#i just feel icky.. god i hope its something minor

[baby-prophet]

i really think my roommate got me sick :(

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (professor Logan Howlett/Fem student mutant reader)

Click here for chapter index.

Summary: The aftermath of your drunken night with Logan does not go the way you expect it to. Tensions rise, harsh words are spoken, and feelings get inevitably hurt.

A/N: thank you all so much for the kind words and the support! every comment means the world to me, seriously. my surgery went well, it wasn't very invasive but the nitrous gas knocked me out for most of the day yesterday! thank you to everyone who wished me well. this chapter is a lot more angsty than i was intending to write it but i've been feeling pretty icky in my personal life and i think that's just translated into my writing😅 whoops. i hope y'all enjoy tho!

Warnings: smut!! 18+ minors DNI!!!, swearing, ass slapping, unprotected vaginal sex, p in v, dirty talking, car sex, angry sex, slightly rough sex, orgasm denial if you squint, insults, Logan being kinda mean to reader and vice versa

Word Count: 5,118

Chapter 4

A sharp pain reverberates around your skull. Slowly blinking your eyes open, you eventually adjust to your surroundings. You glare suspiciously at the room around you, apprehensive to move. But your head is pounding, and nausea swirls around your stomach. You groan as you sit up, scanning the area for an indication of where you are. The window to your right is draped in sheer flannel curtains, allowing the morning sunlight to shine in, much to the dismay of your hangover. The log cabin interior is sparsely decorated, save for a pair of antlers mounted above a pine dresser, clothes draped haphazardly along its prongs. The space smells of tobacco and pine. Oh god, you think to yourself, your stomach dropping as you piece the puzzle of your night together in your mind. Logan. This is Logan’s house. And you’re in your underwear. Surely you didn’t...did you? Wouldn’t you remember something like that? Would Logan even want to fuck you? Especially with how drunk you assume you were. You’re pulled from your thoughts with a startle, a knock against the door bringing you back down to earth. Logan calls your name gently from behind it.

“I’ve, uh, got some toast, if you’re hungry,” Logan says, a layer of uncertainty in his voice.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you reply, clinging the scratchy blanket to your chest. You gather up all the courage you can muster, preparing yourself to face him, assuming you made a complete and utter fool of yourself the night before. You find your pants on the floor and shimmy them up your legs, searching for a mirror you can fix your appearance in. You find the bathroom behind a door on your left and flick the light on, groaning at the harsh pain the bright light brings upon your headache. Once your squinting ceases and your eyes adjust, you almost gasp at how wrecked you look. Your hair is completely disheveled, smudged black eye makeup making your eyes look sunken in. The smudged makeup also doesn’t help the colorless, pale appearance of your skin. You turn the sink’s faucet on, splashing some cold water onto your face. You’re delusional to think that it will do much to help. You try your best to smooth your hair down with your fingers, taking a deep breath in preparation for whatever you may face in Logan’s living room.

You meekly open the door of his bedroom, scanning the area in front of you quickly before stepping out. His bedroom is situated on the second level of his house, the door of his room leading out to a mezzanine. From here, you can see Logan sat on a leather couch in the middle of his living space, puffing on a cigar. Despite his home having this mezzanine, it isn’t full of grandiosity. It’s lit fairly dimly, the ceiling flat above your head but vaulted above Logan’s. Everything looks hand crafted, with slight imperfections in each cut of wood that sustains the structure of the cabin. 

You walk slowly down the stairs, each step making your head throb. Heading towards the couch, you decide to sit as far from him as you can manage, feeling the most awkward you’ve ever felt around him since you’ve met. He reaches his cigar’d hand towards the coffee table, stuffing it out onto the ashtray that’s already littered with old, dead cigars. He slides a plate of cold toast in your direction before he gets up. You mutter a meek thanks as he walks to the kitchen that’s nestled under the mezzanine. You manage a bite of the toast, hoping it will alleviate your nausea slightly. It doesn’t, but it does feel good to have something in your stomach. Logan returns to the living room and sets a mug in front of you, grunting as he sits back down on the couch. He seemingly has no care with being in your proximity, as he moves closer to you than from where he was before.

“Thank you,” you grumble in appreciation, reaching for the mug of black coffee. Wincing as you sip, you wish you could make that Colombian dark roast without Logan noticing. He doesn’t say anything in response to your thanks, simply nodding as he sips from his own mug of coffee. There’s a loaded moment of silence, neither one of you brave enough to say anything yet. Maybe you did something in your drunken stupor to offend him. Or maybe something happened and he feels too awkward and ashamed to do anything about it. It’s killing you to not know, and causing you to worry even further that something bad might’ve happened. You decide to swallow your anxiety.

“Um, did we..?” you break the silence, trailing off, feeling too awkward to finish the sentence.

“What? Fuck?” he finishes, rather casually, a slight furrow to his brow. His candor made you almost choke on your coffee. 

“Believe me, princess, you were in no state,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, you exhale in relief, glad you didn’t do anything too stupid, “Wouldn’t be much fun that way, anyways,” he mutters into his mug.

A wave of heat rushes to your cheeks. The nickname, the sexual innuendo. Surely that was flirting, wasn’t it? A part of your brain knows this is so highly inappropriate. Your professor got you so drunk the night before that you had to crash in his bed, and now openly flirts with you the morning after. But the other half of your brain wants to know just how fun fucking him would be.

“How much do you remember?” he asks, turning his head towards you. Shifting your weight under his stare, you focus your thoughts, trying to remember as much as you can.

“I remember our first couple games of pool,” you start, looking up at the ceiling as you try and recall further, “I remember splitting the shot of tequila…I remember the lemon drops I made you drink…And I remember....” You trail off, remembering something far worse than a potential sexual encounter with Logan. The man. His body flying across the room from the force of your kick. Logan saw you, everyone in that bar saw you. You need to get out of here.

“You know, I think I should head home actually,” you deflect, trying your best to seem as collected as possible. You stand from the couch, not entirely sure where you’re supposed to go from here.

“Your ride’s still at the bar, you were in no condition, believe me,” Logan assures, standing up with you. He walks towards his dining table and retrieves what you recognize as your purse. He hands it to you along with your shoes, you offer a tight smile as a thanks. “I’ll give you a lift to the bar.”

…

The ride back to the bar has been silent, the only sound being the engine of Logan’s truck growling down the road. Your mind is slowly becoming less and less shrouded to the events of the night before. You recall more of the tension between the two of you, his hands supporting you when you fell, the times he called you princess, the way he bit the lime in half when he split that shot of tequila.

“This wasn’t what I was tryin’ to do,” Logan mumbles, suddenly breaking the silence. You snap your head towards him, confused by what he’s attempting to say.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t tryna get you shitfaced. I just…wanted you to relax,” he admits, turning his head to you briefly before promptly turning his focus back to the road. That wasn’t his intention? Really? You suddenly recall talking to him about how you don’t like clear liquor, yet he still shoved those shots in your face. Sure, you were playing a game. But you were being playful in ordering him fruity drinks as punishment, he made you violently hungover and in a state of delirium.

“Is that your way of apologizing?” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him. Logan looks taken aback by your sudden frustration.

“Sorry?” Logan responds, his voice begging offense as his head tilts like a confused puppy.

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary. Great. Apology accepted. I really appreciate you taking responsibility for getting me unbelievably shitfaced on liquor I told you I couldn’t drink,” you sass, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Alright, bub, sure,” Logan scoffs, laughing you off as if you’re no serious threat. Which pisses you off even more.

“I’m serious. Did you honestly think I was enjoying myself puking in your toilet for hours?” you question rhetorically, trying to get him to understand, “Maybe you like being dysfunctional, but not everyone else likes being blackout drunk on their Friday nights while getting into bar fights.” You sit back in your seat and turn as far out to the window as you physically can.

“Hey! I didn’t make you do shit,” Logan counters pointing his finger accusatorially at you, “The whole goddamned game was your stupid idea.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a really good observation, Logan. You didn’t make me do anything. The drunk girl with impaired judgement made a decision and should face the consequences of her actions,” you remark sarcastically, your arms gesturing with each emphasis you make, “Wow, ‘ya sure you’re a history professor? Because you’d be great teaching Date Rape 101.”

“Date Rape 101?” he scoffs, barely coherent, before continuing, “And whose goddamn self defense classes are you taking, eh? Wonder Woman’s?”

You freeze. Unable to form a retort. What can you say? There’s no explanation for what you did last night. It was inhuman.

“What? Got nothin’ to say, princess?” he spat, gritting his teeth. You scoff and roll your eyes in disbelief at his attitude. His car approaches the shallow gravel lot belonging to the bar. Saved by the bell, you think to yourself. He puts it in park.

“Go fuck yourself, Logan,” you bark, your tone low and deadly as you throw the car door open and stomp out. You motion to slam it, but you hesitate when a thought crosses your mind, “And buying your student drinks is extremely inappropriate and against, like, so many code of conducts,” you remark sassily before slamming his car door shut. You fish for your keys in your bag, fighting to not look behind you and watch as Logan pulls out of the parking lot, before aggressively driving away. You growl in frustration once you step into your car, holding yourself back from slamming your head against the steering wheel. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were mad at him or yourself for being so careless.

…

Saturday was spent nursing yourself back to health, doing nothing but laying in bed, doomscrolling on your phone in an attempt to numb your mind from the anger you felt towards your professor. The audacity to put you in that kind of position. You got so drunk you were almost unconscious, you were almost groped by a stranger, and you risked revealing your powers to him and all those strangers in the bar. How stupid were you to believe that you could have a fun evening with someone like him. An abrasive, impolite, selfish asshole that’s incapable of taking any responsibility for his actions. If you feel this way, then why do you wish you stayed in his bed a little bit longer? Why do you wish he made a move on you on his couch? Why do still want him? It makes you want to rip your hair out. How can he have this effect on you? And why him? What’s so fucking special about him that your affections are intertwined with his? No one has ever made you feel this connected in your life. It’s like there’s been an invisible string between the two of you since you’ve met, and it’s so strong that nothing can separate it. You hate him, you do, but you want him. God, you’d give anything to fuck him now. His actions from last night honestly fanning the flames of your desire even further. You don’t know why, you hate his guts right now. It almost seems that in order for you to release your anger and frustration with him, your body wants to fuck. Hard.

It’s gotten to the point where you can’t think about how mad you are at him without getting unbelievably turned on. You just want him to slam you down onto his bed and fuck you into tomorrow, leaving bites down your neck as you scratch red marks into his back. Despite your growing arousal, you’re too tired to want to relieve yourself, opting to succumb to sleep instead. You think about Logan calling you “princess” as you fall asleep.

“You got nothing to say, princess?” Logan spat from the driver’s seat, angling his head towards yours after putting the truck in park.

“Asshole,” you mumble through gritted teeth. You remain fixed on the expanse of gravel road in front of you, lit only by the headlights of Logan’s truck. Logan chuckles in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Logan, you’re a fucking asshole!”

“It takes one to fucking know one, baby, and you’ve been a real mess all day,” Logan retorts, waving his arms in the air in frustration. “It seems whenever you got a problem with yourself you turn it around on me. I’m not a person you can dump your shit onto!”

“I’m not dumping anything! You don’t fucking listen to me!” you scowl, finally turning your body towards him.

“Oh, believe me, bub, if you had to hear yourself half the time I do, you’d understand why I tune you out!”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“You heard me!” Logan growled, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.

“Fuck you!” you snap, venom on your tongue and a furious expression on your face.

“Fuck you!” Logan snaps back, sliding towards you on the truck’s bench seat to get in your face.

