#Yep this challenge 4 years old now

[mssoapart]

It was so hard to gather people's suggestions for this challenge. My friends and their friends helped me, thank them for that.

I posted it four years ago on Twitter and maybe redo it here with different characters, who knows. ┐(ﾟ～ﾟ)┌ Date: 2020

[rivalsispunk]

Inappropriate (Chapter 4 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), mention of female orgasm, pussy pronouns, smut smut SMUTTTT, jealous Declan, all the good stuff

Word count: 11.4k

Chapter summary: Happening across your boss pants down only spells the beginning for you and Declan, but neither of you are expecting a surprise visitor to muddy the waters.

A/N: Thank you all for being SO SO patient with this one. I could've easily released this chapter in two parts but didn't want to disrupt the flow of the story (*ahem* smut). This has had a brief edit in my hastiness to publish so any mistakes... Shhhhhh!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Four: Inappropriate

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had an inappropriate thought or two about Declan O’Hara in the time you’ve been friends with Taggie, perhaps more frequently since he’d become your superior, but that had nothing on the unadulterated filth that had infiltrated your brain in the hours since leaving The Priory. You can barely recall fleeing down its staircase or the drive home, what unfolded at the forefront of your mind until a self-induced orgasme lulled you into a deep sleep. Now, you’re permanently marred with the visual of Declan — your best friend’s father, your boss — fucking his hand with your name on his lips. You should feel dirty. You should feel violated. You should feel the way you do when Tony Baddingham’s beady eyes drink you in across the office. Like you need a scalding hot shower and to scrub yourself down to the bone. But you don’t. You feel like somebody’s doused you in gasoline and lit a match, your whole body burnt to flames — and it’s exhilarating. 

How many times has he done it?

Was that the first time?

And why do you want to watch him do it again?

“Did ya stay late last night?” Declan asks you the next day while you’re sifting through old newspapers in search for more dirt on Rupert, at your boss’ request. “Went straight up to bed once I got back, so didn’t hear ya leave.”

Liar, you think.

“Not too late. Eleven, maybe,” you respond, eyes glued haphazard clippings across your desk.

“Not that I would’ve heard you anyway,” he continues. “Not with the wailing guitar riffs at full volume on Taggie’s stereo.”

Only then do you flit your gaze up to look at the man on the other side of the office. Acting professional after that murky moment with Declan in the hot tub was one thing, but pretending you don’t know what your boss looks like with his pants dropped and cock in hand is a whole other kettle of fish. Under normal circumstances, you’d be awkward. Uncomfortable. But now it’s as if having his secret affection has allowed you the permission to challenge him. 

“Do you have something against Bon Jovi, Declan?”

“Under normal circumstances, no,” he responds, lighting a cigarette. “But when it feels like Jon is in bed with me screaming in my ear while I’m trying to sleep, I’m inclined to think otherwise.”

Let alone when you’re dancing around all but naked to it.

“So, can we count you out of belting Livin’ On A Prayer at Bar Sinister tonight?” you chide, reminding Declan of the invite you’d all received from the Joneses. Smoke plumes from his lips as he rears back from a drag.

��Yep. I’ll not be going anyway. Got too much work to get done.” “You always have too much work to get done,” you tell him. “You have to take a break sometime.”

“That’s what sleeping is for,” he counters, a slight smirk rising from under his moustache.

“Oh, come on, Declan. It’s one night.” You’re staring at him all doe-eyed across the room and your innocence, faux or not, does the heavy lifting of your convincing. “Come to Sinister. It’ll be fun.”

It’ll be fun, you’d said, voice all but a whiney beg that zapped like a rod of lightning straight to his crotch. But Declan’s struggling to find the enjoyment in spending his evening watching a revolving door of men try their luck with you, in that impossibly short merlot-coloured dress that’s befitting of Bar Sinister’s name. First, it was Bas Baddingham; the younger, kinder, though no less leery half-brother of Tony. Declan had noticed the pair of you when he arrived, his attention magnetised to you the moment he walked through the door. Bas had you cooped up in the corner by the floor to ceiling wine racks, his frame bowing over you while you chatted. 

Declan wasn’t prepared for the twist in his stomach, nor the prickle of heat that scaled his body until it reached his cheeks while he watched you giggle with Bas, eyes sparkling under his attention. It was almost as if he were a child watching someone play with his favourite toy, unwilling to let anybody else have a turn, even though he was well aware it wasn’t his to keep in the first place. You slung another one of your dazzling smiles Bas’ way, and it was enough to have Declan beelining for the bar to order a wine and a whiskey to keep his envy at bay. After a while, Bas was called away to assist with a kitchen catastrophe. He was quickly replaced with Rupert Campbell-Black, all smiles and slime as craned his neck to whisper in your ear. Whatever words he was imparting on you — undoubtedly dirty — saw you blush, a stunning flush of fuchsia flooding up your neck to your cheeks. This goes on for a while — too long, in Declan’s opinion — and every grin Rupert shoots your way, coupled with you staring up at him all starry-eyed like you’ve been touched by the hand of God, has Declan grinding his teeth to near-dust. 

He’s too old for you, he thinks. Certainly not good enough. The journalist had already been forced to warn the former Olympian off Taggie. He ought to do the same for you. But who was he kidding? He has no claim over you. You’re not his daughter.

The idea has him downing his whiskey in one gulp.

No, you’re definitely not his daughter.

Filthy hypocritical git.

You felt Declan before you saw him, his gaze like daggers slicing into you as you spoke with Bas, then even more so when while you chatted to Rupert. In all honesty, you had no interest in either men, but you made sure to ramp up the flirty act, particularly with Rupert, because you knew how much Declan disliked him. You weren’t entirely sure why; perhaps you wanted to see whether it bothered him, or how much it bothered him, but you could never get a good enough look at him to gauge where his head was at. You weren’t even talking about yourself, save for Rupert once again trying to coax you into a dinner date. Instead, you’d geared the conversation towards your best friend, whom you knew had a burgeoning crush on her neighbour despite her failed attempts to deny it.

“Are you expecting someone?” Rupert asks partway through gushing over Taggie’s catering at a recent hunt. “Or am I just boring you?”

His question falls on deaf ears, and you scramble to make up for your rudeness. “Sorry, Rupert. What was that?”

“Your eyes have been darting around this bar like you’re watching a tennis match.”

“I’m not—”

“Trust me, you are. It’s not often that a woman can bear to take her eyes off of me,” Rupert peacocks, cheeky grin blooming at his shameless confession. “So, who’s the lucky sod?”

God, he’s nothing if not perceptive, you think, chewing the inside of your cheek. Finally, you clock Declan by the till, his eyes stuck on you while Lizzie Vereker chats animatedly at his side.

“So, are you going to tell me or are you going to make me guess?” Rupert tries again. 

Turning your attention back to him, you make a show of laying a hand on the sleeve of his navy sports coat as you lie through your teeth. “It’s nobody. Nobody worth worrying about.”

“Are you trying to burn a hole through him?” Lizzie wonders aloud, cheeks already flushed from her half a glass of wine.

“He’s just… everywhere. It bothers me,” Declan tells her, not taking his eyes off you.

“Bothers you that he’s here, or bothers you that he’s here with her?” She looks at him quizzically before her sight slices to you.

