#AND OF COURSE THE WRITERS TRY TO MAKE HIM /SYMPATHETIC/ FOR THIS??? SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!

[morphogenetic]

man it's fucking killing me that requiem for innocence is genuinely doing a pretty good job at depicting someone recovering from childhood trauma but it's COVERED in a thick veneer of the whole. she was eleven and I was twenty-one thing

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

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𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

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The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn’t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

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Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

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Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

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Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

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“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

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Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

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London

[lilacsandwhiskey]

Angst prompts 12 - Tom 💛

Choices

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: language, angst, not necessarily a happy ending but maybe a part 2 in the works, perhaps?

angst prompt from @your-fluffy-murder-writer

Tom hated the way he couldn’t lay down and feel comfort in what he was sure was the most comfortable bed in the entire city. The hotel room was seemingly too large anymore, knowing there was one less body occupying the room.

He swung his legs over the left side of the bed, his feet hitting the cool carpet. He glanced at the clock. It was only 11:02pm, but everyone else had already fallen asleep in the suite. He tiptoed into the small kitchenette, grabbing a beer out of the fridge, thankfully stocked by Harrison earlier that evening. He took himself out to the balcony, sitting back on the cold metal chair that decorated the outlook.

Tom sighs as he pressed the bottle to his lips, sweat from the bottle falling onto his chest. He’s quick to rub them away before setting the bottle on the tiny garden table in between the two chairs. His fingers fumble with the other side of the chair as he stares at it, as if the one face he wants to see will appear. But he knows it won’t.

His mind takes in the still bustling city below him. He knows if you were here, you’d be whispering softly stories you’d made up about each person that walks around on the street. “They definitely are on their first date.” You’d say at the awkward hand holding couple crosses the street. “She looks like she’d drive a Benz. I’d like to drive a Benz.” Tom found himself letting out a laugh through his nostrils, immediately feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. If only you were here to make those comments.

Tom wondered what you were doing right now. It took everything in him not to call you, for the first time sober. There was no doubt drunken calls had surfaced on the nights he’d gotten absolutely hammered. Harry would try to stop him, but Tom never listened. He’d shove his brother away from him, closing the door and locking himself in there. He wasn’t proud of it. It didn’t exactly help his pride that you never once called back.

“You’ll always choose it over me.” You cried. “Every. Single. Time. You’ll choose anything it all over me.” This wasn’t the first time this had been a fight. Tom groaned, pushing his hand through his brown hair. “It’s my fucking job.” “When will you realize that I know that? But you’ve changed. I haven’t even gotten a text from you in over two weeks. I’m not going to be in a relationship with a radio silent telephone. I deserve more.”

And that’s when you left. You had enough and you finallt chose your feelings over your own. You were supportive of Tom and his endeavors, everything about his job, you supported. It wasn’t until the partying and clubbing commenced more than usual, earning you not even a check in text. You felt selfish for getting upset but you also recognize that what the two of you had going on wasn’t healthy either. If he wanted it to work, he would make it work, you told yourself.

Tom was awoken by clanking in the kitchenette. The place would be home to him for the next two weeks, so there was no question that Harry had ran out to get groceries for the three of you. Tom rolled out of bed, not before grabbing his phone. Did he ever call you last night? He checked. Nope. Thank God.

Tom made the decision then to try to get over you. No response to any of his calls or messages was a response to him. With a shaky sigh, his feet carry him to the kitchen, only to hear the tail-end of a conversation. “I miss when y/n would make us those cheesy eggs in the morning.” Harry said, cracking an egg over the pan. “She’d always put the right amount of cheese.”

With a groan, Tom looks to his brother and best friend. “Don't ever say her name again.” Tom pleads, sitting down at the stool. Tom knew his whim of a decision to forget you would be more difficult than not. Harry and Harrison share a look that goes unnoticed by Tom. “Sorry mate.” Harrison responds, giving Harry one more look.

The rest of breakfast goes as normal as it usually could. Tom craved more than his breakfast though, and the craving was almost overbearing to the real food in front of him. He looked over at the stool next to him, where you would be if you were still with him. He imagined what this morning would look like - the type of morning you’d shared several times before. Your knees pressed into his thigh, feet perched on his own stool instead of yours to get closer. Your body would be turned towards his as you scraped your food off your plate, laughing among the people he loved so much.

One thing Tom struggled the most with, was when you decided to leave, you left the family too. Tom wasn’t sure if you still communicated with him, but there was no doubt some hurt when Tom had announced your break-up. You’d become so close to all of them, that you sitting here next to him in the morning eating breakfast would have been domestic. Your laughter would have lightened the thickened air between all of you. You’d crack a joke or two, pushing Harry’s buttons like you always did.

The first time Tom ever saw Harry genuinely get upset at him was when he told him. Harry took it the hardest - he had grown close to you. Of course, Tom had other girlfriends in the past that Harry had met, but he had never gotten so protective over someone like he had you. He was sure you were it for Tom. So when Tom announced it at a family dinner when his mom was poking about your whereabouts, Harry’s chair screeched loudly, a napkin was thrown on his plate, and out the back door he was to the garden.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you?” Harry hadn’t even turned around to notice Tom’s presence. He knew already. “Why do you assume it was me?” “It’s not an assumption, Tom.” Harry is quick to turn on his feet to meet his older brother. “You pushed and pushed her away. We warned you. She begged for you to give her a sliver of that reassurance you gave her in the beginning but you couldn’t get it through that thick skull of yours.” Harry’s words cut like a knife but Tom knew he was right. “I’m sorry.” Tom whispered. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Harry pushed by his brother, inside to help clean up before he was gone to their own home.

Harry apologized soon after but didn’t fail to mention that he was still pretty upset. To Tom’s knowledge, no one had spoken to you. But that wasn’t true. Harry was the first to reach out, someone you confided in. He was like your little brother after all, you’d spent a few years by their sides. Then everyone found it in them to call or message you. You had ran into Nikki at the grocery store. She spotted you down the aisle looking at pasta. You turned to see that familiar face, that familiar smile. “Y/n.” She said, before you opened her arms and allowed her embrace. She didn’t fail to express how much she missed you, which only made getting over Tom harder.

Leaving Tom was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. When you made the decision, it wasn’t quick. You lingered for months. You thought there would be a change that would snap you back into the relationship you held so dear to your heart.

The phone calls were fairly continuous for a while, a drunken Tom confessing he was wrong. You’d squeeze your eyes shut listening to the messages, telling yourself not to cry. Your finger hovered over his contact several times. But there was one thing you knew - you couldn’t say hello to him and risk another goodbye.

——————

Tom was onset for his newest movie - one about a girl and a boy finding theirselves back to each other after a rough breakup. It was a rom-com, something Tom had always been up for, but it felt different not having you by his side during filming. Though he’d had a rather great break, he spent the majority of it sulking and attempting to prepare.

Tom saw several familiar faces walking onto set, familiar with the director as someone he’d worked with times before. “Where’s the lady?” He asked, shaking Tom’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry’s face drop into a frown, attempting to insinuate that it wasn’t a good subject for now. “Uh, we ended things.” “Oh man, I’m sorry to here that.” The director gave a sympathetic smile before calling for the objective of the scenes today.

Tom felt jittery as it was determined that they would be working on the break-up scene. He stood in front of his co-star, preparing body language to show they were angry. His co-star looks to him, feeding her selves thoughts to bring tears to her eyes.

“You never cared, did you?” She spits. “You know I did.” Tom remembers how small he’s supposed to feel in this moment before the anguish begins. “You are better off without me. Just say it.” “I can’t.” “Why can’t you?” The woman is hiccuping through tears. “Because… I love you.” “You’re pathetic. You’re a liar. You’re lying to me.”

Tom recalls his actions are to become angrier with each degrading comment. But in that moment - he’s sparked. “You really think I don’t love you?” “How could I when you treat me like this?” Tom feels the tears rushing to his eyes, face turning red. “I would do anything for you.” “Then do it! Stop treating me like this!”

This felt all too familiar. A fight way too familiar. The actress is doubled over in tears, and Tom’s character is to feel urged to hold her and apologize. He does, tears streaming down his own face. If only he’d handle your arguments differently. If only his fuse didn’t get the best of him.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Tom mumbles, holding the actress close. He becomes aware of how it’s not you he’s holding. He becomes aware of how this could have been different if he would just listen. The scene continues with mumbles I love yous and a tired girl packing up her clothes.

Tom watches in the corner, real tears falling down his face as he remembers watching you sling things into bags. You had slammed pictures down on the way out. And he knew it was goodbye.

“And… cut! Absolutely beautiful acting, you two! Don’t think we could’ve had you do that better.” The director gushed. Tom was still fed with a lump in his throat. The director reports they can take five, bringing Harrison and Harry walk to the curly-haired boy. “You okay?” Harry asks, squeezing his shoulder.

Tom hesitates, eyes staring forward. “No.” He lets out. “I fucked up. I should’ve handed it all better. Why did I hurt her?” Tom knew people were probably wondering why he was unable to snap back to reality. But that was thing - that conversation had been a reality and it cut too deep.

“I’m in love with her. I am. I know she won’t give me the time of day anymore. But God, I’d do anything for a second chance.” This was the first time Tom had let himself really feel his heartbreak, and he knew it wasn’t the time. So like the great actor he is, he snapped out of his trance and prepared to listen for directions as they called for everyone back.

Tom made his way to the crew, Harrison following close behind. “Keep an eye on him. I’ve gotta call to make.”

Harry walks out into the warm summer sun. He’s quick to pull his phone out and go to the number he needs. With a couple of taps, the phone is ringing. The ring is broken by a simple hello. “Y/n? Hey! Got a minute to talk?”

[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly  being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.  

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

 Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

 At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

 It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

 So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

 Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

 The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv.  Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality. 

 Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand. 

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

 “I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

 Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?” 

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon. 

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of  bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s. 

 Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules. 

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache. 

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her.  The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell.  No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

 “Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off.  “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah. 

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed. 

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

 Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile. 

“Hey Lobo.”

 Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised. 

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.” 

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her. 

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers. 

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.” 

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.” 

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air. 

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play. 

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him. 

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.” 

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her. 

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring. 

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert. 

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah.  “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke. 

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

 “I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

[ahsbitch]

Something Strange In The Air (Part 2)

Word Count: 2544

Summary: In the aftermath of your...incident with Michael, you’re still tumbling to figure out what you’re doing. 

Warnings: It’s probably bad idk, oral (male receiving), face fucking, degradation, Mean!Michael & Being Mean To Michael, blue balls, waxing poetic, lots of cursing (as always), idk i can’t think of any others 

A/N: Sorry this is really short and sorry it took so long I’m in college so I’ve been busy and I was writing a oneshot for a different fandom which took some time, the next chapter will have more plot to it and stuff I promise, my apologies for shitty writing and being a super slow writer, I’m doing my best I promise. As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!!

Mini Tags: @wroteclassicaly @1-666-coven @michaellangdonstanaccount uhhh there are others but i can’t remember if i forgot to tag you i’m sorry pls remind me 

ALSO I PUT IN THE KEEP READING THING BUT IT REFUSES TO WORK SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was poetry flashing through your mind.

Some say the world will end in fire

Bits and pieces. 

Death, be not proud

You couldn’t get him off your mind. 

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart 

Couldn’t get your dream off your mind. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

The way he had looked at you, in it, how he had held your hand.

He kindly stopped for me-

Michael often called you little witch,

Leave my loneliness unbroken 

But he had never called you his little witch, as he had in the dream. 

There will be time to murder and create

He was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, you had to admit.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

And he pulled you in, in spite of how hard you tried to ignore it

I can no longer remain away from you

It was almost disgusting, how much you thought about him. 

Curse, bless, me now with your tears, I pray

There was something about him that frightened you.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

A lot about him that frightened you, actually. 

A waking on a morn

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, and you could tell from her tone that this wasn’t the first time she’d said your name, “Are you with me?” 

Shit, you’d gotten distracted. 

You’d been called to a meeting in Cordelia’s office, made it to one of the chairs, and immediately spaced out. 

You hadn’t really seen Michael in almost a week, nothing more than passing glimpses in the halls and quick pulses of his energy in the air. You’d been avoiding him. Or maybe he’d been avoiding you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You hadn’t spent a single night in your bedroom, instead floating around to parties and going to the swamps to practice your magic rather than spend time in the study room. 

Fuck, things were getting complicated.

“I’m with you,” You smiled cautiously at her, “I’m sorry.” 

She smiled back, something you couldn’t quite determine just behind her eyes. Concern, of course, her whole aura was clearly very concerned, but something else, and then she was speaking, her voice as calm as ever, “Don’t be sorry. Are you feeling okay?” 

Of course not.

“Of course I am!” 

“Try again,” Her hands were folded neatly on her desk, and you dropped your gaze to look at them, Cordelia’s words making you feel a strange sense of shame, “I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.” 

Your ears were burning, your heart jumping wildly in your chest, “I’m sorry.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry. Just... what’s going on with you? What’s going on between you and Michael Langdon?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been sleeping in your room, or studying in the house,” Cordelia looked at you strangely, and you held your breath, “Have you still been fighting?”

She didn’t know.

Thank fuck. 

“Yes,” You responded, perhaps a little too quickly, “Yes, we have. We just can’t seem to agree on anything.”

Not entirely untrue.

She nodded sympathetically, and you were relieved to feel that she believed that was it, “I’m sorry. I feared something like this might happen. But Y/N, you need to return to your room.You can’t be out every night, and you can’t do all of your studying in the swamps. You’re still a student here. You have to be present, at least sometimes.”

“Okay,” Nodding, you worked on getting your breathing fully back to normal, “I’ll be back in my room tonight.” 

“Good,” Cordelia reached out and squeezed your hand gently, “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You are a powerful witch, and a good woman. I believe in you.” 

Not able to make yourself respond, you simply flashed her a smile and bolted for the door, blinking back tears.

Fuck, she’d bee so disappointed if she knew the truth. 

You were barely out of the office when the door to a closet opened and someone tugged you inside, slamming it shut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck, Michael?” You snapped, blinking into the darkness. 

Michael’s hand clamped over your mouth as he let out a growl, “Be quiet, little witch.” 

You worked your mouth until you managed to clamp your teeth onto the skin of his palm, biting as hard as you could. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, jerking away from you, “That hurt!”

“Good,” Glaring, you reached for the cord on the light and tugged on it, the weak bulb flickering overhead, “What the fuck?”

Glowering at you in the dim light, Michael crossed his arms, “What did Cordelia want?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Shaking his head, he scoffed at you, “It was about me, wasn’t it? Does she know?” 

It was childish to play dumb, and you knew that, but you were doing it anyway, “Does she know what? Why would we want to talk about you?” 

It took only a single step for Michael to back you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips, "Don’t even bother with that shit. Answer the fucking question.” 

You shoved at his chest, although even you had to admit that it was a halfhearted push. His proximity, especially after so long away from him, was overwhelming, and you felt your mind slipping to a place you didn’t want it to be, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” 

Another shove, and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding them over your head, “You weren’t asking me to do that last time we saw each other, were you, little witch? Now. Does Cordelia know?” 

“No,” Growling, you tried in vain to pull your hands back, “We talked about you, but she doesn’t know about that. Now let me go.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Michael laughed at you, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not the one in charge here.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, beginning to shake with something between fury and a feeling that you didn’t quite want to acknowledge.

“This is a pretty color,” Michael shifted both of your wrists to one hand and brought the other down to trail across your lips, tapping at the soft flesh, smudging a bit of the golden sheen, “Did you put this on for me?” 

Ever since that day in the study room, not that day but the one before, you had taken to wearing more and more lipstick, coating your lips in a new color everyday. 

Today was gold, one that shimmered when the light hit it, and if you were honest, yes, you did put it on for Michael. Every time you reapplied a coat of lipstick, today and every other, he flashed through your mind, the sneer on his features, the echo of his words in your ear when his fingers were down your throat. 

“You look good like this...Gagging...You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself...But really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.” 

Fuck, just thinking about it sent a wave of wetness gushing through you, and you tensed your legs in an effort to ignore it, and the smirk on Michael’s face told you that he had noticed. 

Yes, you were wearing it for him. 

“No,” You had to crane your head to glare at him with how close he was, “I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but not everything is about you, Boy Wonder.” 

He hummed, drawing his fingers along your cheekbone, and you cursed yourself for the way you leaned into the contact ever so subtly. After a moment he pressed his lips against yours, and although you fought to keep yourself in control, to keep from kissing him back, cursing yourself once again when you couldn’t hold yourself back, your noses smashing against one another, your mouth slipping open with a groan, quickly intruded upon by Michael’s tongue, which battled fiercely with yours. 

And then suddenly he pulled away from you and stepped back, and you fell to your knees as he chuckled, his hands unbuckling his belt, “All the same, little bitch, I think that color would look wonderful smeared all over my cock, don’t you?” 

“I fucking hate you,” You glared up at him through your eyelashes as one of his hands gripped your hair, the other pulling his dick out of the confines of his slacks. 

“That just makes this all the more pathetic, doesn’t it?” He slapped your cheek with his dick gently, and it wasn’t lost on you how perfect it was, the size and the ridging and and the pulsing veins and the furious pink of the tip all making your mouth water, “Get up and walk away if you want, little witch bitch. But I don’t think you will. I think you want this. I think that being a little whore is the calling you’re pulled to most.” 

Get up and walk away.

You could do that. 

He pulled his hand from your hair, letting your head drop back, and you knew that if you moved to stand he would release you, would let you go. His precum had leaked onto your face as he continued to hit your cheeks, waiting to see what you would do. 

Just get up and walk away. 

But you couldn’t, couldn’t bring yourself to walk away without having the chance to taste him, not when the very thought was sending arousal roaring through you, and while you wished you could directly blame this on Michael, could say that his magic was holding you in place, that simply wasn’t it. 

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and in an instant his cock was down your throat, Michael setting off to fuck your face at an intense pace. 

Gagging, you brought your hands up to his thighs, and when your nails scratched against his legs through the fabric or his dress pants Michael let out a high, desperate groan. 

Although you couldn’t quite smile at that, with how full your mouth was, there was a little voice gloating in the back of your head, and you squeezed his thigh tightly, drinking down his moans as you moved until his own back had hit the wall, his hands desperately moving from your hair to your shoulders to simply slamming down on either side of his body. 

“Your mouth is good for something, I guess,” Michael grunted, as though he wasn’t as desperate for you as you had been for him a week ago, “You’re much prettier when you’re not talking, did you know that?” 

You managed to flick back your middle finger enough to flip him off, although you didn’t pull back to make a verbal response. There was something urgent about this, and the idea of dropping him from your mouth seemed too great a sacrifice to make, when the harmony of Michael’s shockingly soft, animalistic moans mixed with the lewd, wet noises of his dick hitting the back of your throat was so disgustingly lovely. 

Michael’s hands twitched, as though he was going to grab at your hair again, and at that moment he seemed to finally notice your own magic in the air, holding his wrists in place.

“You little bitch,” He snarled, straining against the magic, but all he could do was buck his hips into your mouth even harder, letting out a hiss as your teeth grazed him, as your tongue swirled around his head, “Let me go.” 

But where’s the fun in that? 

You didn’t let him go, and you didn’t stop. If anything, you grew more intense, your hands managing all over him, sneaking past the fabric of his clothes to leave angry scratches on his skin, so smooth underneath your touch. Eventually one of them trailed to his balls, tugging and toying with them roughly as he began to strain even harder, began to make a choked noise at the back of his throat that made your thighs clench, and you knew he was going to cum soon. 

You pulled your mouth off of him. 

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, panting, desperate, watching as you trailed your tongue over every inch of his dick, pulling his balls into your mouth and sucking them slowly, and finally you pressed a kiss to the skin just above his cock and leaned back with a grin.

“What the fuck,” Michael growled, although his face showed a kind of manic desperation that he clearly wasn’t used to, “Get back to it!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Your smile got even wider, although your mouth was sore and your voice scratchy, you decided it was worth it, “You call me a little bitch all the time, but who’s the bitch now, Boy Wonder?” 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will ruin you,” Snarling in spite of the pained expression starting to grow on his face, he thrusted against you, and you let out a giggle at that. 

“It’s so cute that you say that while you’re humping my leg like an unfixed puppy,” Shaking your head, you took a step back, out of the range of his hips, and looked down to admire his flushed, throbbing dick, “You were right, y’know. The gold does look good on there .Especially the contrast it has with the blue of your balls.”

He looked down to see that your words were true, the skin becoming overtaken with a pale, bruise like color, and when Michael looked back up at you there was something murderous in his eyes, “Quit fucking around. Let me go, and finish.” 

“Why should I?”

