#i said i wouldn't elaborate further but look at these tags

[jungle-angel]

The One Where They Go To Florida: Part 1 (Frat!Rhett x Reader)

Summary: What happens when 70+ frat boys decide to take a vacation to Florida during Spring Break? The adventure of a lifetime

Warnings: Dumb frat boy shenanigans, mentions of a sexual incident with an apple pie, Rhett giving the newbies some sex ed lessons etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @callmemana @bradleybeachbabe @rhettabbotts

"Alrighty boys," Rhett said, pacing up and down the row of pledges who were seated before him. "First thing's first, Spring Break is the most important part of Greek Life and therefore it is critical that ya'll pay attention."

A few of them scratched a few notes in the notebooks they had been given while Rhett continued.

"Our destination this year?" Rhett continued, turning to the portable chalkboard behind him. "Florida Keys, the ultimate spring break destination for snowbird college students. Now mind you, you will very quickly see why this earned the nickname, Florida Fuckfest."

"Um.....Professor Abbott? Can you expand a little further on this?" one of the pledges chuckled.

"Oh thank you Toby, I'm actually glad you asked," Rhett answered, trying to keep it together. "The term was coined in 1984 by a former Delta Tau member after witnessing the usual spring break bacchanalia in Miami. Many, many things thoroughly fucked that year including a flagpole and........a warm apple pie."

Rhett and the others shuddered at the memory of the apple pie incident.......wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened in the Delta Tau house.

"Now I know most of ya'll probably have never made it with a girl before," Rhett elaborated. "Ain't no shame in that, your big brothers were once there before too. But we're here to get ya'll ready for the royal shithouse mess that is this trip. Kayce?"

Kayce stood up from the window seat and hauled out of the living room closet, everything that would be needed for the demonstration.

"Alrighty boys," Kayce said. "Ya'll got the Delta Tau sex manuals?"

The boys held up their manuals, save for poor Oliver Scott who was still slightly engrossed in it.

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

You poor little dude you," Rhett chuckled, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "If ya'll haven't memorized that by now, you're a lost cause."

Oliver gave him a slightly sheepish look through the heavy duty lenses of his glasses.

"We'll getcha there," Rhett promised him. "Don't worry, ya'll just need some extra help."

Rhett and Kayce set up a few mannequins in the living room, each one with a black lace bra and matching panties on it. No one had any idea what they were in for, only that they were being prepared for something that every Delta Tau would be faced with in the days leading up to spring break.

"Alright hotshots," Kayce said to the pledges. "Your training for Florida Fuckfest starts now. Your goal is to get the bras off these mannequins in less than thirty seconds, GO!!!"

The pledges each rushed for a mannequin, trying with all the speed they could muster to unhook the bras on the mannequins. Rhett and Kayce cheered them on, urging them to go faster and to not knock the mannequins to the floor. The oldest of the pledges had the best time, getting it off in less than fifteen seconds.

"Looks like ya'll did pretty good," Rhett remarked, eyeing their handwork. "But remember, ya'll will be handling real girls and what ya'll do with a dummy, you cannot do with a woman. Remember that."

The next task was a little less than pleasant, a little lesson that every pledge and college student in general feared.

"Alright boys," Rhett said to the pledges. "General rule of sex ed?"

"Wrap it before you tap it," the pledges answered.

"Always, always, always," Rhett reiterated. "Till one or more o' ya'll are married, absolutely no raw doggin and if ya'll happen to be gay, Foster will tell you the same thing. A.......that shit hurts like hell for some people and B........ya'll don't wanna risk anything unseemly or knockin your partner up."

It was all too apparent that the pledges were nervous as hell, even as they looked at the little wooden holders each containing a cucumber and a wrapped condom next to it.

"Your task, should you choose to accept it," Rhett informed them. "Will be to unwrap the condom and have it around the cucumber, same timing as before. In most cases ya'll might have less than that......so get to it my pretties."

Kayce started the timer and the boys hurried to get the condoms out of the wrapper and onto the ends of the cucumbers. It wasn't easy at all, some of them being put on backwards, some a little too small or some a little too clumsy for their own good.

As soon as the time was up, Rhett went up and down the line, inspecting their work. "Think we're gonna have to spend some extra time on this," he concluded.

The boys went through each and every lewd task as Kayce and Rhett each made a note of who had done well and who needed work. "Poor Oliver, dude," Rhett chuckled as he marked off the scores on a sheet. "This kid's strugglin real bad."

"Think he'll be able to make it in time?" Kayce asked. "I mean not all of'em did too bad."

Rhett sighed and ran his hands over his face. "We've got a long way to go," he said.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #kayce dutton #frat!rhett #frat!rhett abbott #outer range #outer range x yellowstone crossover

[novaethecosplayer]

Dabi x Botanist!Reader: Dating

Masterlist

When you turn the corner to open your shop you find that a bouquet is waiting on the checkout counter. Which usually wouldn't be an odd thing to see in your shop, since you tend to prepare bouquets that need to be picked up early the next morning the night prior. What does strike you as odd is that you don't remember making nor setting this one out. You move to the bouquet to inspect it. You see that it is made of flowers within your shop. You find roses, carnations, orchids, camellias, and peonies arranged in an nearly unorganized fashion. Curiously, you tilt your head at the display of flowers in a vase of your favorite color. Then you see a small to/from card sticking out from under the vase. You pull it out from under the vase carefully and read the messy handwriting.

"For you, (y/n).

 -Dabi"

You giggle at the picture of a flame drawn next to his name. But you can't ignore how your heart pounds at the sight of a heart encompassing your name. What is he trying to convey?

Looking back up at the flowers, you think of their meanings. Roses mean romance. Carnations mean fascination, healing, or strength. Orchids mean luxury. Peonies are for beauty. Finally, camellias stand for love, affection, and admiration.

Was Dabi trying to flirt with you through flowers that you grew? A flutter of excitement ran through you as you thought of his possible declaration of love. You smile at the bouquet before adding a "Not for Sale" tag to it and placing the arrangement on your checkout countertop--wanting to see it throughout the day.

You turn on your neon sign and unlock the door as you open up shop for the day; thankful Dabi used his spare key to lock it on his way out after creating your surprise.

The day passed as normal and when it came close to closing, Dabi wanted in. Your stomach once again fluttered with excitement. 

"Lock up, will you?" You spoke but as the words tumbled out of your mouth the blue from your sign turned off and the lock of the door could be heard. "Thanks." You added, shortly after smiling over at him as you brush off your hands of the dirt you just handled within your plant pots. You could hear him chuckle at your request and appreciation.

"'Ts no problem, flower." He replied as he walked further into your shop, closer to you. His hands shoved in his pockets. You laughed at the nickname he's been calling you for months now. Dabi tried desperately to not glance at the bouquet he had arranged for you. He didn't want to bring it up. Move past it. But you had other ideas.

"Loved your surprise this morning." You said as he neared you, finally turning fully to him after rinsing off your hands from the dirt.

"Don't mention it." He replied casually.

"You know what those flowers mean?" You glanced up at him through your eyelashes as you asked the question; excited yet afraid of his answer.

"Nah." He replied with a shrug, avoiding your gaze. He could feel the healthy part of his skin heat up in a blush.

"Love." You tell him, waiting with a hitched breath for his reaction.

"That so?" He asked, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Glad that he did look at you because you're fidgeting as you stare at him so openly. You're nervous. As nervous as he is. He felt comforted by that notion.

"Yeah. Came down stairs to a declaration of love." You elaborated. "Is that what you meant to say?"

Didn't mean to say anything is what wants to come from his mouth. It's just flowers could also tumble past his lips. Can't a friend do somethin' for ya bubbles in his throat. But instead, "Y-yeah" sneaks out of his lips and his heart starts hammering. You giggle. He's ready to turn, run, and never come back.

"Thought so." You say as you step closer to him. You hand on his cheek and your lips find his other cheek. He allows the peck as his mind processes the information.

"I don't…disgust you?" He finds himself asking, despite wanting to stay silent.

"No." You reply softly, "I think you're charming and handsome." You tell him as you pluck a carnation from a nearby plant. Then you turn to him once again and place it behind his ear.

Dabi can feel his heart beating against his ribcage. "So…you.. wanna be my flower now?" He asked, unsure how to ask someone if they wanted to date. This is foreign territory for him. Love is not something he is familiar with. Never had been. Yet here he is offering it anyways and hoping for it in return.

"Naturally, my love." 

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #x reader

[kingofdarkness00]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you very much for the tag, @anewkindofme! 💙

It was a bit of a tough decision to make on which of my thousands of WIPs to choose from lmao, but here's a sneak peek of the next installment of A Bright Life:

A worried frown marred Gil's face as he watched Malcolm from his office window.

The consultant sat at his desk, working on the last of his paperwork from the Tatiana case, and looking far more exhausted than what was normal for Malcolm. If Gil were being honest with himself, the kid looked terrible. His usually lively, shimmering blue eyes were dull and glazed over, and if the pink flush on his cheeks and the light sheen of sweat that clung to his forehead was anything to go by, he was likely suffering from a fever. It also didn't escape Gil's notice how Malcolm would grimace in obvious pain whenever he put too much pressure on the palm of his bandaged hand. When Gil had asked him about it, Malcolm just said he accidentally cut himself on some broken glass and (like always) had refused to elaborate any further than that. It was unfortunately becoming abundantly clear to Gil that Malcolm may have not been caring for the wound in the way he should have been.

Gil peered down at his watch to check the time. They still had two hours of their shift left to go, but Gil had already gotten done with his paperwork, and he highly doubted Malcolm was even going to have enough energy or strength to finish his own. There wouldn't be any harm in leaving a couple of hours early.

With his mind made up, Gil gathered his paperwork into a neat stack before pushing himself away from his desk and standing. He grabbed his long, grey coat from where it hung on the back of his chair and slid it on. The lieutenant then picked up the stack of papers before snagging his son's own coat off the couch on his way towards the door. However, when he opened it, he was met by one of his detectives–who wore a worried expression similar to his own.

"Hey, Dani," he greeted. "I was just going to go drag Malcolm away from his desk and head out a bit early for the night. Did you need something, though?"

"Well, he's actually what I came to talk to you about. JT was going to go on a coffee run, so I went to go ask Bright if he wanted anything, but before I could even get close enough to ask, he bolted towards the bathrooms."

Gil turned his head to look through the blinds of the window once more. Sure enough, Malcolm was nowhere in sight.

"He really didn't look well, Gil. He hasn't all evening." Dani sighed. "I'm worried. He looked fine this morning, but it's like a switch flipped once the sun went down, and he suddenly looked like death rolled over."