“You know I can’t stand him, Lizzie. Sorry, I know he’s your friend but, God. Always lurking, trying to shag anything with a pulse. Even that might be too restrictive to the lengths he’ll go to.”

“She’s an adult, Declan. A strong-headed one, at that. She can make her own decisions.”

“Well, she’s making the wrong one with him. He's got all the charm of a burst hemorrhoid."

Lizzie swats Declan for his off-colour description. “And what do you suggest the right one to be, then?” She’s staring up at him, lips pursed like she knows something. Like she’s pried his skull open with a crowbar and all of his dirtiest thoughts about you have leaked all over Bar Sinister’s maroon carpet.

“Someone her own age,” Declan decides, as much as it pains him to admit. “Someone that’s not Rupert Campbell-Black.”

“Someone like Patrick?” Lizzie poses, and Declan’s head whips towards her at the mention of his son.

“Patrick? My Patrick?”

“It’s not that crazy an idea. He’s a perfectly lovely boy.”

“He’s also at university, Lizzie.” Far away from you.

“Was at university,” a familiar and all-too-missed voice sounds from behind the journalist, and he just about spills his Pinot Noir as he turns to greet his son.

“Patrick!” Declan pulls him into a hug, clapping a hand against his back. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had a few days between exams. Thought I’d pay a visit.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Come on, Dad. I’m here to have fun. You should try it sometime,” Patrick jests. There’s that word again. Fun. Despite your earlier promise, so far, Declan’s having anything but. “Hello, Lizzie,” Patrick leans down to drop a kiss to her cheek. “So, what are we talking about over here? Though with you Rutshire lot, I suppose the question should be who are we talking about?” he asks, taking the wine glass from his father’s hand and polishing off what’s left of the heady liquid.

Lizzie steals a quick look at Declan, who feigns disinterest. “We were just talking about that glorious young lady over there,” she tells Patrick, pointing with her wine in your direction. “Rather beautiful, is she not?” 

Patrick’s eyes narrow as he spots you across the dim-lit room, still deep in conversation with Rupert. “Isn’t that Taggie’s friend? I remember meeting her at my birthday party. Rupert hasn’t eaten her alive yet?”

“Seems she’s one of the only women in this town that’s immune to his charms,” Lizzie conveys, and Declan wonders if they’re watching the same scene; Rupert laying it on thick and you seemingly lapping it up.

There’s a soft, almost curious tilt to Patrick’s head, lip pursed over as he watches the pair of you. “She might stand a chance after all,” he announces, then he’s away as quickly as he appeared, swerving through the crowd as he makes his way towards you.

Freddie is eight minutes through Meat Loaf’s Bat Out Of Hell and the whole bar is loving it. You can’t recall a time you’ve had this much fun out, your throat is stinging from how loud, how ferociously, you’re singing along with the electronics businessman. Freddie’s off-key and lack of rhythm is long forgotten under the haze of alcohol, and even Declan has slid off his broody perch to join the sing-a-long. Before the unmistakable first riff of the song blasted from the speakers, you’d spent the last half an hour chatting to Patrick, who’d surprised his family for a weekend home from university. You’d met him once before at the O’Hara’s most recent New Year’s Eve party. It’d also doubled as his twenty-first birthday, though you’d barely exchanged more than a hello and goodbye on the night and he was yet to venture back until this evening.

The only son of Declan and Maud, and it isn’t hard to see where the majority of his genes descend from. Hickory curls wisp every which way, nougat eyes flecked with black just like his father’s. While Patrick is far more idealistic than Declan, he’s just as foolhardy and exudes the same charm. He’s funny, too, much easier to joke with than his dad, you find, and though he can’t hear what his son is whispering to you over the roar of the crowd, the way you lean into him and laugh between lyrics grates on Declan. He silently curses Lizzie for setting Patrick’s sights on you. He knows — yes, knows — she was doing him a favour, in some roundabout way, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially when he has an unwilling front row seat with you standing between him and Patrick. To compete with Rupert and Bas was one thing, but his own son? Even if the whole thing was complete mental game, it wears on him, reminding him how fucking absurd his affection for you is.

The bar erupts in applause as Freddie wails along with the song’s final chord, his voice landing nowhere near the note Meat Loaf intended. Beside Declan, you cheer for the businessman while Patrick hollers in a way that’s more suited for a football match

“Right then, you randy bunch,” Freddie shouts, his cockney accent impossibly louder under the boom of the microphone. “Which one of yous dares to follow after the King of Karaoke?” The machine, some high-tech gadget flown in from Asia, fades into the next song, and the first couple of lyrics from Don’t Go Breaking My Heart appear on the screen.

“Oh, Daddy loves this song!” Taggie squeals from behind you, hands coming to shake Declan’s shoulders.

“What? No, I don’t,” he scoffs. “Where on earth did you get that idea?” “I’ve heard you singing it in the shower,” she says, shouldering her way between the two of you. “Both Elton and Kiki Dee’s parts.”

Declan playfully swats his daughter. “Oh, shut it, Tag. Can we have no secrets?” Their repartee makes you smile, even more to see Declan without that far-etched scowl he’s often sporting.

“Kiki Dee fan, hey, Dad?” Patrick teases, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Not enough to get up there and sing it.”

Nobody else has jumped at the opportunity yet, and Freddie’s still trying to hype up the crowd to find a taker as the instrumental track rolls into the chorus. 

“You’ll sing it with him, won’t you?” It takes you a second to realise that Taggie is talking to you. “You were saying on the way here that you wanted to step out of your comfort zone a bit more.” 

You shake your head. That’s absolutely not what you were referring to.

“I meant professionally! Not…” you gesture haphazardly to the stage. You hadn’t mentally prepared to get up and perform. It also wasn’t exactly the activity you had in mind when you thought about you and Declan.

“Oh, go on, you two!” Taggie eggs you on, hopping with excitement. 

“I’ll give you ten quid,” Patrick wagers, and Declan slices a dark look his way.

“Anyone?” Freddie is still trying, swinging the microphone around by its cable. Then, you feel a hot breath sluice over your cheek. The scent of whiskey emanating from Declan gives away the dangerous amount he’s consumed this evening, which could be why he drops his mouth to your ear. 

“I’ll do it if you do it,” he murmurs, the deep timbre of his words racking through you. You rear backwards, nearly headbutting Taggie in the process.

“Are you joking? Two seconds ago you didn’t want to get up there either!”

Declan gives a half-hearted shrug as if to say why not. “It is a duet, after all.” His gaze holds yours and walks a fine line between pleading and defiant. There’s something in it now, a dare lurking beneath the surface, like he’s waiting for you to rise to the challenge. The look hits you sharp, suddenly; a flash of lightning tearing through the dark, and one final daring tilt of Declan’s head pushes your reservations aside.

“Okay, fine.” You snatch his glass from his hand and throw back the rest of the thick amber. A swell of pride burns through his chest, watching you pitch up the courage — even if it’s liquid — to get up on stage. “Freddie!” you shout towards the host. “Start it up again. We’re doing this.”

“Woohoo!” Freddie pumps a fist in the air, winding up the crowd until their cheering and applause hit deafening heights. Between the whiskey and the support of Taggie and Rutshire, you should be amped up enough to get through one measly song. But not even the heat blooming from where Declan’s hand rests on your back as he guides you on stage is enough to distract from the terror gnawing at you. 

