

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nelson-et-murdock · 3 years

Text

Home - Luke Alvez

*not my gif*

One-shot detailing the reader’s time with Luke and the BAU as they return from a 6-month sabbatical

Warnings: angst mixed with fluff, BAU! Reader, fem reader.

Didn’t proofread so possible occasional errors

Other Details: Reader has PhDs in Psychology and Anthropology with masters in Sociology and Criminal Justice

Pairing: Luke Alvez x fem BAU! Reader. Platonic team x reader. Maybe some mistakes here and there

Flashbacks/memories are in italics and bolded

Word Count: 4.6K

As you drove to Quantico, a familiar feeling started to consume you. It had been over 6 months since you last saw the inside of the BAU. As much as you missed the people you had grown to know, you were unsure of how smoothly your return would go. It wasn’t long before you pulled into the parking lot and made your way into the building and to the elevator. You weren’t officially reinstated to the unit yet due to delays in paperwork and had therefore only been in contact with Emily about your return. The feeling in your stomach as you approached the 6th floor was very reminiscent of your first day with the unit.

Despite having been part of the FBI for years, you still got first-day jitters when you approached the building. You had met with Emily Prentiss a few times prior when your name had been put in for the open position, but you had no idea who anyone else was or how they’d react to a new agent joining the team. You knew full well that the BAU was the crown jewel of the FBI and that there was going to be a lot of pressure to live up to any expectations.

As you made your way to the BAU, you fidgeted with the messenger bag you kept your things in, being in the FBI you found it much more useful than carrying around a purse. After calming your nerves you slowly made your way to Emily’s office, with the help of who would later learn was Spencer.

As you walked towards Emily’s office, Luke spotted you far before you spotted him. Quiet murmurs around the bullpen speculating who you were and what you needed to see Prentiss about were just out of earshot. The conversation with Prentiss was short before the two of you walked out of her office and into the conference room for Prentiss to introduce you to the team.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware we have a new agent joining us. This is Dr. y/n y/ln and I believe she’ll be an excellent addition to the team,” she stated. Quick individual introductions were done and the entire atmosphere was generally accepting yet professional. That was until you got to Luke and had to act like it was the first time you had met, well aware that no one on the team knew about your time spent with him.

“Luke Alvez, I look forward to working with you,” he said coldly, in a way that the team would chalk up to him having a bad day but that you knew was residual anger he had for you.

“Likewise,” you responded with a small smile despite the slight pang in your chest at the sight of the man you once knew.

Not long after you joined the BAU, Penelope had become suspicious of the way you acted around Luke. You had warmed up to everyone in the unit, except for him. One day she had wanted answers and the most she would get from either of you was “We just don’t get along Garcia it’s nothing important.” Even without being a profiler, Garcia could tell there was more to the story than that.

When she got a few spare minutes during a case she did a deep dive into your personal history, looking for anything in your past connecting to Luke.

Garcia didn’t know what to expect when she went digging into you, but it definitely wasn’t that you previously had an over 2-year long relationship with Luke. Garcia had gotten so caught up in finding out what went down between you and Luke that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching in time to close her search.

“Hey Garcia..” you started but tapered off as you saw the screens before you. “I - Prentiss needed - shit sorry I uh,” you tried to get Garcia back on topic for the case but fumbled on the words.

“No no don’t be sorry. I’m so sorry I did this. I know I shouldn’t have looked into your past with Newbie but I couldn’t understand why you guys don’t get along. I mean I get not liking him because he’s Newbie but you. You’re this little ray of sunshine girl wonder. I can’t believe he broke your heart like that-” she started to ramble on but you cut her off before she could continue.

“I left him,” you said hoping it would satiate her curiosity.

“Details? You can’t just drop that on me and not give me details. Did he do something? Was he a bad boyfriend? Should I hate him for it?”

“No, he did nothing wrong, it was all on me. I was scared he started talking about marriage and kids and he had the right to we had been together for nearly 3 years and I wasn’t sure if I was ready so I requested a transfer to a California field office and when it was approved I told him I got a job offer I couldn’t pass up and I left him.”

“Do you still love him?”

“I think part of me always will but Garcia this stays between us. I mean it, don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed. If you need anything the batcave is always open to have you,” she said as she stood up to embrace you in a hug.

Little did you know, Luke was having a very similar conversation with Matt down the hall.

The ding of the elevator signaling your arrival on the 6th floor shook you out of your thoughts. The closer you got to where you needed to be, the more anxious your return was making you. While you had come across a few bad cases, a few stuck out to you in particular, including the first one you had with the unit, which ultimately allowed you to reconnect with Luke.

The first difficult case for the team since you joined took more of a toll on you than you would like to admit. Once everyone was on the jet you took a seat and hoped to avoid any conversation about how you were feeling that day. You flashed a few small smiles at your colleagues in an attempt to let them know you were okay without actually saying anything. For the most part, your plan had been successful. That was until Luke had noticed the way you had been acting.

“Is it okay if I join you?” he asked motioning to the empty seat beside you. You silently nodded and avoided looking at him as he took a seat beside you. “I know we aren’t exactly close anymore but you can still come to me if you need anything,” he told you as you silently nodded.

“I know - I just. Can we talk about it later? I’d rather not talk about it right now,” you responded, finally looking his way.

“Of course. If you feel comfortable coming over tonight we can talk at my place. I know Roxy misses you,” he said with a smile.

“I’d like that. Thank you.” The rest of the time on the jet was spent in comfortable silence.

Upon getting back to the bullpen, you and Luke decided it would be best for him to drive you to his place after the two of you were done with the reports you had to write. As you sat at your desk and took out the files of papers you needed to complete, you couldn’t bring yourself to concentrate. As your mind kept replaying the events of the previous week, it was apparent you were becoming frustrated. It didn’t take Luke long to see that you were struggling and to tell Prentiss he was going to take you home for the night to make sure you were doing okay before heading over to your desk.

“You’ve done enough work today, let’s get out of here,” Luke whispered to you as you nodded. “I’ll meet you at the elevator in 5 minutes so no one thinks anything about us leaving at the same time,” he told you, knowing you wouldn’t like the idea of any possible attention on you that could come with the two of you leaving together.

The ride to Luke’s was much quicker than you had remembered it to be. Neither one of you two said very much and just let the radio play at a low volume. For most of the ride, you watched out the window while Luke focused on driving, occasionally looking your way to check that you were okay. As he pulled into his driveway, you realized how much you missed Luke and the sense of safety and comfort he provided for you.

The two of you talked about why the case had bothered you so much more than you had expected, and it soon turned to talking about whatever came to your mind. “I miss you. I know we work together now and that I’m the one who left but I really miss you, Luke. I miss spending time with you and the random updates we gave each other when you were gone and overall I just miss you. I think that’s why I struggled so much with this case when I didn’t hear back from you when you were in the field because I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and you didn’t know how I felt,” you started to ramble on.

“I’ve missed you too y/n,” Luke responded as he draped his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him, “I miss waking up and knowing you were either right next to me or that you were a phone call away.” Checking the time, Luke placed a kiss on your temple before whispering “Let’s get some sleep it’s getting late”

You nodded in response before the two of you got ready for bed. After changing into a pair of Luke’s sweatpants and an old shirt, you crawled into the bed the two of you had shared so many times before and eventually fell asleep in the arms you had previously grown to associate with comfort and safety.

As you walked down the hall, you passed the spot you were standing when you got an offer to lead a study and return to anthropology. It was a temporary out from profiling but it was something that you had missed doing. Upon getting the offer, a range of emotions flowed through you, yet it took nearly 2 weeks to tell Luke and another 2 weeks to tell anyone else.

The day started like any other day-off with Luke. The two of you slept until around noon and laid around just enjoying each other’s company. Working together didn’t allow for much personal time together as you had to remain professional when on cases. Prentiss didn’t mind when it was a paperwork day that you guys spent time at each other’s desks, so long as PDA was kept to a minimum, which it always was. However, it wasn’t the same as getting to just spend time together without having to worry about catching an unsub or fill out a report in time with no errors.

While laying in bed, the offer to lead an anthropological study at the University of Michigan kept eating at you. You had limited time to make a decision and respond to the offer. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to bring the topic up with Luke and you couldn’t make a decision without informing him of the offer first.

“Is everything okay princesa?” Luke asked, noticing the sudden change in your emotions.

“Yeah, there’s just something I need to talk to you about,” you responded looking up at him. “But I need you to hear me out and keep in mind that I haven’t made a decision yet and that nothing is final.”

“You’re beginning to worry me,” he started, “Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“I was offered the chance to lead an anthropological study,” you stated, leaving him speechless. Memories of when you left him flooding back. You could tell by the look on his face that he was worried this was the beginning of the end for the two of you once again. “I know what you’re thinking and it isn’t like that this time. I know I did something similar when I left but I promise I’m different now. The study is through the University of Michigan and it’s only slated to take 6-months if not less. It’s primarily overseeing graduate students as they conduct a study. I’d be able to set my own office hours so that we can talk as often as possible. I just don’t know if I want to take the offer.”

“You sound invested in the study already. What would be keeping you from taking it?” he asked, his voice full of support for you. All he ever wanted was for you to achieve your dreams. When you didn’t immediately answer he spoke again, “Is it me? Is that why you might not take it?”

You slowly nodded in response, “I feel like I just got you back and now I might be leaving, and what if things don’t work out with us not in the same state?”

“Princesa, listen to me. If you promise that this is nothing like last time and that you aren’t doing this in an attempt to leave then I trust you. We can figure out us as the situation comes up and I’m confident we can work out this time around. Whatever you decide I am forever proud of you and in awe of all that you’ve accomplished.”

“I love you,” was all you could think to respond with.

“I love you too princesa,” Luke said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Two weeks had passed since you told Luke of the news when a really difficult case had seemed to take a toll on pretty much everyone. After the case, it was decided that those who were able to would come over to the house you shared with Luke to decompress. Spencer and Garcia came and spent the entire day, and much of the night, with the two of you. Having extended the invite to significant others, Matt brought Kristy by to visit with everyone after they found a sitter around 7:30.

Once everyone who planned on coming was there, it didn’t take long for everyone to get caught up in conversations about personal lives. The conversation started with asking Matt and Kristy about their kids and eventually, everyone started talking about overall changes in their lives. “So girl wonder,” Matt started, referring to you by a name originally bestowed on you by Garcia before it caught on to the rest of the team, “Luke said you got an offer to lead a pretty interesting study is that right?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone I haven’t made a decision yet. The department I’d be overseeing for it ran into some problems and the start date has been pushed back. It would be nice to get away from the dark and scary parts of this job and back to what I started with but I’d miss you guys too much.”

“Would it be permanent?” Spencer asked. The two of you had grown close since you joined the unit and while he wanted to be excited for you, he would be lying if he said the idea of you leaving didn’t upset him at all.

“No,” you started to say, “It’s slated to last 6-months but there’s no guarantee the study will be finished in time.”