Gil looked back at her and said, "Yeah, I noticed that, too. I'm pretty sure he's had a fever since the nightclub."

The kid may have been able to act like everything was fine during Joey and Axel's arrest–like he wasn't overheating in his coat and swaying on his feet after the fact–but Gil knew better. There was almost nothing his son could hide from him, especially when it came to his health.

"He did look pretty sweaty after we got back. And the temp outside isn't exactly scorching."

"I have a feeling he hasn't been taking proper care of that cut on his hand and now might have an infection. It would definitely explain the fever and what I'm not assuming the nausea." Gil exhaled a deep, heavy sigh. "I thought about just taking him back home with me and cleaning his cut myself and giving him some ibuprofen, but I'm starting to think a trip to Urgent Care would be a safer bet."

"Here, let me take those for you–" Dani gestured for him to hand over the stack of papers in the crook of his arm, which he gladly did–"Go take care of Bright."

"Thank you." Gil gave her a small but grateful smile. "I promise I'll keep you posted on his condition," he added, already knowing the answer to the question she didn't voice out loud.

"I would appreciate that. Thanks," she replied, returning his smile before turning and walking away to turn his reports in.

Gil quickly made his way in the opposite direction of the men's room, trying not let his mind conjure up worse case scenarios of what he might find when he got there. No matter what condition or state of mind he found his kid in, Gil had to keep a level head and not allow his worries to pull him from the here and now.

Without a second of hesitation, the lieutenant pushed the bathroom door in once he finally arrived. He looked over at the stalls, gaze immediately zoning in on the only stall door that was partially closed. Setting his son's coat down on a dry section of the sink's counter, Gil walked over to the stall.

"Malcolm?" Gil softly called out as he drew closer, not wanting to startle the younger man or make him think he was someone else.

The only response he received was a groan from inside the stall.

Tagging (if ya wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @thegoeticcleric and @snarkythewoecrow

#tag game #prodigal son #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #dani powell #agere fanfiction #agere fandom #age regression #fanfiction #sneak peek #my fanfiction

[aotaku12]

"𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮, 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈"

✧ Summary | Ever since Fischl was shown on the Midnight Channel, Mona has been egging them on to rescue her as fast as possible. Despite the risks and dangers, the Investigation team obliges.

✧ Warning | References and Spoilers to the Day 3 Summer Fantasia Event (Immernachtreich Apokalypse)

✧ Additional Tags/Notes | Modern AU (No Visions), Persona 4 AU, Lumine as the MC, Persona 4 Gameplay Referenced, Minor Mona x Fischl

✧ Word Count | 1k+

✧ Author's Notes | Yep, this was made because (like many others) I saw similarities with Fischl's Domain and Persona 4. I will be using P4 game terminology so for those unfamiliar, I put a guide below (I tried my best to explain in simple terms). As for the shadows I'll be using Persona 4 Golden Stats. I didn't change much of the canon dialogue at the end because it's already fitting!

✧ Persona Terminology Guide | Persona = The Manifestation of one's self ; Dungeon = Domain ; Velvet Room = A Special Room only for those "worthy", the room is used to further develop Personas ; TaP Soda = Item used to Restore SP ; Zio = Electro ; Shadow = The Manifestation of one's negative traits/emotions.

"Come, Asteria!" Mona's Persona appears behind her as she summons several stars orbiting Mona. She closed her eyes in concentration and picks the star that belonged to Fischl. Upon touching the star, it heads off in the direction to Fischl's Dungeon. The Investigation Team follows it and they find themselves in front of a Castle. "Woah..." They say in awe, but before they could comment any further, a voice suddenly speaks. 

"Five adventurers from across the land has stumbled upon the gates of the Immernachtreich. A fallen kingdom awaits them, for they are about to explore, the Hymn of the Holy Land." 

"A narrator huh? It...somehow fits her." Xinyan stated. "I often find her in the library, so it makes sense." Kazuha added. "Well Lumine, ready to go?" Paimon asks. Lumine glances at the Velvet Room door but decides to check her Personas first. Once she was finished she nods, "Ready."

"Ugh! Why are there so many ravens!?" Paimon cries out as they take a break. "At least it's on theme...?" Xinyan says, trying to reassure her. "We're still on the first few floors, we shouldn't let our guards down." Kazuha stated.

"But Paimon was expecting for us to all fight! Lumine's been doing all the work..." Paimon frowned. "It's okay Paimon, I stocked up on some items so it's going to be fine!" Lumine pats her head as she held TaP Soda on her other hand. "It's kind of unlucky of us to have groups of enemies weak to Zio. Not sayin' Kazuha, Paimon and I can't use our normal attacks but..." Xinyan didn't elaborate any further.

Mona was busy in the corner, analyzing the dungeon with her persona. "Hm...that's strange, it says we have about...30 floors!?" She gasps. "WHAT!?" Paimon exclaims. "I know this is a castle but it's far too many for us to take care in less than a week." Xinyan stated. "Might I suggest we take another few floors and then leave for the day?" Kazuha said. "Yeah, that's fine." 

"Sorry everyone, I'm just worried about her." Mona sighed. "It's okay. Because of the camping trip, we couldn't get to her sooner." Lumine said in reassurance. "Yeah, don't sweat it!" Xinyan added.

The fog was getting nearer and all of them had to push themselves due to the amount of floors and puzzles there are. If this were their usual run-through, they wouldn't have to do this. 

"This is the last floor! Everyone, are you ready?" Mona asks. Everyone gave their nods of approval before opening the door. "Library? Why are we inside a library?" Mona asked. "Shouldn't it be like...the Princess' bedroom or something?" Xinyan added. "Hey! It's Fischl!" Paimon cried out as they all rushed towards her.

"My dear retainers! How long hast it been since I've seen another soul?" Fischl said in relief. "Fischl? Shouldn't you have met your Shadow...?" Kazuha asked. They all looked around to find her Shadow and Lumine spotted a person standing on higher ground at the distance. "Over there!" Everyone turned to where Lumine pointed.

"So you must be the so-called Shadow my retainers have been looking for. The useless and cowardly Prinzessin." Fischl glared at her shadow. "Hmph. How laughable. What gives you the impression that you can defeat me? You should know over the past few days I've seen all your fear and trepidation." the Shadow scoffed. "So, have you come to surrender to me, little Amy?"

"Amy?" Paimon looked at Fischl in confusion. "Now's not the time for questions." Kazuha whispered. "Ugh...you..!" Fischl clenched her fists in anger.

"I shall inform you that the Immernachtreich is a place with no way out." the Shadow stated. "What do you mean? Is not the Immernachtreich a sacred land of liberty and theater?" Fischl asked. "You are gravely mistaken if you presume the Immernachtreich to be some kind of amusement park. Listen closely...this place is a tomb for those who cannot face reality." 

Fischl staggers back in shock, "A tomb...?"

"You of all people should know about this. Why does it always rain in the Immernachtreich? Why isn't there any music in this so-called paradise?" the Shadow asked. "Because of you! It's all because of you!" Fischl cried out. "Ahahaha...How pathetic! No, dearest Amy, not I, are the one responsible for all of this! You dreamed up a vast kingdom, but you can't bear it's weight. Swayed by fear, you can't face the very world you've created. You may try to avoid it but the fact is: You can't change yourself."

"You...! You..!" 

"GAH!? Fischl, no! Don't say it!" Paimon cried out, trying to stop her from saying the forbidden words. But to everyone's surprise, she said something different "You're right...I can't face reality. I discarded my own name in favor for a Princess I dreamed to be!" 

"You're right- Wait, HUH!?" It seemed like the Shadow wasn't expecting it either, but collected herself, "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You think I can simply be swayed by words alone? Amy...you are a weak fool who doesn't deserve to be in this world. Begone." the Shadow summons several shadows to fight them.

"If I can't persuade you with words alone...Then I shall go onto your level!" Fischl declared. "Fischl, stay by me. We don't want you getting hurt." Mona held Fischl closely by her. "O-Okay then..." Her face became tinted with pink by the action. "C'mon everyone! Let's get her up there!" Xinyan exclaimed, taking out her claymore. 

"Impossible! how did you make it through that nightmarish library...Stand down!" the Shadow demanded. But Fischl ignores her words and walks up to her, "Do you still think I'm going to lose?" 

"You...!" Now it was the Shadow's time to be pissed. 

"You looked down on me. You thought I was a worthless coward. And yes, I did use to be like that because...I am someone who can't face reality, who spends all day daydreaming and can't cope with setbacks or criticisms. The world I have created...the Immernachtreich, that is the source of my power, my imagination! And yes I am a coward! Fischl isn't some princess I dreamed of becoming anymore...I AM Fischl! This is MY kingdom and I want it back!" 

Deafening silence surrounds the room, the Investigation Team had their weapons out just in case the worst-case scenario happens...but it doesn't.

"Hmph. I'm glad that you understand now..." the Shadow's voice wasn't spitting with venom and arrogance anymore, it was comforting. In a flash of blue light, the Shadow turned into a Persona known as Ozvaldo von Hrafnavins.

"Oz huh..." Fischl says in awe, "Well Fischl can't be without Oz after...all..."

"FISCHL!!!" The team cries out as Fischl collapsed. Luckily, Mona was able to catch her head before it hit the floor. "Phew. Paimon got worried." She sighed in relief. "I'll carry her when we head back." Kazuha offered. "Thank you Kazuha." Mona nods her approval. "Well, despite the time constraint, I'd say we did pretty well!" Xinyan exclaimed. "Let's go home everyone." Lumine summons a Goho-M to return.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #genshin fischl #fischl von luftschloss narfidort #genshin mona #mona megistus #genshin xinyan #genshin kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin lumine #genshin paimon #persona 4 x genshin impact #genshin summer fantasia

[shslpunkartist99]

Punk I'm sorry but Babi was on my mind when I read your recent post's tags and the first thing to come to mind is Babi getting accidentally spooked by Tsuri.

I'm actually really intrigued and would like to know if you're willing to elaborate more, it's just unfortunate timing to read that while I was in the middle of thinking up some silly shenanigans that Babi finds themselves unwittingly pulled into. 😂

I'm gonna presume you're intrigued about my post and not about Tsuri accidentally intimidating Babi, so hooo boy prepare for rambleeee

Idk if I mentioned it before, but Tsuri comes from a very rich business family. All his lineage cared about was power and money. Everything was seen as value, as numbers. This included the children

Tsuri had many siblings, but they were all created to be part of the business. They got the highest education and mannerism, as well as were given a personal maid and butler to help further their development, but if they weren't "up to par", they were "thrown away". Tsuri wasn't close to his siblings because of this, only with his servants (who he never saw them as such, but rather as teachers, as well as the closest to friends he'll have)

When he learned that his parents planned to get rid of him when he was 13, his maid and butler actually cared more for his well being than the parents ("Our job was to raise and protect his wellbeing, so we're doing just that"), so they helped him escape. It was rough living afterwards, but he eventually grew up.. with a growing hatred for parents that never intended to be ACTUAL parents

He snapped when he saw a man yelling and roughly dragging his young daughter away. Grabbed a rusty pipe and beat the man to death. Not a word was exchanged between him and the girl, and he ran away after realizing what he did.