Despite the small set-up and there only being forty-odd people in the crowd, you might as well have been performing at Wembley. The relentless stage lights make it seem like you’re just metres from the sun and your heart is pumping a frantic, runaway rhythm that just won’t quiet. You blanch, surprised the microphone doesn’t slip from your clammy palm as Freddie passes it to you, the object a heavy weight in your hand. Just below you, Taggie pumps a thumbs up, and Patrick claps supportively. And then there’s Declan, standing beside you, his presence both grounding and electrifying as he leans in, voice low but steady as the intro to Don’t Go Breaking Your Heart starts back up again. 

“Just breathe, love,” he tells you. “The worst that happens is we both end up looking like idiots.”

The first four bars pump out of the speakers, and you barely hear Declan apprehensively sing the first line because you’re too focussed on not regurgitating the cacio e pepe you’d consumed at dinner. You’re already a beat off when you murmur through your round of the lyrics, but Declan does a fine job at making up for your lack of stage presence. He’s side-stepping to the beat, putting his hips into it and clicking with his free hand. He’s still rigid in his movements, because he’ll be damned if performing for his peers this way is a regular occurrence, but it’s all he can do to get the attention off you, to calm your nerves without pulling you into a storage cupboard and fucking the anxiety out of you. 

By the time the second chorus rolls around, you’ve loosened up enough to follow Declan’s lead, your feet no longer paralysed by fear. You move about the stage, pointing dramatically at Taggie and wiggling your body. The gesture is small, but swinging your hips in a circle has Declan stumbling over his words, his trousers tightening over his crotch. 

Ooh-ooh, nobody knows it (nobody knows), the entire bar is singing along now, and Declan’s welcome for the distraction because the song is right. Nobody knows just how far gone he is for you, and this little love song performance isn’t helping anyone. Thankfully, the music begins fading out, signally the end of your time up on stage, and you clamber down the two rickety steps to resounding applause. 

“See?” Taggie says when you return to your rightful place out of the spotlight. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You ignore your heart leaping at the base of your throat and ignore the urge to steal a glance at Declan, who’s made straight for the bar. Again.

“No, not all bad,” you give in, smiling between your friend and her brother.

You stay for one more drink and a few more songs, finally calling it a night once Charles coaxes half the broadcasting staffers into a Les Misérables sing-a-long. You and the O’Hara’s venture outside, the crisp night air pulling all of the hairs on your arms to their ends. While the four of you wait for a cab, Patrick sloughs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, an almost silent that’s better slipping into the darkness. Lighting a cigarette, Declan tries — tries — to mind his own business. But his ears prick up at the mention of you and dinner.

“What do you say?” Patrick is asking you, voice competing with the sound of tires on wet bitumen and the chorus resounding from inside Sinister. “Tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up?”

The words hang in the air. Simple. Loaded.

You feel Declan’s gaze like a weight on your shoulders. You should want to go on a date with Patrick, right? You’re supposed to; he’s smart, funny and, more to the point, not nearly two decades your senior. But all you can think about is how Declan’s attention makes your skin flush, how he’s standing right there, probably watching this all unfold. You swallow, pressure mounting as Patrick’s invitation still hangs between you. A few steps away, Declan shifts, just barely, but enough to catch your attention. When you glance back at him, he busies himself with his lighter, like its manufacture is the most fascinating thing in the world. 

Would he even notice if you said yes to his son? Would he care at all?

You nod before you can second-guess yourself, your words tripping out like they’re not even yours. “Yeah, sure. Dinner sounds good.” Patrick beams brightly as a taxi pulls up to the curb. Declan’s unreadable as he stubs out his cigarette, while the energy pouring from Taggie is hard to miss.

“I’m so excited!” she whisper-shouts, her hands coming to wrap around your left arm as you approach the cab. “If this works out between you and Patrick, we’ll be sisters!”

Behind you, Declan pales at his daughter’s comment.

You and Patrick. Working out.

You and Taggie. Sisters.

The idea makes him sick.

“Is that thing broken?” Declan stabs a finger at the clock hanging in The Priory’s kitchen. He’s positive something is wrong with it. Every time he looks to the wall, the hands appear unmoving, perpetually stuck at eleven-fifteen.

“It’s working perfectly fine,” Taggie assures her father while kneading a mound of dough that would soon become dinner rolls for tomorrow’s black-tie event at the Baddinghams’. “I think the issue is you keep checking it every five seconds.” Declan shakes his head, boots scraping along the floor as he paces up and down the length of the room. “Daddy, can you stop for a moment? You’re making me motion sick.” “Patrick should’ve been home by now,” he says, ignoring his daughter while his eyes flick to the clock again. 

“He’s on a date, for goodness sake,” Taggie says, and the reminder of his whereabouts — your whereabouts — feels like an infected scrape across his heart. “Just leave him be. He’ll be home when he’s home.”

Declan barks out a laugh. “Leave him be! Thanks, Taggie. That’s just grand parenting advice. I’ll try that one with you when you’ve got kids galavanting around God knows where at all hours of the night.”

“I’d hardly call eleven all hours of the night,” she counters, and the comment stops Declan at the head of the kitchen bench. She keeps stretching and folding the dough, almost unphased by her father’s agitation. Declan smiles, just for a second, recognising that Taggie’s become far more outspoken, less inward, since having you around. He’d be proud if the situation wasn’t so infuriating.

“I’m just—” he stares at a crack in the timber benchtop. “It’s just getting late and he has to drive back to school tomorrow.” It was a cheap excuse. Declan knew full well that Patrick would have no issues making the two-hour drive back to campus, even on little sleep. In truth, he could roll in at four AM and he’d not bat an eyelid. 

But this isn’t really about Patrick, is it? No, it’s you. You, out there with his son, doing God knows what, God knows where. He could feel the weight of it— the resentment, the jealousy — settling deep in his chest. What if you’d kissed? Worse, what if you’d—No. His fingers tighten around the edge of the bench, knuckles coming up white. His mind deceives him again, and there you are, entwined in your bed sheets with Patrick, your laughter mixing with the sound of something more. The thought burns hot and quick through him, and the longer you’re out with Patrick, the harder it is to shake.

Then there’s the slam of a car door. The whine of hinges at the entrance to The Priory. Declan and Taggie both glance at each other before racing to the foyer to greet Patrick. 

“Are you guys waiting up for me or something?” he chides, unravelling himself from his navy scarf.

“No,” Declan is all too quick to answer. Yes.

“So?” Taggie, flour marring her right cheek, is just about levitating with the way she’s bouncing on her feet. “How was it then?”

“Lovely,” Patrick says. “She’s really great. So intelligent.”

Yeah, I know, Declan dares to think.

“Did you kiss her goodnight?” Taggie wants to know, gazing up at her brother like a toddler waiting on a fairytale.

A quiet chuckle rumbles from Patrick as he slings his coat over the staircase bannister. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, my dear,” he muses, thumbing his sister’s chin. 

“You know I’m going to find out from her anyway,” Taggie warns him.

“Then you’ll just have to wait until you see her tomorrow, won’t you?”

She rolls her eyes, and Declan’s stomach churns in a similar motion. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but Patrick wasn’t usually one to play coy. The only reason for his self-effacement must be because he really likes you. And, as Declan trudges up to bed, throwing a tetchy goodnight over his shoulder to his children, he worries you likely feel the same.