“Fuck you!” you raise your voice louder than his, squaring up to him, not allowing him to corner you in the car and get the upper hand. Your faces are inches from each other now, your angry pants fanning the other’s face. You can see a shift in Logan’s eyes, twisting from raging embers of anger, to dark and lustful in a second. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to join your gaze again. His lips hesitate between keeping the distance, and floating towards yours, like he’s being pulled by a magnet. You don’t want him, you hate him right now, but god how you want him.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble quickly before his lips crash hastily onto yours. He swallows you, generously flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth. You tangle your tongue with his, grasping the back of his neck with need. Logan hooks both his arms around you, pulling you as close to his chest as he can manage. With each aggressive nip and suck to your lips, the stronger your arousal swirls within you. You tuck your legs under you, sitting up on your knees, as you push him back onto the bench of the truck. You straddle him, pressing your full weight onto his pelvis and reveling in the feel of his hard cock pressed firmly against your core. His hips buck into yours, hands traveling down the expanse of your body before sliding under the hem of your tank top. You aggressively grind your hips down onto his, causing Logan to growl lowly into your mouth. Your fingers travel to Logan’s scalp, gripping his hair with intensity and ferocity while your other is pressed firmly against his chest for leverage as you continue grinding into him. Your skirt has hiked up almost completely all the way, leaving just your lacy underwear as your only barrier against his jean-clad cock. So preoccupied with his lips on yours and the friction against your clit, you failed to notice that Logan has unclasped your bra and is fighting to pull your tank top over your head. Before you even get a chance to sit up and adjust, Logan loses his patience, using both his hands to rip your tank in half with ease. Any other day, you would give a shit and chastise him for being so careless, but right now, you want nothing more than to fuck the shit out of him. You grab him by the collar and sit him up without breaking the kiss, allowing him the freedom to slip your bra off of you and let your tits spring free.

You fiddle with the buttons at the collar of his shirt, growing increasingly frustrated with them. You decide to take a page from Logan’s book and rip the front of his shirt open, sending buttons ricocheting throughout the truck. Logan growls in approval, pulling you closer to his chest. He breaks the kiss, biting and sucking up and down the expanse of your neck causing you to elicit a guttural moan in response. Logan’s becoming more and more ferocious with his movements the longer your hips grind down onto his. Removing his mouth from your neck, he bares his lower teeth before shoving you back so he’s now sitting up above you. He unbuttons his pants with ease before pulling his cock out, clearly eager to fuck you already. You spread your legs in anticipation, your skirt scrunched up to your ribcage, your bare chest heaving. He reaches for the waistband of your panties and hurriedly yanks them down your legs, throwing them behind him without a care. He barely takes any time to line himself up before he bottoms out into your tight pussy with a growl from his lips. You gasp in a mixture of sheer bliss and sharp pain. Logan hunches over your figure, grunting into your ear as he begins his rapid, hard thrusts into your core. Your moans are high pitched, overwhelmed with the pleasure he brings to your aching pussy.

“Take it,” he growls into your ear before bringing his mouth down to the crook of your neck and biting. Hard. A pained moan escapes your lips. He grunts with each powerful thrust into you, spearing you in half, causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Each time he rocks into you, your moans grow more desperate, embarrassingly high pitched. Logan pulls his face away from your neck, maintaining eye contact with you as he brings a hand to your throat and squeezes.

“That’s right, take this cock,” he husks, his voice barely below a growl as he watches you get absolutely wrecked by the way he’s pounding into your pussy. The pressure to your neck makes you lightheaded, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“Yes…fuck,” you groan, your words of encouragement being broken up by each of Logan’s hard thrusts inside of you. Logan’s noises are animalistic above you, his teeth bared, his hand squeezed around your throat possessively. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take with his cock stretching and spearing you the way that it is. Just as you think you’re ready to pass out, Logan’s thrusts stutter to a stop. Removing the hand from your throat, he pulls out. You whine at the sudden emptiness, and watch Logan sit up above you, his chest heaving.

“All fours for me, babygirl,” he commands, gesturing to the space behind him for you to crawl to as he lazily strokes his cock. You oblige immediately, crawling past him to the other end of the bench seat. You arch your back in anticipation, gyrating your ass to entice him. He gives your rear a harsh smack causing you to moan lightly.

“D’you like that, princess?” he rasps, the gravel in his voice making you clench. He gives you another smack making you moan more, desperate for him to keep fucking you.

“Logan, please,” you whine, eagerly moving your hips backwards in an attempt to feel his cock against you.  

“You want it?” he teases, you can hear his cocky smile.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, squeezing your thighs together for some kind of friction as Logan gently massages the tender flesh of your ass. You gasp when a hand shoots up to your hair, Logan grabs a fistful and forcefully pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest. From here you can feel the stiffness of his cock against your ass. You whimper, grinding your ass into him as you’re desperate for a release. Logan’s hips adjust, feeling his length prod at your entrance before he spears into you, completely stretching you out. You gasp as he hits your cervix, starting his thrusts slowly before pushing you back down onto your hands. Keeping his hand in your hair, he uses his other hand to grip your shoulder for leverage, before bucking into you hard. You groan, pressing your hands against the car door for support as his pace quickens, his belt jingling rhythmically with the pace of his hips. You almost feel pain from the way he prods your cervix, but his pace is so fast you barely have enough time to register it. Your moans grow lewd and high pitched, the slap of his skin against your ass, the pulling of your hair, his grunting and moaning and panting. It’s all so vulgar and feral. 

“Tell me I’m right,” he grunts, his teeth bared and grip on you tightening.

“Lo-gan,” you grunt, trying your best to form a sentence, but his thrusts move your whole body and you can’t speak when he fucks you like this. He lets go of your hair, bending over you to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me that I was right and you were wrong, and I’ll keep fucking this pretty pussy,” he husks, his gruff voice tempting you as his cock twitches inside of you. God, you want to, but you’re stubborn. You know you’ll never live this down and he’ll continuously hold it over your head for as long as you live. You crane your neck behind you, flashing him a sultry look, fluttering your eyelashes.

“No,” you whisper, pressing a firm hand to his chest and pushing him off of you, his dick popping out of you as he sits back in disbelief.

“No?” he asks incredulously. You spin around situating yourself on the seat as he stares at you blankly.

“No,” you clarify simply, smoothing your hair down and collecting yourself. You find your panties on the floor and slip them on. Logan slides towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck before kissing up and down it. You shrug him off, bringing your hand up to his face and gripping his jaw lightly so he’s forced to make eye contact with you. Eyes flit down to your lips hungrily, like he’s a dog begging for his chew toy.

“We’ll see how long you last without my pussy,” you murmur, letting his lips float just inches from yours, as he’s barely able to resist capturing your lips in a kiss. But you won’t let him.

This is the first time in a week you’ve woken up without an orgasm on your fingertips. You feel quite confused, unsure of what to make of this dream. It was just as vivid as the others, but the abrupt ending didn’t leave you begging for more from him. For once, you’re not dreading his class tomorrow, ready to face him and whatever kind of attitude he wants to throw your way.

…

It’s Monday morning and you approach Logan Howlett’s class with the utmost confidence. What could he do to you? Call you out in front of the class? What would he gain from that? You could just report him to the Dean, hell, you could report him to the president of the university. You could do that now even, but he hasn’t forced your hand yet. His actions today, however, could.

You push the door open, filing in with a few other classmates, trying your best to avoid looking towards Logan at the head of the room. You pull out your notebook, attempting to focus on nothing but his lecture and his lesson plan. No distractions today.

You startle when something is slammed in front of you onto your desk, as if Logan could read your thoughts and wanted to disturb you as much as possible by simply handing you back your essay that he must’ve graded. You avoid looking at him, which isn’t hard considering he walked away almost immediately after throwing the pages on your desk. You huff as you flip the it over, much to your surprise, there’s a huge red zero scrawled at the top of your page. You’re taken aback, trying to flip through the pages so you can understand why he gave you no credit. But he offered no explanation, no notes in any of the margins. Goddamnit, you’re the only person who turned it in on time! You should be getting extra credit for that alone. You try and glare at him, hoping he’ll meet your gaze, but he avoids you with expertise. That fucking bastard. 

You stew in your seat for the rest of class. Finding it almost impossible to focus on the lecture with how much more pissed you are at Logan. What reason would Logan have to be that petty? You did the work goddamnit, he can’t withhold a grade just because you yelled at him. What an immature, insecure, stupid man. You can’t believe you were ever attracted to someone so chauvinistic and egotistical. You’d have half a mind if you didn’t go to the President about his behavior, he shouldn’t be allowed to continue teaching here or anywhere. Not when you’re done with him. And you want him to know that. You want him to feel powerless to stop you from taking his job away from him.

The clock strikes 10 and Logan zips out of class swiftly, you attempt to follow, maneuvering out from behind your row as quickly as possible. You turn out the classroom, spotting him further down the hall. Tailing him through doorways and corridors, you finally find him at his destination: his office. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever he might throw your way. Without knocking, you swing the door open, promptly shutting it behind you. Mimicking his actions from earlier, you slam your essay in front of his face, staring at him with venom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap, your face twisted into a furious scowl.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Logan asks, feigning ignorance, staring up at you with a coldness in his eyes.

“You’re a child,” you scoff, “What, you couldn’t handle getting yelled at so you take that out on my grade?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Maybe you should give that essay again another read,” he remarks as matter of factly as possible, trying his best to hide his thinly veiled anger.

“Bullshit. Fix my grade,” you command, reaching over the desk and shoving the pages closer towards him.

“I’m not fixing shit, now get out,” Logan barks sternly, sliding a drawer in his desk open and pulling out a silver leather-cased flask. He takes a generous swig, barely flinching when he gulps, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you huff in disbelief. A grown-ass man, drinking in the middle of the day while he’s still at work.

“You got a problem, bub?” he frowns at you before taking another swig of his liquor.

“What problem don’t I have with you!?” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “You’re inexplicably nice to me on the first day of class, then you tell me to fuck off half of the time you see me, then you suddenly feel bad for me and take me out for pity drinks where you shove liquor down my throat like you wanted me to get sick! You’re abrasive, you’re bad at your job, you’re irresponsible and I could almost hate you for—“

Something in Logan snaps, causing him to stand up abruptly, slamming his palms flat on his desk before coming out from behind it to get in your face.

“I didn’t fucking ask for this!” he barks pointing at you aggressively, with each continuation of his thought, he steps closer to you, causing you to back away from his advances, “Do you think I want to be in that fucking classroom everyday, reading from a bullshit textbook with bullshit facts…Lecturing half-drunk, spoiled, rich, asshole 20 year olds who could give two shits about what I have to fucking say!”

You say nothing, letting him back you into a corner with each sling of curses and frustrations he barks at you. You can’t help the tears that well in your eyes as he gets closer and closer to your face.

“Don’t even get me fucking started on this shy, timid wallflower act you put on every day! If you think you’re fooling everyone with that performance, then you must be too goddamned stupid to be here! Stop wasting your time; wastin’ everyone’s goddamned time! Do us all a favor, pack up your bullshit and leave before you push someone else through a wall!”

Logan’s face is inches from yours now, lower teeth bared as he pants furiously, face red from anger. Tears prick your eyes and threaten to roll down your cheeks, you can’t help it, his words dug a knife into your chest. Is that what he really thinks of you? Is that really what you should do? You know what, fuck what he thinks, fuck him and his opinions. What the hell does he know about academia, you think to yourself. You inhale shakily, trying your best to choke down a sob as you twist your face into a hateful scowl.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, a stray tear rolling down your cheek despite your best efforts to uphold the angered front you wanted to put forward. You shove past him and back towards his desk, collecting your essay before starting towards the door. Your hand reaches the handle, you hesitate before you leave. Wanting to turn around, wanting him to maybe even stop you. But he’s fixed, his breathing remaining the same angered pace. With tears now unabashedly running down your cheeks, you leave, drafting the email you’re going to send to the president’s office in your head.

...

A/N: ouch :/ this one hurt to write lowkey. i had to put some smut in there to balance this one out because i started feeling too bad for all of the angst. again, all the kind words of support and encouragement make me so happy. i check my email a million times a day so i can see if someone left a comment. it motivates me a lot to keep this going, which is why im churning chapters out so fast. thank you all🫶🏻 leave your guesses for who you think the president of the university is below and any other x men characters you hope to see in the future!

also, i'm thinking about recommending a song to go with each chapter, i listen to music a lot when i write so i wanted to know what y'all thought about that! click here to view on ao3

Tags: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss

[chaithetics]

Can you please do something like youngest Roy is secretly dating Stewy and he sees Lucas Mattson hitting on her. And he gets jealous and wants to go public with their relationship thank you!!!!