Thus beginning his life as Tsuri, the serial killer who hunts down abusive parents

A n y w a y

Even with him getting a name for himself and him becoming more an adult, there was always the one target he swore to kill, but was internally too afraid to go after: his own parents. Of course they'd be on top of the list, what with their common practice being the death of their own children. But as any trauma does, anytime he thought of them, he thought of them always bigger than him, glaring down at him.. he couldn't help but freeze up. However, after growing stronger by being Leroy's bodyguard, he eventually found the strength to finally go after them, so he would be ready the next day..

Only for them to turn out dead

A homocidal attack? A suicide? He didn't know. He just knew, just as he was preparing in the morning, there was news of his family dead. He was stunned, couldn't believe his eyes. His parents died.. how bittersweet. He didn't miss them at all, but he took too long to be ready to handle them himself..

But that was it. There was nothing he could do. He didn't want any clarity nor answers. He didn't feel unfulfilled. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but at least they were dead. No more of that family. His only family would be his maid and butler (who were still around, just in their own ways of hiding in plain sight), and Leroy, his partner.

.. well, not really "no more of that family".

Leroy was given tickets to a photography showing, courtesy of Poppy (it was a date gift, but alas, her 2 day relationship ended in, well, 2 days), so he convinced Tsuri to come with him. The exhibit was very pretty, with beautiful shots at unique angles that you wouldn't get from generation. Even Tsuri, who wasn't interested at first, was intrigued a bit.

Until he saw one photograph: a photo that looked eerily similar to his bedroom as a child. Title: Loss, by Natalia G.

"Victor..?"

That name.. he hasn't heard that name in over 10 years. Eyes wide, he slowly looked over to the woman that said that name. Long purple hair. Tall and slim figure. Dull purple gray eyes.. just like his.

".. do I know you..?"

".. wow.. they were right. I wouldn't recognize you by name nor appearance, but by your eyes.."

Subtly looking around, she moved closer and whispered, "It's me, Flora.. your sister. I go by Natalia now though. Follow me, we'll talk somewhere private."

#THIS TURNED WAY LONGER THAN INTENDED #felt like I was about to write an actual fic #Leroy's lost in the end lol #Tsuri #It'sALongReadSorry-- #I can keep going too-- #Punk Posts #Punk Writes #yes Tsuri's name is actually Victor #it was all a disguise

[bloodcrosses]

im sorry i just read the tag that said you wouldnt elaborate any further on cdan

Hi anon, I don't mind giving a broad summary of it: he repeats lies from alt-right assholes accusing anyone Jewish, gay or POC and progressive of crimes. It's sick. His followers go around repeating these and I've seen even more reasonable places taking some of them seriously. The Weinstein stuff he got credit for by press outlets was stolen from Datalounge and Usenet. He's a complete fraud and shill for literal Nazis to spread poison. I know people have debunked him and tried to get the press outlets who sang his praises to look again, and they wouldn't. It's not right and I snapped because I hate seeing people slandered in such cruel ways. It is so wrong, and I got particularly upset seeing him do this.

#anons #cdan #enty lawyer #is a total and utter piece of shit

[nolanell]

At The Museum Headcannons

The awesome @max--phillips made the meme below, and being an History of Art graduate, I wrote some headcannons for it.

For this piece, Oberyn is Modern!Oberyn / Pero is Modern!Pero / Din Djarin is SecurityGuard!Din

Lots of clickable links in this as I have linked to the artists and artworks referenced. Big thank you to @getlostbobby for an amazing idea for Max Phillips!

Dave York: You were surprised at how receptive to the idea he was. You had honestly thought he'd encourage you to go, but without him. And yet here he was, with you. He was looking at the techniques used, marveling over feathery paint strokes Rembrandt used for hair, the dramatic light and shadow of Caravaggio, and the paint application of Courbet. Dave seems to appreciate anything where a noticeable technique has been used, and he is particularly taken with anything that shows off the skill of the painter. He surprises you even further when he starts talking readily about symbolism in art and the conventions he sees in different artworks. As you're leaving, he tells you that he loves 'The Ambassadors' by Holbein and would like to come back as he could stare at it for hours.

Marcus Pike: He was so excited when you asked him to come with you. He'd been wanting to go for ages, but didn't want you to think he was asking you on a date that was 'something he wanted to do' or that he was going and you were there just to tag along. He was genuinely interested in everything that was in the collection, but was equally as interested in what you thought about each piece. He never got annoyed at any of your questions and was eager to have a conversation about art with you. He noted he thought you had an interesting perspective on a lot of the pieces that he hadn't thought of, and he excitedly explained you had given him some insight that had never occurred to him. As you queued up in the gift shop you asked what his favourite piece was, and he laughed and said he couldn't pick just one.

Ezra: He was more than happy to go with you, mainly for your company and in the hope he might find something to captivate his imagination. You and he got a fit of giggles over a nude sculpture and for a good half an hour you had to stifle giggles as you walked around together, seeing more and more of them. You calmed down quicker than he did, but you did find it adorable that he found such joy in something so childish. What did catch you off guard though, was the way he fell in love with the dreamy, hazy Monets. He sank onto one of the benches and just stared at it for what felt to you like an eternity. When you sat next to him, you listened intently to how he spoke of their ethereal, dream-like beauty. He was truly captivated by them and you promised you would let him know if there was ever a special Monet exhibition at the museum. He particularly liked the 'Houses of Parliament' paintings, and was happy to hear they were part of the permanent collection.

Jack Daniels: He giggled with you at the nude figures, but explained he thought the contrast between nudity in art (and how it is highly regarded) and modern censorship of nudity was bizarre. He was then totally hooked on art as social commentary and this dictated how he viewed a lot of the collection. His natural pace around the museum is quite quick, but he was more than happy to go at your pace and stop at anything you wanted to take your time over. He would listen to what you had to say and offer his own opinion. In terms of anything he actually liked, rather than found interesting alone, he mentioned he really liked Van Gogh's 'Wheatfield with Cypresses' series. They felt like home, he said.

Max Lord: He very matter of factly told you he would only come with you if there was a special exhibition he was interested in, and he wouldn't bother with the permanent collection. He was happy to come to the Andy Warhol special exhibition but would only go at his own pace, and was done in an hour. He went straight to the café afterward to wait for you, though did get drunk on the overpriced wine while doing so. You asked what he liked best, and he said 'Triple Elvis' by Andy Warhol, but refused to elaborate.

Oberyn Martell: He loved recreating poses of the pieces you looked at, particularly if it was the dramatic retelling of a myth. He made you join in with him, explaining that it wasn't as fun on his own, and it was the best way to enjoy the storytelling. He did, however, ask you to pose on your own by 'Girl With A Pearl Earring' by Johannes Vermeer, as he felt you could recreate it perfectly, and took a photo on his phone. Overall he prefers visiting the permanent collection as there is so much he wants to look at, and feels he could spend hours upon hours looking at everything on multiple visits. Most of all, he loves sitting in the café with you once you're finished looking around together, discussing what you'd looked at over a bottle of wine. On one visit, he buys a print of 'Judith Slaying Holofernes' by Artemisia Gentileschi as he thinks both art and artist is a strong female piece for his daughters.

Frankie Morales: He was a bit nervous about going with you, thinking you were so much smarter than him, and that it would all go over his head. He was happy to go around with you, asking about what you found interesting and looking at anything you pointed out. However, he was surprised to find that he really liked the pieces that showed everyday people doing normal, day to day things. He was particularly interested in the ones that showed what people did for fun, like 'A Concert' by Lorenzo Costa. He found it really cool that the mouths were painted in a shape that showed it matched what sound they were actually singing, based on the music score in the painting. He was really excited by 'A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte' by Georges Seurat. He loved seeing the dogs in the painting, which is what made him look, but he also loved the 'slice of life' feel to it.

Javier Peña: He agreed without hesitation to come with you, but once he got there, he felt so out of place that he headed straight for the café to wait for you. He insisted you take as long as you wanted and to not worry about him. He didn't get far, though, and pulled you over to 'At the Theatre' by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. He very quietly told you that while he thought you were much more beautiful than the girl in the foreground, he said it reminded him so much of the first time you met. He'd seen you across the crowded entrance to the embassy, and he felt like the face of the man in the background, desperate to meet the beautiful girl across the room.

Comandante Veracruz: He only agreed to come with you because you swore you'd be out before closing time, and because you promised that when you were done, you'd have dinner at the restaurant he'd been eyeing up for weeks. He went straight to the café, mumbling 'before closing' as he went. True to your word, you came to find him with a good couple of hours to spare. He melted a little bit when he saw how happy you were at having spent most of the day surrounded by art, and promised he would come with you again and try and look at some of the exhibits.

Pero Tovar: He only went because you promised you wouldn't mind if he spent the whole time in the café. He said he would wait until he got bored, then you were on your own. You were almost as surprised as he was, though, when he stopped by 'The Battle of San Romano' by Paolo Uccello and was genuinely interested in it. He actually asked you questions about it, and asked why it was so important in how artists approached perspective in painting. He also spent a lot of time looking at 'Whistlejacket' by George Stubbs and marveled at the accuracy. He did eventually go to the café, but was there for much less time than he thought. And he asked you to get him a print of 'Whistlejacket' from the gift shop when you were done.

Max Phillips: You regretted asking him to come as soon as the words left your mouth, but you weren't sure why. You knew he would do something ridiculous, this is Max you were talking about; you just couldn't figure out what. 'Licking a painting' was not on your bingo card of Max shenanigans, but here you were in the museum, staring intently at whatever exhibit was on the other side of the room as Max was escorted out. Once you knew he was gone, you turned around to check where he had been, and had to stifle your laughter. For all the embarrassment, knowing Max was thrown out for licking 'Saturn Devouring His Son' by Francisco Goya was possibly the funniest thing in the world, and you had to hide your laughter for the remainder of the visit.