“Are you still going to work at the BAU when you come back?” Garcia questioned.

“I’m not sure. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve been struggling with deciding lately if I’m a good fit for the unit, but I plan to stay with the bureau somehow,” you answered hesitantly.

The rest of the night was spent answering questions about the study and getting support from those around you. By the time everyone was ready to leave, you felt completely comfortable knowing that whatever decision you came to, you would have a support system of amazing friends.

Looking back, you should have noticed that the number of times you were having trouble with cases was more of a problem than you should have was a sign you needed to step away from the job. The cases themselves weren’t getting harder, but you personally were having a harder time with them. The longer you were with the unit, the more issues you had been having an increasingly difficult time coping after them. You would have thought they would have gotten easier to manage, but you found yourself struggling every time you felt a decision you made could have changed the outcome of a case. In your previous position before the BAU, you felt powerless as the victims were long gone and often one-off crimes and you felt switching to the BAU and being able to get killers off the street would make you feel better as you’d be helping get active killers off the street. However, you were extremely wrong, and the feeling that you could, no that you should, have stopped their killers before it was too late became too much for you and you decided to take a step back from the unit.

“Y/ln, we need to talk in my office,” Prentiss said as you entered the bullpen.

“Yes ma’am,” you responded, setting your go-bag down on your desk before you made your way to where she was standing. The entire team knew exactly what Prentiss needed to talk to you about and a few members even gave you sympathetic looks as you crossed the bullpen.

“Before we start I just want to say I’m sorry. I know what I did was against protocol,” you started.

“That’s not why you’re in here,” Emily cut you off. “While what you did was unacceptable, you’re here because I’m worried about you. In these past 2 cases, you’ve shown reckless behavior, as if you’re trying to get yourself hurt. I’m not mad at you, but I do need you to let me know if anything is going on that is affecting your ability to do this job.”

You silently nodded as she spoke. The more she said, the more you began to question your place in the unit. “Thank you. I’ve just had some personal problems the past week but I should be good to go now,” you said lying through your teeth.

“Just let me know if anything changes. Your health and personal well-being are more important than this job.”

The next week the BAU was called in to help with another tough case. While it wasn’t the first tough case you encountered in the time you had been with the BAU, this one was worse than others.

The victims are similar in both age and appearance to a close family member of yours and it had made it difficult for you to concentrate in the field the way you needed to. At one point you had even froze and almost didn’t get to a victim in time. For the entirety of the case, you were closed off from everyone when it didn’t involve work.

Upon returning to the BAU, everyone slowly dispersed their desks and you made your way to Prentiss’s office. Her door was open but you still knocked quietly before entering. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, come in.”

You could tell from the sympathetic look on her face that she knew what you needed to say. As you sat across from her she waited for you to speak. After letting out a small sigh you found the confidence to admit what was happening, “I think I need to step away from this job.”

With a silent nod, she grabbed the appropriate paperwork from her file cabinet, “I knew this day was coming. Luke told me you had been having nightmares lately. Fill out these papers and return them to me as soon as possible. If you opt for a sabbatical instead of completely leaving it should take roughly 2 weeks for it to be approved. In the meantime, you would still be a member of the team but be able to use the vacation days you have or you can be solely a desk agent and assist Garcia. Whichever one you choose I, as well as the rest of the team, will be here for you and have enjoyed working with you.”

Fighting tears that had started to form as she spoke, you nodded and said a quiet thank you before leaving her office. Setting the papers down on your desk on the way, you headed towards Garcia’s office to let her know you planned on leaving.

Once you were out of earshot, JJ had peeked at the papers you had set down. “What is it?” Spencer asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

“Y/ln is leaving the unit,” she responded, voice full of confusion. As she spoke everyone turned to Luke and he nodded slightly in response, confirming you were leaving the family you had grown to love.

After your sabbatical was approved, you accepted the offer to lead the study. Much to your dismay, the team was insistent on throwing you a going-away party, despite knowing you were going to come back in 6 months. You told the team that if they insisted on having a gathering at Rossi’s place that it needed to be something that the members of the unit with kids could bring them with, feeling there was no point in, “saying goodbye to a family member” as Rossi had put it, without all of the family members being there.

“Remind me again why we have to make a big deal of me leaving? I already said goodbye to the team and I’ll be back and with the unit again in less than a year,” you wondered aloud to Luke as you pulled into Rossi’s driveway.

“Because princesa, it’ll make Rossi happy to get to throw you a party and its tradition, regardless of how long the leave will be. And besides, the kids want to see you before you leave for 6 months,” he reminded you.

“You got me there,” you said with a smile before kissing his cheek. “Let’s head in before we’re late.”

Shortly after you guys made your way inside and to the backyard, Matt and Kristy had arrived with their kids. The kids knew why you were having a going away party and instantly ran to you when they saw you. When you noticed the kids running up to you, both you and Luke knelt to prepare for the number of hugs you were about to get. Due to offering to babysit when Matt and Kristy needed time to themselves, the kids had grown to see you as an aunt and Luke as an uncle. The same could be said for Henry and Michael, who showed up with JJ and Will shortly after the Simmons had arrived. The next couple of minutes were spent answering any questions the kids could think to ask you, in the most kid-friendly way you could.

“You’ll be back by my birthday right?” David asked looking up at you. In the time you had known the kids, you hadn’t missed a birthday for any of them.

“Of course I will buddy,” you responded.

“What about our stories?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah who is gonna tell us our stories while you’re gone?” While they had the Simmons Stories, the ones you told were different. You told them stories of the different cultures you studied and the different ways parts of the universe were believed to have come into existence.

“I have them all written down. I can leave them with Luke and he can read them to you,” you reassured all of them.

As the night went on, many memories from your time with the unit were shared with the group. Even though you planned to come back as soon as the study was over, knowing they would spend the next 6 months without you seemed to make everyone nostalgic.

Near the end of the night, everyone started saying their goodbyes. It was particularly hard to say goodbye to Spencer, knowing nearly everyone else he had gotten close to had left him as well. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing you managed to say to him. “I know you hate goodbyes and struggle with change but I promise I will come back and if not to work with the unit at least for our weekly coffee shop visits.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You’re doing what you have to do,” he responded as you opened your arms to offer him a hug. You were always the first to initiate hugs and he usually accepted them.

“I’ll miss you, Spence. You already have my cell phone number and the phone number for my office for the next 6 months. Call me anytime you need me,” you told him while hugging him.

“I’m proud of you. I’ll miss you too y/nn,” he said as you pulled apart.

“See you in 6 months.”

As you made your way into the bullpen you took note of the date. It was 6 months and 4 days since you had seen any of the team face-to-face. While you kept personal contact with the entire team while you were away, you hadn’t told anyone except for Emily that you were planning on coming back to the team. Luke knew when the study would end and was expecting to see you at home later that night, assuming that the team didn’t get a case that pulled him away.

When you entered the bullpen, Matt was the first to notice your arrival. He was already standing at Luke’s desk to ask him a question related to a report he was writing and flashed a small smile in your direction before nudging Luke on the arm, “Why didn’t you tell anyone y/n was returning today?”

Not thinking you were actually there, Luke brushed off Matt. “She isn’t coming home until later tonight and told me even if she does return to the unit it would take some time for her to be reinstated,” he responded, not even looking up from his file.

Knowing he wouldn’t look up from his file right away, you talked quietly with everyone else before approaching his desk. You brought back small trinkets for everyone and placed a small handmade miniature Roxy in front of him. “One of the students I was overseeing made it when she saw a picture of you and Roxy as my phone background to help me cope with being away from you. I figured since I’m home now you could use it more,” you explained as if it wasn’t the first time you were seeing your boyfriend in over 6 months.

Luke watched silently as you spoke, a smile creeping onto his face when he processed you were actually there in front of him. As he stood up from his chair, he quickly wrapped his arms around you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re home?” he asked, trying to comprehend your arrival.

“I’m home,” you responded with a smile as you looked up at him.

“I’ve missed you so much, you can’t leave me for that long again,” he said with a smile.

Before you could respond, Garcia came speeding out of her office due to having heard of your return from JJ. “Girl wonder! You’re back! Are you staying with us? You can’t leave me with Newbie for that long ever again,” she exclaimed as she approached you.

“Yes, I’m back. Weaning back into the job and will be on desk duty here and helping you for the first 2 weeks but I’m back,” you told her.

327 notes · View notes

brookheimer · 1 year

Note

Do you think the Logan abuse allegations might go into CSA territory? Unlike a lot of people I’m not 100% convinced roman experienced this, but people are speculating on Twitter that accusations of Logan’s physical and emotional abuse will snowball into CSA territory. If that’s the case I’d certainly imagine Logan was complicit rather than an abuser himself (if anyone probably uncle Mo?), but nevertheless shocking if it does come out

oooh i have a lot of thoughts about this actually!

personally, i'm with you -- i'm in the minority of people who don't think roman CSA is as good as canon, primarily because i don't think it needs to be in order for him to make sense. i think it's definitely possible and would certainly fit with his character, but a lot of people frame CSA as, like, The Explainer to roman roy which i just find kind of silly and cheap. people act like that's the only possible way he could turn out the way he has, and not only is that just blatantly untrue, it's also a pretty strange, diminishing narrative -- the way people talk about it really sounds like they're saying Well If You Have Sexual Dysfunction You Only Make Sense If Someone Molested You As A Child, which is just... not quite how things work. obviously, it's a reason someone might have those issues, but it certainly isn't the only one. i can write another post later on why i think rome makes sense outside of CSA if people want, but rn i'll just focus specifically on why i'm not convinced that CSA will become explicitly relevant to roman's character, especially not in relation to logan (and why i personally kinda hope that isn't the direction they take)

more under the cut!

for one thing just personally really doubt succession would make anything that explicit, that clear cut. like, i really don't think there's going to be a scene confirming or denying whether roman experienced CSA. and, as you said, i don't think logan was the abuser himself but i could see him covering it up for mo. maybe. i don't know. i don't know! it feels a little weird to me, honestly, just knowing logan's obsession with having power over his kids, his disgust at roman's grossness, and his blatant homophobia, it feels somewhat hard for me to conceptualize him not giving a shit about a colleague of his assaulting his son. i don't think he'd care for the right reasons, but i think he'd view it as either a) an attack on him and a disturbing power play -- you think you can take my kids out from under me? you think you can fucking control them? you?], b) absolutely fucking disgusting like the most sicko-ness of sickos -- not only are you attracted to m*n you're attracted to my weak little fuck of a son? what the fuck's wrong with you? are you not a man?, or c) both. like, idk. i just find it really hard to imagine that's something he would take lying down -- not out of protectiveness for roman but out of personal offense or pure disgust. i don't think he'd out it to the world or anything, he has his company to protect, but i think mo or whoever would definitely be cut out and shushed with hush money or something. which is still complicit, sure, but it isn't like i think logan would have actively turned a blind eye, which seems to be the prevailing opinion. it just... it doesn't fit from what we know of logan.