Jealous Disclosures

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader

Word count: 4.6K

Author's note: Thank you so much for this request Nonnie! I'm sorry for the delay in getting it out to you! It's been busy and I take a bit longer with jealousy/find it harder to write. I really hope you enjoy this, please do let me know! Also, this is obviously not proofread lol. I hope you all enjoy it and would love feedback :)

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established/secret relationship, some smut, jealous Stewy, icky Lukas Matsson, and douchey, douchey Roman! (Sorry about that).

*****************************************

It was Kendall’s 40th birthday party. You knew that this event was going to be something else, Kendall Roy always went above and beyond for a party, especially when he was in these kinds of states. Your more timid nature in comparison to your siblings' abrasive one meant that you naturally weren’t the biggest fan of big events but you could and would be able to suck that up for a night for your older brother. 

You and Connor were the only ones of your siblings to have been officially invited. It was especially tense amongst Roy siblings at the moment, which was saying a lot because frankly, when wasn’t it? Fortunately not being involved at Waystar meant that you didn’t have to bite the bullet and deal with the tension like the middle three Roy children did. But you certainly still felt its effects. 

You were in a corner chatting away with Rava, you’d gladly clutched to her company as soon as she had arrived despite the fact that she initially wasn’t intending to stay for long. She was the nicest and most genuine of any of the partners that the Roys had ever brought back to the family. Well other than Willa you quickly thought, you liked Willa and had from the get-go, she was down to earth and easy to get along with. She also made an impressively good balance to the often well-intending but very chaotic nature of your eldest sibling. 

“Wow wee, Little Bo Peep!” A voice blurted, grabbing your attention and forcing you to turn. You found that Roman had awkwardly jumped onto the seat next to you with a poor landing that he brushed off as he completely ignored Rava, solely focusing his attention on you. 

“Wait what? Is that a nickname? What kind of nickname is that? And  Rava was talking-” 

“The kind that losers like you get.” He instantly quipped back. 

“How charming.” You sighed as you took a sip of your drink. 

“You didn’t bring a date?” Roman questioned. 

“Rava and I were having a conversation, Ro.” Roman just looked at you blankly. “Remember Rava? Kendall’s wife for over a decade, the mother of your niece and neph-” 

“Hey Rava,” Roman says turning to face her for a brief second before turning his attention back to you, Rava just scoffs, already exposed and more than used to these antics. “So, did you bring a date?” 

“No, did you?” 

“Not tonight didn’t really feel like it.” He says dryly and then looks back up at you. 

“Fair enough.” You respond. Anxiously waiting. 

There’s bound to be more. There’s always a biting and inappropriate comment seconds away from leaving Roman’s mouth. 

“But so, are you like seeing anyone?” 

“What the fuck Roman?!” You spoke and Rava had an expression of disbelief over the audacity of Roy men but not in shock, she was well acquainted with it. 

“Well, I’m not asking because I’m interested. Because trust me, I’m not.” He says with that proud, troublemaking smirk. 

“Oh, my god.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Perfect! I’ll take that as a no!” Roman practically leapt out of his chair in the most chaotic way possible. He pinched your arm once he was out of his chair as he grabbed your arm to pull you along. 

“Ow!” 

“Come on, I barely touched you. I want you to meet someone.” Roman said as he held your arm in his grip leaving to navigate the crowd. “You have treehouse access right?” 

“I was talking to Rava, Rome!” You said trying to squirm your way out of his grip. 

“She’ll still be there and if not, you can get brunch and get drunk off mimosas and cry over those really mean but rich Roy men.” He teased as he said the last half of that sentence in a mock crying voice. 

“Jesus, Rome!” You sighed. “Who are you introducing me to?” 

“Lukas Matsson.” 

“Wait what?” You halted in your tracks making Roman stop his walk, he turned to face you looking irritated that you’d delayed his plans. You weren’t too familiar with the name but you recognised it, certain that Kendall had mentioned it earlier in the week. 

“Kendall won’t give me fucking  treehouse access!” Roman practically shouted, loud enough to be heard over the party, and then his voice quietened down to a more reasonable volume. “And Matsson’s like a weird, bored giant apparently so I’m introducing you two. I don’t know, maybe money once removed from the family business is new money’s type?” 

“Before we even get into what you just said, did you only come to Kendall’s party because of that guy?” You sighed and asked looking at Roman. He scoffed and looked down for a moment, kicking at nothing.

“It’s in our name isn’t it?” He looked back up, with a smirk on his face.

“Oh my god Rome.” 

“What, come on. You’re my little sister, not my mom so maybe quit that tone, yeah? And maybe Matsson will be a philanthropist and you can get off your moral high horse and you two can fuck it out and I’ll be namedropped in your wedding speeches. Doesn’t sound too shabby for a Roy does it?” Rome quipped, in his cartoony, douche voice, signalling that talking to him was a losing battle. “Just get me in, maintain a conversation for a couple of minutes and I won’t tell everyone about that summer with mom.” 

“You’re such a tool.” You huffed out and started walking towards the treehouse.  

“You adore me.” Roman teased as he held your arm less tightly than before as you made your way over. 

“So, as the adored older brother you are, you’re trying to pimp me out for a business deal?” 

Roman just laughed at that and didn’t answer. But that verbal silence minus the laugh was more than enough of an answer. You entered the treehouse with surprisingly little fuss. You looked around and raised an eye at Roman.

“The Swedish giant over there. Come on, get that award-winning therapist smile out. If you diagnose him with something in five minutes, I might say happy birthday to Ken-doll.” 

“You’re literally the biggest jerk of my brothers right now, you know that right? And I have three, so that kind of says a lot.” You said quietly, as Roman and you made your way over to the tall blonde man that looked bored out of his brains. “Full disclosure, I’m telling Ken about this.” 

“Ugh, you’re such a bitch. Do you really need to be a narc?” Roman said as you both continued to walk over. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, as you got closer you were able to fully see the tall blond man. Personally, you thought it was almost rude, the way he was sitting and playing some crappy game on his phone, looking the most bored you’d ever seen someone. He was like a child dragged along on errands with their parent but wanting to be anywhere but there. Roman started the conversation with him, he said your name as a means of introduction and the Swede visibly perked up slightly. 

“The youngest Roy finally comes out to play!” Lukas said with the look of an overexcited child. 

“I suppose so.” You pause for a second. “It’s nice to meet you, Lukas.” 

“Romey, I think you should get your sister a drink, she looks thirsty…” 

You shudder at that, he hadn’t given you good vibes and this was uncomfortable, you looked at Roman to beg him not to leave you alone with Matsson but he completely ignored you and went off. 

“So you’re not in the family business essentially at all, right?” Lukas asked as he quirked his brow as he looked you up and down. 

“Nope, my involvement is pretty non-existent.” You paused for a moment watching him. Rome would owe you big time for whatever the fuck this is you thought. You hated it. “But based on my brother’s eagerness over you, I’m assuming that you’re looking at an in?”  

“To the business or the family?” He has a large smirk on his face as if he’s said the wittiest thing ever. Lukas leans forward in his chair watching you intently. 

“I was meaning business but I guess there’s not much separation in family or business matters there.” Lukas raises an eyebrow briefly at that, he’s not surprised at that observation but he is a little taken aback at your air of candour. 

But that’s how you are with everyone. You tell yourself that if Roman didn’t want you to say such things, he wouldn’t have left you alone, he knows you. He was practically asking for it by bringing you into this awkward mess of an interaction. 

“The business potentially, I suppose the family is a bit more complicated…” He teases. 

“Buy into Waystar, you’re in the Roy’s den somewhere.” You respond somewhat cynically and absentmindedly as you look away trying to find Roman or well any familiar face. 

“Well, Miss Roy-” The way he says it makes you shudder and you immediately correct him. 

“Dr. Roy.” His eyebrows raise again, he looks borderline amused and laughs a little. He has the nature of a spoiled child in a tall, 40-something-year-old’s body you think. 

“Dr. Roy. Sorry, you’re not quite what I was expecting.” 

“Why, did you meet my sister first? Then Rome?” You quip back with a dry chuckle. 

It wasn’t the first time and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time that somebody had said something to that effect, often because of what they’d assumed based on either their interactions with your family members or the general reputation of your family. 

“I haven’t met her yet. But no, you’re just different- which I’d heard of course, but still. It’s different seeing different in the flesh you know?” “I guess so.” “Not a bad thing though.”

“Well thanks, I really needed that ego boost.” You sigh. 

He licks his lips and leans even closer, “Did you maybe want to head out? I’d love to pick your delightful brain amongst other things-” 

“How the fuck did Ken get you here Matsson?” Stewy’s voice cuts in, more serious than usual. 

Lukas doesn’t seem to notice and they must be acquainted you think, it doesn’t surprise you though. If Ken knows him, Stewy’s bound to, and regardless of Ken, Stewy magically knows everyone. You look up at Stewy, feeling slightly more relaxed as he stands near your chair. He doesn’t look at you, not even for a second which is unusual for him, even at public events. There’s always some acknowledgement in his eyes at the very bare minimum. 

You knew that Stewy was coming tonight but you didn’t expect to see him so soon. Like every event you both attended, your entrances and exits were perfectly timed. Coordinated flawless, unsuspicious executions. You’d come 3 hours earlier than Stewy to this and you’d leave with at least an hour gap between you both. That had been the plan but you didn’t think it had quite been the 3 hours yet, just over 2 hours you thought. It made more sense optics-wise for you to be here longer and Stewy to just pop through.  

“Oh, Hosseini- what a sight for bored eyes you are man,” Matsson says as Roman appears.

“There, slurp up.” Roman’s eyes hesitantly shift to Stewy as he hands you the mysterious alcoholic drink for your ‘thirst’. 

“I’m not drinking that.” You quickly respond, giving the drink back to Roman and he rolls his eyes, nonchalantly taking a generous sip from the glass as if to prove a point. 

“Shouldn’t you be in a bathroom with Kendall somewhere?” Roman directs at Stewy. 

“No, unfortunately, we’re waiting. They’re all occupied.” His eyes meet Roman’s but before they do he finally makes eye contact with you, his gaze is firm and he doesn’t look impressed. 

The whole energy of this interaction is making you severely uncomfortable. You’d seen and heard of Stewy giving others non-impressed glances and quips but you’d never seen him make eye contact with you before with an expression like that. That paired with Roman and Matsson playing some weird business game of chicken at Kendall’s birthday was not how you wanted to spend the night. You wished you were still talking to Rava or chatting to Willa wherever she and Connor were. Or that you were home. That was the ideal situation here. There’s a tense air between everyone and despite it being earlier than being agreed upon, you’re ready to head off now. You’d already talked to Ken and given him a present, seeing him and showing face for a bit for his sake was the priority of the evening.

“I need to go-” You start to say before you’re cut off. 

“Don’t abandon us, Dr Roy!” Lukas exclaims playfully like a spoilt child. 

“Sorry but I need to hit the powder room, I’m on my period.” You lie in a manner as if you’re just bluntly stating a fact as you stand up. Stewy chuckles softly, it's the softest you’ve seen his eyes look all night, well for all of the duration of your awkward interaction with Matsson. While Stewy sees through the lie and you’re sure that Roman does as well, the false candour, unfortunately, intrigues Lukas more. 

“Regular? Super? Wait, just bring me back your tampon please?” Roman asks looking up at you. 

“I don’t use tampons.” You sigh as you start to walk off. Immediately regretting your genuine candour this time. 

“Right, sorry.” Roman then looks at Lukas and Stewy. “Well you’ve seen my mum’s vagina tonight but here’s a secret about my sister’s, it’s that tight she can’t use tampons.” 

You glare at Roman who looks absolutely chuffed with himself, he starts to giggle like the child he still is inside and you roll your eyes. Stewy looks at you with a very tight lip smile, struggling not to laugh, even with jealousy coursing through his veins. 

“Maybe stop talking about your family’s vaginas Rome?” Stewy raises an eyebrow at Rome. 

“I don’t know how I always forget about your condition, always snapping dicks. Serial pad user this one.” Rome says to you, directing it at Matsson and completely ignoring Stewy. 

“I don’t have vaginismus which is a very real and not a birthday tech/finance bro over drinks discussion, so stop implying that please and go back to your weird networking.” You say as you walk off, not looking back at the trio of the men. 

“Moderna vagina dentata!” Roman calls out after you. 

“She’s like a diplomatic firecracker right?!” Lukas laughs looking at Roman who smirks and shrugs. 