Din Djarin: You had started talking to the quiet security guard after he apologised for disturbing you. Some guy had tried to lick a Goya in one of the other rooms, and the guard had bumped into you as he led the guy out. As he was apologising, he noticed you were looking at a piece by Kazimir Malevich and made an incredibly insightful comment. It hadn't occurred to you before, and from then on you always made an effort to seek him out when you visited. It turned out he was really into Piet Mondrian and the Constructivist movement, which explained the Malevich comment. He doesn't have a particular favourite piece, rather more interested as the movement as a whole, and how it develops. He takes you by surprise when he is very excited to tell you about an exhibition coming to the museum on astral photography (he later explained he had wanted to apply to work at NASA as a kid). Your heart melts when he shyly asks if you'd be interested in coming with him on his day off.

#frankie morales #din djarin #pero tovar #max phillips #comandante veracruz #agent peña #oberyn martell #agent jack whiskey daniels #max lord #dave york #ezra prospect #pedro pascal characters #head cannons #fanfiction

[smartycvnt]

Elizabeth's Best Friend

pairing: Elizabeth Donnelly x Reader

prompt: "And you said you didn't want a dog."

"Chet, come here boy," you said as you walked through the front door. Usually, he was right there waiting for you, but tonight he was nowhere in sight. Elizabeth had gotten home about an hour or two before you since her trial wrapped up much earlier than expected. You had stayed a little later at work, but picked up takeout for dinner on your way home, including a little something special for your dog. "Chet, where is the loyalty man?"

"Shh, he's sleeping," Elizabeth shushed you. You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "What's that?"

"Dinner, even judges have to eat," you teased. Elizabeth swatted at you lightly as you sat down on the couch. You pulled Chet onto your lap so that you could pet your dog. "Hi buddy, was Liz nice to you while I was gone?"

"He was in a very cuddly mood tonight. I think he missed you," Liz said. You shot her a suspicious look, unsure of whether or not it was just Chet who was cuddly and missed her. Elizabeth was sweet, even if you would never be able to get her to admit it.

"And I bet you did the responsible thing and cuddled with him. Did you give her kisses for thank yous boy?" Without skipping a beat, Chet sat up and licked at your face. You chuckled and pulled out the little bowl of steamed rice and unseasoned chicken you'd paid extra for. You set it on the floor for him and then focused your attention on Elizabeth.

"I wouldn't call that a proper thank you by the way," Elizabeth grumbled. You pulled her towards you and kissed her, slowly and sweetly at first. Elizabeth pushed a little further, moving onto your lap. "I think you owe me more than that for taking care of your dog all night."

"Sure," you said with a smug smile. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at you, challenging you to elaborate on whatever was going on in your head.

"What?" Elizabeth asked and you shrugged. "Come on, say it."

"Just think it's funny that you didn't want Chet in the brownstone, but here you are, cuddling with him on the couch, letting him give you kisses. You're a good dog mom Liz." You leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"He's very sweet sometimes, so maybe I was rash in telling you no so quickly for so long."

"And you said you didn't want a dog. Now look at you, best friends!" you exclaimed. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at you, but didn't refute that she had gotten very close with your dog since you'd brought him from your parents.

===tag list===

@hbkpop @1-lindsay83 @rosiewritesagain @addictedtodinosaurs @dalexandriag16 @crimeshowjunkie @svushots @bookpillows @imlike-so-gaydude @arigotssomekinks @ladysc @emskisworld

#elizabeth donnelly #elizabeth donnelly x reader #elizabeth donnelly imagine #elizabeth donnelly imagines #svu imagines #svu x reader #svu imagine #law and order svu

[pettyvxbes]

Colson Baker x Reader - Ocean Eyes III

This was originally only supposed to be three parts, but I have so many ideas. . . I might be getting a little carried away. If anyone is interested in being included on the tag list for ocean eyes drop me a comment. ❤ Btw, ya'll rock, and I'm so thrilled that you're digging where this story is going as much as I am!!

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL COFFEE DEALER

Colson had insisted on going to a coffee shop across town, even though there were plenty of great coffee shops near Shaker Square that you two had frequented on your previous Saturday adventures. He initially suggested that you ride with him, but you declined the offer and opted to drive yourself, much to your dismay. You considered making a wrong turn to head back to your sister's house several times as you followed closely behind him but decided against the outlandish idea.

Pulling into the parking lot, you immediately noticed the sizeable pink skull painted on the side of the brick building. It read "Drink. Eat. Work. Meet" arched across the top with "The" on the forehead, a 2 and 7 in separate eye sockets, "club" on the chin, and the most clever part was the nose which was a cup of steaming coffee. The aesthetic was everything, and you quickly understood why Colson had wanted to bring you to this specific coffee shop. It was edgy and artistic, kind of like you, and he knew you would love it.

"This place is fucking awesome." You gushed, taking in the surrounding interior. The walls were painted pink and accented with black. There were skulls in various places throughout the room, and directly in front of you behind a large circular counter were the associates, wearing "Coffee Dealer" tees, waiting patiently to take your order. Capturing every aspect of the shop, you noticed the music playing. It was a synth-pop-R&B beat accompanied by the voice of Chris Brown and Usher.

"You gon' be my baby Love me, love me crazy Tell me you with it Baby, come and get it Maybe try a new thing And let's spark a new flame."

It was one of those songs that stuck in your memory and could take you back to a specific time and place. You looked over at Colson to find him looking back at you, and you were instantly transported to that cold January night eleven years ago, the night you had first met Colson.

The air was crisp, and the night sky was aglow with the bright city lights of Atlanta. You were visiting your best friend for what was left of your winter break at NYU. She couldn't wait to take you out on the town. So naturally, you both ended up at the Gold Room less than five hours after you had touched down in the Empire State of the South.

The Gold Room was fancy. Golden poles were lining a transparent window rail in the main seating area. Each roped-off section donned eccentric gold couches, chandeliers, and splashy tropical lighting, all of which highlighted the significance of those seated there. You happened to find yourself smack dab in the middle of the distinguished crowd, behind the velvet ropes. All thanks to your gorgeous best friend who had been casually seeing one of the Atlanta Hawks.

"Y/n, don't look now, but that guy over there has been staring at you since we walked in." Your best friend screamed into your ear over the loud music.

"Which one?" You questioned, waiting to turn and look.

"The blonde with the tattoos!" She paused, taking a sip of her drink. She could tell you were waiting for a more descriptive answer. "You'll know which one. He's fine as fuck!" She screamed, causing you to chuckle at her bluntness.

You casually turned to the side to look for the mystery guy, and you were quickly met with his blue eyes. You felt your cheeks flush a bit as he maintained eye contact.

You were beautiful in a way that the other girls in the club weren't. You were confident but not cocky, and your attire was modest but still sexy. You didn't need to be accepted by others, which was apparent in how you carried yourself. Your smile was beaming as you looked back at him, and Colson could have sworn it illuminated even the darkest corners of the room. You were authentically you, and the blue-eyed boy was captivated.

Your eye contact was broken by one of the tall basketball players in your section offering you a glass of champagne. You accepted the drink and made small talk for a moment before quietly excusing yourself to the ladies' room. At least that's what you told your friend, but if you were honest, you were actually looking for those blue eyes. You made your way slowly through the horde of people keeping your eye on the VIP section that the tattooed man occupied. You couldn't see him, so you wandered closer until you were stopped by a husky voice.

"Are you looking for something?" You turned, looking up into the blue eyes you had been searching for.

"Not anymore." You smirked. He was taken aback by your forward response, and you could tell by the look across his face that he was speechless. You chuckled at his expression. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't expecting you to say that, but I was hoping you would" He laughed. "I'm Colson."

"Y/n."

"Y/n, that's beautiful." He smiled at you. You couldn't tell if it was the champagne coursing through you or the fact that he was extremely handsome, but all you could think about was kissing him. The thought was soon pushed to the back of your mind as you began exchanging information about yourselves. Where you were from, what you were doing in Atlanta, your relationship status'. . .the basics. You two eventually found yourselves halfway through a game of 21 questions in a more private area of the club where you could actually hear each other speak.

"If you could have one 'do over' in your life, what would you do differently?" You inquired.

"Ooh, we're going there now?" He chuckled. "That's easy though, I wouldn't do anything over because then I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

“Smooth.” You chuckled at his cheesy answer.

“Yeah? You see what I did there?” He joked "Ok, my turn. . ." He changed the subject, trying to think of a question quickly. "If there was one piece of advice you could give, what would it be?" You thought for a moment before speaking.

"To always appreciate the little things in life."

"The little things?" he questioned, waiting for you to elaborate further.

"Yeah, you know, like early morning sunrises or late sunsets. The ones where you'll see an array of colors in the sky that you wouldn't normally see." You raved. "Or road trips and motorcycle rides, when you have music in your ears and the wind in your hair. Or the days when you're surrounded by your favorite people, the ones who make you realize that the world isn't such a cold, harsh place." You rambled, and he smiled like a fool.

"The little things that make you realize what life is about and what it means to be alive?" He pondered quietly, contemplating what you had said.

"Yes!" You extolled. "Appreciating the little things makes you enjoy where you are, right now, in the present."

"Enjoy where you are right now," He reiterated. "I like that" A comfortable silence settled in for a moment, and you could hear a catchy synth-pop-R&B beat surging through the room. The voices of Chris Brown and Usher were crystal clear.

"Who said you can't find love in a club? 'Cause I wanna tell them they wrong Come on, just baby, try a new thing And let's spark a new flame."

You both let out a little chuckle at the lyrics, and the next thing you knew, his right hand was on the side of your face pulling you into him. The kiss was magic, chaos, and a little bit of poetry. You felt a fire deep in your bones, and he melted every part of you.

"Hey, Colson!" The barista greeted him, pulling you from your memory of the man standing next to you. You hadn't even noticed, but you two were still staring at each other, and you wondered if the same memory had crossed his mind too.

He turned towards the barista as your eyes continued to explore the coffee shop. That's when you saw it—a mural on the wall situated above black leather dome seats. In large pink letters, "Enjoy where you are right now." and it clicked - this was his coffee shop. . .and he still thought about that night, just like you.

Colson glanced back at you, preparing to order, you smiled at him, and yet again, he could have sworn it illuminated even the darkest corners of the room. You were still authentically you, and the blue-eyed boy was still captivated.

II << 💀 >>

TAG LIST @canyoubuymetoast

#colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker fluff #mgk x reader #mgk #x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly #memories #club 27 #club 27 coffee #mgk coffee shop #sleep when your dead #support your local coffee dealer

[bitchfitch]

I Have Been Enabled.

Time to talk about why Henry is Hash Tag Like That.

This video by the pop culture detective will give you the basis of what we're talking about, but it sorta skirts actually discussing the type of person who would Intentionally go about romancing someone they have so much influence and control over, this is not a critique of the video and Is just a different perspective on the topic.