also, CSA is like.... it's inarguably bad. like, obviously. but succession thrives in realms of nuance. logan is abusive and horrible but you understand him. if you try to, you really can understand him. it doesn't excuse or justify anything, but he has a very human mindset that stops him from being, like, straight-up Evil. every succession character is a human before anything else, no one's a caricature (except maybe for s4 greg, but i'm withholding judgment there for now). succession fails if any character's deeds outweigh their humanity. no one is hitler. everyone thinks they're doing the best that they possibly can, including logan. that's why brian cox says logan's issue is he loves his kids too much -- he gets shit on for saying that, because i mean it does sound batshit, but i do get what he's saying. logan does not like his kids but he does love them. the reason he's so awful to them is because he loves them -- not in the sense that 'love is abuse' or whatever i'm about to get angry asks yelling ab, but because the only reason logan can't just let them go off and be disappointments is because he loves them. his abuse is not out of pure malevolence. it's because he wants them to become people they fundamentally aren't. that's what it comes down to. it's not just Evil Dad Hates Kids. logan wants so desperately for his children to become real people, people he can like and respect and trust and rely on, but they aren't those people, and that's something he's been entirely incapable of accepting. his abuse is an attempt to mold and to change and to fix, not just to punish. that's why the "i love you, but you are not serious people" was such an important line -- in some senses, it kind of was the end of logan's arc. it made a lot of sense for him to die there. where else could he go? he finally admitted what he'd known deep down all along: his children will never be the people he wants or needs them to be. no amount of pressure or competition or carrot-dangling will change that. he loves them, but they are not serious people.

that's why Logan CSA Committer/Allower feels really hard to imagine, both from a character standpoint and from a succession one in general — making logan an official CSA Allower would make it really, really hard for him to maintain the same kind of humanity and nuance he has as a character, which is rooted in the fact that logan doesn't hate his kids or want them to suffer. he wants them to become the peak of masculinist capitalism and none of them are capable of it. so if anything, he'd be furious at anyone who assaulted his kids because it would push them further from that ideal -- it would make them Wrong. if a boy were to be forced into sexual submission at a young age by an older man, they'd never be able to become that capitalistic ideal of masculinity; they're already fundamentally wrong. logan's anger would be directed both at the boy (roman) and at the man who forced it on him. but, to me, it seems like much of logan's anger with roman stems from his genuine lack of understanding as to how the fuck roman ended up like this -- how could a son of his end up like this? it's a personal failing for logan, one that he can't puzzle out. what did he do so wrong for roman to become the antithesis of literally everything logan stands for? i feel like if roman were a CSA victim and logan knew, he would probably... i don't know, try less to fix him. it's fucking awful, but i kind of feel like logan would find roman to be Tainted already and want to just shove him somewhere he doesn't have to look at him. but we see time and time again logan genuinely trying to squeeze the wrongness out of roman -- that's where his abuse of rome stems from, not so much molding him into the Right person as it is unmolding him out of being Wrong (bc only then can he do his ken/shiv tactics to mold him into being an heir) -- and try to understand in his misguided, cruel, offensive way what exactly is wrong with roman. i think if he knew, he wouldn't bother. he wouldn't ask, like "are you scared of pussy, son?" and "are you a sicko?" and call him gay slurs and all of that, because i think that would be too close to the truth he can't bear to acknowledge. just like how he pretends he had never and would never hit roman, even though he has, multiple times, both as a child and an adult. he wouldn't directly address something that brings shame to him, and having his son be the victim of CSA would indeed bring him a great deal of shame (not guilt, but shame). so, like, while it's true that logan's relationship with roman could be founded primarily in CSA-driven misdirected anger and victim blaming, i just again don't think that's necessary for their relationship to make sense, and that the nuances of their relationship almost make me feel like that's not the case either.

i also just personally think roman would maybe be more interesting were he not a CSA victim -- if it's confirmed that he is, everyone will be like Whelp Roman Solved! like, that would be all that's needed to explain him (or at least that's how people would act). and that would be such a fucking shame, man. i just think that there are a decent number of people in the world who have dysfunction not dissimilar to roman's who also aren't CSA victims and really, really struggle to figure out what exactly made them this way, especially when the entire world is acting like the only possible cause is CSA. and there are portrayals of CSA on television and in media. but... i can't think of anyone else like roman. i think him not having CSA and his dysfunction stemming instead from less obvious, more subtle-ly debilitating power dynamics and narratives of masculinity/sex would just be much more interesting, as even if succession handled his CSA with care, the majority of people would just see it as well, case closed, finally we understand roman. as if he isn't already perfectly understandable without it. maybe i'm just really biased as someone who thankfully did not experience CSA but seemingly inexplicably ended up quite similar to roman in a lot of ways, as someone who actually gets to feel a little more normal for once because of roman's abnormality. i just think there's a lot more to sex and sexual dysfunction than media often presents, because many storylines and characters are just very easy cause and effect relationships (CSA --> sexual dysfunction, rape --> hypersexuality, etc etc etc) when in reality there are so many ways that even tiny things could build up over time and end up manifesting in really detrimental ways. you can have a bad relationship with sex before ever having it, because sex is about soooo much more than the actual act of sex. and succession is about life and mirroring it, not creating easily understandable characters and narratively satisfying conclusions. so, yeah, i guess i don't know if succession will go down the CSA route, because that just feels... a little easy to me, maybe, when it doesn't need to be. not saying CSA is a bad plot point or anything, but that it is something depicted (and unfortunately often sensationalized) on television a lot, whereas characters with inexplicable sexual hangups are not.

i definitely hope this season delves further into roman's sexual dysfunction, but i'm kind of hoping it doesn't just explain it all away as Well He Was A Victim Of CSA, bc i think a) roman makes sense without it, b) the logistics of it happening relating to logan feel murky and confusing, c) succession isn't the type of show to outright Explain Things (and thank god), and d) there are a lot of people, i think, who have issues with sex they don't understand or that they don't 'deserve' to have, and i've never seen another character in any media that's depicted like that, although i have seen explorations into CSA.

sorry this was so long, but as i said, many fucking thoughts!!

#as always the thing about sending me asks is that chances are it will take me 4ever to respond but when i do it will be a fucking essay #if ppl want to know why i think rome makes sense without needing CSA as a backdrop i can write about that too at some point #tw csa #tw child abuse #tw sa #please let me know if there's anything yall want me to tag #succession #roman roy #logan roy #(ended up talking so mcuh ab logan here. can't believe i wrote fucking logan meta)#succession meta #casey shut the fuck up about roman roy #anon #asks

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

statistically significant | 2 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Present day

Miruko’s agency was large, much larger than you had expected.

From the street, it had looked unobtrusive enough, a moderately-sized office building with a modern-looking glass front. You could see into a large reception area on the ground floor, and open workspaces on the next few floors, conjoined desks piled high with paperwork and slightly wilted-looking office plants. If not for Miruko’s name emblazoned over the entry in bold, metallic letters, you could have taken it for just another office building.

Once inside, however, the building became much more than that. After checking in at reception, you were led deep into the building, and gestured into an elevator that took you tens of floors down. When the doors opened, they let out into a cavernous space, stretching under what must have been the entire block. The floor was equipped with a gym, several reinforced training spaces the size of office buildings themselves, and what appeared to be a surveillance room where footage from the training spaces could be replayed.

Your mouth dropped open. Did all hero agencies hide deep underground like this? How many other underground floors were there? How big was Miruko Agency, really?

Your guide had enough tact to ignore your inelegant expression, instead leading you towards a training room. A huge, clear window tens of meters across looked into the space, but you would bet anything that it was made of some material much stronger than glass, which was especially evidenced by what you could see going on beyond the window.

Rubble littered the room, scattered in towering piles that gave the appearance of a post-doomsday cityscape. You didn’t know if the room had been set up this way, or if the rubble was the result of the battle going on within; there were two heroes that you could see darting around the space, both appearing to be causing maximum chaos.

Closest to you, a woman with wild pink curls was emitting a powerful stream of some cement-colored substance that ate away at anything it touched, causing it to smoke and hiss and crumble. She melted a huge hole in a pile of rubble, and a man with a shock of golden-yellow hair leapt away from what had probably been his hiding place, backpedaling wildly.

You perked up when you realized who they were--Ashido Mina, the number twenty-nine hero Pinky, and Kaminari Denki, the number thirty-three hero Chargebolt.

Kaminari threw out a hand, and a crackling wave of lightning struck out at Ashido. The lights flickered out briefly, and even behind the window, you could feel your hair stand on end. You blinked past the powerful flash that had temporarily blinded you, casting about for Ashido who had surely been struck down, only to choke on a laugh when you caught sight of her flashing Kaminari the middle finger, sliding away from a huge chunk of rubble she’d dislodged with her acid to use as a shield.

“They’re idiots,” a voice intoned from your side.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, turning to find Miruko herself standing next to you, powerful arms crossed over her chest. Despite her words, a little fond-looking smile flickered at the edges of her mouth.

You schooled your slack jawed expression into a smile. “I don’t know--their personalities are mostly why they’re so popular, so they must be doing something right. I did a little digging into everyone’s results before I got here, and they stood out among a lot of the rest.”

Miruko’s gaze flicked over you. She was short, maybe even shorter than you, but her keen red eyes and very lethal-looking biceps more than made up for her stature. She was intimidating in person, an air about her that told you she could snap and turn on you at any second. Despite the fact that she had asked you here herself, you felt like she might seize you and bodily throw you out of her agency.

“And that’s why they’re idiots. Their results are buoyed by their personalities,” Miruko sniffed. “They need work.”

You prickled a little, feeling like you should say something in their defense, but the truth of it was, you were here to help them work on things.

Some weeks ago, Miruko had contacted the Public Safety Hero Commission with interest in the ranking model. Your version had been in production for close to a year, and you had recently been making scholarly noises about feedback loops, asking for permission to provide pro heroes with individual results breakdowns. Miruko had caught wind of this and demanded on site assessments for her “team of frigging clowns” as she had so eloquently put it. And so you had been loaned out, with the idea of helping to direct the training for the heroes at Miruko Agency, providing them a real time comparison of their training footage to the generic hero ranking model results.

If this trial run was successful, if you could help any of the heroes measurably jump ranks, then the Commission had committed to providing individualized results for the thousands of heroes employed today. The Commission had also expressed interest in your idea of creating and packaging smaller models that took less technical skill to operate, for heroes to use to direct their own training. They had even seemed receptive to giving you a small team of research scientists and software engineers to build such a product, so you would be looking at a pretty sick promotion, not to mention.

Miruko made her way over to the surveillance room, beckoning you after her, and you watched as she leaned over a desk, pressing down a button with one gloved finger.

A crackling sound echoed overhead and her voice followed. “Alright, brats, recess is over. Anyone not heading out on patrol, meet in the surveillance room now.”