************** 

You finish washing your hands and unlock the door, getting ready to leave. You’ve gone toilet and you know Roman will be busy sucking up to Matsson and you can make a quick, silent, unnoticed exit. You’ve stepped out and are leaving the bathroom but as soon as you do you feel hands immediately pounce on you, it’s a blur at first and you initially flinch but quickly see it’s Stewy. 

“Get in.” He says as he holds your hips firmly, guiding you back into the bathroom. 

Stewy’s hands leave your body for a moment as he locks the door behind him once you’re both in but they quickly return to where they previously were. 

“Somebody might’ve seen-”

“I don’t fucking care.” He says as he presses his lips against your neck, pinning you to the wall. “Everyone can know baby.” You scoff slightly at that. 

“Well, that’s interesting and surprising, considering you wouldn’t look at me two minutes ago.” He stops kissing your neck and sighs, he tilts his head against your shoulder. “What was going on Stewy? We’re always amicable in public…” You gently probe. 

He nods as his head is still pressed against your shoulder, he sighs again and tilts his head. You can feel his breath on your collarbone and his fastidiously trimmed beard brushes against you, it’s a brief little burn. In another moment it would probably feel more ticklish than it does right now, you’d probably giggle at it like you have in the past. 

“What if we weren’t?” Stewy implores. You pause for a moment, deciphering his meaning. 

“And be what…hostile?” You question somewhat incredulously. 

A change in the method of the public side of your relationship now would surely draw more attention, it certainly would raise eyebrows and questions from those closest and it would become ridiculously complicated. Even with you not being involved at Waystar. 

“No, no. Just open. No more running around, hiding, game of fucking cat and mouse. We don’t even need to say anything, we can just do it. It’s so simple.” He’s moved his handsome head so he’s now looking at you with those wide brown orbs. You exhale slightly and move your hands so that they’re now combing through his hair. It’s handsomely styled but you like it when it has less product and his natural curls are freer. 

“What’s prompting this?”

“And that’s relevant?” 

“I’m just surprised, can you please talk to me?” You ask softly, pleading with him as you continue to gently run your hands through his hair. His hand is rubbing a burning circle on your waist. His eyes are wide and there’s something there that you don’t think you’ve seen before, he almost seems manic. 

“I didn’t like that discussion out there baby.” He says, his tone becoming a bit more serious. 

“This might come as a surprise to you honey but I also am not a fan of when Rome talks about Shiv’s and I’s reproductive systems.” You reply, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“No, I-I didn’t like that but I was meaning with Matsson.” 

“Oh, he’s a creep.” You immediately respond. 

“You’re telling me.” He kisses your lips softly but quickly deepens it, his hands firmly grip onto your hips. You lightly tug on his hair as you moan into his mouth. “He was eye-fucking you like his goonie life depended on it.” 

You chuckle at how he describes it but his face is serious, similar to how it was when he came over during that awful interaction. You don’t know why it took you so long to pinpoint it, it’s jealousy. Stewy Hosseini was jealous. 

Stewy Hosseini was jealous of that interaction, even though you’d both immediately agreed Lukas Matsson was a creep. You kiss him softly and move one of your hands to his shoulder. He eagerly returns the kiss back, filled with hunger. 

“Stewy?” You ask quietly. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you jealous…?” 

His brow noticeably furrows at that question, it’s quite a sight. His hair was now tousled and curlier from your tugging and raking through them, his eyes wide with lust and the aforementioned jealousy and his lips kiss-swollen. He was painfully handsome and you wished that you two weren’t in a bathroom at a party. 

“Did you only just put that together baby?” He asks after watching you for a moment, a cocky smirk on his face. You sigh with a small nod and roll your eyes, which just makes his smirk grow even more. “I don’t want anybody to ever look at you like that again and nobody ever gets to touch you but me.”

He immediately presses his face against yours for another passionate and extremely hungry kiss, you open up your mouth for him and he immediately accepts the invitation. It’s a fiery clashing of teeth and lips, you quickly get lost in it, one hand gripping onto his shoulder as the other one tugs on his hair not so gently this time. 

He groans out against your mouth as you tug on his locks. His hand pinches your hip before he moves it down and then pushes up your dress, his hand then dances along your thigh while the other bruisingly pinches your hip. 

You moan out against his lips as his fingers press against your underwear, you can feel him pressing his fingers against you and dancing along the clothed area. You writhe slightly against him at the pressure. 

His lips leave yours and he kisses along your jaw, trailing the kisses down your neck. He sucks and licks softly around your pulse, then as his mouth gets closer to your collarbone he nips you teasingly. You whine out at the sensation as your fingers dig deeper into his hair and he immediately kisses over where he’d bit you. 

As he does this, he pushes your underwear to the side so that his fingers can slip through. Your arousal had already started to quickly build between your legs and now he was able to take advantage of that. You moan out as his fingers now run through your folds without the barrier of your underwear, he slips a finger inside of you as his thumb gingerly traces over your bundle of nerves. He kisses your shoulder as he hears your breathing quickly change. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, you know that right?” Stewy asks. His voice was slightly more gentle. “Nobody else ever gets this.” He says more firmly. 

“Only you Stewy.” You breathe out as calmly as you can manage as he inserts a second finger into you. He continues on with his ministrations as he kisses along your neck, reaching that spot he knows you cannot ever get enough of. 

“That’s my girl.” He chuckles as he leaves your neck to kiss your lips again. You're desperate to feel him, it can’t have been more than 2 minutes since his lips left yours but you need to feel him there again. Especially when he’s having his way like this with you. You need Stewy in every sense of the meaning. 

His kiss to your mouth is firm and hungry, you get lost in the feeling of his plump lips as he continues to overwhelm you and provide the most delectable of sensory overwhelms that you could ever imagine. But it is of course, unfortunately not long enough. The world’s longest kiss wouldn’t be long enough with Stewy though, which you of course know but it never stops you from wanting, needing longer, needing and craving more. 

When he breaks the kiss, Stewy slides down to his knees on the floor of the bathroom. In your right mind, you’d probably be too focused on the unhygienic nature of this environment but you don’t even think of that. You are just desperate for Stewy, aching for him in any and every way in which you can have him. You don’t think anyone has ever felt as desperate for someone as you do for Stewy.  

He expertly but gently spreads your legs out, putting one over his shoulder as he softly kisses along your thighs. The kisses are soft and hot and as you feel his breath against your sensitive thighs, you feel your core clench and every nerve ending of yours tingle in desire and anticipation for him. 

Stewy continues to pump his fingers in and out of you as his kisses get closer to your core, you squirm slightly as he does. He gives a few gentle kisses to your vulva, your arousal is covering his fingers and running down his hands and he licks through your folds. Softly groaning at that as you let out a whimper at the contact, the noise coming from you is so beautiful, melodic to Stewy. 

The noise spurs him on and his tongue gingerly circles around your bundle of nerves, the pressure is so perfect and the build-up from his teasing and the making out just adds to the feeling. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, gripping it for leverage and as a way to communicate just how he makes you feel. He continues to lick and kiss at your clitoris and you know it won’t be long till you reach your peak at this rate. 

Stewy’s fingers continue at their work, getting deeper and reaching that spongy spot that makes you sharply gasp. Stewy smirks against you as he hears that, he hums against your bundle of nerves and the vibrations make you shudder, bringing you so much closer. 

“Oh my god, Stewy!” You moan out as you roughly tug at his hair. 

“Come on, come for me, baby. I want to taste you and feel it all over my face.” He says in between kisses to your bundle of nerves and around it. You nod and he continues to finger you and to give your clitoris attention, it isn’t much longer until you feel your climax coming on. 

“I’m going to- oh baby!” You whimper out, and he continues at the same pace as you shake against him as your peak arrives and you ride it out. He smirks against you as he tastes you. 

After your orgasm, he stays there, looking up at you in awe for a moment, supporting your body as it’s still somewhat weakened from that orgasm. He then stands back up, he pulls your dress back down and smirks.  Stewy holds your hip gently and his free hand comes up to gently stroke your cheek. The pad of his thumb feels so soft against your cheek. You can’t help but smile at him, so absolutely in love with him and he returns the grin. 

“You might want to clean that up, honey.” You say with a smirk as you lean against the wall, enjoying the feeling of him pressed against you so intimately. 

“Nope.” He immediately firmly says. 

“Nope?” 

“I don’t care who knows, honestly I want everyone to know. Everyone should know about us and that I’m the only one who gets this baby. Fuck Matsson, fuck anyone else.”

“I think a decision like this should have a proper conversation, one that isn’t just jealously induced sweetie.” You respond as softly as you can, as you close your eyes for a moment. You hear a small scoff.

“Such a tease.” He says and you can’t help but smile when seeing the devilish expression on his face. He’s simultaneously charming, and handsome but also arrogant and you love it so much. 

“I don’t want you to regret it.” You genuinely mean it. “I never would.” He immediately responds. 

“I love you.” 

It’s not a conversation you can have right now, the bathroom at your brother’s 40th birthday party is not the right environment for this. It needs to be one at home that isn’t post-sex acts either.

“I love you too.” He says as he rubs his forehead and sighs briefly. “Go home, I’ll leave fifteen minutes after you. I know- small risk but it’s worth it.” You chuckle and kiss him on the cheek. “I expect you to be in bed waiting when I get there though.” He says earnestly but still playfully. That’s your Stewy, always playful and blunt. 

“Sure thing Mr. Hosseini, maybe write me a love poem on the way home?” You tease with a small giggle. 

“Oh baby, you didn’t get my love poem?” He has that loveable but chaotic, cocky smirk on his face. 

“What?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“That was my love poem.” As he delivers that line his smirk somehow grows by ten times. You roll your eyes at him as you kiss him on the lips softly. “Wait, do I need to better emphasise next time?” He teases with a wicked grin and laughs. 

“Get better material, Hosseini.” You immediately quip back with a smirk as you leave the bathroom stall to make an Irish Goodbye from Kendall’s birthday to go home, our home you think. 

[polaritiesoop]

Rewatching Hermitcraft 6, and I've reached the beautiful civil war arc. But I also realized that grian has some REALLY weird fans that are such a loud minority. Why is it anytime Grian is playfully at "odds" with another hermit or something shenanigans against Grian that there are negative comments toward said hermit? like why are there some people acting threatened by it?

Long Rant AHEAD

I find it concerning it happened even earlier in season 6. I forgot which hermit, or what it was about but I'm pretty sure a hermit was getting HATE for a HARMLESS PRANK in the famous block GAME MINECRAFT. Ridiculous, ain't it? seeing those strings of words in one. Why on God's green earth does Grian have such baby fans? I thought we were pretty chill but I guess it's only here on tumblr and twitter. I don't know if reddit has been kind to Grian and other hermits, I wouldn't assume they weren't over there considering that Grian likes to hang around there more than twitter. I guess it is most on Youtube comments. This does not only happen in season 6, but I bet also seasons 7, 8, 9 , and life series too, my memory's a bit blurry on the details. And even in the current season?! tf you mean people are hating on Xisuma for banning Grian AS A JOKE ? like why does Grian need to constantly remind people when anything playful "conflict" in the server happens that they are friends? That it is all in good fun? I'm glad though Grian has a strong friendship with the hermits, or the hermits are in good bases in general.

I don't know, its sad and frustrating to see unnecessary negative on what is considered one of the wholesome and fun minecraft smps. Hermitcraft is such a genuine server that I bet feels like home to the hermits, that it's more than simply a gaming server or a series to make tens of Yt videos out of. Same goes with the life series, as a little side smp to get some really chaotic fun, short but effective in giving such good entertainment (for both creators and fans) and compelling stories that fans are able to weave perfectly through fanfiction, art and other creative media, or just simple online discussions. But the fun gets a little spoiled by fans that don't know how to have fun. This is not covering yet how the fandom recently feels too ....idk the right word, charged??? Surely, I am not the only one to notice. I see it on twitter. Why are some people being icky? like stop. I'm getting a deja vu here, from experiences on an adjacent fandom that is crumbling (coughs dream smp).