Now originally this post was going to start with a bunch of coddling, but ima jump right into it and save myself the word count, bc this is already like 1k words.

The underlying personality of a character (cough cough also the writers usually cough cough) who would want to or actively seek to date someone who is completely naive but still physically mature looks a bit like this:

They will be adamant about it not being their fault they are single. nobody will date them because they are too [select all that apply: Weird, Cool, Normal, Busy, Nice, Talented,] or because [select all that apply: Women Are All Enigmas Playing an Elaborate Game With Mens Hearts, Society, Women Only Like Assholes, (other incel talking points here)]

they have a need to feel above their SO, this might look like a savior complex, or it might look like having to always be one or two steps ahead of the SO in everything they do.

They will want to be the center of the SOs world. A normal person would be eager to introduce the newly minted naive SO to as many people as they could, just to help the SO learn how to socialize and to take some of the burden of teaching them off of themselves.

They will have a need to be seen as the Best. they dont want a mature adult partner, they want a golden retriever who looks like a super model. Someone who will worship the ground they walk on, usually because the SO has nothing to compare them too.

If you met a person in real life who acted or thought like this you could be forgiven for assuming they were trying to talk in semaphore with all those red flags they are waving.

The Pygmalion takes this one step further, he didn't just Find a perfectly blank slate woman who would love him no matter what,

he made her. 

The Pygmalion is the absolute extreme of this trope. They will go the furthest to avoid ever having to address what makes them unlikable and will often present themselves and their plights as not just no fault of their own, but as the direct fault of another person's, usually a specific past partner. 

Henry is the absolute least forgiving depiction of a Pygmalion I could cobble together. and the three muses that came before Adonis are the easiest way to illustrate that.

This next bit ia written using a very specific type of unreliable narrator you often see in these sorts of stories, where the MC's perspective and beliefs tint the word choices. Read carefully.

He blames his first muse's death on her. She shouldn't have taken that tone of voice with him, she shouldn't have lied about who she was talking too, she shouldn't have lied about not loving him anymore, she shouldn't have tried to leave. If she had only listened to him, the more mature and knowledgeable one, he wouldn't have gotten so angry and she would have never chocked on those razors. 

His second muse was far better than her, in fact he was damn near Perfect. he was young and unspoiled and willing to listen to and do whatever henry said. He had never been tempted, touched or taught the wrong sort of things. Henry was his everything, his mentor And his lover and the one who kept him off the street. But Henry's traitorous brother stole him away. Said such awful things about how their relationship was disgusting. That henry was a monster for taking in and caring for his muse instead of leaving him to die in the street before he was even old enough to drive.

The third was the worst. She was the one that destroyed henry and made him swear off human love. She had smashed all the sculptures he dedicated to her, all the projects he had finished for her, all her art he had gotten into museums for her under his name. She was ungrateful and horrid. And she had grown disgusting and ugly following the birth of Henry's truest muse. His daughter who this Wretched witch had stolen away following one light bit of discipline. His daughters arm had healed just fine, the witch was just too soft and their daughter was going to grow up just like her if Henry hadn't stepped in.

In all of those examples Henry's wrongdoings were intentionally obfuscated to make him seem like the good guy, to intentionally set someone else up as the villain coming between henry and his happiness. in Pygmalion stories, and in almost all bsy stories, this sort of narrative voice is used unintentionally to make you feel sorry for the Pygmalion and to want to like and side with him despite the reality of the situation. I went for some Very obvious and egregious examples to really show how effective this sort of narrative voice can be. if you want a better written example read Lolita, and then every review that calls it a love story to get a very good picture of how this works and how effective it can be (lolita is psyche horror about pedophilia, not a cute romance,)

tldr:

The Pygmalion and the Born Sexy Yesterday tropes are Rife with squicky elements bc a lot of people who write them do not realize how vile their characters sound if you look at the at any angle other than the the one they want you too

 a lot of the time the use of this trope is a Great insight into the minds of the people who use it without really thinking about the implications

both tropes are some incel shit

And Finally Adonis Should Have Beat Henry To Death Sooner.

#long post #entries #adonis #henry #in case it wasn't obviois: #1st muse: henry killed her when she tried to leave. #2nd muse: was less than 16 yo when they first got together. #3rd muse: left after Henry broke their daughters arm as punishment for something

[chocosweets]

Request filled for @subarublue 💞🧁

Can I request a short and sweet little fluffy one shot (or just headcanons if a one shot is too much) where maybe Dante (Devil May Cry 5) first begins to realize he’s putting on some weight and feels a little self conscious about it? But he tries to hide it and blow it off like it’s nothing? But Reader notices the weight and his insecurities and lets him know they find him attractive no matter what?

Word Count: 1,416

Dante/Reader, SFW

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-DMC5, DMC5 Spoilers, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Affection, Cuddling & Snuggling

Enjoy, Eclair 🍩

***

Squish, squish.

Dante inspected his reflection carefully in the yellowed bathroom mirror as he changed out of his bloodied shirt, fresh after a long job. He prodded his bare flesh and watched as it squished incessantly.

His brows knitted as he continued to test the buoyancy—to see if it actually jiggled. The part of his body in question laid at the bottom of his stomach, underneath his six pack. The smallest bit of flab rounded into a little pouch that was soft to the touch, not hard and well-built like the rest of his muscles.

It was barely noticeable (unless someone pointed it out or felt it carefully), and truthfully he himself hadn’t noticed for all these months—until he’d done a particularly elaborate jump while fighting today and his shirt had scrunched up oddly as he soared and landed. And, well, as Nero has so eloquently put it: Ha! Look at that, the old man’s finally gettin’ fucking chubby!

There had been the usual light-hearted quips thrown back at his nephew, but when he got home he thought he ought to check it out for himself. The last row of his abs was beginning to fade into soft fat, and when he exhaled, the fat at his lower stomach hung over in a small curve below his belly button, brushing against the cool metal of his belt buckle lightly. There was a good portion of it that he could grab with his palm laying against the skin. He groaned a little to himself. Didn't his demonic metabolism usually prevent this sort of thing, as it had for the better part of thirty years?

What a pain. Dante pooled the weak faucet water in his hands and splashed the cool water onto his face. Maybe the kid had been right—and maybe he should lay off the pizza until that bump in his clothes stopped being visible.

------

For the seventh day in a row, you had stopped by the office without seeing any new pizza boxes strewn around the floor.

In fact, it wasn't only that, because you could've easily chalked it up to Lady or Trish—or quite possibly even Vergil, since he almost technically lived at Devil may Cry nowadays—forcing Dante to clean up his filth after the piles and odor had gotten unbearable. Except, it had also been seven days without interrupting him during a meal, or seeing him order any, or of you even smelling the aftermath of the steamy delicacy that still lingered in the air. You had only seen him eat sandwiches for lunch or snack on potato chips during the day, and occasionally pour himself bowls of cereal when you two watched TV late into the night.

Something was definitely up, but what it was, you didn't know. His behavior was mostly the same otherwise and he hadn't been drinking lately either, so you knew he hadn't slipped into another depressive episode or anything similar to that. You were thankful for that, at least, but the fact that he'd been abstaining from his precious pizza and declining all your offers of going out for an ice cream date for a whole week was certainly suspicious.

"Hey, baby." Dante sat up further in his chair when he saw you enter. That same cute smile of his was on his face, but he didn't look as peppy and carefree as usual. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

Still, you grinned back and waved as you walked toward him. "Nothing much—except for visiting this sexy demon hunter I know."

"Oh yeah?" he goaded back playfully, shifting to face you in his seat as you made your way onto his side of the desk. "Have I met him before?"

"Don't think so," you huffed out between a laugh, and as you said it Dante brought himself up and closer to you—pulling you down into a quick kiss before sitting back down.

You looked around the place nonchalantly as you pulled a chair up for yourself in front of the desk, noting the lack of boxes again. A typical cola and magazine laid on his desktop, but there were still no stray slices of pizza or empty sundae glasses.

When you settled down in your seat, you cleared your throat, and he looked at you expectantly. "So, I guess you haven't had dinner yet? We should order some pizza and eat it over a movie."

Straight to the point, not wasting any time.

You swore he bit his bottom lip guiltily at the mention of his favorite food, and that his eyes lit up brighter than stars. He opened his mouth, though, about to respond, when—his stomach grumbled accordingly, as if pleading for some delicious, gooey pizza, making his eyes widen a fraction in embarrassment.

He laughed awkwardly. "Jeez, is it that obvious?"

"Dante." You gave him a knowing, but gentle look, and he groaned, as if realizing then that there was no point in denying it.

"Fine, I'll fess up." A sigh came out, and then he leaned forward on his desk. "I've just been dieting a little. It's no big deal."

"Dieting?" Your eyebrows creased more in concern than confusion.

"Yeah, aren't you proud of little ol' me? You're always saying I eat too much junk food." But then your brow raised at the obviously poor excuse, knowing that just your nagging alone wouldn't be enough to stop him from indulging. You stared further—and he relented with a sigh. "And, well— Figured it wouldn't look very good to clients if I was too...chubby."

That was putting it lightly, considering that even though he'd quit the pizza and ice cream, he was still devouring just as much food in a day. You could spot the beginning of a squishy-firm beer belly under his clothes when he leaned over and pressed into it like this. Dante picked up his can of soda to sip so he could avoid your gaze.

"That's all?" you asked, careful not to be too accusatory. There was an even more underlying reason here. He would tell you in time when he was ready, and you didn't want to push him too far at once. You reached over, still, and put your hand on his free one. (It made him tense up a little.)

"Yes," he insisted with his voice in a quick hiss. "What's wrong with me trying to slim down a little? I'm gettin' old, you know."

"Th-There's nothing wrong with it!" Damn, this seemed like a touchy subject to approach. So, you pulled out your most convincing voice. "And, well—to be honest, I didn't think you had put on all that much weight."

"Really? You don't think so?" He said it in a sarcastic deadpan, patting his soft lower belly for emphasis and leaning back into his chair. There, you were at least finally getting closer to his real feelings. You stood up and went back to his side of the desk, crouching to eye-level. You looked at him sweetly with a smile, and he seemed to melt. Dante crossed his arms over his chest and looked away almost bashfully when he said, "...Didn't think you'd like me letting myself go and all."

"Awww, don't be all pouty~" You leaned forward to pull him into a hug, holding him close. Your chest pressed to his, and you nuzzled his face with your cheek. "I don't mind if you're nice and soft, really. You're still handsome." He mumbled something under his breath, and you giggled again. "...And you're just too cute when you're pouty like this."