Arms straining against their magical containment, face twisting with the growing pain in his balls, Michael’s voice had grown croaky, “Do it. I will never touch you again, if you walk away from this, do you get that you desperate little whore? You want me. You need me. Do what I fucking tell you.” 

“I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding here, Langdon. I don’t need anything from you. You keep saying you’re the one in charge, but look at you. You’re nothing but a little blonde bimbo. So fuck you,” You scoffed, trailing a single hand across his chest and giving his nipple a harsh pinch, letting out a laugh at his angered whine, “And by the way, Cordelia says I have to move back into our room. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll see you whenever you get around to being the powerful warlock everyone thinks you are and break through my magic.”

With that, you pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lip and turned away, not bothering to fix your own appearance before you went out, turning the light off before you closed Michael in the closet. 

You were proud of yourself, you had to admit. 

Scared, perhaps, of what he might do, and curious as to whether or not he’d keep the promise that he’d never touch you again-not that you wanted him to, of course, you were just curious-but you were proud all the same. 

Fucking Michael Langdon. 

[lizacstuff]

Another very good episode despite the sad ending which was very well executed by hande. What did you think of the episode?

Very good episode. One nice thing about these new writers, so far, is that the episodes flow a bit better than they used to flow. I think the prior team had trouble putting 2+ hour story without it being disjointed.  These guys seem to be able to manage the format better. 

So much to love in this chapter. So much comedy. So much fun. So much ripping my heart out and stopping on it and then kicking it a little and then throwing it into a fiery lava volcano pit for good measure. 

All those emotions were felt. 

Edser to come, but let's start with Babaanne and the Prince.  It really feels like these characters were introduced with another story in mind, and then the show pivoted. Perhaps the new writers wanted something else, or maybe Fox wanted to renew but wanted the show to get back to basics so they changed course to this reset of sorts? It all feels unfinished.

(continued under the cut)

I think we were all expecting more trouble from both characters.  Not that kidnapping Eda isn't causing trouble, it clearly is, but the fact that it was resolved in the first 5 minutes is notable. What was the point? It did give them a cliffhanger, a chance for Serkan to be a hero, a reason for Serkan to fire Balca, and a reason for Babaanne to change her tune, so it wasn't completely pointless, it served some plots, however it was very anticlimactic. 

Babaanne was pretty anticlimactic too. She comes on like a house on fire in 25, having Serkan arrested on serious charges that could have stuck, framing Alptekin, ruining the project the team had won via the tender. She manipulates Eda into breaking Serkan's heart, goes full matchmaker with the Prince, but then when Eda decides, "Nah, I'm not only not going to give up on Serkan, I'm gonna marry him." she backs off all her threats? 

It does make me wonder if both or either (offscreen) the Prince or Babaanne have something to do with Serkan's plane going missing.  Just so they can fulfill their evil potential. Either of them is powerful enough to pull that off, and it makes more sense than either of them giving up so easily. 

As for Aydan and Ayfer, they made for some pretty good laughs this episode. I think the friction caused by their inherent differences is much more funny, than the fighting over Chef Alexander. As I said in another ask, Ayfer worked my last nerve in her very first scene this episode. She wakes up after being dosed by her mother's choice of life-mate for Eda, but immediately blames the Bolats. Fuck off with that. She enabled her mother, she is more to blame for this situation than anyone but the villains. If she would have stood up to her mother and supported Eda instead of choosing to further Babaanne's agenda by opposing the wedding, maybe Eda's life wouldn't have been put in such danger.  I can't with her. She would deserve it if Eda puts a little distance between them.  

GO DETECTIVE MELO! Love her tenacity in putting together the pieces of Henna night and rightly figuring out Balca's duplicity. For a second there I thought they weren't going to tell Serkan what they found, which made me nervous, but then at the first opportunity she blurts it out. Well done!  We should have known Serkan would be two steps ahead of them except that he's been two steps behind when it comes to Balca since the very beginning. It was very satisfying to watch him fire her. Though, I do wish we would have seen him find out she purposely put strawberry in his drink.  Good riddance!   The ILYs between Serkan and Melo were very sweet, it speaks so well of Serkan that he has such a soft spot for her. Of course it is only natural since Melo has been an unwavering supporter of his since the beginning, Serkan picks his allies well. 

Now onto the couples. The tension between all the romantic pairs this episode was fun, and obviously done for over-the-top comic relief, but also very silly, lmao. Those boys are so DUMB!  Engin has the sensibility of a preteen boy and Ferit never knows when to shut up, he's so naive and he can't read a room.  

However, who didn't love the friendship growth between Serkan and Ferit?  They planned a 15-day bike trip? I'm dying! And crying! However, I fully believe that Eda-broke-up-with-me-I-have-a-sad-and-need-a-distraction Serkan planned that trip and I found it preposterous that Serkan would have any desire to still go right after he got married.  We're supposed to believe that schmoopy, smitten, horny Serkan is ready to leave his newlywed bride for that length of time? Puh-lease he's planning every way he's going to sex her up over the next 6 months, and it's going to take every free minute. Also they can't even find time to get to Paris for the night, but he's going away for that?? NOPE.  Maybe next year, Ferit... but also invite the girls to the bike portion.  

The tension between Eda and Serkan in the first half hour of the ep was a nice little truncated story of the stress wedding planning and a looming, giant life change can put on a couple. Edser started the day in a very schmoopy place, but by the time they left Aydan's they were already starting to feel the pressure. The bickering between Ayfer and Aydan felt typical, and I felt myself being more sympathetic with Aydan.  They're rich, why wouldn't they hire a wedding coordinator? That's a helluva lot of work to do in 3 days!  Why would Ayfer want to spent that time doing centerpieces when she could be enjoying the pre wedding festivities? Dumb. The gems as favors do seem a little over-the-top, but I'd like to take home one of those aquamarines when I attend their wedding, so I won't complain. As far as where they're going to live, both ladies need to step off! They need to be at least 15 minutes of driving distance from both of them.  Not living on the Bolat property and not living in Ayfer's neighborhood. Geez. I'm stressed just typing it up, no wonder it set the betrothed couple on edge.  Obviously, they were having a major disconnect when they got to work. Serkan was dealing with a crisis and probably should have just told Eda that instead of burying himself in work, ignoring her, and getting irritated with her. Meanwhile, Eda should have noticed he was more focused than even the typical workaholic robot, and that meant something important. 

The misunderstanding that fueled their full day stand-off was so silly, and preventable, but also led to hilarity and one of my favorite scenes ever so I won't be too hard on how manufactured it was.  Each of these things-- family wedding planning stress, Serkan being inattentive due to work crisis, and Serkan acting a little "the old ball and chain" when Ferit was blundering along about guys trips and postponing the wedding-- all led to an Eda who was already feeling a bit insecure, so when she overheard Serkan's phone conversation it's not shocking she took it the wrong way.  However, it takes a bit more handwaving to believe Serkan took the conversation the wrong way and went right to freezing her out. Come on, Serkan, you're less emotional and have less reasons to be feeling vulnerable at that moment. She was in your office trying to get your attention on wedding planning and your home and future. You were the one too busy to engage!  Though, I suppose it's believable that these two stubborn souls would allow the misunderstanding to fester out of pride, rather than confront it head on and clear it up right away. It's pretty consistent that when one of them gets their feelings hurt and feels rejected by the other, their defensive walls go up and they both revert to pretending they're just fine and the other's rejection can't hurt them. They need to get over this asap.  

That poor wedding planner. She has a couple insisting they get married in 3 days, they're entirely unhelpful and now they aren't even speaking to one another?  I understand her frustration and don't ding her for asking if they're sure they're ready to get married, but her saying that was definitely one of the things that contributed to the insecurities they were both already feeling. They were both so sad when they had the last conversation in the office, each one suggesting the other to take time to think and rest. Their video call that night was equally as fraught and sad. Sweet, dumb babies. 

The entire sequence of the girls stealthing into the hotel and hiding on the couch was hilarious. I love that Eda doesn't realize that crashing the bachelor party could be embarrassing until she's flat on her back on that couch, hiding behind lobby foliage.  As for the boys, they redeemed themselves a little bit, by being too upset to enjoy themselves.  

One of my favorite parts is Eda trying to be breezy as if the girls being there has nothing to do with the bachelor party. I laughed at Melo taking the blame for suggesting the resort. The single gal always takes the blame, just like the unmarried/not engaged Ferit gets the blame later.  This moment (click here) is one of my favorites of the episode. I still am not sure what she's trying to say with her looping gestures and pointing upstairs and then her haughty pose, and I don't think Serkan knows either, but yet he just gets a kick out of her. The guy who Engin said never smiled, smiles pretty damn easily these days. Also j’adored the wardrobe that had them matching perfectly in shades of cream and olive. In sync and gorgeous. 

Speaking of wardrobe, during that fireplace conversation Serkan looked so huggable in that fleece pullover (more casual Serkan, please!) that I felt terrible that they were not in a place where she could cuddle up to him in front of the fire. Come on! We deserved to see that. That was the biggest tragedy in that scene, slightly ahead of them postponing the wedding. As for that, they were both so convinced that the other thinks they're going too fast, that neither of them was listening to how the other positioned it. Each positioning it as the other's preference. That illustrated the trouble that a little insecurity and a lot of pride can cause.  

Now on to my favorite scene of the episode! Seriously, immediately after watching it I mentally vaulted it to my top 10 scenes list (no such list exists, and if it did it would change all the time, lol).  First, can I say how I appreciated that the friends were all shocked at the news they were postponing the wedding? Ferit and Engin couldn't believe it, and Melo, Ceren and Piril all actively questioned the idea that Serkan would want to postpone. Thank you! You just know if Ayfer were there she would have tried to say "Oh, that's too bad, but really for the best, let's celebrate!"  

Anyway, I loved every second from the moment Serkan says, "Eda, can we talk?" until the apology. Finally, instead of being led by their pride, they both show some hurt which is the catalyst for the heated conversation that clears everything up.  

It's impressive how consistent they've been with some characterizations and how Serkan and Eda yin/yang each other. Eda has always had trouble saying, "I love you." It just doesn't come easy to her. She illustrated that in episode 12, she can handle the sentiment and agree with it, "our feelings are mutual" but it's hard for her to say the words. 

Conversely, Serkan has never had that problem. From the minute he confessed he has told her how much he loves her many, many times and in many, many different ways. What Serkan has trouble with is "I'm sorry". It is so hard for him to say those words. In episode 9, all it would have taken to get Eda back was a simple apology, instead he spent an entire episode doing everything to get her back, but the very simple act of saying, "I'm sorry. That is some next level aversion to apologizing. Whereas Eda doesn't have that problem, she can own her mistakes and apologize pretty easily. 

These scenes outside showcased this dynamic beautifully.  After the misunderstanding is rectified, Eda very easily apologizes, but Serkan goes with a "me too" type of response. The sentiment is there, but he doesn't say the words. A few minutes later, after the crew joins them, Serkan goes all romantic robot and tells her how much he loves her, then prompts her, but instead Eda teases and teases until she finally whispers it. 

Obviously, she loves him and obviously he is sorry about the misunderstanding, but I like the consistency that they both still have trouble vocalizing these specific things.

The fact that Serkan was ready to chuck the guys and his bachelor party in order to have a romantic night with her is very sweet, and also points out how silly the notion of him wanting to travel extensively without her right after they get married. I don't mind things that are exaggerated for humor, but still humor shouldn't need you to completely change the attitudes of the characters in order to hit. And playing on jokes about how marriage and a wife might be viewed as a burden, especially in context of a couple who aren't even married yet, isn't awesome. Which I get, the fact that it is a shitty attitude and a crappy joke fueled the fights between the couples, so at least there was that. It wasn't accepted. 

The lovely montage by the lake was a wonderful way to show us some quiet, romantic moments between them. That's one of the great things about this format, they have time to occasionally gift us with scenes that don't drive the plot, don't move forward any story or character development or even have dialogue, they just exist to make us swoon and fall even more in love with this couple. Mission accomplished! The fact that Kerem is the one who found that location just makes it sweeter. 

Engin, Engin, Engin. What makes you think it is a good idea to judge a beauty pageant?  Your wife is in the hotel! Not that she would be jealous, but, you know, assigning a number value to women based on their looks... it's not great. Also I realize that it's a necessity while shooting with Covid, and we just have to suspend disbelief in scenes that should have tons of extras but are barren, but the hotel holding a beauty pageant and the only people in attendance are three dudes who just happened to be bored in the lobby is funny in and of itself.  But glad the girls got a chance to take their revenge and make the boys feel what it's like to be judged in such a way. Plus it was worth some laughs and gave us a way to unite the bachelor party with the pajama party. 

For me the next scenes only exist to have Edser draped all over each other in the bar.  I didn't really pay too much attention, I think Piril/Engin and Ceren/Ferit all made up, but I do know Serkan wanted to ditch everyone and go back to the room and since we know what happened next.... we know why!  Though I did wonder, did he have a massage appointment for like 10pm?  Or was it the next day? It matters not at all, but it did strike me while watching. I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH WE GOT OF THEM IN THE TUB!!!  *flings self into the sun*  That was quite something.  Bless these new writers and their willingness to go there.  I love that scene so much. Serkan's smile is just... something else. 

One nitpick is the lighting. Obviously, with the timeline they shoot on, some production value will go by the wayside, though mostly I think they do a decent job despite all the constraints. However, one place that is consistently lacking is lighting in indoor, one-off locations.  The coffee shop in ep 12 is an example, and this was another one. I can understand they need to get in and out quickly. In this case the crew wouldn't have been able to probably prep as much as they'd like, because you're probably not going to put any stand-ins in the water, and you can't take time to perfect it once your big stars are in the tub, mostly naked, submerged and pruning, but the harsh shadows across each of their faces is distracting. Where were the bounce boards? Even those lines out. 

But obviously we don't care. WE GOT THEM BEING SEXY AND PLAYFUL IN THE TUB! What a bounty. That's all that matters.  Loved all the wedding prep, especially the lovely Aydan and Eda scenes. There was SO MUCH JOY... until there wasn't. 

I'm not going to spend much time on the contrivance that led us to the final scenes. I mean, first, Erdem... why are you so incompetent?  And, second, do they not have E-signature in Turkey? Or scanners? Or even fax machines? The idea of having to fly to Italy just to sign something is ridiculous. Oh well, whatever drives their plot, I guess. 

The final Edser scene was brilliant and beautiful and heartfelt and romantic and ominous and painful. All the things it should have been for what happens next.  Poor Serkan! Poor Eda! Why can't they catch a break? 

[mistymazzello]

Illicit Affairs | part two

Joe Mazzello x Reader

summary-Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

word count- 2.3k

warnings- cussing

part one

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

There was still one week left until shooting started, and you spent everyday at the office preparing. Filing papers, making phone calls, running around so that Joe could stay sane. On a particularly windy morning, the August heat still relentless, you jogged into the office building, three coffees in hand. 

You smiled a good morning at one of the writers as you passed, stepping out of the elevator. Hair covered half of your face from the harsh wind as you walked towards Joe’s office. You pushed it out of your face with your free hand as your heels lightly clicked against the tile floor. 

You gave one of the coffee’s to Julia, the producer who you had met on your first day. “Thank you, my love.” She blew you a kiss. You had recently learned she was 63, and had been producing movies since the 70s. She’s also one of the coolest people you’ve ever met.

The second coffee went to the head writer, who looked as if he’d been there all night. He seemed especially thankful for it.

“You’re late.” Beck said, catching up to walk beside you.

With furrowed eyebrows, you checked your watch. “I’m 3 minutes early?”

“Okay well, I’ve been here for 15 minutes. If you’re not 5 minutes early, you’re late.” He huffed. 

Doing nothing but shaking your head to avoid from telling Beck to fuck off, you arrived at Joe’s door.

“Who’s that coffee for?” Beck questioned sternly.

You finally stood still, turning towards Beck. “Joe.”

He looked mad. “How’d you know his coffee order?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I asked him.” 

He scoffed. Opening the door, you stepped inside, once again adjusting your hair that had been tangled by the wind.

“Mornin’ boss.” You said, walking over to Joe’s desk to set the coffee down.

“Hey kid.” He smiled. “Morning Mr. Beck.”

“Good morning Mr. Mazzello.” Beck straightened his posture. 

After some friendly conversation, Joe explained that he had a meeting with all of the costume and makeup people for the movie. “I need one of you to come with me to hand stuff out and keep track of things for me.”

“”I will.” Beck volunteered before you could even think to say anything.

“Ah Beck, ever eager.” Joe sighed.

He turned to you. “Then you, I’ll just need you to answer some emails for me. Just get to whatever ones you can get to.” He said.

“Okay.” You smiled as he and Beck headed towards the door.

“You’re a peach.” He winked before leaving.

You couldn’t help but smile smally, your cheeks pink as you crossed to the other side of the desk to sit at his desk where his laptop was. You read and responded to emails for a while, your chin set in your hand. 

Something you loved about this job was that no matter how boring or mundane a task was, you always found it enthralling. You got to answer the emails of a Hollywood director, who everyone seemed to be trying to get in contact with. When you print off papers for 20 minutes, it’s exciting because you’re printing off new pages of a script that hardly anyone has read yet. Being an intern was fun, but being Joe’s intern was incredible.

You didn’t think there was a single person in this office who didn’t find Joe handsome and charming and funny, so you tried not to fret when you had these feelings all of the time. 

Joe thought you were adorable. Amazingly pretty, sweet, sarcastic. He assumed the same that you assumed about him, that he shouldn’t worry that he thinks this because he was sure that everyone else did too.

Joe and Beck came back into the office, chatting about something that had to do with the casting director. You finished up the email you’d been writing and stood up from Joe’s seat.

“I hope you didn’t go snooping around in my computer.” He joked.

“Nope, just read all of your personal emails from your family and dug through your photos. You now, normal intern stuff.” You smiled.

Joe cackled. “Nothing I wouldn’t expect from you.”

The rest of the day was similar to that morning, the whole day packed with meetings. Beck had to leave to deliver some papers (you thought it was the refined script) to someone across town, because apparently they were too top secret to be sent by email.

As you were typing out a schedule for hair and makeup, Joe poked his head in the office. 

“Hey, kid?” He asked softly.

“Hm?” You looked up.

“Would you mind coming to this meeting with me? You won’t have to do much, I just want someone to go with me.” He said.

“Oh, yeah sure.” You shut your laptop and stood up to follow him. 

“Why do you want someone to come with you?” You asked quietly as the two of you walked down the hallway. 

Joe stopped outside of the conference room. “Because I fucking hate this guy.”

You laughed lightly.

“Pretend I never said that.” He followed up.

You pretended to zip and lock your lips. He laughed, shaking his head.

The meeting was rather boring, but you understood why Joe hated this guy. He was loud and rude and screamed snobby rich dude. Joe gave you a couple of “I’m so sorry.” glances throughout, but you just gave him some sympathetic smiles back, because you weren’t the one who had to talk to him.

Still, Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about the subway. You were relieved to say the least, hoping that he had forgotten about it. You assumed that if he knew it was you, he would’ve said something over the last 3 weeks.

It was getting dark out by the time Joe said that you and Beck could leave. As you began to step out of his office, offering him a “Bye, Joe.”, he stopped you. Beck had already walked out, and you tilted your head as you stepped back into his office.

“God, I feel like such an old person asking this, but can you help me with something on my computer? I can’t figure out how to download this video that marketing wants me to watch.” He sighed.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You smiled.

“You're a lifesaver.” He said, rolling his chair back so you could lean over his computer.

It took a matter of seconds for you to figure it out, explaining it to him as you went. 

“Oh, well now I just feel stupid.” He sulked.

You giggled. “It’s okay. Do you know how many times a day I feel stupid around you? I had no idea what you guys were talking about in that meeting today.” You turned around to lean your thighs against his desk and face him. 

He leaned back in his chair. “I never know what that fucking guy is talking about.” He sighed. It was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. He’s just a dick, and I have to listen to him.”

You nodded. “It’s okay. I have a feeling I’m going to have to deal with a lot more guys like him if I’m going to be a part of this industry. It’s best if I practice not telling him to go fuck himself now.”

Joe tipped his head back and laughed. “God, you have the best attitude.” He smiled.

It was quiet again as the two of you smiled, looking at the ground. The room that was usually lit up by the sun outside was now lit up by a single lamp on the desk, along with the city lights through the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall.

Joe looked up at you, the orange glow from the lamp casting a light over your face as you looked at the ground. 

He sighed, then sat up straight in his chair. “Okay, well, I’ll let you go home now. I have a ton of shit to do and you’re probably dead tired.”

“Well do you need help with anything?” You asked immediately.

“No, no. It’s nothing really business related and again, you’re probably dead tired.” He shook his head.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind. My whole job is to make sure you’re not overwhelmed.” you said.