The flickering light from Kaminari’s lightning fizzled out, and the door to the training room opened not long after, Kaminari and Ashido spilling out in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and petty squabbling. They were the first to arrive at the surveillance room, and Kaminari visibility perked up when he saw you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself on a gasp when Ashido’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “What the fuck, Mina--! Why are your elbows so sharp? Can you just not--?” He grabbed her elbow. “Stop, look, it’s stats girl! From the Awards!”

You startled a little, shocked that he had remembered you. That had been almost a year ago, and you’d only exchanged a couple quick comments in the stairwell.

Ashido looked up from where she appeared to be attempting to crack one of his ribs, her expression shifting into something altogether too interested. You flushed when a sharp grin broke out over her pretty features.

“Oh my god, you’re stats girl? I have been waiting forever. It’s an absolute honor to meet you.” She held out a palm, waggling her rosy fingers expectantly.

A rising sense of horror grew within you. Did...did Kaminari remember you so clearly because he’d told people about the incident? What exactly had he mentioned to her? Who else had he spread the tale to?

“Um, yeah that’s me,” you managed, trying to tamp down your embarrassment.

Ashido grinned wider, leaning forward. “I was totally convinced Denki and Eijirou made you up, except that Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. You’re, like, a legend. Do you do autographs?”

You gaped at her, your mind sticking on the phrase Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. A nervous, hunted energy crept over you. Revenge...for months.

Miruko’s rabbit ears twitched and she turned to you, frowning. “I wasn’t aware you’d already met some of my circus monkeys. Is this going to be a problem?”

You dithered nervously, not actually sure if it would be. You’d known Bakugou worked at her agency, considering you had done a fair amount of pre-work collecting everyone's results. But you’d honestly put off thinking about this. Bakugou had been in quite the rage at the Hero Awards, but that had been almost a year ago. And Ashido had phrased his revenge plans in the past tense… Surely he didn’t still hold as much of a grudge now?

Miruko eyed you suspiciously for a moment, but she was distracted when the scuffle of boots indicated the approach of other heroes, and a pair of burly men with curling satyr horns rounded the corner, one of them leaning forward to speak to her. Ashido sent you a wink when Miruko turned her back, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like later.

In the next few minutes, a small group of heroes assembled, ranging from relatively well-known heroes like Ashido and Kaminari, to a couple of heroes who ranked deep in the hundreds--you only knew some of their faces because Miruko had provided you with a list of her employees for preparatory research purposes. They formed a small crescent around the surveillance area, chattering lowly to themselves and eyeing you with speculative curiosity.

To your eternal relief, her most famously explosive employee was conspicuously absent, and you felt yourself relax when it seemed like everyone had turned up who was going to.

When it seemed like the crowd size was finally large enough to please her, Miruko barked a loud “SHUT UP” at them. The din of low voices instantly died down.

“Alright brats. Over the next few months, Y/N will be working here at the agency with us. She has been invited on behalf of the commission, and will be analyzing your quirks, your methods, and your recent work,” Miruko said. “She has individualized results pulled from the current hero rankings that can inform you how to improve. I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity.”

She gestured to you, giving you a meaningful look as if she expected you to introduce yourself. You gave a little wave, glancing at the heroes around you.

“Um, hi,” you said. “As Miruko-san said, I can give you a little advice based on your current results breakdown. I also plan to analyze video of your training in the coming weeks, and build parallel models to simulate future results given your performance. We can compare those to the current rankings for an idea of how much work you will have to put into particular skills for you to move up in the ranks.”

A small murmur went through the crowd at the prospect of moving up in the ranks. Some gazes sharpened in interest.

You continued, “This is also a good chance to work on specific growth areas -- I can train smaller models on subsets of videos so you can compare your skills more directly with each other or with other heroes from other agencies. Please let me know if there is anything special any of you would like to focus on.”

Miruko stepped back in front of you. “Y/N is going to set up in the surveillance room for the next few weeks. I’ve already established checkpoints for all of you to meet with her, but I encourage you to meet with her more often if you can.”

There were a couple of nods, and a few interested whispers from somewhere at the back of the crowd. Miruko took a breath like she was going to say more, but then--

“Hard pass,” a voice growled from your left. Your hackles instantly raised, and it took your brain a couple seconds to catch up with your instincts. You whipped around wildly when you realized you knew that voice, and you almost jumped a full foot in the air when you caught sight of those familiar blonde spikes over another hero’s shoulder.

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but Bakugou had clearly returned from a fight only minutes ago. His hair drooped a little with sweat, there was dirt streaking the points of his high cheekbones, and his costume was shredded by a thousand tiny tears, like he’d been thrown through a glass window. And...was that blood on his gauntlets? Was it his?

You were torn between immediate annoyance and something like concern at the sight of him so obviously roughed up.

“The meetings are not optional,” Miruko’s voice took on a hard edge.

“I already know what this fucking nerd has to say,” Bakugou drawled dismissively. “And I don’t give a shit. I don’t need assists if I’m the one busy saving the fucking day.”

Your mood edged cleanly into annoyance. It seemed he hadn’t changed any, then.

Miruko’s face darkened. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Bakugou bared his teeth. They gleamed almost blindingly white against the dark dirt on his face. “No.”

A wild look entered Miruko’s eye at the challenge. “Everyone is dismissed. Except Katsuki,” she uttered in a low, dangerous tone.

There was a small pause. The heroes around you looked at her askance, and her features darkened even further. “I said scram. NOW!”

The effect was immediate. It felt like no sooner had you blinked than the hall was suddenly clear. The sight of Kaminari and Ashido wheeling around the corner was all the proof you had that the team hadn’t suddenly vanished from existence.

Bakugou snorted and propped himself lazily against a column, affecting a slouch, one pale eyebrow raised over his insouciant expression. It looked almost too perfectly arrogant, and you wondered if he practiced it in the mirror sometimes.

“I said the meetings are not optional, Katsuki,” Miruko hissed, taking a step closer to him. “You can ignore her suggestions all you want, but you will attend them.”

Close as they were, you could see she was almost a full head shorter than him, but the force of her anger seemed to make her larger somehow--she wasn’t towering over him, but she was certainly terrifying. Towering under, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

Bakugou, for his part, held his ground. His mouth curled disdainfully. “What’s the fucking point? The nerd’s just gonna tell me stupid shit. And I’m not going to listen.”

Your fingers twitched in irritation. Data wasn’t stupid shit -- it was mathmatical fact, almost as divorced from human bias as it was possible to be. How was it humanly possible that he hadn’t learned anything or grown even the littlest bit? How was it possible that he was just as infuriating as he was a year ago?

But fine. He could have things his way if that’s what he wanted.

Miruko’s face twisted in a scowl, and she took a deep breath like she was ready to start yelling. But you got there first.

“He has a point,” you said, giving him a hard look over the top of Miruko’s head. “I would hate to waste my time on someone who’s been stalled in the rankings for a year now. He wouldn’t know how to implement my advice even if I were to give it.”

You paused, letting an uncharacteristic smirk curl your mouth, trying your best to channel his disdainful energy. “Isn’t that right, Number Eight?”

Bakugou’s gaze sharpened over Miruko’s silver hair, twin pinpricks of red narrowing in on you. He abandoned his slouch, his body tensing like a hound that smelled blood. “What did you just say?”

You pushed down the petty satisfaction that rose within you at his reaction. He was so fucking prideful, so easy to bait.

“Hmm, cognitive delays,” you said, pretending to tap your chin thoughtfully. “Very worrying. Further evidence he wouldn’t be able to process the information, though. No, I think it’s best if we don’t meet.”

Bakugou pushed himself off the column, edging around Miruko as his mouth drew into a snarl. You were immediately reminded of the Hero Awards, that same overwhelming prickle of power edging over you as he stalked closer, the same scent like caramel and gunpowder.

Miruko’s eyes flicked between the two of you curiously, an eyebrow raised in interest. You hoped it meant she was interested enough in your data analysis to intervene if Bakugou tried to sauté you like an onion.

“If you melt through this blazer I really will sabotage the hero rankings and dip you all the way to number five hundred,” you threatened, edging away from Bakugou as he drew closer. “And also you owe me money for that dress.”

“I’m not gonna fucking give you shit,” he announced, looming over you when he’d decided he was close enough to intimidate. He was near enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he hadn’t put his hands to you yet. It seemed Miruko was enough of a deterrent to curb his bad behavior. “And I’m not gonna meet with you.”

“Good, then we agree,” you said, tipping your head back to look him in the eye. “You’re not good enough to do better anyways.”

Bakugou growled, the phrase clearly still enough to tick him off a year later. “Fuck you, I’m the best.”

“That’s not what your ranking tells me,” you clicked your tongue, feigning disinterest. With the dirt and scratches all over him he looked wilder than ever and you would be a fool to ignore it, but Miruko’s presence made you bold. And something else, some latent streak of frustration and pettiness told you to keep going, to keep pressing the buttons that were getting this reaction from him.

“Your ranking tells me you haven’t even improved the tiniest bit in an entire year. At this rate, you’ll never even hit the top three, never mind be the best. I don’t think you could improve even if you wanted to,” you said.

Bakugou looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear your head off with his teeth. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

You opened your mouth to reply but there was a sudden motion at the edge of your vision, something pink and blurry and wild. You glanced past Bakugou’s shoulder to find Ashido leaning around the wall, waving a hand frantically and mouthing something at you. You squinted, watching her lips shape themselves carefully: make a bet.

What? Make a bet?

She wanted you to make a bet?

You looked back up at Bakugou, taking in the oppositional expression, the angry curl of his mouth, the straight slope of his nose, and those keen, blood red eyes glaring down at you. This was certainly the face of a man who wouldn’t be told what to do, who couldn’t be told what to do.

But despite your words and your inherent distaste, there was no denying he was actually your best shot, the cleanest pathway to your promotion. Bakugou was smart, driven, and absolutely lethal. If anyone could turn around a rank at top speed it was him.

But he couldn’t be made to do it. He had to want to do it.

Ashido waved in the corner of your vision again, enunciating with exaggerated facial expressions. Make a bet.

Things clicked into place.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure,” you looked away from Ashido, inspecting your nails casually, like your focus would rather be anywhere than on this conversation. “In fact, I would bet almost anything that you wouldn’t know how to implement my suggestions, even if you tried.”

Bakugou froze, red eyes passing over you curiously. For one heart stopping moment, you thought he was on to you, but he just leaned down instead, putting his face close to yours.

“I’ll fucking take that bet.”

You tried to push down your sudden swell of excitement, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he thought you were happy about this.

“Fine. You have two months to jump a rank,” you said. “Or I win. And you’ll pay me what you owe me for the dress.”

Bakugou smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. This had the effect of emphasizing both the tears in his shirt and the swell of his biceps.You quickly attached your eyes firmly to his face--that was so not what you needed to be focused on right now.

“I’ll do it in one,” he said. “And then I win, you smug fucking nerd.”

You gazed at him steadily. “Agreed. Miruko’s number seven--you think you can beat your own boss with just a month of work? You’ll never.”