The date was…fine. Patrick was twenty minutes late, but it was quickly made up for with the bouquet of roses, twice the size of his head, that he arrived alongside. After a quick peck to the cheek, he ushered you into the Clubman he’d borrowed from his father for the night. The car reeked of stale smoke and the leathery wood smell of Declan’s cologne. If you allowed yourself, you could almost hear the rasp of his voice and the sharp click of his lighter. Beside you, Patrick chatted away about his literature class at university while he navigated the quiet streets, completely unaware of how his father’s presence seemed to haunt every inch of this car. You bypassed Bar Sinister and town completely, ending up at Le Petit Chêne — The Little Oak — a small, family-owned French bistro fifteen minutes down the road. The food was delicious, the wine even better, but as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but compare Patrick to his father, even though you were well aware it wasn’t fair. Patrick had that same tapered jawline, those dark eyes, but where Declan’s gaze felt like a bolt of electricity, Patrick’s was softer, warmer. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes were like something familiar, comfortable, like you could just keep moving through the motions and never have to think too hard. But Declan... Declan made you feel every. Single. Glance.

Still, the comfortability and Patrick’s friendliness made it easy to lose track of time as you traded tales from your time at university and compared your favourite novels, arguing over the crux of Of Mice and Men — you find it majorly depressing, while Patrick thinks it signifies hope. You agreed, begrudgingly, to disagree, the squabble wrapping up as your date pulls up outside your flat. 

“I had a really nice night,” he confessed when you reached your door. 

“Yeah, me, too,” you responded, shrugging off his jacket he’d once again loaned you. “That restaurant was lovely. Thank you again for paying.” “You’re worth it.” Patrick shuffled from one foot to the other, the subtle movement signifying the first time you’d ever seen the eldest O’Hara child anywhere close to nervous. You knew what was coming next, with the way he looked up from your doormat with hopeful eyes, blush pinching at the apples of his cheeks. “Can I kiss you?”

You should want to kiss him, the young, likable man standing in front of you. Going against your better judgement, you said yes and tried to enjoy his soft lips against yours. His touch was gentle, one hand on your waist, the other cupping your cheek, but the spark that should ignite at having a handsome man like Patrick wanting you was missing. It didn’t help that you could still feel the ghost of Declan’s presence, like the heat from his stare was still burning into your skin. No hairs stood on end. No rush of warmth flooded your chest. Nothing like the way you felt when Declan’s gaze lingered on you just a little too long, or when your hands brushed, the way they had that night in the hot tub. The gnawing comparisons followed you into your flat once you and Patrick had said goodnight, and tucked themselves into bed beside you, marking the beginning of a long night of fractured sleep.

The next evening, you find yourself in a sea of black tuxedos and satin gowns, the clink of glasses and low murmurs of conversation filling the ballroom in the Baddingham manor as you celebrate Four Men Went To Mow dominating the winter ratings. Early that morning, Taggie called to hear details from your date with Patrick, revealing that her brother remained mum about the night you’d spent together. You kept it top-line, telling her it was fun and that there was a peck, which was met with squeals from the other end of the phone. Taggie then dished that Patrick had extended his stay in Rutshire and would be attending that night’s festivities, and whatever excitement you held for the party dissipated.

After your date, you’d expected Patrick to return to university, taking whatever fleeting attraction he held for you with him. You found comfort in that, knowing you wouldn’t have to let him down easy and that Taggie would stop prematurely planning your wedding to her brother. Yet, here he is, looking dashing in a three-piece tux and already the life of the party. So, you push any awkwardness aside and focus on the night ahead. Patrick told you he was definitely leaving tomorrow morning—no harm in enjoying his company tonight, right? You can smile, have a bit of fun, try not to think too much about it. The music plays, the conversation flows, and you laugh, genuinely, pretending for a moment that everything is simple. But through it all, you can feel Declan observing the pair of you across the grand hall. No matter the conversations he finds himself amongst, whether it be with board members about his show, or colleagues exchanging gossip about interoffice affairs, a portion of his attention is always attuned to you. He winces every time your laugh rises above the chatter and he’s desperate to know what words his son is crooning to justify such a heavenly sound. There was something in the way you looked at his son — a softness that went beyond polite attention. But who was he kidding? Why wouldn’t you be interested in Patrick? Lizzie was right. Patrick is the right choice, and judging by the smile pinching at your cheeks as you look up at him, a choice you’ve gladly already made.

After two rounds of canapes have made the rounds, Taggie manages to steal a few minutes away from the kitchen to join you and Daysee on the dancefloor for the YMCA, the three of you giggling between the iconic moves as you try to decide which of the Corinium men would be each of the Village People. Despite the low temperature outside, sweat slides down your spine and the hairs framing your face stick to your forehead.  “I’m going to get some air!” you shout, gesturing to the doors in case your friends can’t hear you above the music. As the song fades into a Hall and Oates hit, you push through the throng of guests, ignoring the way Tony Baddingham’s eyes rinse over you in your baby blue dress as you pass by him and Freddie Jones in the corridor. When you step outside, the pulse of music and chatter drifts into the cool night, mingling with the quiet conversations and laughter of guests convening among the manicured hedges and flower beds. The air is thick with the scent of damp grass and the faintest trace of woodsmoke pumping from the manor’s chimneys and many roaring fireplaces.

Down the far end of the house, you spot Declan in the shadow of one of the sky-reaching pillars. He’s still, watching the party through the large windows, light from inside flickering softly across his face. It catches the curve of his cheek and the edge of his stubbly jaw in bursts, and battles with the glow of the cigarette he lifts to his lips. Smoke curls up into the night, and only when it shifts does he finally catch sight of you. He doesn’t say a word, just lets the silence stretch between you for a few moments until you ask him, “Are you hiding?”

“Just getting some fresh air,” he says, taking another drag. 

“With lungs full of smoke?” you dare. 

The cigarette tips towards the sky as Declan smirks. “Watch yourself.” You take the cheeky lilt in his voice as an invitation to join him, your heels echoing off the concrete pavers as you walk. “Are you having fun?” he wants to know when you fall into line beside him. 

“Yeah, it’s a great party. I just hope Freddie hasn’t brought that bloody karaoke machine with him,” you say, only half serious.

“I’ll say,” Declan agrees, dark eyes still fixated on the window. Beyond it, Patrick is talking animatedly with a group of six or so guests gathered around him, all of them ogling the young scholar over their drinks like they’re the disciples to his Jesus. As if he’s just relayed the punchline to a joke, his onlookers throw their heads back with laughter, and the man to Patrick’s left claps him on the shoulder, unable to contain himself.

“People are just drawn to him, aren’t they?” Declan wonders out loud. He doesn’t mean it as a test, but he’s curious to see if you open up to him about the night before. 

“It’s not hard to see why,” comes your answer, and it’s clear you’re keeping your cards as close to your chest as Patrick.

“He’s a good boy,” Declan forges on, nudging his chin in the direction of his firstborn.

“You told me that boys don’t know what they want.”

“Not my son. He’s known what he wants since he was in the womb."

“And what about you? Do you know what you want?” The question is playful and doesn’t probe in the way you wish you could ask, but it’s enough for Declan to debate answering.

What does he want?

You.

To not want you.

“He likes you a lot, you know," he pivots, as much as the facts pain him.

“Oh, yeah?”