He breathed out and bit his inner cheek. “Well, if you really want to, I have a few errands I have to run, so if you wanted to pick up my dry cleaning and bring it to my apartment, it would save me like an hour.”

“Yeah, I could totally do that.” You shrugged.

“You’re literally an angel, Y/N.” He eulogized. He dug into his bag and pulled out a key. “This is my spare. When you drop off the clothes, just set it on the table. And don’t rob my house.”

“Aw, I can’t even look for a safe?” 

Within 15 minutes, you were picking up Joe’s dry cleaning. The city was in full swing as you took a taxi across town, the lights outshining the moon by a mile. You unlocked Joe’s door and stepped inside, the apartment pitch black as you searched for a light switch, overwhelmed by the scent Joe carried with him at all times. Musky and expensive, but at the same time incredibly comforting. The exact scent of the jacket he had given you. You turned the lights on and walked further into the apartment, looking around. There were papers scattered across the coffee table in the living room, and tons of pictures hanging on the wall. You didn’t want to snoop-no, you weren’t going to snoop. You walked swiftly past the photos on the wall, only catching a slight glimpse of a picture of him and an older woman, presumably his mom.

Debating where to put the clothes, you figured it made sense to hang them in his closet. The scent got stronger as you stepped down a hallway, peeking your head into each of the rooms, trying to find his bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and you tried your hardest not to look around while you were walking across the room to his closet, but some things were inevitable to see. The room was clean, unorganized, but still clean. The bed was unmade. More pictures covered the wall, and this time, you let yourself take a glance. Most of them were him and his family. It made you crack a smile, the thought of Joe being a family man.

You hung the clothes in the closet quickly and turned back around, ready to leave, when an orange and white cat ran past your feet and jumped onto his bed. You flinched and then laughed. “Kitty, you scared me.” You said softly, walking over to the bed and reaching out your hand.

The cat nuzzled its face against your knuckles and you giggled lightly. 

“She’s not like that with most people.” A voice said from behind you. 

“Jesus!” You jumped, turning around to see Joe in the doorway. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“You’re in my house!” He laughed.

“Sorry, I just… Sorry. I promise I wasn’t snooping around or anything I was just, I’m so sorry.” You rambled, suddenly flustered by the fact that you were in your boss’ bedroom. You sighed. “I was hanging up your clothes and-”

“Y/N, kid, I don’t care.” He laughed.

You took a deep breath and put your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled.

He came over and sat at the end of the bed by you, his cat immediately crawling into his lap. “I meant what I said though, she’s usually mean to new people.” He said, petting his cat softly.

You sat down next to him, reaching your hand over to pet her as well. “What’s her name?”

“Ronnie. I originally thought I was getting a boy cat so I picked out that name, I got it from the movie ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, but then they told me last minute I was getting a girl. So I guess she’s just a girl named after a boy.”

“Mm.” You hummed “Never seen it.”

His hands froze. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’ve never seen it.” You giggled.

He gasped. “Y/N, are you fucking serious? You’ve never seen Can’t Buy Me Love? That’s like, a staple movie of American Cinema!”

You laughed a little harder. “I’ve just never really got around to it, I guess?”

He scoffed and began laughing too. “That’s ridiculous. I’m forcing you to watch it sometime. Sometime before shooting ends, that’s my goal. We have to culture you.”

“You’re my boss, I guess I have to agree.” You said.

“Mhm. Exactly.” He said, his eyes twinkling.

Ronnie crossed over to your lap and laid down. Joe scooted closer to you to continue scratching her head, unintentionally pressing his thigh against yours.

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you stared down at the cat, doing everything you could to distract yourself from Joe, who seemingly paid no mind to your closeness.

A quiet fell over the room as you both silently pet his cat. It was a comforting scene.

Ronnie, who had seemed to start more than one problem tonight, decided to stand up, stretch, then jump off your lap, trotting out of the room. Now, there you sat, right next to Joe.

He looked up at you, like he had just now realized how close he was to you.

“I should… probably go.” You said quietly. He nodded and you stood up, making a beeline for the door. 

“Bye, Y/N, thanks for picking up my dry cleaning.” He spoke dryly.

You turned and rested your hand against the doorway to his room. “Goodnight Joe.”

You could’ve thrown up as you took the elevator down to the first floor. Here you are, just about 3 weeks into your first job, and you almost truly, royally fucked things up. 

Maybe, you thought, you were thinking too far into things. That things hadn’t crossed over a professional line, that all you really ever did was pet his cat and talk about a stupid movie. 

As Joe heard you walk out his front door, he flopped back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands, the same thought process as you going through his mind.

“Fuck.” He groaned. 

-

taglist- @im-an-adult-ish @almightygwil @draconiiian @roveyrove @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band @lizgarxo

[adenei]

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride - Chapter 5

AO3 || FFN

Ron

Ginny: Chelsea Cake Shop. 14:30.

Me: Wow, thanks for the short notice. Not like I had other plans or anything.

Ginny: Oh, shut it. I know you covered your weekly wedding last night.

Me: So I can’t have a personal life, then?

Ginny: LOL don’t make me laugh.

Ginny: One more thing...you know how you use a pen name for your professional career? 

Me: ...and you use one in your personal life sometimes so people don’t know you’re a famous female football star?

Ginny: Yeah…

I did not like where this was headed so I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear.

“Please don’t!” she answered.

“Ginny, do not tell me that your fiancée only knows you as Jenny.”

“What was I supposed to do? My maid of honor, the one who introduced us, only knows me as Jenny. I couldn’t just drop a bomb like that in front of them both! I care about her friendship too much!”

“Obviously not enough if you’ve been lying about your identity for five years. Are you really that distrusting of people?”

“No! It’s not that. It’s just— Look, my schedule has had me all over the place with training and games that this is the first off season we’ve spent a lot of time together. I know she’s my neighbor, but with our schedules we were lucky to meet up once a month when I was in town. It was just easier, and she became too good of a friend, and a constant in my London life that I didn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“And now you’ve got a maid of honor and a fiancée who think you’re Jenny Warrington and not Ginny Weasley. That’s great Gin, really great.”

“Can you please just cover for me today? If the press finds out that Ginny Weasley’s getting married, it’s going to be a shit storm. I have to keep the cover.”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“Thanks, Ron.” She sounded relieved, but I was still on edge.

“Just be careful. There’s a lot of people who might get hurt from this web of lies you’ve created, including yourself. So don’t fuck it up anymore, alright?”

Ginny was rarely ever quiet, but she didn’t respond to me right away. That’s how I knew I’d gotten through to her. At least that’s what I hoped.

“I know,” she finally said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“See you,” I said as I hung up the phone.

~o~

I walked into the bustling cake shop and reminded myself that this was business. It was not a family visit, and the two people Ginny said she was going to be with did not know that I was her brother. They’d have to be really dull to not realize it when they saw the two of us next to each other, though. The only major difference was our eye color and height.

As I looked around in search of my sister, I noticed another familiar face. What in the bloody hell was Hermione doing here? Maybe she was with her newly engaged friend, but of all the bakeries in London, what were the odds they’d also choose this one? I forgot to keep looking for my sister as I stopped to watch her conversing with the baker. It seemed like she knew him rather well, which made me wonder if other brides also used this place for their wedding cakes on her recommendation.

I finally saw Ginny come into view from behind a table with several five tier cake displays on it. She was holding hands with a relatively scrawny man with messy black hair and glasses. He didn’t look like her normal type, so I guess that could be a good thing.

As Ginny made her way over to Hermione, I felt my eyes widen a bit. No fucking way. Maybe she thinks Hermione works there. Yeah! That was it! Except that it wasn’t; Ginny looked up and saw me standing there and waved me over. Fuck.

“Oh good, you’re here!” I heard her call.

I watched as Hermione turned around to see who she was talking to. She froze and her face became pale. Ginny’s fiancée seemed to have gotten a phone call, and he dismissed himself briefly.

“Hermione, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!” I heard Ginny tell her as she grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her over to me. “This is Billy Weston! I spoke to him yesterday about covering our wedding, and he agreed! I was honestly surprised he had the opening in three weeks!”

“Three weeks?” I said as my eyes widened. 

She shot me a death glare, and I knew it was a warning to not blow her cover. In my defense, she left that part out in this morning’s conversation. So that was on her.

“Yes, three weeks. Remember? I told you that on the phone when we arranged for you to meet us here today.” She bulged her eyes out at me in much the same way she did when Mum pissed her off.

“Oh, right. How could I have forgotten. My apologies, Miss Warrington,” I said in my most polite business voice.

I flashed a grin at them as my eyes settled on Hermione. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and anger. This probably wasn’t good.

“Anyways,” Ginny forged on with the conversation, “this is Hermione. She’s my maid of honor, and a wedding connoisseur. She absolutely loves your column! A lot of my own ideas and inspiration have come from the articles she’s clipped and saved from your writing.”

 There was sparkle in my sister’s eyes as she basically told me Hermione was obsessed with my alter ego. I couldn’t help but smile even wider at Hermione, who was shaking her head vigorously at Ginny. This was going to be fun.

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. I’m flattered,” I said as I held out my hand.

She looked down at my hand in disgust before her eyes shot back up and matched my own. “You can’t be Billy Weston. He’s so imaginative and romantic and well spoken, and you’re so—”

“So what? Please, I’m on the edge of my seat here,” I chided. I couldn’t help that it was so easy to get her going.

“So cynical and negative and—and that’s not even your name! Unless you lied to me when you introduced yourself as Ron,” Hermione said with a huff.

“I am Ron Weasley. Billy Weston’s just my pen name. Can’t have all the crazy column lovers like you be looking me up and stalking me, now can I?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Ginny said, slightly alarmed.

“Barely,” Hermione answered before I could explain. “We only met at a wedding a couple of weeks ago,” she explained to Ginny. “Can I speak to you in private for a moment?” she rounded on me through gritted teeth.

Oh, here we go, I thought, as I followed her back out the door. I gave Ginny a sympathetic shrug on my way out. The door had barely closed behind us when Hermione let loose.

“You lied to me!”

“No, I didn’t,” I responded simply.

“Yes, you did! You lied about who you were at the wedding—”

“No, I didn’t. I introduced myself using my given name. I am Ron Weasley, and I am a writer. You never asked what I write about, so I never told you.”

Who the hell does she think she is? Telling me that I’m the one who lied! I felt my ears growing hot as I was trying to control the anger. I knew it wouldn’t be good for either of us if I lost my temper. All the progress I’d made the other night at the bar was already in jeopardy. I needed to focus on the story.

When I looked back at her following my retort, I knew I’d gotten through to her because it took her a moment to regain her thoughts and respond. Ha! One point for Weasley.

“So, which is the real you, then? Are you secretly a romantic on the inside and you just pretend to be a love-hating pain in the arse? Or do you really just hate weddings that much and are ironically stuck writing them?”

That was a loaded question, and one I was not about to answer truthfully outside of a bakery. “What does it matter? I was hired to write commitments, and if I get paid, then of course I’m going to do it. Not everyone has to love their job.”

She let out a groan of frustration. “Do you even know how to give a straight answer? Or is that part of your journalism training, too?”

“Guess you’ll have to continue getting to know me to find out. Now, technically I’m here to interview Jenny, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back inside.” 

I could see my sister watching us through the glass with that dark haired guy staring awkwardly. Oh, right, that’s Hermione’s boss, too. For a city with over seven million people, this was turning out to be a small, small world.

Hermione

I thought weekends were supposed to be fun and relaxing. This one was anything but that. The cake tasting appointment was a disaster. Not for Jenny and Harry! No, for me. I finally got to meet my wedding columnist idol, and he was the one man I loathed more than anything in the world.

Maybe not quite loathe, but very close. After all, we did have a good time the other night. But he lied to me! He had every opportunity to tell me who he really was, but he didn’t. And then Jenny had to go and blab my secret that I loved his articles! Worst day ever. 

I put the last plate back in the cupboard when there was a knock on my door. It was probably Jenny. Not bothering to look through the peephole I opened the door. It wasn’t. No, it was the last person I had any desire to see. Seriously? What the hell was he doing here?

“Go away,” I said as I tried to shut the door in Ron’s face. 

“Come on, you’re not even going to ask what I’m doing here?” he asked.

“No. I know what you’re doing here. You’ve come to lie again,” I retorted.

“For the last time, I didn’t lie. Come on, Hermione, I just have a few questions to ask about the bride and groom, that’s all.”

“And you could have easily done that earlier today,” I told him. 

“Last I checked, you took off before I even had the chance. And since the wedding’s in three weeks, we’ve got a lot to cover in a short amount of time.”

I had to admit, Ron was really clever when it came to persuasion. Not that I was surprised; he was a journalist, after all. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave me alone, I opened the door a bit wider to let him in. I made sure to shoot an eye roll in his direction to let him know I wasn’t pleased.

“Thanks! I can see that ‘saying no’ thing is really going well for you,” he said with a smirk. 

Damn him and that lopsided grin. I walked around to the sofa and sat down and he followed, sitting on the opposite side. It wasn’t in my nature to be inhospitable. Even if I didn’t like the guest.

“I’ll have you know I almost said no to being Jenny’s maid of honor until she gave me this bangle,” I said, holding up my wrist for him to see.

Ron held a voice recorder up to his mouth and clicked it. “Maid of honor folds easily when bribed,” he said.

I quickly grabbed it from his hand. “No, the maid of honor actually thought the gesture was really sweet and genuine. Of course she was going to say yes to one of her best friends!”

Ron snorted and I gave him a disgusted look. “Just ask your questions, will you?”

“How did the bride and groom meet?”

I sighed. Because of my stupidity, I thought resentfully. “Do you remember the night you brought me my Filofax at the club? I invited Jenny to join me and they saw each other from across the room. It looked like one of those ‘love at first sight’ meetings that you see in movies.”

“Huh. The hopeless romantic painting a perfect picture. What would you call our meeting, then? Wasn’t that some sort of noble act on my part to help the damsel in distress?”

Ron was looking at me in what appeared to be complete seriousness. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not as I felt my jaw drop. After a few moments of awkward silence I burst out into laughter. 

“You can’t be serious! Sure, it was chivalrous. You almost had me, too, until you started sputtering your wedding hate nonsense in the taxi. I would hardly call you being the first one I saw when I woke up and helping me home ‘love at first sight.’” 

He laughed along with me. “That was harsh. I did manage to get a date out of it, though.”

“It was a moment of weakness,” I said defensively.

I watched Ron look away as he shook his head at my strong headed nature. I felt my heart tug against my chest as I noticed how attractive his smile was in profile. No...there was no way I was going to let myself feel anything but annoyance and dislike toward him.

“So, what else do you want to know?” I asked. 

He looked back up at me, and I could see the thoughts whirring in his mind through his eyes. Before he asked me anything I saw him freeze as he looked over my shoulder. I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was looking at.

“What is that?” he asked, and was out of his seat before I could respond.

“Nothing!” I said as I leapt up to try and beat him to the closet.

I was barely able to slip between him and the half open doors. It was a constant battle to keep them shut because it was overflowing. As I tried to push my weight against them, Ron leaned in and put his arm against one of the doors, wedging it open against my back. I knew it was a lost cause to even try and hide it, especially after he caught me in two weddings a few weeks ago, so I slid out of the way and let him see the closet’s contents.

“Holy shit,’ he said with a breathy laugh. “You kept them all? How many are in here anyway?”

“That doesn’t matter!” I said defensively.

“What is with brides? This whole mentality that they have to make their bridesmaids wear dresses that are the ugliest thing ever so that they look good? Aren’t they supposed to pick their friends? I don’t get it,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“That’s not what it’s about at all! Every wedding has some sort of theme, and every bride has some sort of vision that they want the dresses to match. It’s different for everyone! And they’re not all bad! Some of them are really elegant.”

It wasn’t a lie. There were some I enjoyed wearing. Others deserved to be burned, but Ron didn’t need to know that. 

“I dare you to show me one that’s not bad,” he challenged.

I laughed in his face. “One? Please, that’s easy!”

I shooed him away as I turned to the closet and dug my way through the tulle and satin, finally deciding which one would eat his words.

“Ha! See? This one was really nice!” I held the hanger with the dress up against my body as he cocked an eyebrow in my direction.

“I don’t know...I think I’d need to see it on,” he said contemplatively.

We stood there staring at each other for a moment, until I finally relented. I wanted to prove him wrong, and if this was the only way to do it, then so be it. 

“Fine. I’ll be right back.”

I marched into my room with the dress and shut the door. What was I doing? A man was over at my flat who I didn’t know very well, and now I was trying on a bridesmaid dress to prove a point? Ron Weasley was so infuriating, yet when I stopped to really think about it, I was kind of enjoying his company. Arguing just seemed to be our thing. 

I zipped up the dress against my back and turned to look in the mirror that was mounted on the back of my bedroom door. It was a strapless black bodice, and the skirt was made of multicolored tulle that splayed out like lightweight feathers. The colors were a mix of pastel pinks and soft blue-greens that cascaded to the floor. A large black bow connected the black top with the skirt. 

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked back out into my living area, where I saw Ron still investigating the closet full of dresses. 

“Well?” I asked.

He turned around to look at me as I posed with my arms out in a question. Before I realized what he was doing, he held up a digital camera and snapped a picture of me in the dress. I didn’t even know he had a camera.

“Hey!” I said in protest.

Before I could ask why he’d taken the picture, he said, “You think that’s not bad? Hermione, you look like a peacock!” He began sniggering as he motioned for me to turn around in the dress.

“Well, I think the colors complement each other well,” I said.

“Come on, Hermione, really? Would you ever wear that dress again?” He gave me a knowing look.

My intention was to dig my heels in and insist that I’d already worn it multiple times. But one look into his eyes and I couldn’t lie, so I faltered. “I—I’d wear it if it were shorter. It might be cute for a cocktail party, or maybe a club night,” I said as I shrugged.

“See? You know I’m right,” he teased. At least, I thought he was teasing.

“Well, this is definitely not the worst one,” I told him. 

If he wanted a show, I’d give him a show! I turned back toward the closet and grabbed the most hideous dress I could remember, and marched right back to my room to change. “You’d better prepare yourself for this one!” I called.

“I can hardly wait!” he responded.

The dress I chose was a two tone mermaid style that opened up to the knees in the front. The underside was the same yellow-green chiffon as the bust that connected to a halter strap. There was a ruffle of fabric down the bodice to the center of the skirt, which was a bright ocean blue, with sequins that outlined mermaid scales. When I walked out of the room, I was pretty sure Ron’s jaw hit the floor, and not in a good way.

“What did you do to piss off that bride?” was all he managed to say.

“It was a destination wedding! In the Mediterranean, on the beach.”

“Was it a themed wedding?” Ron asked seriously as he took another picture.

“No!” I laughed. “You want a themed bridesmaid dress? I have plenty! Holiday themes have been popular.”

“What? No way. You’re not serious,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Oh, but I am,” I said as I began pulling out all the holiday themed dresses and carried them into my room.

First, I showed him the Halloween themed dress. It was a bright pumpkin orange with a black spider web overlay, followed by a kelly green dress with matching shoes for St. Patrick’s Day. “The bride was from the States and the groom from Ireland,” I explained when Ron gave me a questioning look.

There was a Christmas themed wedding I’d taken part in a couple years ago where the dresses were made of cotton with a Christmas plaid pattern. The last I had was a fourth of July themed dress that I walked out in last. The upper half was royal blue and the skirt were alternating red and white vertical stripes.

“I’m sorry, are we in the United States or England?” Ron asked as he looked around at his surroundings.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It was a last minute cancellation of a bridesmaid for a friend’s cousin. I flew to Tennessee for the weekend and took part in the most—” I had a hard time remembering the word, but suddenly it came to me, “redneck style wedding.”

“Redneck? Do I even want to know?”

“Their words, not mine! It’s used to describe rural Americans, I think. I’m not really sure. They were a different type of people, let me tell you. If you could have seen the wedding guests!” I did my best to give him the best possible depiction of that particular wedding, but I think I only succeeded in confusing him more.

“So, which holiday wedding was your favorite?” he asked as I walked over to the kitchen to grab some glasses and a bottle of wine. Alcohol was necessary if we were going to go through that entire closet.

“Well the St. Paddy’s Day wedding was quite the good time, as you can imagine. The Halloween wedding was, too, for that matter. Christmas was hard because I didn’t get to see my family, and if I can avoid going back to the States for a wedding, I’d be perfectly fine with that.”

“Well, they’re all certainly special. Though, I’m surprised...no Valentine’s Day wedding? Of all the ones you’ve been a part of?”

He was right! I’d totally forgotten about that one. I stood up quickly from my spot on the sofa and ran to the closet. “Thanks for reminding me. This one’s a real gem.”