“You haven’t heard what I win yet,” he said.

You stared at him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You go up in rank. That’s what you win.”

Bakugou’s handsome face shifted into an uneven smirk. “Oh no. This is twice now you’ve opened your little know-it-all mouth and acted like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. When I win, you’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You suppressed an eye roll. If he moved up a rank, the point would very obviously be that you were right all along. Was he really so unreasonably competitive and spiteful that he needed to be told he was right?

Then you remembered he’d quite literally dragged you into a stairwell and implied he'd fry you to a crisp when he found out he was number eight. Of course he was.

Well, a few throwaway words were worth nothing compared to the promotion you’d be getting. He could have his sense of self satisfaction when you were knee deep in software engineers and fat stacks of money.

You took a deep breath, holding out a hand. “Okay. If you win, which is a very big if, then I’ll admit it. Deal?”

Bakugou considered you for a long moment, red eyes watching you closely, before a calloused hand engulfed yours. “Deal," he growled, a crooked grin flickering at the edge of his mouth. "Get ready to eat shit, nerd.”

You suppressed another eye roll, hoping to god this was going to be worth it.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

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spade-riddles · 3 years

Text

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes.

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming.

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable.

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships.

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night.

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet.

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case.

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch.

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first.

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it.

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised.

Just my two cents.

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

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cherryrogers · 4 years

Text

➸ protector

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | mob au

warnings: swearing, mild violence + assault, stalking, mentions of illness + death, fluff.

word count: 7.4k

synopsis: Ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with.

a/n: mob au’s are top tier so of course i had to write one at some point. i hope that this one is even a smidge as good as every other one out there !! please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!

A dark blanket had encompassed the city; swallowed the highest of skyscrapers and narrowest of alleyways. Engulfed shamrock green parks and swept through empty office buildings. Allowed for the busy city to sleep, ironically — this was New York, after all.

Below it, along a quiet street bordering Central Park, walked an unlikely duo. One who’d only ever known violence. The other hoped never to come across it. Yet under the deep ink sky, indulged in each other’s company, no two people seemed to harmonise so well.

“I thought you were walking me home, not taking me down every street in Manhattan.”

“What, have you had enough of me for the night?”

Furrowing your brows, you stopped in your tracks. “Is that what you’re doing? Stringing out the walk back so that the night doesn’t end so soon?”

Bucky looked back at you, a grin pulling at his lips. “Maybe.”

You smirked, poking a finger into his chest. “Tell me, Barnes — do your mob friends know that you’re such a sap?”

Eyes glimmering under the moonlight, Bucky shot a glare your way before slinging an arm back around your shoulder. “I guess I better get you back then — obviously you have better things to be doing...”

“And a drama queen,” You teased, leaning into his embrace. “Some big bad mob boss you are.”

“Yeah, yeah — give it a rest.” He rolled his eyes, only pulling you closer.

It wasn’t often in his line of work that Bucky met someone who could make him momentarily forget about the life he led. In fact, you weren’t in his line of work at all, and that’s why it was so easy with you. Frankly, everyone around him either worked for him or wanted to kill him; it was difficult to find anyone between the two that he could simply be himself with.

While he had power over Hell’s Kitchen, that didn’t mean it was safe for him to roam the streets freely. Ever since he was a child, his father had told him to always assume that he was being watched, whether it was by the cops or members of other mobs looking to cause trouble. Everyone he ever associated with became a target; a weakness. Someone whose death would throw him off his game. That’s why he never made friends, always sticking to the few ones he had who’d been in the crime world as long as he’d been.

Following a messy run-in with another mob on a night which felt like centuries ago, Bucky wandered into a random bar in hopes of clearing his head with as much whiskey as the cash in his pocket would pay for. But the bartender that night, well, she wasn’t having any of it. As it turned out, a conversation lasting until 2am with her did more for him than the strong liquid in his glass had ever done.

That night, he decided that perhaps he could have one none-criminal, none-mob, none-person that has a weapon on them at all times friend. Just one; just a friend.

He was honest with you about his work. At first, he wasn’t even sure you believed him. Because why would you? You couldn’t count the amount of times guys had made up horribly unbelievable lies about their occupations in an attempt to make an impression. ‘Mob boss’ would certainly be a new one, but not any more or less convincing than a supposed world-renowned doctor or a highly successful entrepreneur that had trouble adding up their bill total.

There was certainly something different about Bucky; in the way he carried himself, in how he talked. Plus, his eyes tended to always drift back to the entrance, as if he was anticipating someone’s arrival. While a doctor is a more common career for the average man than a mob boss, if anyone happened to be one, your guess would be the guy that was able to drink on weeknights without worrying about having a hangover for work the next day.

“It’s pretty dark around here, that’s all,” You shrugged, eyeing the star-scattered sky. “And muggers don’t make exceptions for the mob, unfortunately.”

“You don’t think I could take on a mugger? What do you think I do for a living?”

“You know, you’ve never actually told me...” You shifted your gaze to him, watching as his brows pinched together and the smile slowly disappeared from his lips.

Any knowledge you had of mobsters and gangs was from the movies. All the crime, killing, money — it seemed insane to even speculate that it was happening right under your nose. You’d only known Bucky for a few months, not once had you even questioned his work because you’d convinced yourself that it was better not to. That you liked the person he was with you, and whoever he was at work wasn’t any of your concern.

It spiked your curiosity, though. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done anything that’d horrify you if you saw it on the news. Being a bartender, you met new people almost every day — you had a skill in distinguishing good and bad people. Bucky had a good heart; there was nothing about him that signalled as a red flag. He genuinely cared about you — why else would he walk you home from work every chance he got? As well as being the reason for your full tip jar most nights, and simply spending most nights with you when he could be anywhere else in New York City.

A sigh fell from Bucky’s lips as he stopped the two of you under a lit street lamp. He brought a hand to your face, gently tucking your hair behind you ear. “It’s complicated, dollface.“

“Is it?” You asked quietly, uncertainty evident in your expression. “Or are you afraid of telling me in case it’ll scare me away?”

Bingo. A guilty grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Not many people can read me like that.”

You let out a laugh. “Well, not many people have the pleasure of talking to you for hours almost every night.”

“Yeah, you’re a pretty lucky girl.”

Scrunching your nose, you softly whacked at his chest. Honestly, picturing Bucky as a leading mobster in the city was difficult sometimes. Almost always, there was a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes — nothing like the stereotype at all.

Within moments, he’d pressed his lips into a narrow line, tracing his hands down your arms before clasping your hands in his. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, or about this city. If you asked, I’d explain it all to you, but I don’t think you want that on your conscience. I was born into this life; I do what I do because I have to and it’s nowhere near an easy job. It’s a scary world to get caught up in, babe — one that I’ll protect you from for as long as I can. That is, if you’ll let me.”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let your eyes drop to his chest, covered by the white dress-shirt and dark blazer that he always tended to sport. It occurred to you that his work had to be far more dangerous than you’d imagined. Truthfully, it worried you. What was so bad that he didn’t want on your conscience? Who would want to hurt you if you happened to get caught up in his world?

You agreed with him; it was a scary world, and you were a completely stranger to it. However, something else occurred to you as well. In the time that you’d known Bucky, that he kept you company on your late shifts, that he walked you the distance from the bar to your apartment every time without fail, you never once questioned your safety with him.

There was a time when you’d spend most of your tips from the shift you’d just finished to hire a cab to take you home, afraid of what hid in the shadows on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Alternatively, you’d wear a large winter coat on warm summer nights so you could carry pepper spray in your pocket and access it easily, not to mention the hand cramp you’d develop from carrying your keys between your knuckles for the entirety of the journey back.

With Bucky, you never needed to worry about being vulnerable, being a target — you’d happily let him protect your from the terrors of the world for the rest of your life.

“Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for walking me home every night.”

“You thank me all the time, and I always tell you it’s not a bother—”

“No, I mean really thanked you,” You cut him off, giving his hands a squeeze. “I used to dread leaving the bar every night. The thought of having to walk back to my apartment alone in the middle of the night, every night... it made me feel sick. And out of nowhere, this really gorgeous guy starts showing up at the bar every night and gets me home safely without fail. I— I don’t think you realise how safe I feel with you, Bucky. I feel so safe that I couldn’t ever be scared of you. You’ve looked out for me for this long out of the kindness of your heart — you’re a good person, you care about me. Your work might be scary to me, but you’re not, and I’m not planning on losing a good guy who happens to be caught up in a not-so-good world.”

Panic flared in your chest when you stopped speaking. You and Bucky weren’t exactly... an item, yet. Yes, he cuddled you to his side when he walked you home, he made you laugh like you never thought you could, he called you pet names that had your heart bursting with adoration. But between his hesitation about getting too close to you and your fear of asking him questions that he didn’t want to answer, an invisible boundary had set its place in the middle of you. Perhaps you’d been too forward, he only asked if you’d let him keep you safe and then you went on an unnecessary tangent—

Oh, he was kissing you. Okay, okay.

His careful hands cradling your face felt like the only thing stopping your legs from giving out; Bucky was kissing you. And fuck, it was a good kiss. One you’d been anticipating since the first time he walked you home. God, if your mother knew you were kissing a mob boss right now—

It didn’t matter — not to you. The job didn’t define him, even if everyone else around him told him that it did. You’d make sure he remembered that; you’d protect him in your own way.

Bucky pulled back first, anxious to see your reaction. It was impulsive, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when you were telling him how safe he made you feel, not when you said you didn’t want to lose him. Because he didn’t plan on losing you either.

“Listen, I’ve done things in the past that I’d rather forget...”

You shook your head at him. “Bucky, you don’t have to explain anything—”

“Please, just one thing,” He urged, watching you give him a nod before continuing. “I don’t— I don’t kill for fun, or steal from anyone out of greed, or hurt anyone just because I can. I know a lot of people who do all three without remorse; those guys are the ones I’m trying to take down. I just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of monster—”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” You offered him a genuine smile. “I think... you’re doing the best you can with the life you’ve been given.”

In a rare moment of demureness, a light blush coated Bucky’s cheeks; he couldn’t have put it better himself. A kiss was pressed to your forehead before he was tugging at your hands.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.”

* * *

To put it lightly, you were not happy.

It was a Sunday; the only day of the week where you were able to spend the evening binge-watching nearly half a season of a show in the comfort of your own living room. The only day that you could spend alone — no social interaction whatsoever. After a week of dealing with (usually tipsy) strangers, God knows you needed a day to wind down.

However, this Sunday night, you were right where you didn’t want to be — behind the bar, pouring out another glass of rum to a man who really should’ve just started a tab, waiting for the blessed hour of 2am to arrive because a co-worker called in sick at the last minute. To top it all off, Bucky wasn’t there to accompany you. You’d thought about calling him, but your mind told you he was probably busy with ‘mob stuff’, whatever that was. Plus, he spent almost every other night at the bar with you; you could survive one night alone.