Declan nods. “He was out here not long ago, banging on about your celestial light.” The phrase makes him chuckle while he shakes his cigarette, ash flickering from orange to grey as it drifts to the ground.

“Celestial light?" you scoff, breath turning to fog in the air. "You’re joking. I have about as much celestial light as a flickering lamp post.”

“Don’t do that.” Any amusement in Declan’s voice is gone with those three words. 

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down. Make yourself small.”

“I don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t you?" Declan presses, head quirked. You don't fool me, is what he means. "You don't have to do that with Patrick. Don't have to do that with me."

"And the rest of them? I'm not naive enough to think that I'm more than some young thing expected to keep quiet and look pretty. That's just the way it is. All those men in there," you nod towards the sprawling windows that separate you from the party. "They don't think anything of me. They just see me as —"

“Smart? Witty?” Declan interjects, trying to meet your eye as you toe a stray leaf that's blown onto the concrete. “Beautiful as you may be, you have a hell of a lot more going for you. Believe me.” He’s being earnest, you can hear it in the way his voice dips to barely a whisper. In this way, his words are intentional and just for you. 

You abandon the leaf in favour of his face. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Be crazy not to."

"Declan..." You don't know where your sentence is going, or why you step towards him, but you do, the confession — as minor as it is — digging into you like a hook and Declan's eyes, pinned to you, reeling you in.

"So, how was your date then?" The question throws up a wall between you. An unscalable, Patrick-shaped wall.  A red flush spreads over your chest and blooms up your neck. You don't want to talk about this. Not really. Not with him.

"Patrick didn't tell you?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, is what he said." There's a strangled edge to his voice, a frustration, like his son being cryptic was the most inconvenient thing in the world. "Did you —"

"There you are, Declan!" The voice has you skittering you across the pavement away from Declan, your heart tugging like you're still attached to him by that imaginary hook. 

"For fuck’s sake," he mutters, snuffing his cigarette out under his dress shoe as Tony Baddingham saunters towards you, sly smile poisoning his lips.

"And here you are," he croons your name. "Never far from Declan, are you?"

"I told ya, Tony. She's my right hand man," your boss says, and you snuff the smile threatening to crack across your face at the thought that Declan’s talking about you, needing you. He’s trying to sound aloof, but he hates watching Tony sniff you out like a wolf stalking its prey — circling, picking up every subtle scent of your discomfort, eyes glowing with that predatory gleam. 

"So, it would seem. I must admit, your show has taken quite a spectacular turn in the ratings since this one's come along," Tony continues, coming to stand beside you. His cool hand slides too comfortably around your bare shoulders, his fingers pressing into your skin with an air of ownership. You flinch and try to mask it with a forced smile, but Tony doesn't seem fazed, chuckling as he leans in closer, eyes trailing down the front of your chest. "This dress is something rather spectacular itself. How did you know blue is my favourite colour?"

"Lucky guess," you tell him, stiffening under the weight of his arm. Declan's jaw tightens, and while he's trying to stay composed, tension radiates from him in violent, crashing waves. Your eyes dart about as you shift uncomfortably — something that doesn't go unnoticed by Declan. 

He digs into his pocket, retrieving a small, stainless steel case that he holds out to Tony. "Cigarette?"

"Ah, I told the lady of the house that I would try to quit," Tony explains, referring to his wife, Monica. "But I suppose one never killed anybody." It feels like a tonne has been sloughed off you when Lord Baddingam unravels himself from you, moving towards Declan to light up.

"Thank you," you mouth behind Tony's back, and Declan returns a wink that goes straight to your warm centre. 

Inside the house, the party erupts in hoots and cheers as La Bamba starts over the speakers, and you catch sight of Daysee beckoning you back to the dancefloor from the other side of the glass. Tony begins rattling off competitor numbers and other industry secrets well above your pay grade, so you take the opportunity to slip back inside for another champagne, another dance.

Before too long, you’re swept into a conversation with Valerie and Lizzie — well, more Valerie, who is probing you for gossip from within the walls of Corinium. She’s a total fiend for a scandal. You’d heard through the grapevine that she’d told Monica Baddingham about her husband’s sordid rendezvous with Cameron Cook, and no doubt Valerie was well across the fact that Lizzie’s own husband was spending a great deal of time pants down in his dressing room with his co-host.

“Well, there’s got to be something,” Valerie whines when you tell her you tend to keep your nose out of other people’s business. 

“Oh, leave her be,” Lizzie tells her before turning to you. “How are you, love? More to the point, how’s Patrick? I heard the two of you went on a date last night.”

Jeez, word travels fast around here, you think.

“You and Declan’s son?” Valerie clarifies, tweeting at the revelation. “Handsome boy, him. God, Declan’s genes are strong, aren’t they?”

The mention of Declan has you searching for him through the windows, and you catch him just in time to see him storm away from Tony, disappearing from view until he barges back into the party with a snarl contorting his mouth. Most of the guests are too drunk to notice him stalking through the ballroom, or swipe a glass of whiskey off the tray of a waiter in one brisk snatch he doesn’t even slow down for.

“Oh, God,” Lizzie mutters, turning away from Declan as he shoves past your trio, the sleek material of his jacket scraping across your upper arm.

You call after him to no avail before Lizzie touches your wrist lightly, shaking her head. “Leave him, darling.”

“Why?” you ask, searching her face for some shred of a clue. “Lizzie, what’s happened?”

“You didn’t hear it from me —”

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Valerie squawks, her cockney twang exacerbated by alcohol. “The whole bloody country’s already read about it in the paper this morning.”

“For God’s sake, read what?”

“Declan’s wife — Maud — well, she’s got some big flashy part in some famous play in the city,” Valerie is all too excited to tell you, while Lizzie takes far too much interest in the ice melting at the bottom of her empty glass. “Three month run if it all goes to plan, the article said.”

“At least,” Lizzie finally pipes up, crimson colouring her face immediately after. “Poor Declan.”

Yes, poor Declan. 

Taggie and Patrick, who are dancing to a completely different song to the one that’s playing, are none the wiser that their father’s just come barrelling through here like a bull in a china shop. And, given that Taggie’s yet to mention anything about her estranged mother, your bet is that they have no idea about her new role, either. Your heart breaks for your best friend, for all of them, which is why you trail after Declan once Lizzie and Valerie have found another unsuspecting guest to pry information from.

The first few doors you try are no-gos: an office space that looks rather untouched, a sitting room decked out with floral upholstery complete with a couple you’ve never met going at it on a sofa, and an ornate guest bathroom. It’s not until the fifth door that you find Declan looking forlorn in the Baddingham’s library. He’s sprawled out in a dark armchair, tall frame filling it out. Legs spread like he’s waiting for someone to kneel between them.

“Hey,” you say quietly, closing the door softly behind you.

His voice is groggy with liquor when he responds, “Where’s Patrick?”

“Dancing with Taggie, I think. It’s nice seeing them together, I know she’s missed him,” you tell him, adding, “You’ve raised some good kids.”

Declan scoffs. “Dunno how. Workaholic father, absentee mother with a chronic wandering eye.” 

Your stomach dips. “I heard about Maud. Are you okay?” 

“So, everyone’s talking about it.” He sinks impossibly lower into the chair, its leather whining as he splays his arms out to his sides. The whiskey in his hand splashes over the edge of his glass with the movement. “Am I okay? What’s it look like to you?”