I walked back out minutes later in a bright fire engine red dress with a plunging neckline that revealed more than I was comfortable with. As if that wasn’t enough, there was a slit in the front of the long evening gown that came up to mid thigh. I looked briefly in the mirror to make sure everything was covered as appropriately as possible, and ran a hand through my hair before making my entrance

“Bloody hell,” Ron said. “That was for a Valentine’s Day wedding? Did the bride want you all to get laid after?”

“I think that was her original plan, yes,” I agreed as I felt my cheeks grow hot under his gaze.

I was a bit uncomfortable at the way he was looking at me, but there was a tiny part of me that felt empowered by the way his eyes widened at the sight of me in this dress. Like I was attractive and desirable. Before his eyes could linger too long, I grabbed another set of dresses and disappeared back into my room.

“I call this next set: the pink parade!” I said through the door, before making my appearance in the first frou-frou  dress.

“Holy ruffles!” he commented.

I didn’t blame his lack of words about the pinkish-coral strapless gown with a beaded bodice. The overly ruffled tulle skirt mimicked that of the mermaid dress with the raised skirt in the front, sans the two tone colors. The second pink dress was two tone, with zebra stripes on the bust and the underside of the skirt. 

“Well, that one did have potential. The animal print really ruins it,” Ron said with a laugh.

I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or just my ability to somehow let loose around him, but I found myself making claw motions with my hands and pretending to ‘rawr’ in a sexy way. Yeah, I needed to stop that before I did something later that I might regret. The next pink dress looked like it was straight out of a mashup between the eighties and the movie, ‘Cinderella.’ it was long sleeved with extra poofy shoulders, and the ugliest bodice style I’d ever seen. Oversized bows donned the skirt, which looked like it needed layers upon layers of crinoline to fill it out.

“Where’s the hoop?” Ron asked when I came out in it.

“Of all there is to comment on this dress as is, and you ask me where the hoop is?” I responded curiously.

“Do you really want my other opinions on this one?”

“Nope,” I said, turning around before he could change his mind.

The last pink dress was a blush one shoulder style that would have been rather becoming if it weren’t for the skirt that looked like giant rose petals.

“You look like a cupcake,” Ron said, which made me burst out laughing.

“I thought the same thing, actually. Next up, more two tone dresses.”

“There’s more than two?” Ron asked incredulously.

I showed him the ballroom style hot pink satin outer shell with endless layers of neon yellow crinoline underneath, the orange and camouflage hunting combo with the cowboy boots, and two dual color chiffon dresses. One was a light and dark purple combo with zig zag stripes over the bodice, and the other was coral and seafoam green with a more subtle pattern. The latter needed the subtlety considering the colors clashed enough on their own.

My closet was still a third of the way full after all those dresses, but we both seemed to be having a good time, so I kept the fashion show going. There was the white lace dress, where all the bridesmaids wore white, and the bride wore color, the neon yellow-green rocker dress with the see-through skirt and fur scarf, and the periwinkle blue regency style dress complete with accessories.

“Gloves, purse, and umbrella?” Ron asked with a disbelieving look on his face.

“Accessories are important for any outfit,” I said in the most royal voice that I could muster, which sent us both into hysterics.

“What about that black ruffly one?” he asked me.

“Oh, no…” I said, pulling it off the rod and holding it up. “This one was way too short. I’m not trying it on again.”

“Ah, we haven’t reached that level of closeness yet?” Ron teased.

“Nor will we ever,” I said with a triumphant smile.

I held up the dress for Luna’s wedding that I wore last weekend, as well as the ones he saw me in for Katie and Parvati’s weddings two weekends ago. Then there were only a few remaining after that. 

The long lime green gown with the jeweled empire waist, the Renaissance fair inspired brown and gold dress, and a forest green velour maxi dress. The two remaining ones had to do with rainbow themes. There was the indigo satin floor length gown with flowered straps. And how could I forget the final dress, that was an actual rainbow colored bridesmaid gown. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love color as much as the next person, but I think this crossed the line,” I said as Ron was shielding his eyes from me. Pretty sure you’re brighter than the sun. And that’s saying something after the lime green dress and that neon fur one.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about being blinded anymore as that’s the last one,” I said, flopping down on the couch next to him.

“Twenty-seven dresses,” he said in disbelief. “Why would you put yourself through that torture?”

“It’s not torture for me. I genuinely enjoy helping people, and making their day special. And believe what you may, but no matter how awful some of those dresses are, I’ve made a lot of great memories in them. Plus, I’ve met a lot of amazing people,” I added before I could stop myself.

He looked at me curiously. “What do you mean? The other people in the bridal party?”

“Er, yes,” I said quickly.

“Hermione, why does it sound like that’s not true?” He really was ever the journalist, always working to uncover the truth.

And it looks like I wasn’t convincing enough.

“Because it’s not,” I admitted. “I run a side business called Wilkins Weddings. I���m essentially a bridesmaid for hire, doubling as a wedding planner for any bride that requires one or both services. That’s the real reason I’ve been in so many weddings.”

I had no idea what possessed me to say it. Wilkins Weddings was so personal to me, and I never let anyone in on the secret. Lavender only knew because I needed her sometimes for the business. My dad didn’t even know, and he was the second closest person to me. I even had the opportunity last night to tell Jenny and I still hadn’t. Yet here I was, pouring my soul out to this man who I barely knew.

“Wow. That explains a lot. So, you take all the stress off the bride all while ensuring their day is perfect? Are you trying to kill yourself before you’re 35?”

Of course he was taking the mickey out of me. I shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t even know why I told you that. No one knows, and yet somehow I told you, of all people, and of course you’re mocking me about it!”

“Look, Hermione, I just think there’s more to life than helping other people get married and giving them their perfect day. You’ve been in all those weddings, had the chance to meet countless people, and you’re still single? Are you even trying to find your own happiness?”

I couldn’t believe him! How could he say any of that to me! He didn’t know me at all, and that just proved it. “Of course I want to find someone to love and marry and spend the rest of my life with! They’re out there, I know it. They just haven’t noticed me yet.” I grabbed both the empty wine glasses on the coffee table and brought them to the kitchen.

“It’s getting late. You should probably go,” I said.

“Right. Well, thanks for tonight. It’s been fun. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. What with the wedding and all,” Ron said as he grabbed his bag and walked to the door.

“Yeah. I can’t wait,” I said sarcastically.

He flashed me that lopsided grin of his as he let himself out. I waited a moment before I locked the door behind him. It was all fun and games until I remembered the massive mess of dresses I now had to clean up.

As I carried groups of dresses back to the closet and hung them up, I couldn’t help but wonder when I’d finally get to add a wedding dress to the mix. Figuratively of course, since I’d be sure to have my dress preserved. I’ve been ready and waiting for my own happily ever after my whole life, and I was becoming frustrated. I hoped that someday soon I wouldn’t have to spend every night alone.

[avauntus]

2020 favs: (short) fic recs

I am stealing this idea from @macgyver-sheriff, who has no clue who I am, but whose post I saw go across my dash. Thank you! 👋

Would you like some recs for the holiday season? - I too would like to share love for my favorite things I read that were written this year! <3

I’m going to do this in two parts - the short fics (10k or less, generally one-shot), and another post for the long or series fics I loved this year (it’s 2020, I figure we can use too much of a good thing?)

( @staidwaters - I’m ‘disqualifying’ your works because I’m biased, sorry! Look away! Unless you want recs!) 

"Congratulations, Get Rich" (9,238 words) by Attila (The Untamed - modern AU)

Tomorrow is Chinese New Year, which means Wei Wuxian has to get all of his bad decisions out of the way tonight.

Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Mianmian are all so screamingly perfect as modern versions of themselves in this, and it is KNOCK DOWN HILLARIOUS. Wei Wuxian is just a screaming queer disaster (affectionate) - as he should be.

Excerpt:

After a long beat, Lan Xichen sinks gracelessly into the chair Lan Wangji had been sitting in earlier. “I just want to be absolutely clear,” he says delicately, “that you are currently under the impression that my brother has no romantic feelings for you. That is what you’re saying to me right now, yes?”

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian says, feeling desperately confused. “Obviously? Why?”

“Because at least one of you is very stupid, and I’m trying to figure out who,” Lan Xichen tells him, sounding distracted. It’s the rudest thing Wei Wuxian has ever heard him say, and his mouth drops open slightly.

“caved to the careless” (6,708 words) by ilgaksu (The Untamed/MDZS - Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen)

Love is a choice you make - like this, and this, and this.

Have you ever read a writer whose work is so distinctly itself that you can feel yourself slipping in time even as you keep going? That’s not very articulate, but it’s the best way I can describe everything of ilgaksu’s I’ve read. Their fics are the same emotional register as having the breath knocked out of you after a fall. This was the first one I read, and I think it ends well-- with what Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen find along the path-- but it’s still heavy. Discussions of canon-compliant character death and grief/mourning here.

Excerpt:

He pauses. Until this very moment, he was unsure who to ask for. He has heard the rumours of the Yiling Patriarch’s ongoing residence here, about Zewu-jun’s seclusion: he’s dead, but even the dead are not free from gossip. But he remembers a courtyard, nearly two decades ago, and the weight of eyes some might have called angry in their intensity. He remembers those same eyes, and how for the wear of the intervening years, they had kept the same essence: longing, yearning, a kind of small unspoken grief.

Song Lan had a dream once. A dream of a sect, bound not by blood, but by a shared belief in the right path. So many things are only an inheritance: shame is one of them.  

Love is a choice. Love is a choice, and you choose until you can’t.

“I am here,” he decides, carving the words into the dirt, every stroke of every character resolute, “To meet with Hanguang-jun. Please show this one the way to go.”  

“Green River Running” (8,169 words) by @rain-hat (Love in the Moonlight - post-canon AU)

5+1: Kim Byeong-yeon returns to the land of the living.

I skimmed through Love in the Moonlight during my quarantine summer (distinguishable from my “quarantine spring” or “quarantine fall” only by fireworks), and immediately upon finishing, thought: “Psht, they killed off their best character.” And then, something happened that never happens -- I went on ao3 and found the exact thing I was looking for, written far  better than I could have imagined. Kim Byeong-yeon is such a quiet yet powerfully subversive presence and the progression here is so masterfully done. This is true of all of rainhat’s work’s I’ve read, but this is a fine example-- I really treasure the warm humanism of them.

Excerpt:

People needed helping hands even more than they needed sympathetic ears, though. Over the last year, Hong Gyeong-rae and Byeong-yeon had built houses and planted crops side by side; negotiating with moneylenders here, helping small-folk secure their stores against bandits there. There was nothing courtly about Byeong-yeon’s capacity for labour, or his expectation of reward. Wherever he went, he worked from dawn to dusk, ate the food he was given, and slept under a roof if he was offered one.

It suited him, Hong Gyeong-rae thought, even though there was something outlandish about his gentle speech and palace manners in the midst of it all. But to behave in any other way would be untrue to his upbringing; nor was he the sort of man to whom it would occur to try. And after all, most people liked to be treated with courtesy; it did not come across as mockery from this solemn, severely dressed young man, who seemed to find no task too big or too small. Hong Gyeong-rae had seen him argue tax law with local councillors and stand up to highwaymen armed with nothing but a knife and staff. But he watched cooking pots for women who had to run to the fields to tide over the day’s labour, too; he wrote letters for them, and tolerated their fractious children and spoon-fed their bedridden elders, if that was what was called for.

“The Veritable Records of King Taejo: Year 2, Entry 208“ (9,857 words) by @sadviper (My Country: the New Age - Nam Seon-ho & Hwang Sung-rok slice-of-life)

Hwang Sung-rok eats his way to the bottom of a real estate scam, and Seon-ho and Yeon help (a little).

No one is out here doing it like SadViper. This is technically part of a series, but they can all be read separately. I did not realize I needed to see more of Nam Seon-ho in all his “type-A government official glory” until Viper started sketching him out for us, and as a bonus, we get to see Yeon, and Sung-rok as the world’s surliest caretaker (but don’t call him that). I have an authorial fallacy where I always think stories have to have some grand “plot” -- a “Maltese Falcon” to pull the reader along-- the genius of Viper’s work is she shows us exactly how interesting and important the day-by-day tiny choices and connections we make are, with an impeccable background of historical research to ground you in the setting.

Excerpt:

Nam Seon-ho was his master now. He was a strange one. He was a traitor, for helping the escaped Liaodong soldiers, but not, because he managed to wiggle his way back into Yi Seong-gye’s favor and was now a sixth-ranked inspector with the privilege of having personal audiences with the King. He was temperamental and belligerent from being the son of a slave mother and a lifetime subject of Lord Nam’s fantastic parenting philosophy. He was afflicted with perpetual guilt. And he was also one of the hardest working and most desperate people Sung-rok had ever known.

It was a terrible combination. He was not merely a disaster waiting to happen, but a disaster perambulating on two legs at the edge of a chasm. If Sung-rok intended to stay in service for long, he needed to find a way to cool down some of Seon-ho’s intensity, even though admittedly, it was what drew him to Seon-ho in the first place.

Thoughts like these plagued Sung-rok for a while. It was one thing to know a person; it was quite another thing to try to change them.

“Orison” (4,975 words) by @gravelghosts​ (aeli_kindara) (Supernatural 15x18 coda)

Cas says, I love you.

So! This rips my heart out, every time. All the times Dean imagines himself together with Cas...and then he imagines himself, if not happy, then thriving.

Jack: “What is the point...if everyone I care about is going to leave?”

Castiel: “The point is that they were here at all and you got to know them, you... When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”

Excerpt:

The thing Dean tries to do is: listen.

Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just — being. It’s in just saying it, Cas tells him, and Dean’s whole heart is screaming, No, but he shuts his mouth. He listens. He listens like his life fucking depends on it, which it does, in more ways than one.

“Sky Full of Song” (6,632 words) by @drivingsideways (Supernatural, finale 15x20 fix-it, Dean/Cas)

Or: The One in which Cas ghosted Dean.

Look. Look. If Cas(tiel) can yank Dean Winchester out of Hell, celestial-scream at him not once but twice, burn out a woman’s eyes like an utter clown��before thinking “Huh, an Earthly vessel, guess that’s not just bullshit, then,” and when they finally work it out, Dean greets them with a knife to the chest and THEN they’ll spend twelve years misunderstanding each other and bickering, you had better believe these two are going to be disasters even in Heaven. Drivingsideways gives us all of that dynamic, with the found family of Jack and Mary as facilitators, and the happy resolution, which of course includes a true form “roughly the size of your Chrysler Building.” <3

Excerpt:

The thing is, Castiel doesn’t want Dean to feel obligated.

Dean has a streak of self-sacrifice that's as wide as the Caspian Sea, and Castiel doesn't want to be any more of a chore or obligation than they have been to Dean for all the long years of their—brotherhood.

Castiel had shocked Dean, to the core of him, with their confession, and Castiel had seen the swirling confusion, the fear, the panic, the shit what do I say, what do I do—how do I stop him—

So, no, Castiel would not be paying a visit anytime soon.

Of course, if Dean evinced an interest in meeting them, then Castiel would not stay away.

Castiel isn't that cruel.

(They have, on occasion, been exactly that cruel, but they are trying to outgrow it.)

Dean is still their friend.

Dean knows how to reach them, if he wants to.

(see? disasters. haha)

“The Rough” (3,267 words) by anactoria (Supernatural, finale -15x20- ‘fix-it’)

 Heaven can absolutely fucking wait.

Rec’ed for the concept more than the style (this is dialogue-heavy, as a lot of 15x20 fix-its tend towards), but I *love* this course-correction: After kicking around Heaven, Dean and Cas return to Earth to take their place as urban legends among the hunter community. Just for a while.

Excerpt:

But it isn’t life. That’s the thing. It’s awesome, but it isn’t life; life’s a hard, painful, infuriating mess, and Dean only got halfway through his own, and he feels cheated. For all he held it together for Sammy at the end, for all he tried to take Cas’s big moment-of-happiness speech on board, he feels cheated.

There’s supposed to be peace at the end. When you’re done.

Dean wasn’t done.

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Inside Scoop (Chapter Two)

Chapter Two - Someone Wants To Kill Me

Previous Chapter < - > Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: After being taken into the police station for further questioning, Hotch reveals some shocking information about the case. 

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, minor panic attack, descriptions of case-related violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2563

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Today was full of firsts for me.

For example: I never imagined that I would be awaiting an FBI agent to come interview me in a police interrogation room.

I was saved from my inevitable breakdown by Agent Hotchner entering, swinging the door shut behind him.

“Dahlia Silvers, I presume?” He asked.

It was a bit of a ridiculous question, but I nodded anyway. He took a seat in front of me, his hands clasped together on the table.

“You know you’re here by your own free will, and you’re free to leave at any time, correct?”

I nodded, unable to process what was going on well enough to speak.

“Alright. Why don’t you start from the beginning: what did you see?”

I sucked in a deep breath before speaking, telling Hotch pretty much the same thing that I told the police officer who’d asked me at the crime scene. He listened attentively the entire time, not speaking until I sat back in my chair, finished.

“Ok. So you didn’t see anybody else in the area?” He asked. I shook my head.

“It was raining, the streets were empty. I’m sure I saw some cars drive by, but I can’t remember off the top of my head anyone looking suspicious.”

“Alright. I wanted to walk you through something called a ‘cognitive interview.’ It’s essentially a mental exercise that’ll take you back to the scene of the crime, and allow you to notice things that you might not remember.”

I’d heard of this before, but I’d never done one. Honestly, I was curious to know what it was, so I nodded. He encouraged me to think back to the event, allowing me to get into that headspace before he began asking questions.

“So, the first thing you saw was the purse, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Ok - do you see the woman’s body?”

Mentally, I turned to look down the alley, seeing the gruesome scene I’d witnessed only an hour ago.

“Yes.”

“Ok. Now, I need you to look around the area. Do you see any cameras?”

“Cameras?”

“Yes. Possibly security cameras on the walls, or something more discreet, like a camera in one of the nearby windows.”

I was confused, but I looked around, seeing nothing like what he described.

“No, I don’t see any cameras.”

“Ok. How about the street? Look at the cars driving by. Are any of them driving slower than the rest, or do any of them look suspicious in any way?”

I looked towards the street, taking note of the cars that I saw. For a second, I was about to say no, before I noticed a black SUV driving down the street significantly slower than the rest of the passing cars.

“Wait - yeah, there’s a SUV. It’s black, it’s in the lane nearest to me and driving way slower than the speed limit; maybe they wanted to stop and help?”

“Did you see the license plate on the car?”

I focused on the memory, but when I tried to see any details, it was just blurry. “No, I can’t tell. I guess I didn’t really notice it earlier.”

“Ok. You can open your eyes now.”

I did so, momentarily blinded by the fluorescent lights of the interrogation room. When my eyes adjusted, Hotch was looking at me with a grim expression.

“So, why’d you want to know the car license plate?”

He sighed, contemplating something for a moment before he spoke.

“Since the first murder, we’ve been able to pick up on the unsub’s pattern.”

“Wait, that’s good, right? It means it’ll be easier to catch them?”

“It should. Whoever is doing this, though… they’re good. They’ve managed to commit three murders without leaving any trace at all.”

“What’s their pattern? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I had relaxed a bit after the interview, knowing that I wasn’t in here as anything but a witness.

That relaxation ended after I heard what he had to say, though.

“The pattern we’ve noticed is related to who they kill. Dahlia… they’re targeting the people who discover their crime scenes.”

For a second, I thought I might’ve misheard him.

“What?” I stuttered out, too in shock to process what he’d said.

“Every time after the first, the victim was the person who’d discovered the crime scene.

You’re the first person to call it in, actually. That’s why we didn’t figure it out until just now… Prentiss called me when they arrived, confirming that the most recent victim was the woman that discovered the last crime scene - Kate Johnson. She didn’t call it in, but her friend came in last night to inform us that Kate had told her what she witnessed. Her friend thought she should tell us, but Kate refused. So she came herself.”

Now I was the one listening with rapt attention, desperate for more information. He continued, explaining what they’d done in the last twenty-four hours.

“When her friend came in, we rushed to find Kate, but she’d already disappeared. We had no idea where she was taken, but… well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. The second victim - the man who discovered the first crime scene - was a homeless man, and people who knew him said he didn’t report it because we might’ve thought it was him. So we had our suspicions on the pattern, but they were confirmed with this most recent murder. Which is why I had Prentiss bring you in.”

My hands were shaking, my brain still trying to process everything he’d told me.

“Why - so why did Agent Prentiss say you guys had other questions for me, then? Why didn’t she just tell me the truth?”