I don't know why I am ranting. Home girl rewatched hermitcraft 6 and suddenly I am ranting out my personal frustrations LOL. Trying not to get TOO stressed out. I got recently released from college kerfuckle (I make it sound like a mental facility...). I guess Grian's personal note on his recent video about uploading schedule triggered it. I feel kinda bad that he felt pressured to produce videos, as opposed to, yknow, at his own convenience at his own time at his own mood? I hope I am not sounding like those peeps that loves to baby content creators. an adult too, older than an average young fan, in the words of others "a man with dick and balls"! All I can say for Grian's fan (or hermitcraft fans in general) being weird is uhhh touch grass. smell the flowers. go outside. talk to your friends. go watch or rewatch your favorite series. watch long video youtube essays of random topics. look at trees. they are great and beautiful. look at the sky observe its hues. pet a cat. a dog. ur pet salamander or snake or ferret or whatever. animal. think about your crush. or partner. or a friend you really love. or family member you really trust with your life

Its simple really! Take time to reflect on your thoughts. Don't be so fucking mean we have enough mean people in this earth. Don't be like them. The world is a cruel place at the moment, so why not make it better for everyone else? I am not saying to be only kind towards Grian or other content creators or people in this fandom. In general. At the same time, you're being kind to yourself. Not to dwell too much negative in yourself.

This kinda spiral into something else, but honestly i don't care. I got it out of my system. I hope i get to enjoy summer time drawing and writing.

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

[inkdemonapologist]

Okay but I do actually want to know both the things you love and the things you could rant about from DCTL?

OH BOY UHHHHHH okay lets see, I'm gonna see if I can do the "add a readmore after you post it" thing and see if that'll keep it stable.......

But also, much like Sammy, I am incapable of shutting up unless you strike me in the head with a blunt object, so uh, forgive my wordiness:

THINGS I ENJOY:

- DCTL gave us Sammy's ink addiction and like, if you had asked me before all this "what would you most like to see in a franchise?" I would not have answered "one of the characters drinks ink accidentally and then discovers that he can't stop" but boy that sure is my favourite concept that I LOVE to see handled literally any other way than how the book handled it!!!

- I like what it added to Tom and Allison and Norman!! Like, it's not big twists on their characters or anything -- we already knew Tom felt he was doing the wrong thing, so getting to see his CRUSHING GUILT over creating the machine isn't New Information, but it's nice to see and understand more of him; for all of them I feel a lot more attached to them after getting to see more of them as people.

- Like 90% of the "I LOVE IT" category for me is how the book handled Joey, and Buddy's relationship with Joey. The way Joey isn't a Sinister Mastermind Who’s Just Screwing With Everyone but just manipulative in a more mundane way -- someone who thinks of himself as just the guy with the vision to call the shots; he wants what he wants and this is how he's learned to get it; he exploits people not through devious schemes, but just by offering them something that they want or need and asking too much in return, expecting their loyalty for his favours. And the way he interacts with Buddy, making Buddy complicit with him and keeping Buddy off-balance and insecure while making him a favourite and treating him as Special is just PERFECT --  gives a lot of content to kind of extrapolate off of when pondering what must've drawn the others in and convinced them to ignore the red flags. I was initially frustrated with the idea of Buddy not being an artist and jUST DECIDING TO LEARN TO ANIMATE ON THE SPOT ("I've never done this before but I'm sure I can just do an artist's job" is a weirdly common throwaway thing in media and as an artist iTS A PET PEEVE) but actually the way they use his plagiarism to make him trapped in a lie in ways Joey doesn't even realise ends up being a neat echo of other employees (coughTOMcough), who were involved in much graver sins but suddenly felt they couldn't object or they'd lose their one chance, just like Buddy. There's a lot here that I think is really great.

OKAY THATS THE GOOD STUFF, LET'S COMPLAIN ABOUT SAMMY:

- Uncomfortable Bigotry Vagueness that we all knew was gonna be in this list -- I dunno man, a guy committing a microaggression and getting startled and defensive when he's called out for it doesn't necessarily completely ruin his character I GUESS, but the way this was handled is just SO WEIRD AND VAGUE that it's uncomfortable and it doesn't seem to serve any real purpose. "Is Tom black?" is a question I actually have to ask because the text sort of implies he is while also dancing around it and apparently Word of God said he's not??? which makes Buddy's comment nonsensical???? And I mean, you could go that route, since Buddy wonders to himself if Sammy talks to everyone like this -- HE ACTUALLY DOES!! Even within the text of the novel, he uses "Joey" instead of Mr. Drew, which is consistent with his audiologs in the game -- but that makes the writing suggest "this character THINKS this guy might be racist but actually they're reading too much into it and it wasn't racially motivated at all, he's just a jerk!!" wHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN MORE ICKY??? Anyway like yeah I guess it's not inconsistent with his character that while Sammy Lawrence may not have any specific grudge against minorities he has probably not checked his privilege or done the work to challenge his own internal biases, but “Your Fav Probably Contributes To Systemic Racism In Ways He Hasn’t Considered, As Do We All When Our Assumptions Go Unchecked” is still a wild thing to wade through in a fun story about demonic cartoons

- but yknow so is T H E   H O L O C A U S T

- Sammy's voice is wrong. I'm actually okay with him being a weird awkward asshole, I already kind of assumed he was and that's part of why I like him!! but there's so many places he doesn't quite... talk like himself? And not just in terms of word choice, like -- so in his monologue at the end, he's described as talking so quickly that his words are "tumbling out faster than he can speak them," which initially seems fine; like yeah, that's a Standard Scene we're familiar with, the person who's been Driven Mad With Insight becoming more and more manic as they try to convey it -- until I tried to imagine it and realised that Sammy doesn't talk like this. That's a really consistent quality I always notice about his voice; whether he's almost giddily excited in prophet mode, or he’s his irritated and overworked human self, or he's violently angry and his voice has that echo effect -- he always speaks very deliberately. He enunciates carefully. There's some circumstances where I'd buy this as showing that he's Not Himself, but I feel like those would kind of need to be in the middle of his transformation, not at the end of it.

- In fact a lot of the scenes with Sammy kind of have this feeling -- that it's not necessarily an exploration of Sammy as a character, but that he is filling a trope or archetype role here. Once he's fully transformed he excitedly describes the process as more of a mental compulsion, which is in contrast to his weird yeerk-infected behaviour when trying to get ink from Miss Lambert. Both of those scenes don't seem wrong on their own because they fit tropes we know -- but they feel weird when you try to fit them together.

- I also just in general am not a fan of the ink acting like a weird yeerk. It can be a parasite I guess but when it starts overwriting and puppeting people and crawling around to enter their body that's just a completely DIFFERENT kind of supernatural story and it’s not what im here for!!!

- THE FREAKIN!!! HE WILL SET US FREE!!!! WHY????????? SAMUEL LAWRENCE WHAT IS HE SETTING YOU FREE FROM??????? Sammy has No Motive for any of what he's doing, other than just Ink Made Me Do It. The whole thing that was INTERESTING about Sammy as a character is the contrast between this frustrated, ornery musician with no specific love for the cartoons he works on, and the manically devoted cultist he becomes. What happened in the middle there? What made him desperate enough to shift his mindset so much? "Something supernatural made him do things that don't benefit him in any way" is a very boring answer to this question!!! Susie was a victim who implies that her transformation has forced her to do things she didn't want to do, but we can still see her motive -- she wanted to be Alice, so she took a sketchy offer to try to get what she wanted. Even now, her violence echoes that goal -- to be a more perfect Alice. What did Sammy want? WHO KNOWS. Even in his ink-addled state at the end, we don't understand what he hopes the Ink Demon will even do for him, and in fact he seems to be responsible for creating the very scenario he's begging Bendy to reverse in the game.

- [sighs loudly into my hands]

- Overall I'm left wondering if the author just..... didn't like Sammy Lawrence? And I don't mean that in the sense of him being a rude jerk -- like, Joey is not a good person, but the author seems to be interested in him and in what makes him tick. There doesn't seem to be that same interest in Sammy. Sammy's role in the story is that of a monster, transformed into something murderous, unable to prevent or choose it. He's not a victim of anyone but the ink, no one had to manipulate him or figure out how his brain worked or what he wanted or what he feared or give him any reason to do the things he does -- ink got in his mouth and overwrote his personality. And we don't even get to see that change, not really. He starts out angry and defensive and continues being angry and defensive up until his very last scene, denying his ink-stealing but not really much else. We see all his prophetic sketches but we never see hints of this in him, we never see him start to act more excited and hopeful, we never see him seek out the demon he desires to please. Why do we never see Sammy struggling between his dismissive angry front and a building religious fervour he can't quite suppress? We don't get to see any of the in-between. There's no interest at all in why or even what it looked like as Sammy became what he became, when, to be honest, I suspect interest in precisely that is one reason he's such a big fav.

- It's funny, in a "cries into my hands" kind of way, when Sammy is just knocked in the head while monologuing and immediately removed from the story without further mention, like...... that sure is the pattern with him, isn't it, he just tries very very hard and never actually gets to matter, but it also fits right in here, too, in this book that doesn't want to think about his motives -- he rambles nonsensically, explaining nothing, gets one trademark phrase, and then is hastily removed so the story doesn't have to think about him anymore.

...................I think that's most of it.

...

Y'all............ I'm not ready for Sent From Above.......... I'm just not.... I'm not emotionally ready...... like..... Sammy has to be in that right..... he’s Susie’s boss and she has that big crush on him..................................... I’m not ready

[brickstudies]

some non sequitur that might offend some people

an outsider opinion on islamophobia (from someone who’s no longer a muslim but living in a country with one of the largest muslim population in the world)

as someone who lives on a place where the tenets of islam have been used to oppress all kinds of minority (and have made my personal life a living hell at times), i know islamophobia is happening in places where muslim are in the minority and are being oppressed and threatened. but i was a little bit confused as to what to feel regarding some issues adjacent to that.

i was not confused by the logic or the moral––i know that kind of hate, which targets the people and not the ideology, has been causing people grievous harm. i’m scared for those who are experiencing islamophobia. most of them are muslims because their parents are muslims, just the same as me. they’re guiltless in this matter, a ‘victim’ of some sort of their upbringing (though ofc many would rightly not want to be subjected to that label, i’m just projecting too much here)

but i’ve seen too many discussions where the defence against the hate toward muslims stands on the defence of islam as a religion, and i find that unacceptable. in practice, right now, the quran and the hadits are instructions for xenophobia, mysogyny, and oppressive tyranny. i can’t argue for how things were historically or how close things adhere to the literal words on those texts right now, but i know that my friends and i, ordinary people who unfortunately hold views that don’t agree with what’s in the quran––by islamic law we’re basically legal to be killed. it’s fortunate that my country isn’t ruled by sharia law––yet, because damn, there are lots of people who want just that.

seeing kind and smart people defending the right for muslims to not be criticized for their faith? that hurts. a lot. and i’m saying that fully acknowledging my experiences are ofc not universal.

but then i met muslims who don’t see their religious upbringing as a shackle, not necessarily because they are devout believers who see no flaws in the holy book and its supplements, but because their parents are decent people who teach them to be kind to everyone, dare i say, despite what the quran said (for me, the ‘do kind unto others’ thing in it always feels very transactional and full of haughty righteousness, but in general, isn’t it kinda icky to say that you do something good out of your beliefs in a god so that that god can repay you in the form of a heaven after you die?)

i won’t say this to those muslim friends of mine. but they don’t practice islam literally, and in my corner of the world, in regards of religion, ‘literally’ is the same as ‘correctly’. so to me, they don’t practice islam correctly, and that’s GOOD, so good that my throat feels constricted and my eyes feel hot while i’m typing this, i want this so much i’m crying. i can’t wait for the time when what’s left of islam are only the holidays and the culture of caring for others regardless of everything else. people of multiple nations have done this with other religions, i know it’s possible. i have to believe that it’s possible.

idk how this is going to work, but i hope we can reject an ideology without blaming and harming the people who were born into it, and instead be compassionate, bcs in the end we all have been burdened by problematic things by our ancestors.

tldr: i’m begging muslims to ignore the book, ignore what the prophet had said some thousand years ago. at least, we already know how to be kind, we can retire the scripture.

[magicianmew]

On the complexity of words in our racialized and colonialized world, and my own liminality...

TW: Discussion of the term “g*psy,” which I know may be a triggering word to some of my American followers in particular. I’ve done my best to tag this. Let me know if I’ve left something out.