It wasn’t such a busy night; Sundays never were at such a late hour. By the time you were closing up the place, there was only one person who’d stayed the whole night. He left without a fuss when you asked him to, which was reassuring. It was going to be your first time walking home alone in months — you didn’t need something to be paranoid about.

Still, you’d came prepared — a can of pepper spray hid in your left pocket, while your keys remained between your knuckles in your right one. Sometimes, you wondered if you were being dramatic. When you walked home with Bucky, there was barely anybody on the streets, never mind anyone that was looking to attack someone. But your paranoia won over that rationale; you could never be too sure.

You didn’t take the long way home like Bucky tended to have you do. Unlike with him, you wanted to get home as fast as possible, not waste time dawdling around the streets.

And still, within minutes of your departure from the bar, you felt someone’s eyes on you.

Surely, the odds weren’t that against you. It was your first time leaving work alone in months — it couldn’t also be the night that something... bad was going to happen because of it.

Don’t think like that, you thought to yourself, huffing quietly. A few more blocks and you’d be at your apartment building. Nobody was watching you, nobody was following you. Paranoia was unnecessarily powerful; it had to be your mind playing tricks on you.

However, after a short internal argument with yourself, you decided that it couldn’t hurt to take a glimpse behind you — just in case. And maybe sometimes trusting your paranoid thoughts was the right thing to do.

Because with one look over your shoulder, your heart rate had doubled in speed — there was someone following you.

The man from the bar, you were sure it was him. Not that you were good with remembering faces, but you’d just seen him not even ten minutes ago. Is that why he waited till the end of your shift? To follow you? You specifically?

He was around fifteen feet behind you, purposely keeping his distance. Fucking hell; what did he want? What could you give him that forced him to sit in the bar for hours waiting to get you on your own?

Bucky was going to kill you, but you’d rather that than, well, someone else having the chance to before him. Within moments, you were dialing his number, ignoring the sense of helplessness you felt in your chest.

The phone rang, and rang. Too many times for your liking.

...

“_____?” Thank fuck.

The sound of his voice alone was reassuring; it’d be even more so if he was there with you. He didn’t sound groggy, at least you hadn’t woken him up. “Are you okay?”

“Hey...” You let out a nervous laugh. “Where are you right now?”

“Just at home, dollface...” He answered cautiously, obviously sensing your unease. “Are you alright?”

Approaching the corner of the street you’d been speed-walking down, you took a left turn, eyes darting behind you before you disappeared down the next street. He was still there, still close behind you.

Bucky heard your breath hitch. “Babe, what’s going on? Where are you?”

Fuck. “I’m walking home from work.”

“What? You don’t work on Sundays.”

“Someone called in sick, I got called in last minute,” You gripped the pepper spray in your pocket impossibly tight, fear coursing through your veins. “Bucky, I think someone’s following me.”

There was a moment of silence; you worried he was already mad. But soon enough, you heard the fumbling of boots against a wooden floor. If you weren’t so terrified, you would’ve told him that coming to find you was unnecessary.

“Stay on the phone, okay? I’m gonna come and get you. Keep walking, don’t go down any alleyways,” He instructed, as you heard the click of a front door shutting over the speaker. “Do they know you’ve seen them?”

“I— I think so? Fuck, I don’t know...” You uttered, panic laced in your voice.

The sound of a car starting up provided you with some relief. He’d find you soon; Bucky would keep you safe. “You’re okay, I’m right here. How far away from the bar are you?”

“Uh...” You quickly took in your surroundings — hopefully you weren’t appearing as panicked as you felt. “There’s a nail salon on my right. Next to an Italian restaurant, and there’s a Starbucks on the corner.”

Luckily, Bucky knew Hell’s Kitchen inside out. His boots pressed hard on the gas instantly. “I know where you are. Just keep moving, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, too afraid of provoking the man who was following your tracks. Was he even still there? You couldn’t bring yourself to check.

You imagined Bucky must’ve been breaking speed limits left and right on his journey to you, considering that it’d barely been five minutes since he’d got in his car before you heard a vehicle not far behind you.

Working up the courage to take a look back, you noticed that the man following you had been distracted by Bucky’s car. It was a large, sheer black SUV with blacked out windows; the perfect car for someone in his profession. Perfect enough that your stalker of sorts realised he was in for it, and immediately spun around to walk the other way.

However, he wasn’t getting off that easily.

The car door flung open, making you flinch even from where you were stood fifteen feet away. A figure dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans jumped out, catching the man by his jacket sleeve before he could make his escape — Bucky. He mustn’t have had time to switch to his regular attire. In different circumstances, it’d be nice seeing him in such casual clothes.

Within seconds, the man was slammed against the brick wall of the bank you’d just passed, Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. All you could do was watch, paralysed with shock.

Coughing and spluttering, the man looked up to identify his attacker; his eyes widened. “B— Barnes?”

“You know me?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth, his grip on the man not wavering in the slightest, even when he nodded furiously. “You’re sure as hell not one of my guys — who you do work for?”

Stupidly, the man continued to squirm, desperate to get out of Bucky’s clutch. His throat was only clasped tighter. “Tell me who you fucking work for.”

“P— Pierce! I work for Pierce,” He panted.

Fucking hell. “Did he send you here?

“Yes.”

“Why?” Bucky growled, yet again tightening his grasp when there was a pause in conversation. “I swear I’ll crush your fucking windpipe—”

“The girl,” He answered breathlessly. “Someone told him you’d been seeing a girl— one that wasn’t part of your mob. He— He thought he’d be able to get to you through her, so he sent me to spy on her, work out who she was to you. I was just following her, I wasn’t gonna hurt her—!”

“But Pierce is planning to, isn’t he?” Son of a bitch. This, this was exactly what he was afraid of. Pierce has been looking for a way to take him down for as long as he could remember. But with no outside connections, no obvious weakness to him, it was impossible. You were just what he’d been waiting for — a loose screw in the framework, a crack in the pavement. Someone that would throw Bucky Barnes right off his game if you were dragged into the mess that he was trying to keep you out of.

But he’d made a promise to keep you safe; he wasn’t planning on breaking it.

Jaw clenching, eyes narrowing — Bucky rammed the winded guy into the wall for the last time. “If I see you around here again, you won’t live long enough to report back to your bastard boss.”

God, he could just do it. Squeeze this bonehead’s throat until he was unable to grant his lungs the pleasure of a singular breath of oxygen. Leave his pathetic ass unconscious on the ground for someone else to find — for Pierce to find. He’d be furious, but he’d be scared. Scared of how easy it was for his nemesis to take out one of his men. Scared of what lengths he’d go to ensure your safety.

But you were still there, watching him, unsure of his next move. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to let you be the witness to a murder, especially one on his part. The one pure thing in his life — he wasn’t going to ruin you.

With reluctance, he snatched his hand back, letting the man fall to his knees and instantly gasp for air.

“Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll change my mind on letting your sorry ass live.” He snarled, not waiting for a response before he began jogging in your direction.

Lips parted, brows furrowed, eyes glossy — you looked like you’d seen a ghost (or just heard that a mob boss was planning your murder).

Concern contorted into his features, Bucky quickly approached you, stopping himself from grabbing your face in his hands in fear that his touch wasn’t what you wanted. Had he just ruined everything? Even though you’d claimed that he could never scare you, he wasn’t sure that after that performance that your statement still stood.

Your eyes zeroed in on his chest, cogs working in your mind to try and process what the hell was going on. And Bucky worried that this was it — he’d dragged you into something you never wanted to be a part of and now, there was no getting out for you. You hated him for it, didn’t you? Fucking hell.

But after a few moments, his doubts were proven false when you crashed into his chest, enveloping his waist and shoving your face into the crook of his neck. He’d saved you, just like you knew he would.

Letting out a breath of relief, Bucky drew you closer by encircling your shoulders. Behind him, the pathetic man who he’d just about let live scurried away from the scene, allowing you to peacefully bask in the safe place that was Bucky’s arms.

Still, he feared that being out in the open wasn’t such a good idea. Pressing a lingering kiss you the crown of your head, he pulled back to meet your glazed eyes. “I’m taking you back to my place, is that okay?”

Without a word, you gave him a nod. If whoever was keeping tabs on you knew where you worked, there was a chance that they knew your home address too — the thought sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

The car ride back to Bucky’s was quiet. Buildings blurred together as your eyes remained glued to the window, a dismal look on your face. In the driver’s seat, Bucky stole glances at you — he’d never seen you so silent, so down. The crime world was not something he was a stranger to. Being at the top of someone’s hit list was nothing new to him. Nobody could get rid of him; that’s why he was despised by so many, and he didn’t care to mind these days. Shooting his way was a waste of bullets, men sent to find him with knives and crowbars in hand were using their time poorly.

But you weren’t him. No, you were the bubbly bartender that got whisked into his mess simply because you’d been nice enough to ask him about his sullen mood the first night you’d met. This life was never meant for you. Only a sick, emotionless person would’ve sought to harm you, even to spite their worst enemy. Even as ransom, as a way in to seek out Bucky’s weaknesses. He’d told you little about his work, and for good reason. The less you knew, the less important you were to those against him. Knowledge was power in this business.

A clanking noise emerged from in front of the car, managing to pull your eyes from the window. The car had stopped momentarily to allow a grand, silver gate to open, cushioned between the start and end of the black metal fence surrounding the land. Bucky had reached a hand out of his window to punch a code into the keypad next to the gate without you even noticing.

You knew that Bucky was well-off, but fuck.

The house was smaller than you’d imagined. Definitely still large, especially in comparison to your studio apartment. But taking into account the designer suits he styled every night, the stupid amount of money he’d tip you for a single drink, even the confidence he carried at all times — not cockiness, but self-assurance — had you thinking that when he went home at night, that it was to a multimillion dollar mansion. All glass, taking up acres upon acres, all for one man to live in.

However, it wasn’t that at all. It had a maximum of two stories, along with a garage to the left of the main building. It was modern, for sure. Monotonous with its black front door and window frames, the rest blinding white — more subtle than celebrity mansions shown off on social media. It was very Bucky; impressive and eye-catching, but not too flashy.

He opened the car door on your side, allowing you to climb out of the SUV, taking his outreached hand even though you didn’t quite need it. You would’ve uttered a joke about chivalry being dead if it weren’t for your dull mood; perhaps another time.

On a more positive note, you definitely felt safer enclosed in the towering fence surrounding Bucky’s house. At home, you’d be scared to blink in fear that it would declare you vulnerable to an attack.

It wasn’t long before he’d guided you into his home, tapping another code into another keypad as you entered the place, examining it in awe. The scruffy black boots on your feet juxtaposed the gleaming checkered flooring underneath them. A silver chandelier spread light across the foyer-like area, making you squint after the drive through the dark night.

Bucky watched as you took in your surroundings, noticing the way you crossed your arms over your chest, bowed your head — you were curling in on yourself, as if you didn’t belong there. He didn’t like that.

But after a minute or so, you diverted your gaze to him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “This place... it’s amazing.”