He looks like shit, inky hair disheveled from raking a frantic hand through it, but the frustration already emanating from him stops you from voicing it. The man just found out his wife has no intention of returning home anytime soon. The least you can do is give him some grace.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Declan snaps. “And I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. It’s…” he ponders on the right word before settling on, “Inappropriate.”

You drag your bottom lip between your teeth. “Because I’m Taggie’s friend?”

He laughs incredulously. “Yeah, because you’re Taggie’s friend. You’re my employee. You’re…” He gestures haphazardly in your direction.

“I’m…?” you prompt, taking a few trepid steps towards him.

Insatiable. Infallible. Interminable. Indomitable. How could he ever settle on just one? 

“Insufferable,” Declan eventually mutters, chasing the confession with a slow swig of his drink.

It’s your turn to laugh now. “I’m insufferable? I’m not the one that’s stalked off to sulk and—” You stop, shake your head. “Actually, I’m not going to argue this with you. If you want to sit in here alone instead of spending time with people who actually care about you, people who are actually here, so be it.” After shooting Declan a pointed look, you stalk to the door, but there’s a buzz in your veins that knows you’re not ready to let up just yet, so you turn on your heel to face him again. “And I don’t need you telling me what is and isn’t appropriate. Your moral compass is far too gone for that.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Declan wants to know, sitting a little more upright in his seat.

“You’re kidding, right? I heard you, you know. The other night. Saying my name while you were touching yourself.” Declan’s whiskey glass freezes at his lips, black eyes locked on you. “Not very appropriate considering I’m Taggie’s friend. Your employee,” you confess, throwing his reasons for not opening up to you back in his face. Your chest heaves with shallow breaths, like spilling the secret of you watching Declan come undone has stolen every bit of viable air from your burning lungs. You half expect him to deny it, but his face is blank, and his silence is aggravating. Time, what feels like minutes, stretches between the two of you, gazes set on one another while you silently duel across the library. 

“Nothing to say, Declan?” you press. “That’s a first.”

Leather ripples through the room as he stands, abandoning his glass on a side table before stalking towards you. He doesn’t stop until you’re toe to toe and your back presses into the cool wood of the door. Whiskey, aftershave and a lick of sweat consumes you as Declan regards you down his nose. “Like I said,” he croaks. “You’re insufferable.”

Your jaw unhinges as you go to bite back at him, to tell him that he’s the one making things unbearable, but then he tuts, jabbing his forefinger into his chest. “You’ve said enough. It’s my turn to speak.

“Hiring you is up there with the worst things I’ve ever done, and believe me, love, I’ve done a lot of shitty things. That night in the hot tub? Ruined me for all I’m worth. I can’t go to sleep without seeing you. Can’t go to work without wondering what it’d be like to bend you over the desk. Can’t bear to watch you bat those fucking eyes of yours at Rupert or Bas or Patrick. Then there’s Maud…” His eyes slip shut as he speaks, a small shake of his head revealing shame eroded in the space between his unruly eyebrows. “Every moment she pulls away from me is a moment that pushes me closer to you, and I hate it,” he confesses. “And seeing you with Patrick is fucking eating me alive, because what kind of man — what kind of married man — wishes the worst on his son over a woman that he has no claim over?”

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous,” Declan repeats. He can only laugh. “Did you fuck him?”

You pull back, head softly ricocheting off the wood behind you. “Did I— you can’t be serious, Declan.” “Answer the question. Did. You. Fuck. Him?” 

“Of course not!”

“No?” He sounds surprised, and you’re almost offended.

“No!” you spit. The thump of muffled music vibrates through the door, matching your heart trying to break free from your chest. 

“Why not?”

“Declan, stop—”

“No, tell me,” he probes, hot breath fanning over your face. “Is it because he’s not smart enough for ya? Not manly enough?” You divert your gaze, blurred vision locking onto some benign object in the distance, because you don’t trust yourself to keep looking at Declan. You can’t tell what his angle is, whether he’s jealous at the attention you’re getting from other men, or annoyed that you’re not interested in his son. Eventually, he cocks his head to meet your sightline, finger coming to your chin to turn you to face him. “Tell me why you didn’t fuck him.”

“Because he’s not you!” It flies out of your mouth before you have the sense to stop it, breath catching in the back of your throat as you await Declan’s next move. The energy caught in the mere inches between you continues to crackle, but the fire burning under him seems to have subsided as his shoulders fall from their tense fixture, his suit jacket sagging with his muscles. He looks down at you with heavy eyelids. He’s tired. So fucking tired. Of pretending he doesn’t miss Maud, that he doesn’t want you. That of both those unspoken truths piled together makes him feel like a right failure as a husband, as a father, as a boss. He was already broken, and your admission was the final crack that made him shatter.

Shaky hands come to cover your mouth, a barrier to keep any more secrets from polluting the fragile silence that hangs heavy between you. Declan shuffles back, just a hairbreadth. He’s got his head viced, one hand through his hair and the other gripping his jaw. “Fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Even if it’s the truth?” He’s just barely looking at you, sheepish. Like he’s waiting for permission. Or a denial. The torture draining the colour from his face is making it hard to tell what’s going on in that gorgeous head of his.

“It’s not fair. On either of us.” 

“You’re damn right it isn’t fair. None of this is fair.” He’s back at you, crowding you against the door, one large dress shoe pitched between your platform heels. You’re certain that if he took one deep breath, his belt buckle would make impressions on your stomach. You can see the indentations in his lips, the miniscule patch of dry skin at the corner. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? I’ve exercised more restraint in the last month than I’ve ever had to in my life. You’re fucking ruining me.” 

The disclosure has thinned his voice to barely a whisper. Heat bubbles low in your stomach, the pull of wanting to close the gap between you warring with the consequence you know wait for you both if you give in. Still, the way he’s staring at you, with wounded eyes like twin black holes, how could you ever stand a chance?

It’s why you let another confession slip, for better or for worse.

“You think I don’t feel it, too?” 

Declan reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, his hand trailing back to caress your cheek. The minute he touches you, your whole body goes lax, completely pliable for him. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, and you can practically taste the liquor on his tongue. Black eyes zigzag across your features while his palm moves to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb meeting the swell of your bottom lip. 

“This okay?” You only nod because you don’t have the strength, the gall, to betray Taggie by vocalising how desperately you want her father to keep touching you in ways you’ve only dreamed about.

“Need to hear you say it,” he urges. “Gotta make sure you really want this.”

He has no fucking idea how much you do.

“Please,” is all you manage to muster before an animalistic growl scrapes up the back of his throat and Declan O’Hara is kissing you in a way that’s going to screw you up forever.

You’re folding like the world’s flimsiest house of cards the moment his mouth hits yours, all teeth and tongues, whiskey, tobacco and him. If it weren’t for him scooping an arm around your waist to hold you to him, you’d be in a heap on the floor. Declan’s faint grunts resonate around your tongue as his own explores your mouth with fervent jabs, only breaking the erratic rhythm to suck your lip so sensually it peels a whimper from you. His arm is scorching against the bare skin that sits above the low-cut back of your dress. His hips flex into yours, and you feel the cool metal of his belt through satin. Then you feel it. His hard length, constricted by his suit trousers, pressing to your stomach. Excitement and desire pulse through you, the feeling of his arousal against you intoxicating, knowing you’re the cause.