So I need to talk about this. I really don’t want to because I feel like I’m going to be attacked for doing so. But this is my life in a super literal way, and I am taking time to process all this, with my cultural background, and my personal history, and my non-belonginess, and all the other super heavy baggage I have, and my society has, with this word and this way of life.

I’ve seen the occasional post on here talking about the culture on Tumblr of sometimes oversimplifying their activism and not understanding the full breadth of certain issues, and I’m kicking myself for it even as I type, but… today I’d like to address the international complexity of the term “gypsy.” Specifically, its use in the UK.

(Oh god, what am I doing sticking my foot in this hornet’s nest…)

All I ask is that you really just read this before you rip my head off, yeah? Please. I need to talk about this.

That word does not mean the same thing here that it means in the US, where I come from.

In America, it’s a pretty negative word to a lot of people of any degree of social consciousness. In America, that word is associated almost exclusively with the Romani people, an extremely marginalized group of POC who’ve been subject to every type of violence in existence, up to and including genocide. It is almost always used as either a slur, or an ignorantly appropriative capitalist tool. They’re the only well-known group of nomadic people Americans are familiar with in relatively modern times (since most nomadic Natives were killed or had their seasonal routes cut off long ago), and naturally, it has therefore remained a very racialized term in America. As a general rule, all nomadic peoples known to Americans are POC who have suffered genocide, sometimes to the point of extinction.

It’s fucking heavy. And that is what my brain still emotionally understands, when I hear that word. I’ve felt, and feel, that ickiness listening to someone use that word carelessly, or as if it were a trendy aesthetic™. This post is hard to write, because I have to use it.

So, Americans, I get this. ‘K? Me too. And Brits, if you’ve ever wondered why this strikes such a chord with Americans, that’s why, and this might be some handy knowledge for you to have when traveling to the US: “gypsy” is not a nice word in the US, and “Traveller” isn’t a term most Americans will recognize. We don’t have any legislation protecting Traveller rights, the way you do (inadequate as they may be). If you want to refer to the Romani, use Romani. If you want to refer to Travellers as a diverse group, use “nomadic people.”

But now I live in the UK. In the UK, “gypsy” is a government-official term, and people refer to themselves and others by this term routinely. And most confusingly, to my American sensibilities, it has little to do with your ethnicity. Even ethnic gypsies are most frequently white British, in the UK (the UK has its own native nomadic populations, especially from Ireland and Scotland). But there are also non-ethnic gypsies. It’s a term that refers more to your mode of living than to your race.

My gypsy neighbors are Irish, English, and Romani. The Irish Travellers and Romani obviously have an ethnic history of nomadism. But the ethnically English do not. He’s a Traveller, legally speaking, and part of larger gypsy society. And here, that is legally and culturally legitimate. He isn’t considered an ethnic minority, the way ethnic Travellers are, but culturally has a home under both terms.

There are other slurs in the UK for Travellers, of course. And there are also people who talk about them in a racist way (*cough* Tories *cough*). If I were to draw a comparison to American linguistics, “gypsy” in the UK is much like “queer” in America. It is simultaneously a neutral and inclusive word, and a word which is often found in the mouth of bigots. It has a complex history that has both highs and lows.

I still prefer to use Traveller, because I’m American and “gypsy” leaves a weird taste in my mouth. But that only works in writing, where it is capitalized. In speech, that term could just as easily mean kids on a gap year, and it isn’t useful for specifying nomadic people. So in speech… the word everyone uses is “gypsy.” This word which gives me the willies is now a normal part of my life. It is hard for me to get used to that. But also, apprehensively positive. What a wonderful community this is. It isn’t any stupid stereotypes. I mean, the dude a couple caravans down from me is a graphic designer. It’s just a really solid community of people who are just… really wonderful.

So… this is a major part of my existence right now. Please remember that Tumblr is an international community. Not everyone you see using that word is a racist throwing out a slur. Some of them aren’t even referring to the Romani. If they’re British, they’re probably more likely to be referring to the Irish, or to people of diverse or unknown ethnic backgrounds.

It may also be something I start talking about more often, because this is now my life. I live on wheels, in a mostly Traveller community. Legally, I’m a “New Traveller” (and the idea of referring to myself that way sends off a degree of appropriative heebjeebies that’s just unbelievable, but that is the fact of the matter). That is, I would be if anyone knew I was here. But the way these things are interacting for me, and how simultaneously uncomfortable and necessary it is to learn about them given my cultural background, means that it is something that is likely to come up. Something I will need to talk about. A consuming part of my life at the moment.

These people have taken me in, in a very real way that pretty much makes me cry when I think about it. They’ve fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me keep this hell shed from tipping over. They’ve gifted me things for my craft – the part of my life this blog is about. I don’t want to avoid talking about them as they talk about themselves, or understanding the way my self-perception is changing as this is happening, for fear I’ll be mistaken for an asshole. It feels like hiding who they proudly are, because the culture I come from has a different history than they do. I don’t live in that culture anymore, and probably never will again. I need to find some way of reconciling the dissonance with the way my life is now.

I don’t think any of this takes away from the complexity of that term. And to all you goddamn Nazis, don’t you dare take this as a reason why it’s ok to fucking harass the Romani, or I swear I will hex the shit out of you. And since the UK tends to follow American trends, I wouldn’t be surprised if that term eventually goes out of vogue.

But today, it is a very different word from its American counterpart, which is essential for me to fully understand in the context of both my own life, and my experience of adopting my new culture as an immigrant. And I want people to understand where I and other people in Britain are coming from when we talk about it. And I feel a need to be understood in my own life right now.

So… This was probably unwise. I’ll take my blows I guess. I’m just reaching into the dark and hoping I’ll find some understanding. This is very much part of what kind of witch I’m becoming, and more broadly, what kind of human I’m becoming.

[notreallybusy]

A Good catch (13/?)

On Tumblr:[Part1][Part2][Part3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8][Part 9][Part 10][Part 11][Part 12]

Also on:AO3, fanfic

Summary: Emma Swan is happy, she has her son, a good job and plenty of friends. Killian and Liam Jones arrive and Emma must re-evaluate her happiness. But there is more going on than meets the eye in the town of Storybrooke and Emma has to get to the bottom of it, but at what cost

Chapter 13 - Unexpected ties

The early bird gets the worm, or at least an impatient Emma needed to know what they had caught. So she was in the station bright and early so she could see what David had managed to track down. The plates on Neal’s vehicle belonged to a shell company that was fairly hard to link to anyone specifically, so a complete dead end. However the picture of Neal were very helpful, much to Emma’s dismay the next day. He had at least five different identities and was suspected of crimes under all of them. As David explained the aliases he was looking at her weirdly, like he was scared or sorry for her? He led her over to his computer, “You really aren’t going to like this but I did find his real name among all the fake ones.”

Emma was puzzled, “Okay then.” She gestured at him to show her, surely this was a good thing?

He brought up the results screen, there was a mug shot of Neal taken probably around the time she knew him. And his name and date of birth. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” it came out with what felt like all of the oxygen from her lungs.

David nodded, “It explains the weird hug anyway.”

Baelfire Gold also known as Bae Gold, Neal Gold, Neal Cassidy, Bailey Cassidy. There he was, a list as long as your arm for varied criminal activities. The most recent was possession, about a year back but the charges had been dropped due to accusations of police tampering. “What’s the bet Daddy had something to do with that,” Emma pointed.

“So are we thinking probably drugs then,” David was still looking at her like she might break, but mercifully trying to carry on as if she wasn’t

Emma nodded, trying desperately to stay calm, “Probably drugs.”

David began to talk but Emma barely heard him, “David do you mind if I just clear my head.”

He was a little stunned, “oh.. yeah take all the time you need.”

Emma pretty much sprinted out of the building, then stood on the sidewalk stunned. She felt like she had been hit by a bus, this was a random town it was just luck that she stayed here. So how on earth did Neal have more connection to this place than she did. Only one person knew Neal then, she pulled out her phone dialling Regina, her friend picked up on the second ring, “Hello, how are you?”

“I need, I need to talk now please.”

Regina must have recognised the desperation in her voice. Her response was quick, clear and unquestioning, “Under my tree.”

“Thanks Regina see you in a minute.”

Regina was already there when she got there, she must have looked pretty dazed because in a second Regina had her arms around her with a quick reassuring hug. This wasn’t something they did, Emma must have looked really bad. They sat down and Emma turned to Regina, “Neal Cassidy.”

She frowned they had talked about him before, a long time ago now. “Henry’s biological father, what about him?”

“Also known as Baelfire Gold... he is Gold’s son.”

To her credit she couldn’t have looked more shocked at this titbit. “Bae? But how?”

Emma put her face in her hands, “Sydney’s tip was good, I watched them exchange some goods, still have no idea what it is, for a fuckload of cash. The guy handing over the cash was... Neal. David ran his photo and .... ta-da.”

Regina’s hand was at her throat, “Oh my god, that means.”

“Henry is Gold’s grandson.” The idea made her feel icky all over.

“Does it change anything?”

Emma shook her head it was all she had thought about on the walk over, “Of course not, I don’t owe Neal.. I mean Bealfire, anything. But it makes me afraid, of how they could bring Henry into this.”

Regina nodded, “We all love Henry, we all love you Emma. And we will protect you, if you need anything at all.” She sighed, “Its been so long, I hoped he had found his own life, not got himself mixed up in his Dads one. Do you think he had something to do with Milah too?”

She shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, I can’t say I was a good judge when it came to Neal. But as far as his record goes violence isn’t his style...”

“You are going to catch them at it Emma, and then this won’t be a problem anymore,” Regina offered her hand as she talked.

Emma took her friend’s hand, “Thanks, I just had to get out of there. I feel like such a mess, like one area of my life is sorting itself out and the rest is falling apart.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, “Killian?”

She nodded, “I called him when I saw Neal. He was amazing, told him about jail, Neal, everything and he didn’t run a mile just listened. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop with him but its my life that is screwing everything up.” She paused, she didn’t know about Neal but she knew his father and he had no problem with violence, “Gold wouldn’t hurt Henry would he?”

“I don’t think so Emma, I mean the only redeeming feature about him was the love he had for Bae.” She shrugged, “Apparently that extended to showing him the family business.”

They talked for a while longer, until Emma felt calm enough to go back. Felt in control enough at least. When she got back Lance was in, he smiled at Emma as she entered albeit weakly. Not for the first time Emma felt guilty about keeping all this from Lance, he had never been anything other than a good cop. But she just couldn’t risk it, that she might be wrong or that she might get another person hurt. 

Lance being there did have its upsides, she got on with her other jobs. Distracted herself from operation spinning wheel and its earth shattering revelations, instead she just did her job. And ignored the overprotective glances she kept getting from David all day. Lunch was a relief, she offered to get David something and she got out of there deciding comfort food would be the best medicine. Granny just nodded at her as she walked in, no need to order. “David’s as well,” she added as the older woman set to work.

She looked around before pulling herself up at the bar on one of the stool’s, in the midst of all this she still hoped she would bump into Killian. But the wrong Jones was there, Liam was coming up to pay as Emma sat waiting for her and David’s food. He smiled, “You should just give up the pretence and move in here lass.” He winked and she chuckled.

“Would save me the walk, or maybe the sheriffs department should move in here instead.”

He looked very pointedly at the array of muffins and donuts on the counter, “Little on the nose I think.”

She laughed, seemed the humour was a family trait. Before she could reply she heard some yelling from across the road. She and Liam both stared out the dusty diner windows to get a handle on where the noise was coming from. It was in fact Robert Gold, Emma narrowed her eyes at him. He was on the phone and he was livid, the blood vessels in his forehead practically popping as he turned an unattractive shade of purple. They could even hear a little of what he was saying, “I just want to know how the fuck this is possible!”

Liam nudged her, “Oh to hear both sides of that little conversation.”

She nodded vaguely, “I think it would be rather enlightening. Excuse me.”

Emma walked to the door of the diner, half the town had stopped to watch Gold’s little outburst. Usually he was so calm and collected, what must have happened to prompt this she had no idea. Emma folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe of the open door regarding her prey. He was swearing about incompetence and then he looked up catching her eye. Emma knew this game, she had played it with bail jumpers, heck she sometimes played it with Henry on the few occasions he played up. 