That got a little chuckle out of him, and he pressed a kiss to your neck. "I get it, I get it. No more grumpy Dante tonight, I promise." He relaxed with a sigh and ran his fingers through your hair. It was quiet for a moment. "But you meant all that?"

"Of course! Whether you're a little chubby, or in your devil form, or anything—you're still my Dante no matter what."

The man in question seemed to consider that, and then he shifted to embrace you back fully, nearly crushing you with his heavy grip. "Huh… That's pretty wholesome, babe."

You couldn't help but lift your head up and kiss his cheek as you giggled. "So, pizza?"

"Only if you let me take you on that ice cream date you've been wanting."

"Deal."

You held your hand out, and Dante shook it with gusto.

#bakery orders #eclair writes #dmc #devil may cry #dante #dante x reader #dante x you #weight gain #chubby #chubby kink #wg kink #ao3 #dmc5 #subarublue #HNNNGGH THANK YOU AGAIN FOR SUCH A CUTE REQUEST I HAD SO MUCH FUN... #I do hope you like it!~

[goneadrift]

I'm hungry for you my love (so come out and rescue me)

read chapter 1 on AO3

Relationship: Rebecca Catalina/Jean Havoc

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, implied past abusive relationships

Summary:

Sometimes small things blow up out of proportion. And sometimes personal insecurities and old traumas catch up with us unexpectedly. One ordinary morning ended not so ordinary for Jean and Rebecca. Would that new obstacle bring them closer or drive them apart?

A/N: Yeah, started this wip instead of working on other works... But the idea was eating at me so here we are.

---

"Jeeeean..." Becca drawled silkily, walking to the kitchen.

"Yeeees?" Havoc turned away from the coffee machine and smiled at Rebecca, inwardly giggling at her expression and wondering about the duality of this woman.

She could all but grope him in public and shamelessly whisper dirty suggestions, rendering him to a hormonal puddle and keeping a straight face herself, but at other times she would look so shily uncertain, asking him to give her a hug after a tiring day or early in the morning. Jean assumed that now was the last type of situations and readily opened his arms.

"Does my girl want my special warm embrace?"

Becca nodded and meekly came closer, letting him wrap his arms around her, hugging him in return. That demeanor should have tipped Jean that something was off but it was early Tuesday morning and he just wanted to enjoy this quiet moment.

"Jean," said Becca again, sounding muffled as she pressed her face to his chest.

"What is it, babe?" just as quietly asked Jean into her hair.

"My mom will come to visit me this weekend," she drew a deep breath before continuing: "And she wants to meet you as well."

Jean went rigid and inadvertently tightened the embrace. Becca cringed, berating herself for bringing this up after all. But as the news was out, she decided to elaborate further:

"I know it's been just four months but soon you all will move to Ishval. Also mom will leave on Sunday already, she is passing the Central on her way to visit her sister in the North. So there is time only for a short walk and dinner at my place."

Jean stayed silent, absentmindedly rubbing circles on her spine.

"I wan...It would be nice if you could be there," continued Becca and then added a way out for him at the last second: "But of course you don't have to. I know you are probably busy with preparations."

Only now she noticed how tightly she was gripping his T-shirt. She made a conscious effort to relax her fingers. She wanted to pull away and at least look at his face but Jean didn't loosen his hold and she had no choice but wait for him to finally react.

"Yeah," mumbled Jean and Becca's heart dropped. "No... Ah, let's talk about that again later this week, I will know better about work plans by that time."

But Becca knew too damn well that there were no plans for that weekend. Riza told her about her "totally work related" trip with Mustang to the safehouse, set on Friday night. Therefore the team would essentially be free as wind for the next weekend and they were told about that yesterday. But she offered him this excuse herself. Could she really blame him now for using it?

“Ok,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes tightly, hoping that Jean wouldn't notice her hitched breath and downcast eyes.

However for all his usually laid back attitude and seemingly aloof behaviour, Jean Havoc knew when to pay attention, especially to his partner, be that on the field or in personal life.

He lowered one hand to the small of Becca’s back and cupped her cheek with the other, gently tilting her head up to look at him. He frowned worryingly when he saw her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Hey, hey, Becky, it’s alright,” cooed Jean. “I am pretty sure nothing would come up and I will be there, don’t cry.”

“Noo…” sniffled Becca, turning her gaze away from him. “I said that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. And I mean it.

“I don’t want you to change your mind just because of these stupid tears,” she angrily rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know what has come over me.”

Rebecca extricated herself from him and walked to open the fridge. She didn’t feel hungry anymore but was ready to use any excuse not to look at Jean right now.

“Forget it. Let’s get ready or we’ll be ready for work.”

Jean left the kitchen without saying a word and Becca couldn’t fight back the returning tears. She gave up pretending to make breakfast and gripped the counter, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down before Jean returned. She heard his muted voice, urgently addressing someone on the phone.

Dammit, he already has so much on his plate. Did you have to dump this on him as well? Becca berated herself again.

Workload didn’t stop him from helping Bread’s sister with moving two weeks ago. Came the next bitter thought. Maybe you are not anywhere high in priority for him after all.

Rebecca gritted her teeth, holding back a sob.

Maybe he only puts up with you till they move away from Central?

No, Jean would never...

How do you know?

Riza...

What? She only knows him as a fellow soldier with a long line of failed relationships.

But...

What? You can never keep a man either. Always throwing yourself on them with commitment that they don’t need. Pathetic.

I didn’t!

No wonder you got on their nerves. You prompted and deserved their wrath as well.

Did I?

Suddenly she felt hands on her shoulders, turning her around and pulling her in another embrace. Enveloped in familiar strong arms, pleasant scent and warmth Rebecca couldn’t help but relax and only then heard Jean’s voice calling her name with growing worry.

“Becca! Becky, please, look at me,” Jean nudged her. “Babe, I am sorry I made you cry,” he slightly rocked them on the same spot.

“Shh, let’s get you water, then go sit and talk properly.”

“We can’t,” finally replied Becca, not recognising her hoarse voice. “If you’re late, Mustang will bitch about it forever.”

“It’s ok, we have all day. I’ve called in for both of us.”

“You did what?!” Rebecca looked up at him but couldn’t decipher his expression through tears still glistering in her eyes.

Jean lifted his hands, carefully brushed the tears away and cupped her face.

“I called the Command, requested personal leave. Then called Riza. She will cover for us so neither Mustang nor Grumman would dare to bitch about anything,” he elaborated and smiled when the last part made Becca snick despite still sour mood. But then concern marked his features again.

“We really need to talk, though. I’ve never seen you so upset over something like this.“

Rebecca averted her eyes again. Embarrassment and uncertainty mixed together and fueled her doubts, making her question his every word and every note in his voice.

“Like what?”

Stay in and listen to him making light of my feelings?

“What?”

Does this step matter so little to him?

“Over something like what, Jean?” sudden anger gave her enough strength and determination to push him away.

She stepped back and met the counter. She wanted to both lash out and retreat. But Jean stayed right between her and the way to the living room. Rationally she knew that Jean wouldn’t attempt to stop her if she tried to walk past him. But at that moment his tall and broad figure was no longer a source of familiar comfort to her, and any rational part of her mind was clouded by more primal feelings and fears.

A man was between her and the way out. She felt cornered - something that she promised herself would never happen again.

Rebecca was out of breath but couldn’t let herself show that. She breathed heavily through her nose, staring wolfishly at Jean, minding every move of his chest, every blink of his eyes. He was staring back at her, frowning.

“Becca,” began Jean, taking a step towards her.

“Stay back!” she hissed at him, immediately tensing and tightly gripping the counter behind her. “Don’t come any closer.”

Jean halted. Slowly he raised his hands, palms up, and took a step back. Then another few till he was by the threshold of the room.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly, not making any other move.

She nodded curtly. He let out a heavy sigh and walked out of the room. She heard slam of wardrobe doors, faint rustling of clothes, whish of bad dragged on the floor.

He is really leaving...

Did you expect anything else? You asked for it. And who would want to stay with you anyway? Just like everyone before him. And they denounced you. You just didn’t want to believe that the problem was you.

At the sound of the front door shutting closed Rebecca crumbled down, trembling and no longer holding back the tears. Even though she was all alone, she still cried silently - the habit drilled into her far too long ago.

Too numb to feel either tears, streaming down her face, or the cold from tiles on her uncovered thighs and arms, Rebecca cried herself to unrestful sleep.

#rebecca catalina #jean havoc #havolina #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #havolina fic #gone writing

[geniusgub]

north//chapter one

here she is!! after the long wait, here is the first chapter of north! I hope you all like it. let me know what you think. more chapters to come soon🖤

also i dont have a tag list for this but if anyone wanted to be tagged in this fic then let me know and I’ll create a tag list

genre: fluff

pairing: spencer reid x female oc

warnings: very basic troupe that I’m sure some people are tired of lol but other than that, none!

word count: 3k

SPENCER

Being late to work is not something that I tend to enjoy. I hate it, in fact. I feel like I'm letting my team down if I'm ever late to round table meetings or if I miss a briefing. But these days, sleep is rare. And if I do sleep, it's not uncommon for me to sleep over the array of alarms I have.

Coffee is a must have for me at all points of the day. No sleep means exhaustion and exhaustion means my brain doesn't work as quickly as it could and that means we don't solve cases and not solving cases means more people die. I can't have more people die on my watch so I drink as much coffee as I can. But the coffee in the bullpen isn't always the best so if I ever have time, I stop at a cafe on my way to work. I take the extra five minutes to walk there before hopping on the metro.

I mumble off my coffee order to the tired looking barista and she scribbles down my name. I hand over a few stray bills to pay and get some change in return, tucking it in my pants pocket. I give a tight lipped smile to the barista before moving to a table in the corner of the cafe, pulling a book out of my messenger bag and starting to read, crossing one of my legs over the other. I don't look up while I wait for the barista to call out my name, not even when two people bump into each other in front of the door or a tourist asks someone else for directions. I just read my book and chew my lip, tapping my fingers against the hardcover.

"Spencer," I hear my name being called and finally allow myself attention to be lifted.

I stand quickly, tucking my book in my bag and closing the flap before heading back to the main counter. But the buckle of my bag gets caught on the button of my sleeve when I try to close my bag all the way. I pull at my sleeve, trying to get the buckle unlooped. But in this tussle with myself, I don't even realize that I'm still walking until I bump right into someone. I move my attention from my bag and catch the person's shoulders so I don't completely knock them over and make not only a fool of myself, but of them too. 

"Oh my gosh," I say immediately, my eyes widening, "I'm so sorry,"

"It's okay, it's okay," the girl laughs, her hands squeezing my arms as she regains her balance, “didn’t even fall. You caught me. I didn’t even break a sweat!”