“Ya feel that, darlin’? Feel what you do to me?” Declan asks, each word heavy with need and muffled into your neck, tongue flickering over the salty skin there. Your hands twist into his curls while he sucks a kiss into your collarbone. It pulls blood to the surface, most likely noticeable, but you don’t care. Not when Declan branding you feels so fucking good. After a few good moments, he pulls back to take you in, his lips puffy from working over your decolletage. His eyes skim over your face, drinking in every detail — the pale lipstick smeared around your mouth, your glassy eyes, the pink flush staining your cheeks.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “So fucked out for me already.” Any shame that previously coloured Declan’s features has evaporated, the pity drowning his eyes flushed out by incessant need. He kisses you again, though it’s not so much a kiss as it’s a collision, only slowing down his movements once he’s confident this isn’t one of his fleeting, filthy dreams. It’s been so long since another person has kissed you like this, touched you like this. It’s everything Patrick’s kiss wasn’t, intimate and intentional despite the roaring laughter and music on the other side of the wall. 

Declan’s large hand leaves your hip and you immediately miss it as his fingers brush over the cool doorknob. They don’t linger, there’s no hesitation before the click of the lock vibrates through you. You don’t hear it, though. Not over your pulse thrumming in your ears. It’s a purposeful, unspoken decision to shut out everything but the heat building between you, then his hand is back at your waist, pinning you in place against the wood. The other grazes down your body until he reaches the hem of your dress, sliding it up your leg until he has it gathered in a pool of azure at your hip. Your breathing hitches at the feeling of his skin on your hip bone. Under the flood of material, Declan’s fingers find the waistband of your underwear, thumb trilling over the flimsy lace holding your thong together. Your breaths mingle, lips barely grazing while his mind runs ragged with thoughts of what colour the garment is. Black to match that sinful bra you wore to your interview? Red like the pair you were wearing in his dream last night? He hooks a finger under the elastic, pulling the panties away from your body then letting them go so they snap against your skin. You let out a sharp gasp at the sting but he’s already soothing it, one step ahead of what you’re needing. 

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so fucking long,” he groans. His hand finds its way under the lace material again to glide over the bulb of your arse, kneading the flesh there.

“Declan,” you whine, jutting your hips into his, desperate for friction.

“What’s that, darlin’?” Even with your eyes clamped shut you know he’s smirking, relishing in your neediness. You arch forward again but he’s far stronger than you, his brawniness keeping you in place. “If you want something, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Please,” you sigh, following up with a strangled, “Touch me.”

Declan wastes no time in finding you bundle of nerves, but as soon as he’s there, it’s like time slows to an excruciating speed, his fingers featherlight over the thin material. You’re already soaked. Have been since he started berating you about how much him wanting you was fucking him up. Declan knows it too, groaning as he applies more pressure, your slick seeping around the pad of his finger.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he grunts. “Is all this f’me?” Your head cants incessantly, mind and heart and pussy chanting more, more, more. But it doesn’t come. He just holds his finger to you, steady, waiting, like a finger on the trigger of a gun. The only relief you’re getting is from you squirming under his touch, and even then, it’s just not hitting in the way you know Declan could if he would just. Move.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest and as sexy as it sounds on a regular day, under the circumstances, it almost has you seeing red. “Oh, there she is,” Declan says when you finally look at him. “Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” His eyes are glued to yours, half-lidded with a grin tugging under his moustache. It’s not a challenge. It’s a promise. He has you right where he wants you, and you can feel it in the air, thick with his quiet confidence. Your mouth goes slack when Declan removes his finger from the outside of your underwear, instead using it to push the material aside, granting himself full access to your swollen centre. Then it’s back to square one: unhurried, languid movements as he traces your folds. Up and around, not once sliding over your clit despite your unintelligible splutterings begging him to do so. Declan’s lips fall back over yours with a quiet, charged kiss as his hand comes to cup your mound completely, his tongue seeking purchase against your own. You stay like that for a moment, tongues battling each other, his hand covering your pussy like he already owns it. Every single one of your nerve endings is alight, every inch of your skin acutely aware of his presence as his moustache grazes your top lip, as his middle finger ever so slightly dips between your folds. Then finally, finally, he slides a thick finger into you and you clench around him, the unfiltered pleasure enough to never want to be without the feeling of him inside you again. You both moan, the sound disappearing into your kiss, your hand disappearing into his hair, holding him to you. 

The hard peaks of your nipples create little blue buds against your dress, and they rub against Declan’s chest while he drags his finger from your body, in and out, in and out, each movement as deliciously slow as the last.

After a minute, he breaks your kiss, letting his forehead rest against your own. “You’re so tight,” he grits, adding another finger despite his observation. The new addition allows the palm of his hand to jut against your clit, and the friction almost has you levitating. “Oh, you like that, huh?” Declan teases, pushing into you harder, faster. The change in pace has you jerking like a live wire. Totally unhinged, the world feels like it’s spinning off its axis, more dangerously the longer he keeps that unforgiving pace. All this pent up frustration and teasing and longing bucks you closer to the edge, pins and needles edging their way from your toes up your body until—

Knock knock knock.

The door thumps into your back, scaring your orgasm away with it. Declan’s fingers freeze inside you, your clit pulsating against his palm, your eyes locked on one another as you will away the intrusion. The doorknob jostles next and all you can think is thank God Declan locked it when he did.

“‘S occupied!” he growls.

“Dad? Is that you?” Patrick.

The whites of your eyes blow out as you glare at Declan, panicked by the arrival of his son — your date, not twenty-four hours earlier — as you conjugate just mere inches away. Declan lifts his free hand to his lips, pressing a single finger into the supple flesh. Shh.

“Dad? Are you in here?” Patrick asks again, trying the door for a second time. 

“Yeah, son. You alright?” Declan responds, and your eyes go impossibly wider at him answering while his fingers are still buried in your pussy. While his steely length presses into the crease between your thigh and crotch.

“Are you alright? You’ve been gone a while.”

Declan’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving a devilish smile in its wake. “Everything’s grand,” he drawls, fingers slipping out of you to stake claim on your clit. The subtle movement yanks a gasp from you, a mix of embarrassment and arousal pumping through you as Declan begins to trace circles there. You’re caught between wanting to disappear and wanting more as Declan keeps talking, Irish accent laden with lust. “Just needed a few minutes to myself. Needed to…” he pauses, licking a stripe up the side of your neck before latching his teeth onto your earlobe for a hair of a second, “Decompress.”

“Mmm,” you moan, too loudly, because Declan claps a hand over your mouth to keep any more desperate sounds slipping from under the door. There’s a moment pause, and you panic, thinking you’ve given the pair of you away, but then Patrick is chattering away again, asking after you.

“Have you seen her? Could’ve sworn she came down this way.”

“Nope,” Declan lies, picking up pace as he strums your clit, like he’s getting off on holding a conversation while trying to take you to the brink of no return. “Haven’t seen her.”

The knot in your stomach mounts again, your whole body buzzing at high frequency. Patrick says something else, a goodbye, you think, but for all you know he could be speaking gibberish, the rush of blood to your ears blocking out anything that’s not Declan. 

The slight savour of sweat he’s worked up and how it tangoes with the cigarette smoke still lingering on his suit jacket.

How his mouth hangs slightly open, his tongue resting loosely against his bottom row of teeth, completely dumb for you.