“Well, to be honest, we weren’t sure how you’d react. We wanted to tell you in a controlled setting, not when you were standing right next to a crime scene. Plus, we did have more questions for you.”

“I… fuck.”

I knew I probably shouldn’t swear in front of an FBI agent - professionalism, or something - but the weight of the information I’d learned had finally hit me. I didn’t know what else to do. I put my head in my hands, trying to steady my racing heart and force back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.

“I understand this has to be shocking - do you want me to give you a minute?” Hotch asked. I shook my head, raising it only after I was sure my emotions were in check.

“No, no, it’s ok. Just… what am I supposed to do now?”

“Well, we thought the best thing for your safety would be for you to stay here until the unsub is apprehended. We’re hoping that by taking away his target, he’s not going to know what to do, and he’ll slip up.”

“You want me to stay here? At the police station?”

“They have an empty office, and there’s a couch, or space to blow up an inflatable bed if you have one. We know it’s not an ideal, and obviously we’re not going to force you to do anything, but we do believe it’s the best way to ensure you’re completely protected. We could send someone to watch your house, but there are a lot more variables in terms of the unsub breaking in, or situations of that nature.”

I nodded my understanding, knowing that he was right. “Ok. Ok - holy shit - would I be able to go get stuff from my apartment?”

“Of course. We’ll have to send someone with you though; as long as she’s not doing anything, I can have Prentiss escort you, since you two have already become acquainted.”

“That’s fine,” I agreed, “How long do you think I’ll have to stay?”

I was scared to hear the answer, and his sigh wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“We’re really not sure. Hopefully not long, but it all depends on the unsub’s next move. It’s all a waiting game at this point.”

My hands were definitely shaking now, and I nodded again, balling them into fists to try and keep them still. Hotch looked sympathetic, albeit deeply uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t really an emotional guy.

“I have a cat,” I mentioned. I figured I knew the answer to my next question, but I asked it anyway, “I’m assuming I can’t bring her here?”

“Unfortunately, I doubt it.”

I nodded, not expecting him to say yes, but figuring I should at least try. “I’ll get one of my friends to watch her.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” He cleared his throat awkwardly before going, “I’m sorry about all of this. But it really is the best way to protect you.”

“I understand. And I really appreciate what you guys are doing,” My voice sounded small, and I knew that I was on the cusp of a complete breakdown, “Can I go now?”

So far, this had definitely taken the cake for the worst day of my entire life.

“Yes; I’ll tell Prentiss to meet you at the front desk.”

I left the room, mind racing. Making my way to the front desk, I plopped down on a nearby bench and tried to force myself to stay calm.

“Dahlia Silvers?” A voice asked. I looked up, expecting to see Agent Prentiss, but instead I saw a man standing above me.

That man was none other than the same Dr. Reid that I was staring at earlier.

“Oh - yes, hi. Sorry, I was expecting to see Agent Prentiss,” I explained my surprise. He gave me a small half smile, gesturing to the seat next to me. I nodded for him to sit down, knowing there was no chance of getting my heart rate back down to normal now.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, but you can just call me Reid. Or Spencer. Either one, I -” He faltered, clearly trying to get his thoughts in order before speaking again, “Sorry. I just figured that I should introduce myself, given that we’ll likely be seeing more of each other now that you… I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t -”

“No, it’s fine; honestly, I don’t think I’ve processed it yet. I’m supposed to be going with Agent Prentiss to pick up my stuff, and I still have no idea how long I should be packing for.”

He nodded again, “I’m really sorry that you got wrapped up in all of this - you were on your way to work, right? Journalism?”

“Yeah, I work for The Washington Post, I’m a writer.”

“Cool. That’s cool - have you written anything that’s been printed?”

I thought about it for a second, “I’m not completely sure, most of my stuff is published online. I’ve dipped into crime journalism recently though, and I’m pretty sure that my article on Maria Coursetta - she’d been missing for a year up until a month ago, when her body turned up in a river about twenty miles from her home - was published in the print edition of the paper. Why, do you not read online news?”

“Reid is a bit of a technophobe,” Emily Prentiss rounded the corner, smiling as Spencer glared at her.

“Really? Man, we definitely don’t have that in common; I practically live on my phone,” I joked.

“There’s not much to do on my phone,” He said, and I cackled when he pulled out an old Blackberry from his pocket.

“Oh my god, how old is that thing?”

He was laughing along with me when he answered, “Like, ten years, I think? I got it during like, my first year with the BAU, and it’s been working since then.”

“You must take incredible care of your belongings.”

“I try.”

“Speaking of belongings - Dahlia?” Emily spoke from over Spencer’s shoulder, and I nodded, remembering what I was supposed to be doing.

“Right. Well, it was nice to meet you, Spencer - hopefully I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah!” He grinned, and I forced myself to ignore the way my heart fluttered. He took his leave, disappearing into a nearby conference room, and I stood up, following Emily outside.

“Here,” She handed me her phone, with a GPS open, “You can just put your address in there, if you’re ok with it.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” I took it, typing my address in and handing it back to her.

We were crossing the parking lot to the car we’d came here in when I noticed a familiar car drive by.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze following the black SUV that had just grabbed my attention. I don’t think Emily saw me stop, because she kept walking towards the car, but I was transfixed, trying to figure out any little detail that could tell me if it was the same car I saw earlier or not.

Because it’s not like a black SUV was an uncommon car. But in one of the SUV’s in this city, there’s a person who wants to kill me.

Holy shit, someone wants to kill me.

Suddenly all I could hear was my heartbeat in my ears, my breath faltering as the reality of the situation finally set in.

Someone wants to kill me.

White hot fear drove through my body, forcing goosebumps up and down my arms. I tried to continue walking towards the car, but I couldn’t move.

“Dahlia?” Emily had turned around now. I felt her hand on my shoulder, but her voice sounded distant. I was brutally aware of the tears stinging my eyes, and I tried to force them back, tried to keep my composure, but it was useless.

“Dahlia you have to breathe, ok? Just breathe with me, alright?” She moved to stand in front of me, grabbing my shaking hands and squeezing them, trying to bring me back to reality. She took dramatic breaths, modeling a pattern, and I tried my best to follow her, slowly sucking in air and forcing my racing heart to slow down.

After what felt like hours, my heart rate finally returned to something close to normal, and she dropped my hands, still staying nearby to ensure that I was ok. I sniffled, wiping the tears off my cheeks, immediately trying to hide the evidence of my minor breakdown.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know -”

“No, you don’t have any reason to apologize,” She shut me down, but I shook my head.

“I know, but still -”

“Nope. No still. Do you want to talk about anything?” She asked. I shook my head again. I didn’t even think I could put into words what just went through my mind, and honestly, I didn’t really want to try.

“Ok. Are you ok to go to your house?” She asked. I nodded this time, and I followed her on unsteady legs as we crossed the parking lot to the car. I glanced back at the road, but the SUV was gone by that point. I reminded myself that it was probably just an ordinary person, that I couldn’t be scared every time I saw one of the most common cars in the world, but in the back of my mind I knew that I would never look at them the same.

Someone wants to kill me.

The thought kept running through my mind, I couldn’t shut it up despite my best efforts. So I just climbed into the car with Emily, staring out the windshield as she backed out of the parking lot.

[horrible-monstrosity]

mothermom 3 is a baaad animine

part 1: fuck these characters I thought the bit about not being able to go through a certain way because there's ants (that the player can't see) you wouldn't want to trample was going to introduce a theme of kindness and gentleness, but the game sure... tramples that early on by having your oh-so-kindhearted-and-mournable mother trample the fuck out of a sentient talking mole cricket to death right the fuck afterwards. Like, you were just talking to and playfighting with that mole mere seconds ago, and now it's thoughtlessly and meaninglessly dead, and it's supposed to be funny. And then you're supposed to forget all about it when mom dead because care and have emotions for this characters you've barely known for like one minute worth of interactions dragged out over like an hour. ok Then after bumbling along being a hollow little bag of nothing for like ten hours Lucas suddenly proves himself a detestable little cunt by just straight up stealing something he's told was a precious item, a yo-yo belonging to Porky's friend. Because, like... fuck Porky, I guess, in this geame franchise about love and heart and healing there's just this one fat kid we're all supposed to just disregard and piss and shit on and detest by default for no fucking reason just because the game narrative said so. Porky's existence was pretty weird already in Earthbound- he's apparently being abused by his fat parents, and aside from being a bit snotty and show-offy, he does at least make sure his little brother gets home safely at the beginning. He just seems like someone who needs a friend, which... actually makes Ness look like an asshole in retrospect for not just giving him some kind of help. It was kind of fine in that game because he was just a minor character, but making him some supervillain in the next game just because he was some dumpy abused kid is just... what the fuck. But anyway, whenever the plot expects us to care about Loocus and his dumb dead mom I just think about things like the yo-yo and the mole cricket and I lose all empathy. These people are assholes. You're trying to make sympathetic victims out of assholes and an asshole out of a sympathetic victim. Get your meaningless fucking sunflowers the fuck off my screen you bitch fuck

And then on the other hand there's Duster. The character who's absolutely the most deserving of empathy out of all these cunts and we're supposed to see him reembracing his shitty old life as something he should be really happy about. Like for one thing, the entire plot where he reenters the cast is stupid and makes no sense. When we hear he's at the club playing with the band, I could think of a lot of reasons for it- he could be laying low to protect the egg (seeing as how Tamzilly got pozzed and going back there would accomplish nothing), he could have just decided to fuck off and do something he actually enjoyed rather than go back to his shitty asshole dad, he could have somehow ended up far far away from the town and joined the band to make his way back home travelling with them/earn a living so he could get back. But no, before we even get to see him and see how he's acting Strong Female McDerpa Character tells us that he most definitely has amnesia. Because, like, why would he ever give up on his jackass dad and that braindead town otherwise? And then we meet him and it's exactly what we were unceremonously told it was, how rivetting. Then for some reason he decides that if he's really who you say he is he needs to... give up his life as a band member entirely to get the egg back. Can't just come with you to get the egg or until the adventure's over, nooo he needs to abandon his new life forever and ever and just go get fucked and fuck himself. fuck. let my man play guitar and also that "thiefs but good somehow because derp" shit is retarded and I hate it

Finally there's Girl Character who I refuse to even remember the name of because she's... nothing. Even her being kinda cunty about how she's sTrOnG and nOt lIkE ThoSe OthEr gIrlS is just bland. The other girls from the past two games were cute and girly and still credit to team with their strong psychic powers, why the fuck is she like this?

part 2: i've stopped giving a fuck about making this into parts fuck you What the fuck is the story of this game? You spend hours dicking around with a fucking timeskip and a ghost mansion or some shit and the game randomly namedrops the needles at some point, and then... the six or seventh chapter is just titled GUYS THE NEEDLES ARE ACTUALLY REALLY IMPORTANT YOU GUYS. Six or seven fucking chapters in, and we've barely gotten to anything resembling a coherent plot. What the fuck have we been doing up until this point again? Why the fuck do we even need the dragon needles plot anyway? Just have the main cast move from one pigmeng plot to another with things like the thunder tower, slowly working their way up the chain of command until they reach the final boss and his ultimate plan. You don't need to introduce an entire plot worth of fucking shit a third of the way into the game you fucking fuckers

The themes are a fucking dumpsterfire. Just plop some fucktarded work bad money bad bullshit in there and call it a day... Evil monkey man could have given that fucktard anything and got him to hide it in the well and it would have caused a ruckus when he came back and stole it. He could have convinced him to hide his grandma's ashes in the well- would the takeaway from that have been that honoring the dead bad? That's how fucking flat it is. If anything it just comes off as if the people of Tamzilly are just a bunch of mindkilled retards with no defence against humanity's own nature aside from shutting themselves off from the outside world entirely- the slightest contact with normal human interactions like money or having to contribute to society for a living, they all self-destruct. It's not le capitalism that made the old people home bad, it's whoever the fuck actually built it... which, if the outside world weren't basically strawmanned with the le evil pigmans and monkey abuser guy, would have been Tamzilly themselves. Which, because the strawmanning is so unbelievably absurd, makes it seem like Tazmilly is just a retarded place that somehow managed to make the old people's home this bad on their own or some shit I don't know I just can't buy it

Speaking of empathy, the game somehow manages to make the Pig Heil guys endearing even while they're actively working on the thunder tower that's cooking the dumbass town residents. Are they supposed to be abusing the electric catfish when they're cutely telling the things to hang in there and do their best? When Lucas got a jerb hustling the golems around and they managed to make it like a positive thing (the pigmangs encourage you, seemingly pay a decent wage, and even the doggo enjoys running on the treadmill once he gets into it), I thought there was going to be a tweest or at least some nuance, but the absurdity of the nice ol' piglins in the evil tower just makes it seem like it's just entirely unintentional, by writers who just have no idea what the fuck they're doing. The generic braindead modern-bad messaging and the generic brainless funny-characters-ha-ha sides of the writing clash horribly and somehow manage to mangle each other even worse than they already were.

The whimsicality is fucking dead. It's just all so forced and one-note... or, very consistently two-note in every single thing, because absolutely every single monster you meet is just two things funny stuck together. The first two games could glide smoothly between fighting enraged possessed zoo animals and weirdo people, weirdo fucking blended monsters that don't look like anything in particular, and then just sometimes the taxis that're used for decoration on roads will veer off course and engage you in battle. It's simultaneously wildly unpredictable and smoothly cohesive. And it's wonderful. But M3 is just... it leans over, shoves a megaphone down your throat and loudly informs you that "the PIGMEN have FUSED the THINGS toGETHER" and proceeds to beat you over the head with "this thing is THAT thing and THAT thing" over and over again. It's forced, mechanical, hamfisted and just not whimsical at all. And it's not just because the pigmengs aren't Giiigigigigiyasass (which could have been fixed by having them harness traces of Gig's power if that was the problem anyway), because it extends to absolutely everything- the ghosts at the mansion for example are just all absolutely fucking nothing. Like the main big bad boss is just "he's GHOST who THROWS FURNITURE and is BEETHOVEN and plays BEETHOVEN MUSIC". Because Beethoven is old thing therefore old mansion and ghosts, geddit? How fucking pathetic. Oh there's another thing, the weird aliens/conspiracy bent the first two games had is gone entirely. That's something that really helped it feel so wild yet at the same time cohesive... Actually, the game also seems to have done away with the surprise overworld sprite encounters like the aforementioned taxis. ... No wait that's right, they blew their load in the first levels with the rock lizards, which were fucking boring.

The dialogue fucking sucks. just fucking drags the fuck on endlessly for fucking ever to say barely anything, and barely anything you need to actually hear. Did Earthbound ever stop you to inform you that the TAXIS are AFFECTED by GIGUDUGDSAS like you couldn't figure that out yourself? No, they say Gigi's affected shit in a couple sentences near the beginning and let the rest of it speak for itself, pretty much. It's hard to give exact examples because I can't fucking remember any of this shit because it just slides right off my brain like ducks off of water, it's so bland and pointless. The sparrows drone on endlessly with worthless tutorial shit and then take an entire extra sentence to chirp at you and remind you that it's talking animals oh wow wacky!!!!!!! And when Duster decides he really is what you say he is he stands there going "ME IS DUSTER" over and over again like he's fucking Bimpson. You don't have anything interesting to say about finally figuring out who you really are? Okay... There's multiple fucking scenes of slow-scrolling walls of fucking text telling you absolutely nothng you don't already know except that the writers are wanking the fuck off over their own dumbass writing where in Earthbound there was like one scene of this towards the end that really just set up the emotions of the final sequences and underlined how far you'd come and shit and was a good moment of reflection and shit.

I also find it exceptionally intersting that all the people in Tazmilly before the timeskip have names and unique appearances, but anyone who only shows up after is just some generic design called "Man" or "Woman" or what have you. It feels weirdly dehumanizing towards outsiders.

This game fucking feels like the writers just fucking dumped a bunch of absolute shit down like they expected everyone to just eat it up, either because of the success of the previous games or because of the emotional manipulation the plot is laced with. The characters are all either detestable cunts or desperately need to be airlifted out into a better game pronto. And it's unsettlingly... modern in what's wrong with it. The capitalism-bad-tradition-good-mindkill-yourself messaging, the spunky female character(tm) who rubs it in your face how strongk she is (and who keeps talking even when you're controlling her while the other characters all become silent protagonists)... even the weirdly random spite towards characters the narrative has decided aren't "deserving" enough, or characters only being allowed to handle said spite and retain sympathy by cucking to it completely (Duster)... I suppose that's just a sign that these sorts of writing problems and hangups are older than that and have just become more popular/visible in recent times, but it's still really fucking weird to see.

I feel like I should be concerned that the team behind the Earthbound series also started Gamefreak and created Pokemon, though since the split obviously happened before Mo 3 I don't know how much overlap there is between staff members there specifically... seeing as how these exact same sort of writing problems have started to rear their heads in the Pokemon franchise, starting weakly in gen 6 (cough zinnia cough abandoned ship plotline cough) and absolutely fucking exploding in 7 (cough LILLIE COUHG FUCKING TAPUS COUGH AGAG V HIC CUFGH VOMIT AAGHK); I haven't yet fully witnessed gen 8 but everything I've seen of it so far looks no better, except there's no shill character (Marnie is just kinda... there), just suffering. But that's all for another post.

welp time to go watch the remainder of the game until my brain rots off

[hollandsmoose]

better than sex

A/N: I've been writing on this for ages, holy shit. This is based on that thing Shawn said about performing being better than sex lmao. @particularrose​ basically wrote this one with all the ideas she gave me tbh so special shout-out to her for being so incredible! So here you go, dudes, here's 6k of some flirty sub!Shawn with a guest star appearance by Niall Horan himself!

part 2 in masterlist

-----------------

Summertime in Los Angeles is positively scorching. When the sun is high in the sky, it can feel a bit like you’re boiling. Niall’s house thankfully has stellar air conditioning, but it doesn’t stop things from getting a little heated at times.

When Niall had suggested that you could spend your summer with him in his Hollywood home, you hadn’t even hesitated to accept the offer. The prospect of spending several weeks alone with one of your best friends was almost too good to be true. And, of course, it was.

What Niall hadn’t told you when he made that offer was that he’d also made that same offer to someone else. Shawn. And it’s not that you don’t like Shawn; it’s more that you perhaps like him a little too much.

You’d met Shawn through Niall, and you’d initially been a smidge smitten with the curly-haired and brown-eyed boy who was nothing if not cute. But the more you got to know him, the more you realized that he wasn’t just cute; he was hot.

It’s even worse now, to be honest. The heat means that Shawn is never wearing too much clothing, and every goddamn time you see him, he’s got some part of his body on display. When you’ll be trying to read a book by the pool, for example, he’ll come out in nothing but swim trunks, his glorious torso on exhibition. The amount of times you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about running your hands over those defined abs or biceps or that back of his is astounding and almost worrying.

You don’t ever want to make it too obvious that you’re staring. Niall is much like a brother to you,  you treat each other like siblings, and openly thirsting for one of his best friends seems like a bad idea.

You catch Shawn staring too, though. When you’ll go to take a dip in the pool in nothing more than a bikini, his eyes will linger a few moments too long. When you’ll walk around the house in booty shorts, the looks he gives you when he thinks you’re not looking are definitely indecent.

Almost subconsciously, it develops into a game of who can be the biggest tease, and it’s exhausting. Your only break from it is when Shawn goes off to the studio to write, although he always comes back frustrated, annoyed with the writer’s block he’s going through.

Niall does his best to help him, but there’s not much to do. Niall says it’s just something that happens every once in a while and that Shawn just has to let it pass. Shawn is not one for patience when it comes to things like these, however. He tells you that he’s looking for inspiration, and about two weeks into your stay is when he finds it.

-----------------

It’s a slightly colder day than usual, yet it would be a lie to say that it’s actually cold. LA is never cold. Not to you, anyway. All it really means is that you eat your dinner inside in the kitchen.

Niall has cooked tonight. It's always either you or him who's responsible for food because Shawn is absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. Therefore, he's often the one in charge of loading the dishwasher as compensation.

Niall has made you fettuccine alfredo which is cooked to perfection. He's picked up a couple of bottles of good white wine, a type that has certainly not been cheap. You suppose the price doesn't mean much to someone like him, though. He doesn't exactly lack money.

It doesn't take long before you've finished eating, but you remain at the table, drinking the rest of the wine. And that is when the topic falls to Shawn and his writer's block.

“I just really wanna finish this album, you know?” Shawn says, a little frustrated, and you both give him sympathetic nods. “Like, as soon as I'm done with it, I can start planning tour and shit. And I can't wait to get back on the road,” Niall raises his eyebrows and nods, knowing exactly what Shawn means. “Performing is just… the best fucking thing. Even better than sex.” The noise that leaves you is not one you can hold back.