Her face was blank, expressionless, but her eyes. Her eyes told a completely different story, they told Gold he was being watched, that this break in composure was noted. The look she got back would have rocked other people, it was pure hatred. It was a man surprised, a wild beast in the corner ready to lash out, and she was the idiot backing him into said corner. She didn’t flinch, “Any problem here Mr Gold?”

His face smoothed over, his eyes dark cold pools. “No Miss Swan, nothing but a minor inconvenience.”

She nodded not budging from her spot, he tipped his head to her then carried on his way. Emma stood back from the doorway noting the slight shaking in her hands. Calm as you like she went to the counter and grabbed her goods then paid, Granny was giving her one of her rare smiles. Like Emma was poking a bear in the eye and Granny couldn’t help but respect that. She nodded at the older woman as she left, giving a fairly bewildered looking Liam a small wave as she walked across the road. She supressed a run to the station saving it for the stairs where no one could see her. She marched straight into David’s office and put his food down in front of him. 

David looked up, Lance had obviously cleared out for lunch thankfully. She felt a little wild, and she looked it by David’s quizzical brow, “what happened?”

“He knows David, Gold knows that we are on to him.” A slow smile spread across her face, “and he is scared.”

David leaned back in his chair, “but how does he know, we have been so careful.”

“There is only one thing I can think of... is there any way he could know that we looked at Neal’s rap-sheet?”

David frowned, “Theoretically, some law enforcement agencies will get a notification if you access certain files. If Gold had such an alert on Baelfire, maybe a cop or an agent friend... they could have told him. Wait how do you know?”

Emma sat opposite him opening her brown paper bag and digging out her grilled cheese, “He was having a full on temper tantrum in the street, he looked at me and I knew, I just knew. It changes the game significantly.”

“It does,” David agreed. 

Emma shook her head, “Do you mind if I leave early, I need to secure my place.”

“Secure it?”

“Half our case is there,” a bolt of fear shot through her. “And its a matter of time before Gold figures out... about Henry.”

David physically stiffened, he loved Henry and was the first man to be a father figure in his life. “Surely he wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know, but I have to be ready.” Plans whizzed through her head as she chewed on her lunch.

“We both do, when is the next shipment due?”

Emma shrugged, “No idea. But we do need to wait for the next one before we do anything, any word on how Kathryn is doing?”

David shook his head, “No. I’ll call her let her know we are getting close, I want to get him for everything if we can. I know he can weasel out things pretty well but he can’t if we throw it all at him.”

“Speaking of weaselling out of things, what happened with Teach’s court date?”

“Ah well that is quite interesting actually.” David stood and grabbed a sheet of paper off the ancient fax, “He was a no-show so there is a warrant out for his arrest. Thought I might send you and Lance out to have a look.”

“To  be perfectly honest he might have been gone for a while, he didn’t pick up the last delivery from the dock, it was John Silver instead. I just thought Gold was keeping him away but maybe he bolted.”

David drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk, “Could be. Only one way to find out.”

Emma nodded, “Will do boss. Then mind if I scoot.”

“Scoot away.”

While Lance was away Emma made plans, ringing the local electrical store to make sure they had specific items in stock and hoping like hell that her own stash of gear from her bail bonds days were still intact.

Lance looked happy to get out of the office when Emma let him know what they were up to. They pulled up outside some rundown condo’s just outside the main part of town where Teach was supposed to reside. They knocked but no answer so Emma spent a few minutes getting permission to go inside. While she waited for approval she and Lance stood around awkwardly, which was odd, they never had been before. “You okay?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Am I missing something though, not to sound like some silly teenager but I feel a little left out.”

It was perfectly reasonable really, so much of what she was doing lately was secretive and unexplained. She bit her bottom lip, “Its not much, just testing the waters on something. If I had something concrete I would tell you, is that okay?”

Lance shrugged, “It will have to be....”

At that moment her phone buzzed, they had the okay to go in. The apartment was clear, and it felt like it had been empty for a while. The milk in the fridge had been off for almost a week, and there were some dodgy looking takeaways in there too. But in the bedroom, all his belongings were still there, or at least as far as  Emma could tell anyway. So either Teach hadn’t gone far or he hadn’t planned to leave in the first place.

There wasn’t much they could do, they looked in the garage and his car was gone. Emma put an alert on the number plate and they made a plan to interview a few of his known associates and have a look at his phone records. All this could that could wait for tomorrow. She didn’t let Lance pick up the conversation from before, nothing had changed. 

 As soon as they got back to the station Emma bailed and began securing her place. She began by checking yet again for bugs then set up some security measures. This involved a few cameras at various possible entrances and in the living room. As well as a trip alarm that would send her an alert if it was activated. She showed Henry everything when he got home, not wanting to alarm him but she wanted him to be aware. “Look kid, I hope I am just being dramatic.”

Henry nodded, “But you need to be safe.”

“I need you to be safe Henry.” She ran her hand through his messy hair, “I love you and just the thought that what I’m doing putting you in danger makes me sick.”

Henry laughed, “Do I have to give you another hero pep talk mom?”

“Yeah yeah,” she mussed his hair up and then grabbed a little knick knack that looked like a key chain. He frowned at it as she waved it in front of him, “This is a tracker Henry, just in case I can’t get in touch with you.”

He raised his eyebrows and stated deadpan, “you want to put a tracking device on me.” 

Emma nodded, and Henry took the little token with some trepidation. “Am I missing something Mom?”

“Bad people Henry, one or two of them might be very interested in you.”

“Why?” Henry didn’t look happy now and Emma felt a limit had been reached, everything before this request he had taken with no qualms but this signalled danger.

“I am poking around where no one wants me to and.... it turns out Rumplestiltskin has a big connection to your father.”

His eyes widened and Emma gripped his upper arms as she looked into his eyes seriously. “I will do anything to protect you, now the best thing is to put these guys away. I don’t want to scare you but I also want you to be safe, be aware.”

Her boy nodded, “I will let you know if I see anyone hanging around or anything out of the ordinary happens like you taught me.”

Emma gave him a weak smile, “Even people you know, just people you don’t expect okay. You know the rules.”

“Only you Mary-Margaret or David can take me home, unless I call you and get permission.” He rattled it off like he was bored even though they hadn’t gone through this since Emma freaked out when Henry started school. “I’m almost nine Mom.”

She laughed messing up his hair, “Don’t I know it, eight going on thirty.”

Henry dutifully attached the tracker to his school bag and Emma sighed. She was upset she even had to do this, but Henry’s reaction reassured her. He was a smart kid, he trusted her. Any other kid would have freaked out but not her boy. And just for that he got ice-cream after dinner. 

.................................

The next day Emma and David took a trip to John Silver’s place to see if he knew anything about his friend. The plan was to follow him up with a trip to Gold and then to the Rabbit Hole his regular drinking spot but they  started with Silver so Gold couldn’t form his story for him, assuming he hadn’t already. Silver answered after they knocked on his door for a good few minutes, he was angry and obviously hung over as he pulled open the door, “Now what the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Emma wrinkled her nose at the smell of whisky on his breath, he may still be drunk actually. After taking a moment to realise who was actually knocking on his door his anger turned to distrust as he swayed a little in the doorway. “Oh right, crime now is it to sleep in.”

“You’re drunk,” David pointed out.

Silver puffed out his chest ready to defend himself, “Its my home, I’m not littering your perfect little streets so what’s it to you.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “Its nothing to us but we would like to ask you some questions.”

Silver swayed a little more attempting to fix her with a stare but he was having trouble, possibly he was seeing a few of her. “And if I didn’t want to talk.”

“Then you wouldn’t have to, but I would wonder why you wouldn’t want to help us and maybe take you down to the station for questioning anyway. Here at least you don’t have to leave your home.”

He considered Emma’s points and grumbled as he turned and entered his ramshackle house, “S’pose you will come in then.”

David gave her a little smile and they followed Silver into a little living room. Evidently Mr Silver liked to tinker, mechanical items littered the house but also there was evidence of a bit of a binge. Empty bottles littered every available surface. “So what can I do for you?” Silver sat back on his well-worn couch and regarded the pair like a man anticipating a tooth removal.

David started, “What can you tell us about the whereabouts of your friend Charles Teach.”

Silver frowned and a flash of something crossed his face but only for a moment, “Not sure I would class us as friends.”

Emma scoffed, “You are known associates, you both drink together, you have half-shares in a boat for gods sake and you both work for Mr Gold.”

The mention of Gold’s name sobered Silver, “Acquaintances out of convenience nothing more. Why are you here?”

“Teach missed his court date, thought you might have some idea why that was?” David asked.

Silver shook his head vehemently, “Probably because he didn’t want to go. I ain’t seen him.”

“In how long?” David pressed him.

“A while, couldn’t put a date on it.” Silver’s face was set, this was all they were getting.

Emma gestured at the room, “Probably because you don’t know what the date is. How long has this little bender lasted huh?”

She was getting Silver angry, sometimes anger made people do stupid things, say stupid things. “Hey,” he pointed a grease stained finger at them. “Wha’ I drink is none of you business.”

“Then what prompted it? From what I can see Teach gone you get a little promotion.”

He shook his head, “No, no I didn’t want no promotion. I have nothing to do with it.”

“Nothing to do with what?”

“Nothing, nothing. Stupid bastard, dragging me into his mess.” Silver was getting upset. “Its not my fault.”

David was softer, stereotypical good cop to her bad. “What’s not your fault John.”

For a second Emma thought he was going to say something but instead she saw fear in his eyes, and then walls went up in its place. “None of this. Its Silver’s mess, he skips out on bail its his problem. That’s all I’ve got for you, can’t do more than tell you what I know.”

He stood and pointed at the door, “Now if you excuse me I have things to do.”

David looked at her questioningly, Emma replied with a small shake of her head. Silver was sobering up by the second and he wasn’t going to give them anything. “Thank you Mr Silver for your co-operation.”

“Hrrmph,” was Silver’s eloquent reply. They took their leave.

Out by the car David had his thinking face on, “What do you think?”

“He knows something but he isn’t telling us. We aren’t as scary as the reason he wants to keep quiet.”

“Gold,” David suggested.

Emma nodded, “That would be my best guess.”

“Well then,” David sighed as he pulled open the car door. “Lets go talk to Robert Gold.”

They pulled up in front of the sheriffs station and walked down to Gold’s shop, he was stood behind the counter as if his only role was a humble purveyor of antiques in small town Maine. He smiled at them as they entered but it was tight, his mind clearly working on the reason they were there. “How can I help Storybrooke’s favourite policemen? I assume you aren’t here to inspect my wares?”

“No not really,” David explained as they stood at the counter in front of Gold. “Your employee Charles Teach failed to turn up for his court date.”

“Oh really,” Gold said with little enthusiasm.

“Really and we were hoping you could enlighten us as to his whereabouts?”

“I wouldn’t know,” not bothering to even look up.

Emma was getting a little exasperated with his answers, “Isn’t he your employee? Does he not have to turn up for work?”.

Some of her impatience leaked into her tone which Gold appeared to relish, “He took some leave when the whole incident occurred. I haven’t seen him since his bail hearing.”

“Where you put up his bail money?” David noted, “Not worried about getting it back?”

Gold fixed him with a sardonic smile, “I have every faith that you will find Mr Teach so my investment won’t be totally wasted.”

“You don’t seem to care,” Emma remarked. He wasn’t worried at all, calm confidence oozed from his very pores. I made her want to hit him.

Gold shook his head turning to look busy with some paper on the counter behind him, “You are mistaken, I very much care about getting my money back. I don’t particularly care about Mr Teach. He was proving to be a shoddy worker lately, causing fights and almost damaging my property.” He tutted for emphasis, “He certainly wouldn’t have got employee of the month.”

Emma frowned, “Well if you hear anything from him, please let us know.”

“I truly will, you are in sore need of a win deputy.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, “And why is that?”

He pouted slightly for a moment before continuing his words slow, “Just whispers I hear, I’m sure its nothing. But there are rumours you might be poking a sleeping dragon as it were, using sheriffs resources for personal vendettas.”