My eyes finally find the girl's face and I'm rendered absolutely speechless. I somehow notice everything about her right away and I memorize her beauty. Her eyes are a bright, beautiful shade of ocean blue and her eyelashes cast shadows over her perfectly pink cheeks. Her hair is wavy and blonde with brown roots, but there's a yellow and blue patterned scarf tied around the front of her head like a folded bandana with pieces pulled out to frame her face. Her nose is small and I can only liken it to a button. Her lips are full and plump and a pretty light pink color and her Cupid's Bow is one that Cupid himself should be jealous of. Both of her ears are full of different types of piercings, and her nose even has a hoop in her right nostril.

She's wearing a light blue knit sweater tucked into a tight denim skirt, along with a pair of short black boots with small heels on them. Her nails are painted white and her fingers are full of rings, each of them different styles and various shades of silver with yellow gems. I notice a tattoo on one of her fingers but she moves and I can't make out what it is. I wonder if she has more tattoos. I find two straps around her shoulders and realize she's wearing a leather backpack, one probably very similar to my own bag. The last thing I notice is the old fashioned camera hanging around her neck, resting just above the waistband of her skirt.

I've seen my fair share of pretty girls. I've seen girls that I wouldn't mind getting to know better. I've met girls that have caught my attention. I've even been in what I believed to be love. But what is this? If I thought I'd seen a beautiful girl before, I clearly hadn't met this girl before. She looks like an angel sent directly from heaven. She looks like she was crafted by God himself and put on this earth to grace mankind with her beauty. Is it fair for one woman to be this beautiful? Is it even possible? I didn’t think that one woman could possess such beauty. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I can barely even breathe. I’m just staring at this gorgeous specimen, admiring her smile and trying to memorize the way her fingertips feel on my forearms. I quickly try to think of something to say, another apology for running into her, but I can barely even breathe when I stare at her, much less speak. 

"Spencer," the barista calls out my name again, setting my cup down on the counter before walking away. Saved by the barista. 

The girl smiles at me and her face lights up, only further illuminating her features. She's got two dimples on her cheeks, bringing out a childlike spirit in her that I pick up right away. "Um," she says with a laugh, "is that yours? You should probably grab it before someone else steals it,"

Okay, Spencer, breathe. You can do this. You’ve spoken to pretty girls before. Sure, it’s hard and it’s scary, but you can do it. Just say words. Preferably, coherent words. Preferably, maybe, a full sentence.

"Right," I finally force out, dropping my hands from her arms. I hadn't realized until now that I was still holding onto her and she was still holding onto me. I reach over and grab my steaming coffee, almost wincing at the heat under my fingertips.

The girl still hasn't moved when I turn back to her, but now she's fiddling with her camera. "Are you," I start to say before hesitating. Her head pops up and she smiles again, letting her camera fall against her stomach. I gulp, shuffling my feet against the floor as I attempt to speak a full sentence. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that,"

"Oh, it's totally fine," she waves her hand at me casually. "I wasn't paying attention either. No harm, no foul. Like I said, I didn’t even break a sweat,” The girl pushes her hair behind her ears and places her hands on her hips. With the confident way she speaks, I almost expect her to keep speaking, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me with the cutest smile, even baring her teeth, waiting for me to say something else. 

So I clutch my cup of coffee and swallow thickly. “I-" I hesitate yet again, but when the girl's eyes scream for me to continue, I do. "What's your name?"

She opens her mouth to speak but before she can, another cup of coffee is placed on the counter. "Amelia," the barista announces before walking away.

Amelia laughs, taking a step over to grab her cup, which I immediately notice is tea and not coffee. "Took the words right out of my mouth,"

"Amelia," I repeat as if testing the way the word rolls off my tongue. It tastes sweet. "You heard already, but, um, I'm Spencer,"

"It's nice to meet you," Amelia holds her hand to shake mine, and the panic starts to set in. For a moment, I debate on actually just shaking her hand so I don’t seem like a total freak to this girl that I seem to have a massive crush on. But the prospect of shaking a total strangers hand is repulsive and when I find myself looking at her hand for more than two seconds, I’m starting to count up the amount of germs that would be present there and I have to force myself not to make a face.

So of course, while my hands get clammy and my heart rate speeds up, I do what I do best. I spit out a fact that Amelia didn't ask for. "On average we carry 3,200 bacteria from 150 different species on our hands,"

Amelia's fingers curl into her palm and she retracts her hand, looking down at her palm and smiling just a tiny bit. "You know, I don't blame you for not wanting to shake hands. It is kinda gross anyway,"

"Sorry," I blurt out immediately, still shuffling on my feet. "That was rude of me,"

"It's not rude," Amelia counters, sipping her tea without so much as grimacing at the inevitable heat. "Are you in a rush?" I glance down at my watch and see that I still have ten minutes until I should be getting on the train. I relay this information to her and watch as she smiles again. "Would you like to sit with me then?"

"Oh," my eyes widen slightly and I squeeze my coffee cup so hard that I think I might poke holes in the sides, "y-yeah, sure,"

"Cool," she breathes out, waving me on and leading me to a booth on the other side of the cafe. I'm far too anxious with this situation and by Amelia's beauty and her comfortability around me to even think about relaxing, or drinking my coffee, or taking my bag off from around my shoulder. I definitely can’t remember any of Morgan’s advice on how to chat up girls or any of the conversation starters I’ve memorized for social situations like this. My mind is completely empty, just when I need it to be full and plentiful. How lovely.

Amelia sits across from me and grins, and every time she does, I swear my heart skips a beat and another butterfly breaks through its cocoon in my stomach. "So where are you off to this morning, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Work," I answer, and then realize that's an incredibly vague answer. Amelia raises her eyebrows as she lounges back against the booth, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. "Uh, I work for the FBI, actually. More specifically, the BAU- the Behavioral Analysis Unit,"

"You're a profiler!" Amelia perks up again, sitting up straighter with a huge grin on her face. "That's super cool! My dad is a police officer, sheriff actually, back home in Texas and I'm pretty sure he's worked with the BAU before and he says you guys are awesome. You catch serial killers, right?"

I'm almost stunned by her reaction. Most people don't believe behavioral profiling works, and most people resist the practice, especially local police. But her acceptance of it is incredibly refreshing, and it's welcomed. Honestly, any type of excitement from this Amelia girl is welcomed. It’s a beautiful sight. 

I can feel my cheeks turn bright red as I nod, still clutching my coffee cup. "Yeah, we do. And um, what about you?" I hate talking about myself so I change the subject. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm actually meeting a friend of mine to go shopping a few blocks over," Amelia gestures out the window. "But since we're talking about your job, I'll tell you about my way less cool job, which is an artist. I went to Carnegie Mellon and then moved here and I’ve been here ever since. My preference is canvas painting but I bring my camera around a lot, hence," she holds up the camera around her neck, "the camera now. I try to capture spontaneous moments for when I do exhibits and galleries and such,”

"I've always loved art. Never been talented at it, but I like it." I shrug nonchalantly and sip my coffee, trying to divert my eyeline down to the table, but when Amelia smiles at me, I can’t find it in me to break our eye contact.

Something about Amelia's smile brings me in. Every time she flashes her teeth, I feel myself sink further into my seat and I feel my head get fuzzier. I almost forget that I have to get to work in just a few minutes. But I don't want to go anymore. I want to stay here and keep talking to Amelia. I want her to keep going on and on about canvas paintings and her education at Carnegie Mellon, or even just tell me why she likes tea over coffee, if that’s even true. I don’t know anything about this girl but I want to.

"Nobody is technically good at art," Amelia responds. "Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses in the arts, everyone sees art differently, and that's okay. I'm sure you're not horrible, I'm sure you just haven't found your strength yet, Spencer," She enunciates my name with such beauty and grace that I almost ask her to say it again. I'd do anything to hear her say my name again.

"If-" I'm cut off when my phone rings in my pocket, so I lean over and fish it out. I read a text from Garcia that tells me we have a case, meaning we'll be briefing for a new case this morning. I sigh defeatedly, wishing I hadn't just gotten a text that usually piques my interest. Today, it makes my heart drop. 

"You have to get to work?" I look back up at work to see yet another smile on Amelia's perfect face. "Go ahead, it's okay," I’m so used to seeing disappointed faces when this text comes in, not a smiling face. It’s odd, somewhat confusing.

I grab my coffee cup and stand as Amelia does the same. She holds her cup to her chest, looking down at her feet. "Will," I chew on the inside of my cheek when she looks up at me, ocean eyes wide with anticipation as I struggle with my words for the umpteenth time, "can I see you again? We barely got to talk and you-"

"Yeah," Amelia nods before I can even finish my sentence. "Can I give you my number?"

I have to hold myself back from jumping up and down in excitement. "Y-Yeah, sure, of course," I pull my phone out yet again as she does the same. She tells me her phone number slowly so I can get it down, but of course, it sticks in my brain immediately.

"Just text me," Amelia murmurs, looking over my shoulder at my phone where my shaky thumbs press against the buttons on my phone to type out- hi, it's Spencer. She waits until her phone rings and then she smiles at me. "Great, I've got it. Now, um, go. Don't let me be the reason you're late in helping people. You don't have to text me if you don't want to," she pauses for a moment, and I wonder what she's waiting for. Is she waiting for me to confirm or deny that statement? Is she waiting for anything at all? Is it an open-ended statement? Where have all my profiling skills gone? Forget profiling- where is my common sense? "But if you do wanna text me," I'm thankful when she starts talking again, "don't until after you've solved your case. Don't worry about me until you've saved lives. But like I said, if you don't wanna text me, you don't have to,"

My phone buzzes again and I can only imagine it's someone from the team asking me where I am, hurrying me along so we can get started on our briefing. I ignore it for now. "Well," I have to clear my throat to be able to speak again. I give Amelia a bashful smile holding up my phone for her to see, "I'll text you when I'm back home,"

Amelia blushes, her bottom lip being pulled between her teeth. She breathes out a tiny laugh, nodding. "I look forward to it, Spencer,"

I take a step towards the door and feel my body grow cold at the distance starting to increase between us. "I'll talk to you soon, Amelia,"

And with that, before I have it in me to take one more look at the angel standing in the corner cafe, I hurry out the front door. There's a dumb smile on my face as I rush down the stairs to the train platform, struggling to swipe my card and respond to Penelope's text at the same time, all while running to catch the train at the platform. I'm somehow successful at all of this and only manage to breathe once I'm inside the stuffy car. Amelia's face is stuck inside my head and I can't get it out, and I'm positive that I never want to.

///

"Reid? Reid!" My head pops up as Morgan forcefully says my name, catching my attention and bringing me out of my daydream.