“Ha!” you exclaim, giggling to yourself. When the two men give you confused looks, you smile. “I'm sorry, it's just…” You lock eyes with Shawn. The wine is making you too brave. “What kinda sex are you having?”

At this, Niall bursts into laughter, a laugh you would recognize anywhere, and he actually slaps the table. You can't help but laugh at your own comment too, but when you take in Shawn's expression, he doesn't seem amused.

He squints a little. “What does that mean?”

You pick up your wine glass. “Well, I'm just thinking that you must be having some pretty boring sex to be able to say that,” This only makes Niall snort out loud, now resting his forehead on the hard surface of the table.

“Maybe I just really like performing,”

“Maybe you do,”

“I do,”

“Great! Then that's settled!”

“I don't have boring sex,” Shawn bites back with a smirk, not willing to let it go. “I just think performing is better.”

“So performing is better than having your face buried in pussy?” you ask, incredulous. Niall is practically dying at this point in the conversation, gasping for air, and Shawn's face burns bright red. “Or being balls deep in one?” The wine's influence has made you too confident, and you know you should probably keep your mouth shut, but it's impossible. “I'll need to show you a good time, then.”

Niall doesn't seem to hear what you said, and you're glad. Niall may not be your real brother, but he is as overprotective as a real brother would be. Shawn, however, does hear.

He chokes on nothing, coughing desperately, and his eyes are wide. Niall gives him a confused look, but he doesn't give an explanation, and neither do you. Thankfully, the older man soon finds himself distracted, and no questions are asked. Not unless you count the silent one that Shawn is asking with his eyes.

-----------------

It's not until a little later that you find yourself alone with Shawn. Niall goes upstairs, to the living room there, after dinner to pick a movie to watch, still quite fond of an old-fashioned DVD, and you stay behind to make some popcorn. Shawn, of course, is in charge of loading the dishwasher.

There's a great deal of tension in the kitchen as your words from before hang in the air, and you watch from behind as he puts the things into the dishwasher. His back muscles flex under his tight T-shirt every time he bends down to put something in, and you have to rub your thighs together. The microwave hums, and the kernels start to pop as you eye Shawn, leaning back against the chair behind you.

“You're watching me,” he states and turns to look at you. Of course, he's smirking. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm, maybe,” you tease, deciding to make this even more fun. Maybe it's dumb to even go along with this. You know you should probably shut him down, but this has been a long time coming, and you will never forgive yourself if you give up this opportunity. “I mean, I've seen better.”

Shawn tilts his head, arrogant smirk still playing on his lips. “You sure?”

You squint as he slowly approaches you. “Are you always this cocky?”

“Only when I have reason to be,”

“And you do now?”

Shawn comes to a stop in front of you, right as the microwave beeps. You're frozen to the ground, unwilling and unable to move. Your bodies are maybe a bit too close, and it's actually hard to breathe, every breath of yours shaky and laboured.

“Yes,” he confesses, his fingers stroking your upper arm. “‘Cause you think I'm hot.” Busted. You can’t let him win, though. Resting your hand on his hard chest, you smile.

“Well, how cocky am I allowed to be, then?” you retort, meeting his confused eyes. “‘Cause you think I’m hot too,” When Shawn blushes profusely, confirming your suspicions, your smile just grows even wider. “Thought as much.”

He gulps and bites his lip. “Y/N, I-” He doesn’t get to say more.

“You guys ready?” Niall says, walking into the kitchen, and you and Shawn jump away from each other, hoping to get as much distance between you as possible. Your heart starts to race with the thoughts of what Niall will say, but he is too busy staring at his phone that he thankfully doesn’t take much notice of the situation unfolding in front of him. “I picked a movie. I think you’ll like it.”

And then Niall finally looks up, but you and Shawn are far apart, looking perfectly decent. There’s no reason to suspect a thing.

-----------------

It’s hard to focus on the movie when you’re sat right next to Shawn who keeps glancing your way, meeting your eyes with sin in his own. Upstairs, it’s slightly colder, and therefore you’ve picked up a few blankets, something you’re very grateful for.

Because when your hand purposefully finds its way onto Shawn’s thigh, the blankets over your bottom halves manage to cover it up. There’s no covering up the surprised gasp that leaves his mouth, but when Niall looks at him questioningly, he just excuses it as a cough.

“You’ve been coughing a lot tonight,” Niall asks, and the worry he feels for his friend is more than clear. It almost makes you feel a little bad, but when Shawn blushes anew, you can’t help but feel just a bit pleased with yourself. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, no,” Shawn protests, and as your fingers trace circles into his skin, pushing a little at the hem of his gym shorts, the flush on his cheeks only deepens into a dark red. He gulps. “Just had to cough, that’s all.” And with that, Niall’s attention goes back to the TV.

Shawn’s shallow breaths are a good indicator of the effect you have on him. You revel in how his eyes screw shut every time you venture a little too close to where he really needs your touch, his hand on yours urging you to continue. You play with the idea of actually giving him what he wants and putting an end to your teasing, but you’re having too much fun to stop, and with Niall right next to you, it doesn’t seem like the best idea. That’s a decision you come to regret, though. Because when you pull your hand away with a confident, shit-eating grin, Shawn is quick to get revenge.

The first thing you feel is the tips of his fingers tracing circles on the side of your thigh, and you know exactly where this is going. Payback time. You don’t dare to take a look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you.

A shaky breath leaves you when his hand moves to rest on the top of your thigh, and when Shawn squeezes your skin ever so slightly, you have to bite your lip to keep a whimper from escaping. You hear the small chuckle that comes from him. He knows what he’s doing to you.

A heat is definitely pooling low in your stomach. A part of you is praying for him to give you some relief, but you know it’s not likely - not after your teasing. From your calculations, you figure that there is still a whole hour of the movie left, and you sigh. It’s gonna be a long hour.

The movie ends just before midnight, and you can honestly say that you’ve only understood about 10% of it. You and Shawn have not been playing nice, and you’re terribly worried for your underwear, surely soaked by now.

“Great movie, huh?” Niall says as he gets up to take it out of the DVD player. “What did you think?”

“Uh, yeah, it was…” you stutter, forcing a smile, meeting his eyes. “It was good.”

Niall tilts his head, squinting. “You okay, sweetie? You just seem a little… off,”

You gulp. “Just tired, that’s all,”

“Yeah, maybe we should head to bed,” Shawn suggests, his tone even more suggestive. Oh God, yes. No matter what happens now, you need to be in private. “I’m pretty tired too.” Niall agrees, and so do you.

You’re not tired in the slightest, though. You’re quite the opposite. You and Shawn’s little game has left you on the edge, and you’re practically bustling with energy. It’s endlessly funny to watch Shawn as he gets up, leaving the cover of the blankets, and tries to conceal the tent in his shorts. Niall, thank God, remains oblivious.

Soon, you’re all walking to your rooms, and you bid each other goodnight. Niall’s master bedroom is in one end of the house, whereas the rooms you and Shawn are occupying are on the same hallway in the other end. The distance between you and Shawn’s rooms and then Niall’s makes you feel a little safer.

Niall wouldn’t notice. It’s this thought that goes through your mind when you stand in the doorway to your room, and you turn to look at Shawn in the doorway of his. There’s a look in his eyes that is hard to decipher, and, for a moment, you consider asking what it means, but then there’s a noise from the living room, distracting you.

“Sorry, guys,” Niall says, chuckling to himself, and he picks something up from the coffee table. “Forgot my phone.”

When Niall has gone back to his room, you decide to do the same. Biting your lip, you give Shawn a look too. You both linger in your doorways for a few moments before you enter your rooms.

-----------------

Just about an hour has passed since you started getting ready for bed, and you're wiggling around on your mattress, trying to get comfortable, but you know very well that, even if you wanted to sleep, it wouldn't be possible.

There's a distinct ache between your thighs, and it needs relief. Your fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear. Shawn hasn't tried to get in contact, and you're almost at your breaking point. You need relief.

But right when you're about to dip your hand under the elastic, a thought crosses your mind. What if Shawn's doing this right now too? It's enough to make you clench involuntarily, only furthering the ache. Making a hasty decision, you throw the covers off and plant your feet on the floor. You're going to walk down the little hallway and knock on his door. Damn the consequences.

You've only just exited your room and shut your door when you hear another door open. Just down the hallway, Shawn emerges from his room, and then your eyes meet.

Whatever confidence you had before has left you. Had it stayed, you would have marched right up to him and kissed those pretty lips of his, but it's different now. None of you say anything, but, almost subconsciously, you both start to approach each other. It's slow - agonizingly slow, to be honest, but you do end up within touching distance.

“Can't sleep?” Shawn asks in a whisper, and there's a certain breathlessness to his voice that tells you all you need to know. When you shake your head, he swallows. “Me neither.”

The ache you're experiencing is not helped by the sight of his bare torso, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway. It's visible enough to have you rubbing your thighs together. He catches the movement, and you're expecting a smirk, but what you get from him is more like a whimper.

Even Shawn looks surprised by the sound. It’s hard to see much, the only light coming from your room, but you can see how his cheeks redden. Without a word, you lift your hand to rest on his chest, feeling the soft patch of hair there. He sucks in a sharp breath at your touch.

“Do you want this?” you whisper, establishing eye contact, and you pray that he’s down for this because you need him, and you might just cry if he turns you down. “Do you want me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Shawn answers, the words rushing out from his mouth. “I want you so bad.”

You give him a coy look. “Then take me,”

Shawn doesn’t hesitate. He pushes his mouth on yours with such passion that you actually stumble back, but he has lightning reflexes and places a strong hand on your back to keep you from falling. The hand manages to press your bodies flush together, no space left between them.

His other hand cups your cheek, a delicate touch compared to how you're kissing. You're unsure of what to do with your hands at first, but they end up gripping his shoulders, trying to get him impossibly closer. It's not that you can't already feel almost every bit of him, though. There is an unmistakable hardness pressing against you, and if you weren't in a fucking hallway, you would have dropped to your knees by now.

Shawn doesn't seem to care much about the whole hallway thing nor about the fact that Niall could walk out and see the two of you at any time. Instead of leading you to one of your rooms and to privacy, he guides you backwards until your back thuds against the wall. The whine is impossible for you to keep in when he detaches his lips from yours.

Moving his hands to under your ass, Shawn squeezes a little. “Jump,”

You eye him skeptically, but he seems confident in his ability to carry you, and you're confident in his confidence. So you jump.

You wrap your legs around him, but he holds you up as if you're as light as a feather. Shawn doesn't go back to your lips, yet you don't complain. Because shortly after, his mouth is on your neck, kissing and licking - no biting or sucking, though. You would have no chance of hiding the hickey that that would leave behind. Your fingers have tangled themselves into Shawn’s curls, and when you pull on them, impatient, he gets the clue and tears himself away from your skin. Instead of giving you what you want and kissing you, he shakes his head slightly and smiles.

“Oh god,” Shawn says, still quiet. “Niall’s gonna kill me.”

Sighing, you roll your eyes. “Don’t mention Niall right now,” It’s bit of a mood killer, really.

Shawn raises his eyebrows, his expression undeniably cocky. “Giving me orders now, baby?” That gives you an idea.

“Yes,” you answer with no hesitation, seizing control. “Yes, I am,” You tug on his curls with more force than before, and he hisses. The atmosphere changes. You can feel it. The ball is in your court now. “Your room.”

Shawn is more than pliant. He carries you, only putting you down when you’re inside his room. He leaves you for a moment to close and lock the door, but then he’s back. It is different now, however. He doesn’t reach for you or try to kiss you; he awaits your command. So when you tell him to lie down on the bed, he does it in an instant.

He’s left the lamp on the nightstand on, so you’re able to see much better than in the hallway. You can so clearly see his flushed cheeks, his toned abs and his brown eyes, darker than usual. You can so clearly see the way his lips part when you crawl onto the mattress and between his legs, sitting back on your knees.

“What do you want, Shawn?” you ask as you run a finger up his thigh, and your tone is deceitfully sweet and innocent. You’re fully expecting him to beg for your mouth or hands around him, but he takes you by surprise - and not in a bad way.

“I wanna taste you,” he tells you, voice shaky and absolutely wrecked. “Want you to sit on my face.” Fuck. You have to fight to keep a whimper from leaving your mouth. How can you possibly say no to that request? It takes a fair bit of manoeuvring, but you manage to pull off your teeny-tiny, exposing shorts and your underwear, leaving you in nothing else than your camisole. You tug his grey sweatshorts off, and his already prominent bulge just becomes even more prominent when he’s just in his boxers. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

You crawl up his body, but you don’t waste any time, going straight for his face. Settling over his face, you shiver when his hands come up to grab ahold of your thighs. Shawn stares up at you, wanting reassurance that he’s allowed to touch you, and you nod. In fact, you might just die if he doesn’t touch you. That may be an exaggeration, but it doesn’t feel that way to you.

You pull your camisole over your head, and that leaves you naked. Shawn’s eyes widen, and you don’t even think he’s aware that he’s moving his hands until they’re cupping your breasts. You don’t tell him off for not asking for permission, though. You’re far too consumed by the fire that his touch ignites inside you. When his thumbs brush against your nipples, you emit a keen noise that you can’t even believe comes from your own mouth.

Shawn groans beneath you, and when you glance down, you see the conflict in him. His eyes flicker from where his hands are to your dripping heat. You know he wants to please you, but it seems he can’t decide on where to start. So you decide for him.

You move his left hand down, back to the back of your thigh where he grips your flesh, bringing you closer to where he needs you. When you lock eyes, it’s almost overwhelming. There’s a hunger in them, yet he still waits for affirmation that he can go on. Such a good boy. You nod.

And then his mouth is on you. You moan, and Shawn groans. There’s a relief in it for both of you. His tongue runs up your slit, spreading you out so he has better access to all of you. You desperately need something to hold on to so you grab the headboard of the bed. His fingers pinch your nipple, just as his tongue touches your clit for the first time, and you gasp, rocking your hips against his mouth.

The noise that leaves him can’t be described as anything else than a growl, and the vibrations from it are utterly thrilling. Shawn’s other hand comes down and grips your other thigh, and he pulls you even closer, even further down onto his face. You’re almost worried that you’re drowning him, but, to be fair, he seems quite happy to drown.

Everything you’ve dreamed of for these last two weeks is coming true. Shawn wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Instinctively, one of your hands reaches down and goes into his hair, running through it. He almost moves into your hand, almost like he’s seeking your touch. He really is fucked for you.

“So good for me,” you purr. “So good.” The praise seems to please him; it seems to encourage him further. His tongue definitely becomes a little more forceful and pushes down on your clit with even more pressure than before. The pleasure shoots through your body, and the fire within only intensifies.

Several hours of teasing has left you sensitive, and when his lips close around your clit again, you’re made aware of just how close you really are. God, what is this boy doing to me? Shawn doesn’t seem to have a particular method to his actions; he just eats you out like he’s been starving, lips and tongue everywhere, licking and sucking. It’s kind of rushed, but oh dear God, is it good. And, besides, you really don’t need him to go slow.

His hands travel to your hips, and you understand his hint when he pushes you a little away from him. He comes up for air, and it’s such a sight to behold when you look down at him. The area around his mouth is absolutely covered in your juices, glistening in the light from the bedside lamp.

“You taste so good, baby,” Shawn pants, placing a few kisses on the inside of your thighs. “So sweet,” Your hand strokes his curls, all tousled and unruly from your treatment. “Wanna make you cum.”

You can’t resist a smirk. “Make me, then,”

Shawn curses under his breath, and then he can’t hold himself back anymore. Hands still on your hips, he begins to guide you back and forth, effectively making you grind against his tongue, making you ride his face. You have to hold back the cries that are so close to leaving your lips, knowing very well that you can’t be too loud.

You’re so close, and Shawn is doing his very best to please you, to push you over the edge. It’s like he keeps trying to pull you closer, although he’s already buried in you. He’s groaning and moaning against your pussy, clearly finding some kind of pleasure in this too. You’re trembling and shivering with every touch of his tongue, and you’re panting, mumbling barely coherent encouragements. You can feel it building inside you, that release you’ve been aching for. It builds and builds and builds, right until you can feel yourself right there at the edge of the cliff. And then you dive in.

There are no words to describe the feeling that courses through your body when your orgasm hits you. Words like mind-blowing, sensational and extreme all come to mind, but they’re simply not enough. You honestly have to hold back your noises because you know they would be far too loud. You can’t keep in a gasp of his name, though.

Shawn leads you through your release, slowing down gradually so you can come down. His hands gently stroke your skin in an attempt to calm you down. You’re still catching your breath when you start to move down his body, settling on his thighs, your own thighs still shaking with the aftershocks.

“Good boy,” you praise, and you catch how his cock twitches in the confinement of his boxers where his precum has created a small wet spot as well. “Such a good boy. All for me,”

He nods desperately. “All for you,”

Shawn seems to get the hint when you crawl up a little further up, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. When you press your lips to his again, you’re still very much able to taste yourself. You’re not complaining, though. You deepen the kiss, your tongues meeting, and the taste of you is so strong on his that you actually moan into his mouth.

You don’t even mean to do it, but your hips grind down against his, and he moans right back. The friction is almost too much to bear for your sensitive sex, yet you need to feel it again. You grind against his clothed cock, feeling how hard it is for you.

Shawn whines when you draw away from his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth before you let go completely. He doesn’t whine when you begin placing kisses down his neck and move further down, your kisses following. You pause for a few moments when you reach his abs, and then you lean in and lick a stripe up his six-pack. His muscles contract underneath your touch, and you enjoy how he makes this strangled noise in response, obviously having tried to muffle himself.

Upon reaching the waistband of his boxers with your kisses, you smirk. “Such a good boy deserves a reward, don’t you think?” He doesn’t answer, but you’re not surprised. He probably doesn’t want to be presumptuous. When you snap the elastic waistband against the skin of his stomach, he lets out a startled moan, and then he seems to understand what you’re asking him to do.

“Please, baby,” Shawn begs. “Please, just… please.”

Accepting his plead, you crawl back until you reach the end of the mattress, You keep eye contact as you move down to the foot of the bed and down to the floor, sinking to your knees. You yank on his one leg the tiniest bit, but he understands. Soon after, he’s wiggled down to where you want him, and Shawn sits up. He clearly wants to watch. He helps you to remove his boxers, and your mouth actually fucking salivates at the sight of his cock springing free. You don’t often call things perfect, but his cock certainly is. The perfect size, the perfect color, the perfect everything.

Shawn quite eagerly kicks off his underwear, desperate to be rid of them. He stares down at you, and you stare up at him. He’s leaking from the tip quite a lot, but that only makes your job easier. You don’t even have to spit on him or in your hand; he’s already lubricated himself enough. You maintain eye contact when you wrap your hand around him, and it’s almost amusing to watch how his eyes flutter, fighting the urge to close.

You tsk-tsk. “Keep your eyes on me, Shawn,”

It’s a challenge, and you’re aware. You want to challenge him. You run your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum over the length of him. He inhales sharply at your touch, and it makes you smile. You like knowing that you have an effect on him. His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, fingers digging into it.

“Y/N,” Shawn says, voice shaky. “I’m not-” He’s interrupted by a hiss from his own mouth when you touch his tip again. “Not gonna last long.” You appreciate the honesty, although you’re not surprised in the slightest. You’ve practically been edging him for hours now.

You pump a few times, revelling in his responses, before you lean in and press a kiss to his tip. His chest is heaving, his lip between his teeth, and he’s visibly struggling to hold back his noises. You kiss down to the base of him, and you take a second to consider what to do next.

You’re in a mood to make him suffer a little. And when you lick from base to tip, he definitely suffers. He whimpers, his knuckles turning white. You make sure to keep eye contact the first time you wrap your lips around his cock. He lets out this gasp in response, high-pitched and a bit too loud, and it only makes you want to go further. You keep your hand wrapped around him, and when you start to bob your head, your hand follows the rhythm.

The sounds of your movements are absolutely obscene, and you suspect it all looks just as obscene. His cock is warm and heavy on your tongue, his precum a bit salty. Sucking dick is usually not something you enjoy, but Shawn makes it more than enjoyable. His reactions are encouraging, gasps and moans and whimpers all revealing just how good you’re making him feel.

You can see how he struggles not to lift his hips and thrust into the warmth of your mouth. Had this been a different situation, you might’ve let him fuck your face, but you’re in control now. You want to take this at your pace.

Not that you have any intention of going slow, to be honest. You even let one hand go down to his balls, making sure to stimulate him even further. It takes Shawn by surprise, though. He loses control for just a moment, and his hips move up. The accusatory look you give him when you pull out for air has him apologizing in an instant, and you soon return to business as normal.