You’d only seen one room, sparse of furniture and lacking personality, but you didn’t need much more convincing of its splendour.

As confident as he walked, Bucky couldn’t say he took compliments well. It was the modesty that he didn’t even realise he had. Flashy watches and perfectly tailored suits littered his closet, sure — but not to reel in ego-feeding comments. He wasn’t the one who tailored his clothes, or carefully sculpted his wristwatches; he merely had the cash to splash on them. Many could only dream to have what he did — they’d take it in a second if it was offered to them. But for what? To maintain by being on the wrong side of the law and trusting that you woudn’t mess up? To be constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly having a target on your back?

He had a good life, he wasn’t denying that. Fear wasn’t the issue; he wasn’t scared. But he wondered if this was all there was to his life. Being someone’s enemy, the object of another’s hatred. No sense of normality to cling onto when things began to get messy. Maybe that’s why he became so attached to you; his sense of peace, a normal life. Which was ironic, since there was nothing normal about you. If you were normal, you’d be forgettable. And that, you were not.

As a thank you, he shot you a grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you need a drink? Or somethin’ to eat?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay, thanks. I’m more tired than anything, honestly.”

“I’ll take you upstairs then.” Usually, he’s take hold of your hand, or wrap an arm around you to escort you somewhere — he had a feeling you needed your own space right now, so instead, he let you follow his steps up the sheeny marble staircase.

It was true, you were tired. Exhausted, even. But you didn’t want to close your eyes, or be left alone, be left vulnerable again.

Bucky led you into a darker room, one that clearly wasn’t used so often. Still, it was large for a bedroom. A queen sized bed was pushed against the far wall, draped in royal blue sheets which complemented the grey cushions sat atop of them. A closet built into the wall took up one side of the room, and a plain, white wooden desk sat under the window on the other side. The door to an en-suite bathroom just peeked out next to the closet. Minimalistic, but lovely nonetheless.

“This is the guest room, usually where my sister stays when she visits every once in a blue moon,” He commented, moving to switch on the lamp standing on top of the desk. “There’ll be some clothes you can change into in the closet.”

A sister; you were even aware he had siblings. That was something he’d never talked about — family. Neither did you, so much, but it was as if Bucky didn’t have one at all. He said that he was born into the mob, so you assumed that his parents (or at least one of them) led the same life that he did.

With a small smile, Bucky acknowledged your thankful nod before leaving you to your own devices. It was obvious he didn’t want to pry, ask you questions that he already knew the answer to.

And you weren’t exactly sure what to say to him either. The situation was completely out of your control; if someone was after you to spite Bucky, how were you supposed to protect yourself? You couldn’t just move in with Bucky to ensure your safety, and it’s not like your apartment building with its rusty locks and lack of security detail put you out of harms way.

Sighing defeatedly, you stripped out of your work attire and kicked off your boots before taking a look in the closet. There weren’t too many nightwear options anyway, but you decided on a faded vintage Metallica shirt, cracks in the logo from the amount of times it’d been washed, along with a worn pair of baggy sweatpants. Not exactly an outfit that you were eager for Bucky to see you in, but given the circumstances, that was the least of your worries as you stepped out of the bedroom. You’d been alone for barely five minutes, but an uneasy pit was still beginning to form in your stomach.

The mob boss came into sight once you’d wandered back downstairs. Freshly poured glass of whiskey in hand, lounged back on a pristine white couch through an archway to the right of the foyer. Probably a lot more expensive that what he chugged down back at your bar, shipped directly from Ireland or Scotland. He didn’t notice as you stood idly in the archway, simply taking in his appearance — comfortable clothing, still sporting an extravagant Rolex (of course), slightly disheveled hair that’s been brushed back by his fingers — before slowly approaching the couch to take a seat next to him.

“You’ve never mentioned your sister.” His eyes flit to yours upon hearing your voice, tentative in case it was a sore subject.

The corner of his lips curled, not used to seeing you in anything other than washed-out jeans and a simple black tee. Shuffling along as you seated yourself, Bucky let out a breath. “She’s lived in Syracuse with my mom since she was barely a teenager, her name’s Rebecca.”

It brought you a sense of relief that Bucky still had family; since he never spoke of them, you worried that he’d lost them because of his lifestyle. “Does she visit much?”

“Nah, only a couple of times a year,” He shook his head, swirling his drink around in his hand. “It’s safer if she keeps her distance from the this part of New York. I used to never let her visit at all, but then— then my dad died a few years back, and after that she insisted on coming down here from time to time — said she couldn’t handle losing me too.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the job that killed his father. Lung cancer did it before another eager opposer ever got the chance to. Bucky had never been a smoker; never saw the appeal, especially after witnessing his father go through packs upon packs of cigarettes with the purest tobacco he could find to deal with the stress of the job.

And of course once he’d passed, it was up to his son to take over an organisation he wasn’t at all prepared for. Gone too soon, his father hadn’t been able to teach him everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to survive. Luckily, the Barnes kids were smart — Becca currently working on her nursing degree and Bucky, well, learning how not to die in his occupation.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” You sympathised, not wanting to keep pressing. There was a reason he’d been so intent on keeping you safe — his sister had already been driven away from the dangers and risks of being close to the mobs of Manhattan. He didn’t want that for you too. Not when this was your home, when he didn’t feel like he could lose you along with his sister because of the life he led. “I— I hope you know that tonight doesn’t change anything.”

His brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

Fiddling with you fingers in your lap, you met his eyes dubiously. “I’m not scared— well — getting followed home from work by a guy sent by a mob boss to spy on me was pretty scary. But it hasn’t scared me away from you.”

Admittedly, he was happy with your words. The last thing he wanted was to see you running in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t have taken it lightly, even if he understood exactly why you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Throwing down the rest of his drink, almost numb to the familiar burn in the back of his throat, Bucky discarded the empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Pierce has been after me for as long as I can remember; he was after my dad before that. He’s a coward, I can tell you that. Gets his men to do his dirty work. Carries a gun but never uses it. He won’t hurt you, but he doesn’t have a problem ordering every guy he knows to do it instead.”

A timid smile tipped your lips, as your clammy palms pressed against your thighs. “Is this supposed to be comforting?”

He huffed out a chuckle, but apologised upon seeing the worry behind your eyes. He’d been desensitised to violent threats and things alike; he wouldn’t let that happen to you. “I’m sorry, dollface. What I’m trying to say is... those guys are puppets on strings. They’re not smart; they don’t think for themselves. None of them have enough brain cells to get past me, which means they’d never be able to get to you.”

Your expression seemed to soften at that. Good, that meant you trusted him. Because he’d never lie to you. When he said he’d keep you safe, he meant it wholeheartedly. Now that he knew Pierce was meddling in his part of town, that made things a little easier. He’d let the rest of the guys know in the morning. Form a plan of action to force them to stay the fuck away.

In truth, Bucky wasn’t afraid. With his whole chest, he’d say that he had a higher IQ than all of Pierce’s men combined. And he’d say the same for you. Having a gun in your pocket of a knife slipped into your boot didn’t make you clever; it didn’t inherently make you a threat. Not when your target was never in your line of sight, never able to be spied on unknowingly. You’d known you were being followed within minutes, and you had Bucky in the phone not long after the realisation. You trusted your gut, always — that’s what was going to keep you safe. And him, of course.

“I believe you,” You reach a hand across the lavish couch, curling your fingers around the top of his hand. “I really do trust you, Bucky. I hope you don’t doubt that. I meant what I said the other night, about feeling safe with you.”

He tensed slightly in his seat — he really was a big sap, wasn’t he? The head of a mob who had a countless amount of blood on his hands was getting nervous at a woman’s touch. Your touch, however.

“I know,” Bucky eyed you fondly, savouring they warmth of your hand cupping his. “Just... please, next time you’re covering a shift, call me—”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you grinned. “I knew that was coming. It was one night, I didn’t think—”

“But look what happened—!”

“And what would’ve happened if you were walking me home?” You quirked a brow. “That guy still would’ve followed me from the bar, he might’ve even followed us to my apartment and— and tried something once you’d dropped me off.”

You were right. It seemed like they only knew where you worked, not where you lived. Bucky would’ve liked to think if someone was following the two of you that’d he’d notice, but he couldn’t lie — an elephant could’ve followed you down the street one night and he still wouldn’t have realised because he was so caught up in you.

A crease formed between his brows; what if they had found out your address? Without him knowing, which worried him even more—

“But I don’t wanna think about that,” You added, seeing his features falling. Feeling brazen, you shuffled closer, your thigh pressed against his. His breath hitched; you noticed. Heat pooled in your own cheeks. After all, you’d only kissed him once. Being in such close proximity to him still had your heart pounding. “What matters is that I’m here, and I’m with you, and I’m safe.”

Like music to his ears, your words put the shine right back into his eyes. And again, he couldn’t resist pulling you into him — kissing you. Tugging you by the hand still clutching his, basking in the feeling of your other hand moving to rest against his jaw, and moulding his lips with yours. A perfect fit, he thought.

The bitter tang of whiskey was prominent on his tongue; you’d never been one for spirits, but the taste on his lips was impossibly addictive. Something you could get used to. Under the soft pads of your fingers, his jaw was freshly trimmed, dark and rough. Lips honey soft in contrast.

He took you upstairs after that. After you’d both pulled away, lips swollen and eyes hazy, still holding hands like letting go was a crime — the only crime Bucky would shy away from. You were tired, he could tell. If you’d been at home, you would’ve fallen into a slumber long before now; that was if no one had been following you back. While he trusted that you felt safe in his home, it was clear you were still a little shaken. Even more so when he guided you to the guest room, closing the curtains for you as you scrubbed your teeth in the en-suite bathroom.

You felt like a child again; hurrying to spit and rinse so that you could escape the cold, tiled room and fall back into the arms of someone you felt safe with.

By the time you were done and padding back into the bedroom, Bucky had changed into yet another outfit you had yet to see. Now in a white shirt that clung to his torso and biceps, along with grey sweatpants matching yours, he looked... he looked gorgeous. Maybe you were being dramatic; the suit was certainly attractive, but seeing him in his casual wear— it was so domestic. It spread a fuzzy warmth from your fingertips to your toes.

As you pried your eyes from where he was stood in the doorway, shooting you a gentle smile, you began to curl up against the headboard of the large bed. And before a ‘goodnight’ could leave his lips, you hesitantly asked—

“Can you stay with me?”

Brows raised, Bucky swallowed nervously. Of course, he wouldn’t say no. “If you want me to, sure. I can set up on the floor—”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Bucky,” You grinned, knees pulled to your chest. Always a gentleman, he was. “I’d... prefer it if you were next to me.”

Sparkling with hope, your eyes pierced into his. If anything, he was sure you’d want to be alone for the night. Gather your thoughts, consider cutting him out of your life for getting you involved in something so dangerous. That was his doubt talking — he knew that you trusted him. And if sleeping next to you would put your mind at ease, he’d never let you sleep alone again until you felt you could.