When I look up at him, he's already staring up at me with his eyebrows raised, clearly expecting an answer out of me about something. I have no idea what that something is, but he’s wanting an answer about it. I clear my throat, placing my cup of terrible police station coffee on the table and running a hand over my face. "Sorry," I apologize half heartedly, "I was thinking,"

Morgan sits across from me at the table and folds his hands. "Case related?" I glance up at him before deciding to completely ignore him, standing and walking up to the board, returning to examining the geographical profile. "Reid, come on, we've been on the case three days. You've been distracted ever since you walked in for the briefing. You can talk to me," I keep ignoring him. I stare at the map in front of me. "Is something going on? Is it your mom?"

"My mom is fine," I spin around and cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my heart starts to speed up when Amelia’s face resurfaces in my brain. “Can we just solve this case so we can go home?”

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler #mgg #gublernation

[1337wtfomgbbq]

First Year: 1969

Had anybody told him that he would be getting a letter in early 1969, being delivered by a man in strange robes telling him that he was a wizard and he would be going to a school called 'Hogwarts' and learn how to use magic, Sean would have asked if they were dropped on their head as an infant too much.

But it all became horrible reality as the man, Professor Ivan Dreyfuß, who taught Ancient Runes and Alchemy at Hogwarts as he explained, told him he would be taking him to London to a place called Diagon Alley, where he would be able to buy the stuff he needed for school.

What followed was a lengthy discussion between Sean, his older brother Andrew, his mother and Professor Dreyfuß about the following proceedings.

As it turned out Sean's best friends, Liam and Odhran, who lived in the same street as himself, had both also received the same letter as he himself.

That was why Professor Dreyfuß took all three of them, plus a parental guardian, to Diagon Alley to get their school supplies.

//《••》\\

Sean still wasn't sure if the whole thing wasn't an elaborate joke, up until he stepped foot into Diagon Alley.

Unless they were all having the same dream, they were all getting books filled with spells and instructions on how to brew potions.

„Alright, this is real after all,“ Sean mumbled once he saw the wand that chose Liam, as Ollivander had put it, spray a plume of water.

His own wand, blackthorn with dragonheart string if he remembered correctly, spurted some small fireworks once Sean swung it as Ollivander instructed.

Odhran's parents stared in pure amazement at the cloud of green clovers his wand produced.

Their way to platform 9 ¾ on September 1st that year was just as surreal as their visit to Diagon Alley. This time however, Andrew and Henry could tag along.

Andrew wasn't really that impressed, promising him that he would be holding the line at home, while Henry was utterly fascinated by the hogwarts express and wouldn't stop asking their mother if he couldn't go to hogwarts as well.

„But I want to go too. Please, please, please,“ Henry begged, and their mother smiled and layed a hand on his shoulder.

„Maybe you'll get a letter too when you turn eleven,“ she said. Six year old Henry looked as if he couldn't wait to grow older.

A family shuffled past them, an older bloke and a boy that looked to be their age.

The boy had dark brown hair that was all curly and brown eyes that made Sean's stomach do a backflip as they locked eyes.

The boy smiled at him before being herded off by his mother, another family walked past them having Sean loose sight of the boy.

Liam and Odhran showed up a moment later and made him forget about the boy.

They hurried to board the train. An older girl had told them they would be leaving the station soon.

Sean promised his mother he would be writing, since Professor Dreyfuß had told them Hogwarts had a whole fleet of owls the students could use to stay in contact with home.

Henry hugged him and made him promise to write about the school, while Andrew patted his shoulder.

Once on the train he, Liam and Odhran got into a compartment, only for Odhran to promptly offer a fellow first year a seat.

He turned out to be from Derry as well; his name was Shain.

But they didn't stay in their compartment for long, as a plan had formed in Sean's mind.

They were already four first years that were from Derry, and, as it turned out, all of their families were also involved with the IRA. Who knew, maybe there were more.

And Sean turned out to be right, as they found Ryan and Thomas, who were also from Derry. Thomas had even went to the same primary school as them, they just hadn't been in the same class, but Odhran remembered him being pretty good at football.

Sean also remembered Andrew mentioning a boy he hab been in a brawl with british soldiers with, his name had been Doxey.

The world was a pretty small place indeed.

//《••》\\

„What is that? IRA?“ a voice said just as they were in conversation about the current state of affairs in the Bogside.

Sean turned his head towards the source of it. It was a rather short girl with dark blond hair that stood in the open doors of their compartment.

She wore those robes the wizards had been wearing in Diagon Alley, so she was probably not from the muggle world as they were.

„I wouldn't know what it concerns you,“ Odhran snorted, prefering to ignore the girl. But she was oddly persistant.

„But you're talking about it so heatedly,“ she said, leaning more into their compartment, „It must be something important.“

If Sean didn't knew better he would have said her mouth was salivating at the prospect of gaining some gossip.

He got up. „You should leave,“ he said.

Standing so close to her he realized that he was towering over her, she had to tilt her head back to be able to look him in the eyes.

„But-“ she started as Sean pushed her out of the doorframe.

„Now,“ he hissed. She looked quite surprised and about to open her mouth again as Sean bodily turned her and pushed her down the hallway. „Goodbye,“ he said, quickly adding, „Go follow them,“ as he saw a boy with hair as bright as a beakon and a boy that looked like military school further down the hallway, „maybe you can annoy them.“

The girl stumbled off as Sean gave her a shove and immediately as he turned back he was faced with another new face.

„You know, you don't have to squeeze all of you into one compartment,“ a boy with golden blond hair said. He had a pretty thick scottish accent.

Sean had been about to groan in annoyance, thinking the boy would be as nosy as the girl, but sighed in relieve instead.

The boy had to be a first year as well, as he looked to be around their age.

He also wore one of those robes the girl had worn. But unlike hers the boys robes weren't black, his were of a dark maroon color. The remainder of his clothes also looked strangely old, like something from photos of people from the 19th century.

That reminded him, he had risked a look into his 'history of magic' book, and spend an entire evening reading about the goblin riots.

„What do you care?“ Odhran snorted, at the same time as Thomas said, „It's alright. We don't mind.“ They stared at each other.

And Sean remembered how this awkward timing had sometimes ended with Odhran and Thomas in a scuffle that needed to be broken up by one of their teachers; and them getting detention for it.

Sean chuckled as he remembered that, and so did the boy in the doorway.

„Well, alright,“ he said, „just thought I'd offer some of you a seat. Lewis said those compartments only hold four people.“

„No complaints here,“ Shain said and he and the other boys shrugged their shoulders in agreement. It was a bit crammed but they could manage.

„Well, Lew always liked to tell bullshit,“ the boy snorted, which made Sean perk up.

„Your brother's already going to hogwarts?“ he asked, his interest spiked.

The boy nodded, raising a brow as Sean leaned against the wall next to him, crossing his arms. „Do tell.“

„I don't know how much is there to tell,“ the boy said, „Everybody knows about hogwarts, right?“

Sean shrugged and the rest of the boys also looked rather lost.

The boy's eyes widened. „You're all... muggle borns?“ he asked.

„If that means we had no idea we were wizards, then yes,“ Ryan said and the rest of the boys nodded as well.

//《••》\\

The boy, who turned out to be named Aaron, got extremely excited and soon they were seven boys in a compartment for four.

Aaron spend the remainder of the train ride telling them all sorts of things about the wizarding world, hogwarts and quidditch.

„So it's kinda like basketball but on brooms,“ Liam mumbled through a mouth full of pumpkin pasties they had gotten from the sweets trolley.

Aaron, trying to contain a chocolate frog, looked at him confused and the frog managed to jump out of his hands and onto the ground. „What's basketball?“

„Doesn't matter,“ Sean said, waving his hand dismissively, „Football is the only important thing.“

„What is football?“ Aaron asked, and now it was the boys that groaned.

„There is so much we can still show you,“ Odhran grinned, laying an arm around Aaron's shoulders, who looked at Sean with a confused expression that only grew once he saw Sean patting his trunk with a broad grin.

„I hope you got no cat in there,“ he said warily and Sean laughed.

„Of course not, just a football. My mom wouldn't have a cat in the house, she hates them.“

Aaron nodded. „Any of you got an owl?“ he asked once Odhran let go of him.

All of them shook their heads. Thomas' father wasn't too sure about having an owl at home, while Sean and Liam couldn't affort one.

„I have one,“ Aaron said proudly. „An eagle-owl.“

„Wow,“ Odhran said, sounding unimpressed. Ryan and Thomas on the other hand asked to see the owl later on.

//《••》\\

They continued talking about quidditch and football and what was happening in the wizarding world vs in the muggle world.

It was strange for the boys to think that Aaron had no idea what was going on in Northern Ireland, just as Aaron couldn't believe they didn't knew a thing about the blood purity movement around he who called himself 'the dark lord'.

„It's so stupid,“ Aaron said. They had all changed into their school robes once Aaron's brother Lewis had showed up and told them they would be arriving at hogwarts shortly. „If we hadn't mixed with muggles we would've gone extinct long ago.“

„At least we would've gone extinct with grace,“ a voice said.

The voice belonged to a girl. With her dark hair put into a tight bun and her nose held high she shoved Ryan out of her way. „I wouldn't want your dirty blood.“

„They surely don't want your blood either,“ Aaron hissed at her, but the girl didn't seem phased.

She snorted her disdain and strutted off and out of the train.

„I swear this whole blood status thing is totally bonkers,“ Liam said as they made their way out of the train and onto the platform. Aaron nodded avidly.

They watched as the rest of the new students pooled out of their compartment. They were about to follow the older students as there was a loud, booming voice calling over the platform that made many of them flinch.

„Firs' years to me!“

It was a giant man in a furry coat who was holding a lantern and waving them towards him.

„Come on,“ he yelled, „we don't have all evening. Let's get to the boats.“

„Boats?“ Thomas asked, sounding frightened. He apparently didn't like riding boats.

The whole ride over the lake that he spend in a boat with Sean, Liam and Aaron he wouldn't stop shaking,

Thankfully the ride over the lake didn't take long and Aaron assured Thomas over and over again that this was the only time they would have to cross the lake like that.

Thomas still breathed a sigh of relieve as he was finally on firm ground again.

The whole lot of them followed the giant man, up an awefull lot of stairs towards the castle. It seemed to go on forever until they finally managed to reach the top of the stairs and an entrance to the castle.

#harry potter oc #hogwarts oc #sean backley #liam bachram #odhran miller #shain aberdeen #thomas holton #ryan doxey #aaorn molloy #derry gang #derry gang at hogwarts #hogwarts first year #hogwarts express #diagon alley #muggle born