You become sloppier towards the end, something that he seems to like. He screws his eyes shut, but you don’t bother to chastise him because you know he’s getting to where you want him to be, and you can’t blame him for not being able to control his body right now. The bobs of your head begin to quicken, your saliva coating him thoroughly, and you just know he’s approaching his release. His cock is twitchy, his breathing is unbelievably unsteady, and the words that leave him are unintelligible, although you can hear that he’s trying to say something.

Shawn does manage to get something out. “Gonna… gonna cum,”

His warning is a nice gesture; it gives you time to pull off him. But you don’t. He’s been so good for you, and he deserves a treat. You only pull away the tiniest bit, resting his tip on your tongue, while your hand keeps pumping what used to be in your mouth. His one hand finally lets go of the mattress to cup the side of your face, and it’s an oddly cute thing to do.

When Shawn cums, he almost shouts out a curse, and it’s far too loud, but you really don’t care. You take everything he gives you, and it’s only when he jerks a little away from you that you let him go. He watches you swallow, and the sight seems to be a smidge overwhelming. He groans and falls back against the bed, covering his face with his hands, his chest heaving and all flushed. Shawn only removes his hands when you’ve crawled up, and you’re face-to-face again.

“Y/N, I… fuck,” he pants. “That was fucking insane, holy shit,” You giggle, stroking a few curls away from his sweaty forehead. “C’mere.” He brings you closer, and his lips find yours. To be honest, you’re kinda impressed. He definitely isn’t too touchy when it comes to tasting himself.

“So…” you begin when he releases you again. “Is performing still better than sex?” He raises his eyebrows, giving you a shit-eating grin.

“Hmm, yes,” Shawn answers and laughs, and you scoff as if truly offended. You know he’s playing with you. “Well, I didn’t get to hear you scream for me,” He smirks. “And when I perform, I usually have thousands of girls screaming for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Honestly? I could have screamed. But Niall would’ve heard, and I have the feeling I’d have to attend your funeral, then,”

Shawn playfully shrugs. “Would’ve been worth it,”

“Speaking of Niall, though,” you start, getting off the bed. “It’s been fun, but I should be going back to my room. Can’t be found with you in the morning, you know?” There’s a sort of sadness to Shawn when he nods and watches you get your clothes back on. “Goodnight, baby boy.”

-----------------

The next morning, you wake up with a grin on your lips. Thinking about what happened last night almost makes you ache again. You get up, and while you’re getting ready, the grin falls off your face. You can’t be sure what it’s gonna be like to see Shawn again. You don’t know what he’ll say. You can’t believe you even care, but you do.

So it’s with a slightly erratic heartbeat that you enter the kitchen a little later, but to your surprise, the only person you find there is Niall, cooking breakfast.

“Morning!” he greets and offers a smile. “Sleep well?” You feel the heat travelling to your cheeks at his question. If only you knew.

“Uh, yeah… yeah, I did,” you answer, and then you make a bit of a show of looking around the room. “Where’s Shawn?”

“Oh, he left for the studio about an hour ago,”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Niall replies and shrugs. “Said he found some inspiration during the night,” Oh god. “Dunno what he meant, but good for him. He’s been looking for it for quite a while.”

You know exactly what he meant.

-----------------

@sauveteen @peachnpomegranate @yellowitsmendes @me-a-hopeless-romantic @couple100miles @rishlo @bluerroses @nervousroses @shavvnmcndcs @crxssourbones @ashwarren32

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Pyro and writing (more headcanons that no one asked for, because Pyro the writer is one of my favorite character traits of his that Marvel constantly neglects)

-Overall, his writing is good, but not much more than that.  If he puts in a lot of effort, it can be great, if he’s rushing, it drops down to terrible.  All his books have a few moments of really good writing, showing the potential that he has, and also moments of really dreadful writing.  As long as he gets paid and people are entertained, he’s satisfied, although he does get frustrated when he knows a scene isn’t flowing well, and he doesn’t have the time or skill to fix it.  It’s difficult to make a living as a writer (and frankly, he wants money), so he tends to bang things out quickly and publish as much as possible.  His Marvel bio says that his books were widely read around the English-speaking world, so I’m guessing that he was at least somewhat popular.  Like, he wasn’t at a Stephen King or Danielle Steel level, but people at least knew his name.

-It’s never been clear to me whether his identity as Pyro was publicly known, but I’m thinking it must have been.  If it wasn’t revealed after the Brotherhood went to jail for the first time, surely it would have been revealed after he died saving Kelly, completely out of costume.  I’d imagine it was a mind-fuck for fans who read his books.  Apparently he was still writing and publishing during the Freedom Force era, so either the general public didn’t know, or being a mutant terrorist didn’t lose him any readers.

-He willed the rights for any future royalties to Avalanche when he died.  That didn’t amount to much at the time, but his work became popular again after he died, and publishers re-printed several titles to make a quick buck.  Avalanche wound up with a tidy sum that he used to buy his bar.          

- Pyro has a generally realistic and easy-going attitude about his own writing.  He thinks it’s at least decent writing, but he knows it’s not anything fantastic or ground-breaking.  He’s read the reviews tearing him apart, he knows he’s generally thought of as popcorn, fluff reading (and he’s okay with that), he’ll cheerfully refer to himself as a hack.  But he does get annoyed if someone keeps harping on him as a bad writer, especially if that same person is claiming that writing is easy, like “Any idiot can bang out a romance novel.”  At that point, he turns to, “Oh really?  How many books have you published?  How many books have you even written?  Oh, zero?  You’ve written no books at all?  Then kindly shut the fuck up.”

-He gets similarly annoyed when people disparage the romance genre as being trashy or shallow, especially since there are plenty of popular thriller/mystery/horror/spy novels that Pyro thinks are equally terrible, but those genres don’t have the same bad reputation that romance does.  He argues that romance is just like any other genre - a lot of it is terrible, some of it is complex and beautifully written.  And even if it is terrible, who cares?  Even the terrible stuff serves its purpose.  He usually doesn’t try to defend the genre with his own work (he knows he’s not winning any battles there), but he’s got a few favorite authors that he’ll bring up.  He does read romance on his down time, he genuinely enjoys it.

-There are a few authors he absolutely fan-boys over, but I don’t know enough about romance as a genre to name specific names.  Once, long ago, one of his favorite authors wrote a moderately favorable review of one of his books, and he literally jumped around his living room from sheer joy.  He cut the review out and framed it.

-He always writes straight romance, because that’s the largest market and biggest potential seller.  His heroines are always women, and he writes entirely from their perspective.  He’ll claim that it’s because most of his readers are women, but it also leaves an element of separation between him and the character, which makes it a lot easier to project all his issues into the story.  Which he does do, quite frequently.  Sometimes he tries to write gay male romance, just private stories for himself, but it always feels too personal.  He does start sticking same-sex relationships into his books, though, just in the background.  He couldn’t be too overt without losing some of his readers (at the time that he was writing), but he’d slip in little hints.

-He writes a lot about characters having to hide aspects of their identity, which is his way of dealing with both the mutant thing and the gay thing.  One of his heroines is a white-passing WOC, and her experiences listening to white characters say horribly racist things is very much based on Pyro listening to friends and co-workers say terrible things about mutants.  Of course, it’s rather problematic for him to use race in this way, but he’s definitely got some problematic tropes in his writing.  He doesn’t mean to use it as a metaphor, just an.....emotional outlet.        

-Speaking of problematic, given the time period that Pyro was writing, I think some of his travel articles definitely lean a bit Orientalist.  There’s nothing overtly or consciously racist, he has a great deal of respect and appreciation for the countries and the cultures that he’s visiting.  But he plays up the image of “exotic” and “mysterious” Asia, especially in his earliest articles, because he’s desperate to catch readers’ attention and keep them interested.  If someone brought it up to him now, he’d probably angrily deny it....but he’d also wince re-reading some of his early stuff.  “Yeah, okay, that’s a bit over the top there.”  He gets much better about it later.

-He puts a lot of self-deprecating humor into his travel articles.  He tends to naturally be something of a braggart and exaggerate when he tells stories, but if he writes about himself as a sophisticated world traveler having wild adventures, he’d sound like Gilderoy Lockheart a complete prat.  And Australia’s tendency towards Tall Poppy Syndrome would probably make his work unpopular.  So he puts in a lot of his own stupid mistakes, and presents himself as an adventurer who’s also a bit of a silly ass, bumbling his way through a culture that he doesn’t fully understand.  The events he depicts are mostly true, if exaggerated, but he tends to omit any mysterious occurrences involving fire. Can’t have that, can we?

- He loves the idea of fan fiction.  He was writing fan fiction as a child without knowing the term for it.  And fan fiction of his own work?  He is flattered and delighted.  Of course, he does get rather frustrated when fan fiction depicts his horrible Sebastian-insert as a sympathetic character, but he’ll grit his teeth and put up with it.  Because he’s just so happy that someone liked his work enough to want to write their own version.                   

[the-busy-ghost]

Thoughts on TSP S2E05- The Plague

Well that was An Episode. Actually I thought the writing in this one was a little better than the other episodes (at least until the last three minutes or so, what the fuck), and I did like some of Katherine’s speeches this time. Nonetheless some thoughts:

- Firstly, I would like to see the casting call. Do they cast for ‘Whispering Lady #1′ and ‘Whispering Lady #2′? Seems like you could make a career out that, given how often they appear in period dramas.

- How long has Sir William Compton been ill? I know the plague was a terrifyingly quick disease but you would think someone would have noticed he looked a bit peaky BEFORE he dropped dead in the middle of the hallway. Also they’ve established that he’s the physically closest person to the king and yet nobody is at all focused on checking to see if Henry is well?

- I really feel like they’re setting up Anne and Katherine’s relationship to be Bessie Mark 2. Like Anne is going to be portrayed as a close attendant and confidant and then stab Katherine in the back, thus robbing Anne (and indeed Bessie) of any independent motivation or justification.

- Could they call this episode Bessie Blount and the Fastest Three Year Pregnancy in England

- And while we’re on the subject poor Bessie. I really feel like she’s been robbed a little by the writing (not by the actress, Chloe Harris is great). She doesn’t get to say a word in her defence until halfway through (the silent Other Woman), and then we’re supposed to believe that being the king’s mistress was such a huge dishonour she’d be chucked out, and then the only reason she is restored to favour is probably going to be because of Katherine? That’s a lot to saddle on one woman. I was already a supporter of the Bessie Blount defence squad and I am quietly seething on her behalf. Also I feel like they could have had Katherine help at the birth IN LITERALLY ANY OTHER WAY THAT WAS VERY GROSS AND NOT AT ALL SAFE AND THEN YOU JUST LEFT HER THERE BLEEDING AND FUCKED OFF WITH HER BABY

- Katherine “what did you think I was going to use it for” WELL SURE I DON’T KNOW KATHERINE BUT HOW IS THIS BETTER??? The Myranda absolutely JUMPED out here, I cannot even BEGIN to describe how appalled I am.

- Also again is this supposed to be a sympathetic portrayal? Snatching baby Henry away from his mother before she’d even held it? Even if you hate her it’s a dick move especially since you are known to dislike the pregnancy and you also just pulled a knife on her? And you won’t even hold your own daughter so like double shit?

Anyway moving on...

- They are really playing up the ‘Wolsey lives vicariously through Henry’s mistresses’ vibe this episode. It is A Lot

- Also how does Stafford always manage to say things in literally the grossest way possible. Who gave Olly Rix these lines.

- Lol @Wolsey just dropping his cardinal’s hat casually into the conversation. Classy.

- Nobody “understands” Henry. Except Wolsey of course. Poor misunderstood baby king, AYE RIGHT.

- Mary’s storyline was actually pretty well done. They ARE cute. But I suppose it’s easier to pull off the ‘beautiful princess in arranged marriage and secret wedding’ plot than anything more complex like Margaret’s. I’m still not over the fact that that is very clearly Waddesdon though.

- *Technically* I’m not sure their marriage actually counts as treason, in the terms of the fourteenth century treason acts, but I’m no expert on that so I could be wrong. Just seems that period dramas throw the word treason around a lot when it had quite a specific meaning in England (in Scotland not so much, it’s a very flexible word there).

 - Mega Feminist Katherine of Aragon refusing to touch her daughter and continuing to refer to her as a ‘useless girl’. 100% Accurate and Feminist portrayal this (not). But Girl Power right?

- Awkward sex scenes GALORE this episode

- Margaret’s storyline was... somewhat comprehensible this episode but still a bit naff. Not the actors fault, they are doing their best. But I suppose it works? I do have some specific thoughts on details on that though, so more below

- Do I have to keep pointing out that James V WAS the king not the future king? Did you all miss the mourning coronation or something? Also the ‘Stewart clan’ does not “insist” on anything, because that is waaaaay too simplistic and also the wrong terminology.

- Albany’s line about ‘civilised company’- I mean as a Scot OUCH but also it’s quite believable coming from him I suppose, wee John was not a huge fan of Scotland.

- Holyroodhouse was not part of Margaret’s dower so far as I’m aware? At least it wasn’t traditionally part of queens’ dowers in Scotland and it wasn’t in any of the documents I’ve seen made at the time of her marriage.  It also had a freaking abbey attached to it (though tbh, that had fallen into decline a bit by the early sixteenth century). So why not pretend you’re using one of Margaret’s actual dower houses, further north? Also if I were Angus and I was trying to hide out from the Duke of Albany while illegally retaining control of James IV’s illegitimate children, I would probably go to the much more secure castle of Tantallon, not Holyrood. But everything has to happen in Edinburgh I suppose.

- Ok it’s a tiny detail but I am still exercised about the Presence of James IV’s illegitimate children. Firstly, how are they all still kids?? The only one who should still be under the age of twelve in 1516 (or 1519? God knows when this is) is Janet Stewart, the future Lady Fleming and daughter of the Countess of Bothwell. There is no evidence that she was ever raised at court and her mother Agnes was still very much alive (she actually spent Christmas with Margaret Tudor at Morpeth after the queen’s flight into England). 

The others were either dead (Alexander via Flodden and a few who died in infancy), married adults (Katherine, Countess of Morton, and Margaret, Lady Gordon- the latter *might* have also been in a relationship with Albany’s older brother Alexander Stewart at this time, it’s unclear), or teenagers approaching adulthood who were either on the continent or in Albany’s camp (James, Earl of Moray). 

SECONDLY how does it AT ALL fall in Margaret’s purview to raise them, let alone that of the Earl of Angus. Margaret could theoretically have stepped in as a benefactor- that’s not unknown and the royal family was a wide concept so Albany and Margaret sometimes did act on behalf of royal cousins and illegitimate children- but Angus? Even Jane Stewart of Traquair would theoretically have more right to one of the children than him (and NOT because of some stupid ‘Stewart clan’ nonsense) since wee Janet Stewart was probably her first cousin. (Margaret Stewart, Lady Gordon was Angus’ first cousin but once again, she was a married woman with children of her own). Although if they’re implying this was a political move on Angus’ part then that would have been a smart move- having custody of James IV’s illegitimate children could be quite useful politically, as later events involving both Albany and Margaret Tudor showed. But since the show has sort of been implying that they’re useless and that Margaret is stuck with them, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

- Also none of this is how a pre-contract works, and while we know very little about Jane Stewart of Traquair anyway, it’s clear that the show knows even less. But we love to see the Earl of Angus torn to shreds by both Margaret and Jane. One would hope that that was him Telt but sadly we all know this isn’t the case.

- Oh and a woman! In Scotland! Who is Scottish! We’re not cryptids after all! And she was then immediately chucked out.

- Also he just... walks off?? No attendants, no kinsmen, no horses? Do the writers have any idea of the level of power and status the Earl of Angus theoretically held?

- One of the men behind Margaret had A Line. I fear this is how Henry Stewart is being introduced to us.

- Can they shut up about the god damn kilts for TWO. MINUTES.

- BUT the real award for the most truly disappointing thing about this episode goes to the fact that we are now unlikely to get the Margaret and Mary reunion we all deserve. I mean I cannot BELIEVE this show passed up the opportunity to show the Queen of England and the dowager Queens of Scotland and France all acting in consort after the Evil May Day Riots. But then I suppose they would have to deal with that event in a sensitive fashion which like, I do not see them doing. I am genuinely disappointed by this, since the actresses are doing their best and I think it might actually have been a good scene. And it would have been an excuse for some fabulous costuming.

Anyway. That’s about all I’ve got.

[ks-caster]

The 100 Season 7 Episode 4 - Post-Liveblog Recap

Okay, so I liveblogged an episode for the first time - and it turned out to be a nice way to stay focused through the commercial breaks. Might continue to do that for the rest of the season.

But TBH I started doing it just so I could bitch about the CLEAR AND BLATANT LACK OF A SCENE WHERE SANCTUM!KRU REALIZE THAT BELLAMY AND ANOMOLY!KRU ARE MISSING. That was an important scene that the whole fandom, more or less, has been waiting for the entire time for various reasons. 

How do the characters react? Who figures out that something’s wrong first? Does Clarke sense Bellamy’s absence because they have a bond? Does Emori go looking for her space sister to comfort her other space sister only to find her missing? 

(Actually, she does. That’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. Might fic later. Accounts for Emori’s complete absence while her bestie Raven is falling apart.)

Edit: here's the fic!

Anyway, back to the episode - whoever was in charge of editing really really dropped the ball. Missing realization scene, poorly ordered Raven and Clarke scenes. The music during the Dev-and-Hope montage was a nice touch but just too loud enough that I really had trouble telling what they were saying - and the pacing would have felt better with just one show of teenage!Hope before we got 20-year-old her. The cut from Orlando agreeing to train Anomaly!Kru to 5 years later was WAY too abrupt for me to get a feel for the character and relationship development that they were trying to shoehorn in in order to create conflict at the end. I got where they were going with everything, but in a I’m-reading-a-newbie-writer’s-fanfic-because-I-love-the-story-concept-and-want-to-support-them kind of way and not in a I’m-watching-a-show-made-by-experienced-professionals-and-paying-for-the-privilege-in-ad-revenue kind of way. Disappointing.

Jumping around here for a bit: I gotta say I’m loving the makeovers this season! Hair and makeup did a great job on bringing back the old Raven without losing the maturity they gave her, giving Murphy and Emori their Gucci Royalty Vibes without losing the feel of their individual styles, and making Hope look like she can’t find quite the balance between feral forest girl and innocent shut-in who can’t bear to take a life (which is accurate to her character, of course). 

And Echo! So I really, really didn’t like her makeovers in seasons 5 and especially 6, because it felt like they were trying too hard to make her look pretty in a 21st Century kind of way. She looked softer, more vulnerable, which really contradicted her character traits - but I thought that might’ve been on purpose, to show a change in her (that she did indeed allow herself to become softer and more vulnerable for her family). And her post-time-skip (not that one. Or that one. The other one. There’s a lot of those. Bah.) look feels like a return to herself; she’s beautiful but in a no-nonsense, don’t-forget-I-can-cut-your-throat kind of way. (Is this because I just really love the butch look on woman and am myself a butch woman? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.)

Side note: Where the hell did they get clippers on Penance? Those haircuts were entirely too even to have been done with scissors. I’ll buy that Gabriel and Orlando shaved their heads and their perfect round cuts were growout, but Hope and Echo? Electric clippers. Like I said I like the looks, but guys, there’s no way.

I liked that I got a better feel for Hope’s character this episode - she’s trying so hard to be like her mom and Aunty O and all the heroes they told her about when she was a child, but the truth is she’s been in one real battle, she froze, and her best and only friend died. And since her only role models were these incredibly strong people who didn’t give up, back down, hesitate, that wouldn’t be an easy thing for her to get over. (Given that Diyoza was pregnant with her for two entire seasons, I’d really like to have more time developing Hope’s character - or even the same amount of screen time but go easier on the timeskips, lol. She keeps having growth/maturity/life experience spurts so it’s hard to keep up with the development that we’re shown.

So, 5 (7? Wasn’t she 22? There’s still 2 years we missed right?) years after watching her friend die, and 5 (7?) years of blaming herself for freezing, she’s put into the same position, and she stabs some lady in the neck. Kid didn’t steal her coping mechanisms! All joking aside thought, the kid basically relived her trauma in real life - honestly her reaction was 100% valid.

I’m sure I’m supposed to be upset by Echo’s choice to kill the remaining gold-head people. But I think the only reason that’s supposed to bother me is that she promised (ish - she was real explicitly clear that she’d do what was necessary to rescue Bellamy and them were the breaks) Orlando that she wouldn’t. I think I’m supposed to care about the fractured relationship between AnomalyKru and Orlando.