Moving under the thick quilt, you observed Bucky as he tentatively made his way over to the bed, suppressing a chuckle.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He questioned, just about to pull back the quilt on his side.

A smirk played on your lips as you reached forward, pulling the sheet back for him. “We just made out on your couch; I’m okay with you lying next to me. Are you okay with this?”

He scoffed softly. In that moment, he knew that a bullet to the chest or a knife in his stomach wouldn’t be the death of him — you would.

“Just making sure.” He sighed, eventually climbing into the bed beside you, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

The pillow underneath your head felt like a cloud as you laid down on your side, Bucky mirroring your position soon after. He’d left the lamp on; the dim light casting a shadow over his features. It hit his eyes perfectly, however. Ocean blue, inviting you to drown in them — you’d do so in a heartbeat.

“Thank you.” You murmured, eyelids already heavy. If you weren’t drifting into unconsciousness, you would’ve pressed your lips to his yet again, craving the taste of that priceless whiskey. As a thank you, another one — you couldn’t thank him enough.

All those nights he could’ve spent in his million dollar home, drinking the purest of spirits on his plush couch, perhaps with company that was a little more used to his lifestyle. All those nights he could’ve spent in the safety and comfort of his own abode, he spent in a cold, austere bar drinking alcohol less expensive than his shoelaces, with you.

And he’d do it every night for the rest of time to watch over you, make you laugh, smile — ensure that such a vibrant girl was never exposed to what truly lurked in the shadows of Manhattan. He’d do it because without you, he’d be lost in those shadows. Trapped in a life of crime and violence and misery. Nowhere to turn to simply breathe.

Finding your hand under the silk sheets, Bucky pulled it close, brushing his lips against it ever so softly. And he replied with a smile. “You too, dollface.”

Watching as you fell asleep, gentle breaths hitting the pillow beneath your cheek, lips still a little swollen, hand grasping back at his ever so slightly — he sighed. One of relief, of content.

Your Bucky, always watching over you. But you — you were protecting him too. Protecting the worn-down soul of a complicated man from being truly lost in such a brutal world.

For that, he’d be more thankful than you could ever imagine.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky #mob au

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justemmagracethings · 3 years

Text

headcanon // How did Mello join the mafia?

This is long, ok ya it's really long. But, well thought out and makes a lot of sense for that confusing 4.5 years. Also, it is not absolutely depressing like some other theories about how he got into the mafia!

!!!!!READ BELOW!!!!

CONTEXT: this post mentions Machiavelli, basically he believed that you should do anything it takes to get what you want if you believe your cause is just. He wrote about this in his book The Prince written in 1532.

tw // murder, praying, Catholicism

Well after learning of L’s death, as we know Mello runs away from Wammy's house orphanage in Winchester England to live his own life, and 4 1/2 years later he turns up as a mafia Godfather living in LA. Mello tells you that it’s a complicated story but how he wound up where he is now:

helping in the LA BB murder case he did a lot of fieldwork as instructed by L

he even meets Rod Ross while gathering info from gangs about the bb murders (L and Naomi speculated the murders could be related to gang activity due to them all occurring in active gang territory)

Mello uses infiltration to gain their trust and Mello says that he is an abused child who is as seeking refuge from his household and offers to do some minor jobs for the mafia (all non violent of course most of them being basically being a little bitch for the mafia and just washing their motorcycles and shoes and stuff) and they let him hang around unknowing that Mello was essentially an undercover cop but they suspected nothing because they would never imagine the LAPD putting a little kid in that situation (but let’s be real knowing L if that’s what it took to get info he would do it)

Mello manages to impress Rod with his intelligence, fiery temper, and go-getter attitude especially his intense belief in the phrase “ends always justify means” and rod actually doesn’t mind having him around but Rod doesn’t think much of it once Mello leaves to go back to Wammy's house after the murder case’s conclusion, Rod assumes that Mello had run away from the LA area or maybe died

Mello never forgot the sense of tribe the mafia had a feeling of belong he remembered thinking how unstoppable they could be only if they were to be my all complete goons all they needed was someone with some brains and with their money and resources and manpower they would be invincible

however Mello continues his life at Wammy's house and continues his sights on beating near and surpassing L

however, his plans changed when L died

right after Mello stormed out of rogers office Mello takes as many things as he can fit in his bag and sets off on his own

he realizes that he will live by his favorite philosophy The Prince from now on indefinitely, the ends justify the means, it’s better to be feared than loved, and revenge is the strongest motivator to success

he believes his off the charts intelligence will make him useful to the mafia and he can rise to the top there and finally be the best, he makes it his ride or die goal: get to LA. and he has a plan

Mello goes to an English convent to live as a orphan receiving seminary training where he allows people to call him Mihael

he learns all about faith something that he would come to hold dear to him the rest of his life hence the various catholic motifs he wears and decorates his hideouts with and the nuns instill in him humility in the form of wearing black plain clothes with no embellishments other than a few ecclesiastical motifs similar to that he used to wear at Wammy's house which brought back painful memories but regardless it would form a habit he would continue in for the rest of his life in some way

he continued wearing all black every day even after he left but he learned to appreciate fashion in this time and rebelled against this rule after he left the convent commonly wearing flamboyant clothes like feather jackets, leather, fingerless gloves, and chunky belts they also didn’t allow him flavorful food or sweets which he would rebel against constantly always having a candy bar in hand in an act of permanent rebellion

since he is an older child (14-15) the convent has his him do some chore jobs while also doing seminary school Mello is embarrassed to say that he took advantage of that to steal everything he possibly could he stole silver forks, knives, and spoons from the kitchen, he stole from the offer boxes between mass, he even managed to steal a golden candelabra he stashed the cash and pawned off all the items for money he remembered what machiavelli said “the ends always justify the means” if he could make enough money to make it to LA he could catch Kira and avenge L’s death that was what God wanted him to do and if he had to steal from the convent a bit to do that God would forgive him

he made enough money to support himself a little while on his own and fly to LA by the time he was 15 but he thought that maybe he could atone for some sins by at the very least graduating from seminary. he had done so much damage in the name of “ends justifying means” maybe if he could prove himself to be a true vessel of christ he wouldn’t be damned

he booked his flight and he was leaving that night it was also the day he graduated from seminary school as the star pupil he was awarded golden cufflinks, a platinum ecclesiastical ring, and a handcrafted sterling silver beaded rosary embellished with a few red beads leading down to an engraved cross, it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given him

upon receiving his graduation awards he was overwhelmed with regret all he ever wanted was to be loved and accepted and the best and he found it the convent thought he was the best pupil they ever had hence the expensive gifts and wanted nothing more than for him to be their leader their priest and he was going to fly across the world into the unknown hoping a few criminals were still alive and not incarcerated and maybe remembered him well enough to let him into their gang

after becoming beacon of christ brother Mihael did he really want to go back to being lonely orphan Mello? maybe Mello had died after all that time and he should just go on as brother Miahel and become a priest like everyone at the convent expected and invested so much in him to do

Mello fell onto his knees praying to his Virgin Mary tapestry and he felt something telling him “go”

promptly with tears in his eyes he got to his feet and rolled up his tapestry and grabbed the same bag he took from Wammy's house not taking a single article of clothing other than what he was wearing with him

he quietly started the fireplace and burned every belonging he had his sheets, clothes, papers, books, anything that would be a reminder of him ever being there

Mello looked at the bare bed and walls with everyone in the convent asleep he could escape without anyone ever knowing brother Mihael ever existed, well except his graduation gifts ‘i can’t take one more valuable item from this place’ he thought

reluctantly he grabbed his rosary putting it around his neck saying to himself softly “I’ll never forget this place and who I could have become” he thought of L and how L always declared he represented good in the world ‘i will represent righteousness just like L’ he thought

leaving home for the second time Mello watched the image of the convent dissipate into the darkness as he walked away never to see it again

with nothing but the clothes on his back, a tapestry, and the rosary Mello went on to the next phase of his plan

he boarded his flight and made his way across the sea on his way to America, LA, his destiny

Mello touched down in LA and immediately the hot California heat washed over him, it was nothing like the cool and cloudy weather of England

his first step was to go back to the streets of echo park where he remembered rod’s goons frequenting

he was starting to lose hope after 2 nights of walking the streets until dawn scared to fall asleep exposed clutching his rosary be prayed he would find them

after 3 days of sleeplessness and seeking fate smiled upon him, he heard a familiar rev of motorcycle engines and a low growling voice ‘Rod’ he thought

he approached the men on the motorcycles hoping they would remember him only to be met with cackling and they began to move away impulsive and panicked Mello yelled “THE ENDS! THE ENDS ALWAYS JUSTIFY MEANS!!”

Rod stopped in his tracks and turned around looking Mello in his Cerulean blue eyes “Mel-Mello? What the hell you’re alive?”

Mello said finally “I’m here again because i have no where else to go. you were able to make use of me all those years ago. i promise i can be useful again.”

next thing Mello knew he was doing drug runs and lookout for cops during hits on other mobs

then came the thing that changed everything for Mello the mob all sat around the couches of their base screaming about how to get a mob boss that opposed them

“KIRA CAN'T EVEN GET HIM HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO?!?” the men hollered now was Mello’s chance the moment he had been waiting for

Mello laid out his plan with everyone listening in awe “let’s do it“ rod said at last to Mello’s lack of surprise his plan worked out exactly as he wanted ‘too easy’ he thought

finally, the time came for the gang to promote him from errand boy to member his job was to show his commitment to the gang and execute the man his plan apprehended he saw the man bound to a chair Mello heard the haunting choir of the convent in his ears and the sound of the nuns reading the 10 commandments their voice echoed on “thou shall not commit murder”

suddenly Mello swung his blade silencing the voices in his head and making a gushing noise on impact

shaking and panting Mello turned away from all other mafia members tears filled his eyes at what he had done

suddenly his face hardened to a grimace and his blue eyes turned snakelike as he bent over to grab the decapitated head from the ground by the hair turning around to hold it up facing the other men to which they whooped and hollered in his head Mello thought ‘forgive me father. the ends shall justify the means’

after that initiation when Mello was just older than 16 Mello convinced himself that he was dead inside and was imperious to human empathy his once glowing blue eyes became icy holes and his mouth furrowed to a permanent scowl frequently reaching into his pocket to pull out a candy bar biting off a piece with a chuckle and a loud snap

while he didn’t have to get his hands dirty again after that his plans continued to claim lives establishing him as a Godfather of the mafia

he had his goons, he had resources, he was the best, he was accepted, and he seemed to belong, he had everything he ever wanted right?

he reached into his bag that had brought him from his parents apartment, to Wammy's house, to the convent, to the mafia and pulled out his Virgin Mary poster plastering it against the wall, phase 3 of his plan had begun

clutching his rosary he said “Now all i have to do is catch Kira. I'll avenge L and beat Near by any means necessary, and the ends always justify the means.”

#mello #mihael keehl #mello headcanons #death note headcanons

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