David’s eyes went wide as he took in the brazen nature of Gold’s suggestion, Emma gave him a small smile then replied calmly. “Not sure what whispers you have been hearing Gold. I only ever do my job, I work hard to keep this town safe from criminals and I think you will find that every one of my actions can be backed up should someone question their motives.”

There was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, quickly smothered. “That is reassuring to hear.”

Emma turned to leave followed by David, she resisted the urge to scream that she was on to him at the door, instead calmly walking across the road to the station. David was quiet but she could see the rage written clearly across his features, when they got to the stairs out of sight of the road Emma simply put a hand on his arm. He let out a breath, “How dare he?”

She cut him off with a shake of her head, “We knew he knew about Neal. But to be perfectly honest I have no idea if he knows about the rest.”

Emma climbed the stairs, she looked around at the top. This case was making her paranoid, she couldn’t sweep for listening devices every day. She bit her lip looking around just to make sure there wasn’t anything glaringly obvious, “I think he thinks I’m just checking out an ex without any reason to.”

David nodded slowly, “You can’t be sure though.”

“Of course not, but I don’t have a vendetta against Gold.” Emma shrugged, “I have never been anything but nice to him, never pushed because I know what sort of man he is.”

It seemed to satisfy David somewhat, it didn’t satisfy her but in the end it didn’t matter. If Gold thought she was fixated on Neal he wouldn’t see her coming for him, even if he did though they had plenty going for their investigation. She couldn’t do anything else about it at the moment, instead she pulled out her phone. “I am going to get lunch,” she announced shooting off a text to Killian on the off chance he was free.

David frowned, “Now?”

“We have no other leads, until we get his phone records back or find his car. He was a loner except for drinking himself to oblivion at the Rabbit hole. I will question the guys there after lunch.” She smiled as Killian replied quickly with a yes, “Plus I am hungry and we are not at all flustered by our conversation with Mr Gold... say it with me.”

“We are not at all flustered by our conversation with Mr Gold,” David parroted back like a petulant child.

“Good, well I will see you after lunch and a quick interrogation.”

He nodded, “you still on for dinner? Mary-Margaret says she misses you.”

“Mhmm, she’s just taking Henry after school right?” David nodded. “Well then I will just go straight to your place when we finish.”

David was a little appeased and Emma grabbed her bag and left. Killian was a little late, which wasn’t surprising given the late notice. She took the time to start writing up notes from today. He arrived smiling but looking a little apologetic, “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long love.”

He kissed her on the cheek quickly before sitting down, a small gesture so casually given but which nevertheless made her blush. “Not long at all, I only texted about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Its bad form to keep a lady waiting.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Good thing I am not a lady then,” Emma laughed. 

He leant across the table as if sharing a great secret, “I think you are selling yourself short there. But I have always loved a fiery wench if the occasion calls for it.” The wink he gave her was so outrageous she dissolved into laughter. 

As if it was a completely foreign sound the whole diner turned to look at them, Emma noticed and tried to calm herself down. Killian frowned, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked honestly, cocking her head.

“Censor yourself. You don’t ever want to appear to be enjoying yourself in public, its not a judgement Emma. Maybe its some secret sheriff thing.” He winced a little worrying if he had overstepped.

She smiled looking at her hands on her lap, “Its a carefully constructed image Killian, tough as nails single mother who will kick their asses and doesn’t take any shit. Laughing in front of the populace with an attractive man doesn’t quite fit that mould.” 

“I’m going to ignore the compliment designed to distract me... You afraid of breaking your cover?” He said it cheekily but there was a serious undercurrent to the question.

She looked up and realised he understood exactly what she meant. She was disarmed for a second stripped of the armour she used to protect herself, “I’ve spent my whole life trying to control how people see me, like a protection so they can’t hurt me. Until recently every time I was stupid enough to let if down I got hurt, until I came here. But even then its just in private, you make me forget, I guess I trust you.”

Killian gulped, shit what had she just done. Panic began to fill her then Killian grabbed her hand, “I will do my best not to break that trust, not sure if I deserve it but I won’t let you down.”

Emma nodded relief flooding her, “You better not.” She tried to say it casually but it came out a little shaky.

They sat there like that, Emma was unsure whether normal people had this milestone in a relationship. What do you call it when you start to believe that the person you are dating actually likes you, won’t tear you apart given half the chance. It wasn’t until Ruby coughed to get their attention that she realised she had honest-to-god been staring into his eyes for way too long like some lovesick teenager, the shit-eating grin on Ruby’s face suggested that it wasn’t just her. 

They ordered and thankfully kept it light after that, but for once Emma didn’t censor herself. She smiled, she laughed because as their food arrived she had put a name to this milestone in her head as she looked at her boyfriend sitting across from her. As Emma left she even gave him a peck on the lips chuckling as she walked over to the rabbit hole, why break one rule when you can break them all?

[survivorwakea]

Episode 8: “from now on i’m doing whatever the fuck I want.” - Asya

kind of a good thing i didnt vote this round because people dont know where i stand in everything

it seems to be facebook vs tumblr but fuck that bc i genuinely dont trust most of the tumblr people and id hope that if i jump on the facebook train that they'll take me into their community AND into their alliance if i become sheepy enough and stop socializing with people so i seem like an ftc goat. lets see what happens :)

I JUST WANNA REALLY QUICKLY RIGHT NOW APOLOGISE TO ELMO FOR THE LONG ASS CONFESSIONAL I MADE A FEW DAYS AGO WHEN I DOUBTED HIM. I WAS VERY VERY PARANOID AND THOUGHT LITERALLY EVERYONE IN THIS GAME WAS GONNA BE AGAINST ME AND I THOUGHT ELMO WAS PROBABLY GONNA BE IN THERE AS WELL JUST TO BE PETTY BECAUSE IM A DUMB BITCH OKAY I FEEL REALLY FUCKING BAD ABOUT IT ELMO PLEASE DO NOT HATE ME I ADORE U SO SO MUCH OH MY GOD

i’m like genuinely irritated lmao like i can’t even talk to these people i’m so mad.

i felt so bad lying to chloe and writing her name down when i genuinely just wanted to work with her in the merge. and these fucking Freaks were so sure that lily and anabel would vote her and it would be fine so i said okay. then what happened? one of those two flipped. i should’ve voted lily last night just to send a message. from now on i’m doing whatever the fuck i want cause fuck these people

Omgggggggg. I’m livinggggggggg. After completely flopping the last round I’m just so happy that I know That I’m safe. I’m trying to figure out how to navigate the rest of the game and I think it’s about damn time that I get an alliance going. Or at least have myself talk with everyone and make sure we can agree on a vote because if I’m in the minority again and either Johnny or Jared go home I’m a goner. I’m really hoping I can find a way to work with Elmo and Ben for the rest of the game as well. I think if I could be in an alliance with all of them I may just be able to make it far in this game. Also Chloe I’m sorry for voting for you last round. It’s honestly because of how iconic you are and I hope you can forgive me Queen.

WHEW what a night this has been. Ben decides to make an alliance chat with me, Elmo, Zack and Justin. Okay sure I guess this is happening now. We all be sharing idol guesses with him as well. It's called Anabel's angels, which is kinda funny since she's not in it but apparently Ben does not trust her to not leak it. I also had Jared speak to me and say he wont come for me this round if I don't go for him, I mean sure, I wasn't gonna go for you yet anyway so if this helps to take the target off me for once then fine. But he also mentioned that he spoke to Ben who said he wanted to work with me, which led Jared to say he would be open to as well. It leaves me questioning the bond between Jared and Ben. Not something I'm going to freak about just yet, but will be kept in mind. And I also had a chat with Zack about how I feel I'm being overshadowed a bit right now and a bit stuck. Justin is definitely in a power position right now and I think he knows, everyone sort of knows it, just no one from the alliance really wants to say it out of fear that he will then target him. I do think Justin needs to go soon, he's far too much of a threat the closer the end gets and I feel he definitely will be one of the first to at least attempt to make a move. I feel my first move should be to turn on Justin and if I pitch myself right I really think I could get it to work. Shame though because as a person I adore him, I just don't want him to start running this show too much and then be left scrambling to try to get him out near the end. To finish it all off, Lily has messaged me and said she wants to work with me this round after being totally inactive today. She gave a not fantastic apology compared to the others and did not give me a single reason as to why she voted me. Asya, yet to message me. @ both of them ~ hit the bricks bitch.

I wanna say that I'm really glad for Elmo, Zack and Ben and the fact I know them all. I had a not fantastic time today but tonight we called nd played some roblox, or at least I listened to them because my roblox wouldn't connect. I had so much fun and I feel it did bring us closer as a group and it was something I really needed. So ya I love these guys so so much, they deserve the world and I hope we have more roblox calls to come <3 <3 <3

https://soundcloud.com/bodhi-small/week8/s-0GitL

honestly feeling like my number is up. i don’t know i just have that icky feeling that i’m joining joey tonight.

i threw around the idea of throwing johnny utb to save my own skin, since he was very Loud last round abt his legacy advantage (which i’m starting to think he didn’t? actually? play? idk i wasn’t at tribal but i watched part of it and i don’t think there was any indication that he played the advantage) but idk how to feel about that. like if i did it would purely be out of self preservation, and not with the hope that he’d will me the advantage he may or may not have faked playing the other night. but anyways i don’t see myself lasting long regardless with the way things are. in a more fluid merge i’d be less worried, but i feel like there are capital s Sides and i’m on the wrong one

and chloe will have definitely told her allies i’m a lying rat by now. i wish i could talk to her but i’m Baby and if anyone is just a little bit mean to me right now i will legit burst into tears

my people still don’t have a name and honestly i don’t have one to throw out. the last time i did i was wholly ignored and it blew up in our faces. now that person has immunity and we don’t have the numbers. i don’t know i cant think about this anymore or i’m gonna concuss myself

"Hey Elmo? wanna vote Bodhi?"

"Not yet"

Oh we doing this again. I see you.

ugh. it's getting to the point where i literally can't deal with these people anymore. even the people i'm working with are getting on my damn near last nerve. the only person i've talked to about how i'm genuinely feeling, is chloe. i can't tell elmo and justin how i'm feeling because it's clear as day at how close they are and it's even more clear about how close they are with people outside of our alliance. and i'm glad when i talked to chloe, she felt the same way. everyone we're aligned with are so vocal and want to be in power so it's gonna clash soon i feel like. i don't want elmo and justin to think they're controlling everything and think i'm gonna just be in the background. i will be in the background for this vote though because it seems like justin is the one being in everyone's pm's trying to figure out how they're voting. and hopefully i'm not the only one who see's that and people start to realize how power hungry he really is. so i'll let him do all that right now and let him pick this vote and then when the time comes, people can think he was running it all and if it needs to be done, i'll drop hints here and there about it. i can't help but feel some typa way because i'm seeing it all with my own eyes and i don't think i'm over thinking it. elmo is close with jared and probably has multiple side deals. elmo and justin are closer then they're putting off. justin and johnny are close and justin seems to be trying to talk to everyone so.. all i know is, i need to start making side deals and talking to a lot of other people, and chloe agrees she's gonna do the same. so after this round, i think we're gonna try and get 2 step aheads and start focusing on the future of this game so we can try and have one over on them.. because i know this isn't gonna last.

haha so remember when i lied to jared and bodhi and asya and lily and voted joey out.. well.. perhaps i am now lying to elmo and ben and justin and zack and chloe and voting justin

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why am i LYING so much in this game. is it impossible for me to just. be HONEST. apparently it is bc there’s not one person ive been completely honest w... even johnny..... oopsies!!!!!

sorry this is a short one but everyone has agreed on asya but im almost like sure that its a fake plan and im NOT SURE IF I SHOULD PLAY MY IDOL OR NOT BECAUSE IM SO WORRIED HISDFHISDF BUT I DONT WANNA MISPLAY IT? I ALSO DONT THINK THEY SHOULD BE COMING FOR ME...

god im nervous jsdfoij

This is a last minute confessional im legit at tribal rn I think im going home. it was too quiet all day and I dislike what Bodhi has just said. I feel uncomfortable and sick. If I go home then I go home but I will be a bitter jury member.

this vote was going to be ben, but i tried to get it to split. ive workede pretty hard at this and maybe it’ll work.

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Justin is voted out 7-4. He becomes the second member of the jury.