I don’t. I don’t know if it’s the super-fast timeskip (it was weird enough to see the changed dynamics in SpaceKru when I deeply knew all of the characters AND we got time to see the changes play out) or the fact that I didn’t really get to know Orlando in a way that made me super sympathetic to him (I’ll get to that in a minute) or if it’s just that he was smart enough to know he was being played from the start (see Navy SEAL mom didn’t teach you how to swim and Echo again being 100% clear that killing people might still happen) and walked right in anyway. Either way, his betrayal wasn’t enough of a motivator for me as an audience member to be bothered about how things ended between him and AnomalyKru. I kind of shrugged and moved on.

More on Orlando... So The 100 has had several plotlines that center around people doing dangerous, terrible and downright ridiculous things because of their religions; see the kidnapping and conclave of freaking children killing each other to become commander, Gaia’s whole character arc + starting a new religion around Octavia/WonKru betraying that religion to go back to their old one centering on Madi, WHO IS GODDAMN TWELVE, all of Sanctum and season 6, the Sanctum conflict here in season 7, and now this goddamn Bardo Disciple shite.

Now I’m not dishing on real life religion or religious people - I happen to have one of those myself - but the plot of some-people-take-their-religion-way-too-far-drink-the-koolaid-and-hurt-people-around-them has been done and done and done on this show. And now here we have Orlando, who was a high-ranking member of his religion, drank the koolaid, cast out, still a true believer and therefore dangerous because his perspective is fundamentally skewed. I don’t know anything about this religion but that it’s militarized (they can arrest people) and think that sentencing people to 10 years of madness-inducing Geneva Convention violations and then bringing them back to their families two days later is okay. I don’t really want to know anything else, because I’m worried that the show is going to work hard on making this religion scarier than the Sanctum one (needing to one-up themselves with the big bad, of course) which just keeps making the commander religion look humane in comparison. 

Which it wasn’t. But I digress.

So Orlando was kinda’ cool, but getting in too deep with a fundamentalist who was complicit in his own abuse by said religion (and so who knows what he thought was okay to do to other people) and then it ended badly.

Cue shocked Pikachu.

Moving on. Clarke. Baby. After the harrowing experience of the radiation destroying the radio so you couldn’t say goodbye to your mom when you were supposed to go to space, then missing your time window and getting left behind on Earth, and the radio broke them too so you couldn’t even be sure your friends would leave in time until they blasted off, and then calling Bellamy every day when you knew he couldn’t hear you, and ALL OF THE FREAKING LAST SEASON WHERE YOU WERE POSSESSED AND WOULD HAVE GIVEN ANYTHING TO LET YOUR FRIENDS AND DAUGHTER KNOW BOTH THAT THAT WASN’T YOU AND THEN LATER THAT YOU WERE ALIVE and THEN your MOTHER getting possessed and you had to check to see if it was really her and it WASN’T. Clarke. 

After all that terrifying inability to communicate.

You leave Gaia behind to warn everyone of the danger. INSTEAD OF CALLING THEM ON A PIECE OF HANDY TECHNOLOGY OR TAKING A QUICK TRIP BACK YOURSELF. TO TELL YOUR DAUGHTER WHERE YOU WERE GOING. YOU DON’T THINK THAT MAYBE MAKING EXTRA SURE THAT EVERYTHING GETS COMMUNICATED CLEARLY AND IMMEDIATELY MIGHT BE A PRIORITY.

And then Gaia gets kidnapped. Honestly, cool! Not ‘cause I’m rooting for Gaia to be hurt (I don’t care all that much about her tbh) but I LOVE Indra and I want her to have more screen time and development this season - and or the chance to cut people up with her sword - and kidnapping her daughter seems like a great way to facilitate that.

*Looks at list* Oh, right, Jordan. I forgot you were here. Honestly I can’t figure out what the fuck is going on with you, and since I’ve had a whole season of not connecting with you because the story was too busy focusing on external plot... I don’t see that changing any time soon buddy. Sorry.

Oh and that FrEaKiNg PrOmO! 

My garbage boy! My chaos gremlin! My excellent-at-impersonating-a-deity-even-if-it-goes-against-his-programming! What are they doing?! 

I’m torn between NO DON’T HURT HIM and YES HURT HIM BECAUSE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND BRAVERY BWAHAHAHA. At least I know there’ll be Murphy and hopefully Memori content in the next episode. That’s the good shit. It’s the only thing left about this show that still feels “pure,” not that I didn’t know what sort of darkness I was signing up for when I started but just because he and Emori are sort of the last light in the darkness, and it’s nice to get a break periodically.

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 21/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver start working their new lead, and relationship status, with some surprising results.

Notes: This was a rough one to get out and I'm sorry it took so long. Here on out there will be two parallel plots: Belle's recovery and relationship with Weaver, and solving the murder of Eloise Gardener. Warnings in this chapter for discussion of PTSD, Belle's attack, and mention of her miscarriage.

Warnings: Miscarriage reference and discussion in some chapters. Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

The room smelled like paper and tea, a comforting and warm contrast to the steady rain that was falling outside.

Belle pressed her hands over the front of her skirt and looked around the office of Dr. Archibald Hopper. There was a leather sofa flanked by two bookcases with a set of three black and white prints in thick black frames hanging above it. The shelves were arranged with a mix of artistic pieces and leather bound volumes of medical and legal books, looking so perfectly put together that combined with the rest of the room it all had less the feel of Archie, her friend and colleague, and more last month’s Pottery Barn catalog.

“Nice office,” she said finally.

Archie smiled and took a seat in the high backed leather chair across from her. “Thanks. It beats the south wing of the hospital.”

She laughed lightly, recalling the rather dilapidated old patient rooms that had once made up a sizable bed tower and part of the original hospital where Archie had once worked. While the rest of the building was expanded and renovated over the decades, the south wing had been largely ignored and converted into office space for those who didn’t rate mid century modern credenzas and floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the bay.

“Yeah, it definitely does,” she agreed, glancing around the room. “You’ve certainly moved up in the world.”

“It was those excessive bonuses the city paid me for all the consulting hours you demanded.”

His lips curved, and Belle shook her head. “Yes, well, good to know my budget overages were well spent.”

They shared a laugh, and then Dr. Hopper shifted in his seat, mentally moving from friend and colleague to therapist with no more than an adjustment of his body and the picking up of his pen.

“I’m assuming that what brought you here wasn’t a desire to reminisce about the city's lack of funding for prosecution experts.”

Belle looked down at her hands. “How did you ever guess?”

Archie flashed her a weak smile, and let out a breath. “Belle, I know what happened to you - not the details, of course, but enough - and I know that it’s policy to have a psychological review before returning to work. However -”

“That’s not what this is,” she interrupted. “I mean, yeah, I’ll probably need you to fill out the official form at some point, but I’m already back at work.”

Hopper frowned slightly. “I see.”

Belle glanced up. “Midas knows me well enough to know that I feel better being back at work than taking two weeks of leave.”

“And how do you feel being back at work so soon?”

She gave him a look. “Fine. We’re making some progress on, um, the body that was found in the community garden.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because -” she paused and licked her lips, spreading her hands over her thighs as her palms started to feel clammy. “Because it’s when I’m not at work that, um, that I don’t think I’m fine.”

He nodded and made some kind of mark on his pad. “What makes you think that you aren’t fine?”

Her head rolled back against the sofa as she blew out a breath between her lips. “Is this how it works? You just turn my answers into questions?”

“How else would you like it to work?”

Belle’s head lifted, her eyebrow arching. “Ha ha.”

Archie smirked and then made another mark on his notepad before setting it aside. “Look, this is like any other doctor’s appointment, right? You have to tell me your symptoms, as it were, so I know what’s going on and where to start. Right?” She nodded, and he continued, “So, what’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she said, leaning forward to lean her elbows on her knees. “Got attacked by a serial killer in my own apartment, stabbed him in the leg, and now...”

“Now...what?” Hopper coaxed.

She sighed. “I can’t sleep unless my ex-husband is with me. I keep sort of - reliving what happened, but the memories are - are weird. I feel...I don’t know, like tired but jittery all the time? I only feel okay when I’m at work, when I can focus on the case, focus on doing something about what happened, you know?”

She left out that the only other times she seemed to feel normal was when she was playing house with her ex, eating, sleeping, and fucking like nothing had happened in the last two years, like they hadn’t made a mess of everything.

Archie raised his eyebrows when she mentioned Weaver, and folded his hands. “So, you and Detective Weaver are...?”

She shrugged and straightened. “I don’t know what we are. I stayed with him while my apartment was a crime season, but it’s been cleaned and released. I just haven’t gone back. I haven’t wanted to, I guess.”

“Okay, let’s, um, let’s park the relationship stuff for now,” he said. “Tell me - tell me about your memory of what happened. When does it come to you? What do you recall?”

“Usually when I’m alone,” she replied. “Day or night, doesn’t matter. It’s flashes, mostly, feelings. Cold from his - his leather jacket, pressing against my back. I was told that he’d been hiding out on the balcony, waiting until - until I got home.”

Archie swallowed and crossed his arms. “And?”

“Heat,” she continued. “Like my face is flushed, but it’s - it’s from, uh -

She lifted her hair at the front, exposing the red line where her skin was still healing even weeks later. “He hit me and it, um, made it hard to see. Everything was - was red.”

Dr. Hopper pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing as her hair dropped back over the wound. “You said that your memories were off. Could you tell me more about that?”

She held his gaze for a long moment, as she bit her lip. His eyes softened and the corner of his mouth curved slightly as he gave her a brief nod. The room started to feel too warm, and she leaned forward to take a sip of the water he’d set out for her.

“It’s strange,” Belle said finally, sitting back against the cool leather. Her hands fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. “Remembering, I mean. It’s like - it’s like I’m outside of myself, but not - not in any kind of weird out of body experience way, more like... I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dr. Hopper gave her a small smile and nodded. “Try. Tell me one thing at a time, and take as long as you need.”

She sighed. “I feel - heavy. Like I can’t move my arms or legs no matter how much I want to. There's pressure too, in my head. It’s kinda like a sinus headache, but without being stuffed up at all, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Then he shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “Does your heart rate increase or is it hard to breathe?”

Belle shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I just have this strange feeling, and there’s a flash of light. Then I look down and - and there’s -”

Hopper’s head tilted. “What? What do you see?”

She breathed in and out through her nose as her eyes fixed on the glint of the light as she twisted the white gold band of her ring back and forth. It was a square sapphire in a pale blue color, about a half carat in size. Weaver had given it to her for their first anniversary. She’d worn it nearly every day while they were together, but as soon as she left the divorce attorney’s office, it had been relegated to a small wooden box at the back of her dresser drawer where she kept some of her mother’s old jewelry. The first night they���d retrieved her things from her apartment, she’d grabbed it without thinking as she was rummaging for some socks.

“Belle, what do you see?” Dr. Hopper repeated.

Belle swallowed and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Blood.”

Hopper nodded, pressing his lips together again as his pen tapped against the pad next to him. It was an action she’d seen from him often when he’d consulted on a case, usually when he was thinking through his response to a question.

“Yours or - or his?”

“Both,” she said quickly, the hitch in his voice making hers waver as well.

He gave her a sympathetic look and took a breath before he asked his next question. “And, um, where is the blood?”

She breathed out again, slowly and took another swallow of water. “On my hands.” She set the drink down and looked down at her palms, blinking a few times as the image of the red, dripping stains flashed into her mind. “My blouse. The counter. The floor.”

Then she took another breath. “And sometimes it’s um -”

Dr. Hopper’s head tilted. “It’s what?”

Belle blinked hard. “Um, on my - my legs.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she tried to force the image away. “Don’t know.”

The slight shift in Archie’s expression revealed he didn’t believe her, but he seemed willing to let it go for now, and she sighed again.

“Let’s go back to your relationship with Detective Weaver.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Dr. Hopper sat back, crossing his legs, and smiled. “I suspect some of this starts a little further back than Jack Branson.”

Belle huffed and shook her head. “It doesn’t. And you already know the story. We were married, then we got divorced.”

“And?”

“And?” She raised her eyebrows and held Archie’s gaze. “What?”

“And now you’re...?”

There was a low throb starting in her head as she pulled at her ring again, sliding it over her knuckle until it spun freely around her finger. “I told you, I don’t know what we are, not right now.”

“Can you tell me what you’d like to be?”

“No.” Then she sighed. “I let things go too far while we were working on the case, and before you ask, you know exactly what I mean by ‘too far’ Mr. I Accidentally Screwed the Waitress Who Was Also a Witness.”

Archie’s face flushed, and Belle flashed him a brief smile. His affair with Ruby had been problematic at the time, and it had forced him to step back from his role as an expert consultant. Now that they’d been together for a couple of years, it was all water under the bridge, and the switch back to private practice was overall better for everyone. She sighed. “Now everything is...I don’t know. It’s good, but it’s also temporary, so I’m trying not to get complacent or get used to anything, you know?”

Hopper shifted in his seat, his lips pursing for a moment. “Why does it have to be temporary?”

“Because we’re divorced,” she answered flatly.

“Why?”

Belle pushed her ring back on her finger and paused. “Why what? Why are we divorced?” Dr. Hopper’s head tilted again, and she gave him an annoyed glare. “I’m not dredging up our marital issues, Arch. I’ve been there, done that.”

“Have you?” he asked. “Been there, done that?”

She made a face. “Well not like this, obviously, but I think I’ve rehashed it enough in my head for ten therapists, thanks.”

Archie chuckled at that and shook his head. “Fair enough. Though I do get the impression there’s a piece I’m missing here.”

“How do you mean?” She folded her arms over her middle and mirrored Archie by crossing her legs.

He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You and Ian were good together, Belle. We all saw that. I have to admit that when I heard you two were splitting up, it was - it was quite a shock.”

Belle looked away as he spoke, clenching her jaw as she swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d heard the same statements from others before, during, and immediately after the divorce. Everyone thought they were so perfect together, but of course none of them had to live with a reticent police detective who didn’t know how to let anyone in. She always thought he’d change, that he’d soften with time, open up more the longer they were together. The night he chose a murder over her and their baby, she’d realized she’d been wrong.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It was to me too.”

Hopper pursed his lips again and watched her as she tugged on her ring again, slipping it over her knuckle to spin it around her fingertip. She paused to wipe at her eye, and he sat back with another heavy sigh.

“Belle -”

“I had a miscarriage.”

Archie blinked and frowned at the words she’d blurted out. “You - what?”

He licked his lips as his mind grasped for words. Confusion and shock had made him lose his usual quiet coherence, and he leaned forward again. “I’m sorry, I’m just - I’m trying to understand. Was this after - after your attack, or -?”

“No,” Belle said quickly. She met Dr. Hopper’s eyes, her stare firm in spite of the tear that was trickling over her cheek. “No, it was - before. It’s why - why we divorced.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “So -”

She felt her face heat as her vision blurred. There was a faint ringing in her ears that made her shake her head, sending a volley of tears down her face. She was vaguely aware of the tissue box sliding closer, pushed by Dr. Hopper, when she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then lurched forward. Her feet stumbled over each other, her shoe coming loose as she stood and tried to walk around the coffee table that was between her and Archie. He said her name as she moved, one hand stretched out in front of her to catch the bathroom door and push it open while the other was pressed to her mouth.

Belle sniffled again, wiping at her nose with the battered tissue before tossing it in the trash can and exiting the small bathroom.

Archie stood up quickly. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

She was surprised how true it felt in spite of how upset she’d been a few minutes ago. It had been a long time since she’d said the words out loud, and once she had it was like the dam had broken, flooding her body with emotions she’d kept at bay for over two years. In hindsight, the miscarriage had bled into the situation with Ian, leaving everything a jumbled mess well before her encounter with Jack.

Archie was right.

“So, Arch, how fucked up am I?” she asked, letting out a humorless laugh.

Dr. Hopper sighed and came closer, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “No more so than any of the rest of us.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that.”

“Belle, what’s happening to you is normal,” he started. “You were physically attacked in your own home, by a man whose pathology I can’t even fathom right now. Having some PTSD from that is completely expected. Everything else on top of that...? I can’t imagine what all you’ve been through.”

She breathed out, feeling a strange sort of relief at his words. “Yeah.”

“I think,” Archie started, cautiously, “that it would be a good idea for you to keep talking about this.”

“With you?” She blinked up at him, her expression pulled as the steady pulse of a headache grew.

He shrugged. “With whomever you like, whoever you feel comfortable talk to. That’s the only way this is going to get better.”

Belle reached up and pushed her fingers into her hair, rubbing at her scalp. “I don’t think I’d want to talk to anyone else, if that’s okay.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Of course it is. Whatever I can do to help, Belle.”

Belle checked her makeup in the mirror one last time and ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it into place. She looked passable, if a bit tired, but then that had been her almost perpetual state since the case had started. Her heels thudded softly on the carpet as she made her way back to her office, her gait stuttering briefly when she spied Weaver sitting at the conference table.

Shit.

She’d been hoping he was still at the station following up on Nick Branson’s former employer in Las Vegas. When she’d made the appointment with Dr. Hopper, she’d had every intention of telling Weaver that she was going, but in the end every moment that might have been right, wasn’t. He’d be supportive, of course, he had been when she’d first mentioned it a week ago, and their history with Archie had only raised the psychologist’s esteem in his eyes. Yet she’d held back that morning when he’d asked her what she was going to get up to while he was tiring his eyes out at a computer screen.

She let out a steadying breath and pushed open the door to the office.

Weaver twisted and looked over his shoulder at her, smiling. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, brightly, hurrying over to her desk to set her purse down.

“I was surprised you weren’t here when I got back.”

“Oh, I ran a quick errand after lunch.” She shrugged and looked up at him, knowing full well by the way his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly that he didn’t quite believe her. “Find anything?”

“Couple addresses,” he replied. “Some names to follow up on. The construction company Branson worked for went out of business a couple of years ago, but I have contact information for the holding company that took over its assets.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“I guess.” Then he frowned slightly, and pushed back from the table, twisting to face her. “Are you okay?”

Belle sighed and busied herself with sorting through some papers on her desk. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

His expression was inscrutable as he stood and came to stand in front of her desk. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more done today, if you want to take off early.”

She glanced up at him. “Why would I do that?”

Weaver shrugged. “You’re tired.”

She sighed again and straightened, knowing from his flat tone that he hadn’t believed her, but he was still offering her a way out anyway. It annoyed her and she wasn’t sure why. “Well it’s been a long...month.”

He gave a slight nod as his lips pressed together. “Yeah, and we worked a lot of weekends in the last little while. You need some down time.

She shot him a look. “I’m fine, Ian.”

He gave her a look and moved around the side of the desk until he was next to her. “Belle, you look absolutely shattered.” Then he took hold of her hand and started tugging her away from her work. “Come on.”

“Ian...” She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

He turned on his heel and faced her. “Belle...”

They stood for a moment, staring at each other with equal exasperation, until Belle’s shoulders sagged. She was tired, that went without saying, both from her appointment with Archie and the weeks and months that had preceded it. There was a standard level of fatigue that she’d dealt with her whole career, brought on by long days in court, and longer nights of composing motion documents and briefs. But this was new. This was a less familiar bone deep weariness that weighed her whole body down, pulling her to the Earth. It didn’t feel like being grounded so much as it felt like being drowned, sucked down under the dark waves and suffocated.

Belle’s head dropped as she exhaled. “I went to talk to Archie after I left Midas’s office.”

Weaver seemed to startle a bit at her words, shifting his stance as his eyes went wide. “Okay...and?”

“And, it was... a lot.” She looked up and blinked almost dazedly.

He moved closer, taking the kind of slow steps one might when they were approaching a skittish cat. When he came within arm's length, she reached for him, all but grabbing the front of his white shirt as he closed the distance between them. She turned, falling against him as he moved to hold her, and buried her face in his chest.

"You sure you're all right?"

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in his warm, earthy scent. “Yeah,” she replied, slightly muffled. He made a grunting noise, and she looked up. “What?”

One of his eyebrows lifted slightly. “Let’s go home.” She stiffened and he squeezed her against him. “You can take a hot bath, I’ll make the scallops I picked up on my way back form the station, and -”

“You got fresh scallops?”

His lips quirked as her eyes widened hopefully. “You won’t know until you get home.”

Belle pulled back and swatted at his chest. “You don’t play fair.”

He laughed softly, and she shook her head, knowing that what he was suggesting was for her own good. They both needed a break, and the lull while they waited for courts and county clerks to process a pile of paperwork and red tape might just be the thing.

“Yeah, okay. I can write up the rest of the records requests on my laptop.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, dryly, dropping his arms and taking a step back. “Just not in the bath this time, not after what happened with your iPad.”

She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and shot him a glare with significantly less venom than usual. “Shut up.”

Weaver pulled open the office door, still smirking, and held it for her as she stepped through into the hallway. “Yes, dear.”