The grunt wrapped in a sigh that pushes out of him when he plows two thickset fingers inside you again, and the matching moan you hum into the palm of his hand, the metal of his wedding ring cool against your upper lip.

“You’re making me crazy,” he says lowly. “Turnin’ me into someone who steals his son’s girl.” Your response comes out distorted, muffled against his skin. Declan’s hand slips from your mouth, finding its way to the nape of your neck and tangling its fingers into the frizzy hair there, the slight tension making your scalp tingle. “You got something to say, darlin’?”

“Not… his… girl,” you pant, words punctuated by Declan pumping his fingers impossibly deeper into your cunt.

“You’re damn right you’re not his girl.”

The subtext is clear. You’re not Patrick’s. You’re his. The feminist in you should balk at the insinuation but who are you kidding? Every stolen glance. Every car ride. Every solo orgasm you’ve yanked from yourself in the dead of night to the thought of him. Everything has led you to this. 

Your mascara flakes over the apples of your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, Declan’s fingers expertly twisting and careening until the coil in the pit of your stomach is wound so tight you think you’re going to crack in two.

“Fuck, Declan,” you mewl, gripping his biceps to keep yourself steady. “So close.”

“Look at me, love. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come.”

You could’ve fallen apart at those words alone, but you do what Declan says, gaze fluttering to his face as the butt of his hand against your clit works in tandem with his fingers until there’s a sharp and sudden snap, breaking you apart in a violent burst.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” your expletives are swaddled by his hand yet again, eyes pricking with tears as you chase your high. Even through the blur, you see Declan grinning down at you with pride, nodding, quietly egging you on.

“That’s it, darlin’. Good. Good girl,” he whispers, thumb at the back of your head stroking tiny circles while his opposite fingers slow down with your breathing. It’s only when you stop convulsing completely that he drops his hand from your face. Your feet scream in pain as you come back to yourself, the weight of digging your heels in to keep you upright making itself known. Meanwhile, Declan slips himself from you, gently rearranging your underwear over your folds and allowing the skirt of your dress to float back down your legs. He shuffles backwards, allowing you space to gather yourself, to ground yourself, breaths still shaky as you step away from the door you’d come to be far too intimate with. You don’t speak, not yet, just watch as Declan peers down at his right hand that’s glistening with your slick, then to his left hand, where his wedding band glints under the library’s chandelier.

“Are you—” okay, is what you intend to ask, but Declan cuts you off, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“I should go find Taggie and Patrick. Can’t have them hearing about their mum through some idle party gossip,” he says, voice steady but marred with a tinge of uncertainty, as if he’s trying to make sense of everything. He maneuvers around you awkwardly, all that cockiness from moments ago melted away. He pauses at the door, the heavy silence between you so palpable. His hand rests on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn it. “This was…” he trails off, eyes searching the room for the right word.

"Yeah," is all you can manage, because you can’t find the words either. For how he just made you feel like every single one of your synapses was on fire. For the way he's treating you now, all cool and distant, like he's casually asking you to grab him a coffee. Declan forces a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and nods. Just once, stiff. With one final glance, he slips out of sight, laughter and clinking glasses and whumping music replacing Declan in the room before the door clicks closed behind him. And almost immediately, you feel irrelevant and unsure of what to do next. At least, you think it best to let a few minutes pass before you leave the library, so you shuffle over to the large mirror hanging above the fireplace to take in your dishevelled form. You look utterly wrecked, all puffy lips and smudged mascara. All at the hands of Declan O’Hara.

Oh, God, you think, doing your best to wipe away the fallout of the last twenty minutes from your face. What have we done?

When you’re satisfied that you don’t look like…well, like your boss just plied an orgasm from you, you trace Declan’s footsteps and step back into the party, hoping to go unnoticed by the sparse guests mingling around you. Just when you think you’ve escaped unscathed, you catch Rupert’s eye at the end of the hallway — sharp, knowing. He tilts his glass of champagne towards you, slight smirk with the quiet gesture. It’s not a greeting, but an acknowledgement, and you wonder if he saw Declan leave the library, too.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!!!! Let me know in the comments what you think, and what you predict might happen next?!

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview, Chapter 2: Beneath The Surface, Chapter 3: Driving Miss Crazy

[inwintersolitude]

- April 3rd 2025 -

Do you have a good poker face? I suppose so. I'm not a very expressive person.

Is your neighbourhood easy to walk around? Yep. There are sidewalks on all of the streets.

How often do you talk on the phone with family members? I call my parents about once a week, and I call my Granny about once a month.

Do you have a friend who's always sending you music recommendations? Do you actually listen to them? Nope.

Can you ever hear dogs barking from your house? Does it annoy you? Occasionally, and yes it annoys me. But thankfully they never bark for more than a few minutes.

What's your main reason for booking taxis? I only ever use taxis or rideshare apps if I've flown to my destination but didn't rent a car.

When was the last time you saw your partner (or your best friend)? Yesterday afternoon when he left for his flights.

What three colours do you wear the most? Black, gray, and dark blue.

Are there any old magazines or newspapers in your home? Yep.

How did you sleep last night? Not great. I woke up a bunch of times.

Do you like candy corn? Nope.

Are you bored right now? Not really.

Do your grandparents speak English as a first language? Yes.

Do you remember to turn lights off in the rooms you're not actively using? I don't really care that much. I only care if it's the basement, then I'm sure to turn the lights off before coming back upstairs.

Have you ever taken a road coach? Like a coach bus? Yeah, when I was in high school and we'd do a music department trip every other year, and that's how we got to our destination. In 2006 we went to Williamsburg and Busch Gardens, and in 2008 we went to Cocoa Beach and Universal Studios Orlando. That was a LONG drive. The only reason we didn't fly is because my high school's band and orchestra was literally like 400 students, we would have needed to charter two Boeing 737s to get all of us there and back lmao.

Do you know any sets of identical twins? Are you good at telling them apart? My grandfather and his brother were identical twins, but my grandfather died of cancer 5 years before I was born so I only ever knew his brother. Looking at photos, they were very hard to tell apart.

What was the last concert you went to? The Cleveland Orchestra playing The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King soundtrack alongside the film. They played it at their outdoor summer venue last August.

How cold does it get in winter where you live? It's usually around 15-30°F, but it can get as cold as -5°F or -10°F sometimes.

And how hot does it get in summer where you live? 75-80°F is a pretty normal summer temperature here.

Do you have many snacks in your house right now? Yeah. Tortilla chips, seasoned pretzel twists, cheese and crackers, probably some other stuff too.

Do you keep alcohol in your house? Not usually. My husband and I don't drink very often. The only alcohol we have right now is a bottle of champagne that our realtor gave us when we bought our house. It's a year later and we still haven't opened it haha.

How old were you when you learned to ride a bike? Around 4 or 5.

Did you have a bunk bed when you were a kid? Nope.

When was the last time you checked the mail? Was there anything there? My husband got the mail yesterday. There wasn't anything interesting.

If you needed help, do you think your neighbours would help you? Yeah definitely, they're super nice.

Do you remember the ALS ice bucket challenge? Yep.

Who was the last person you read about on Wikipedia? Maria Leopoldina of Austria.

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? Yes, back in like 2006 or 2007. It was only a 3-point-something but we were close to it so it was pretty loud. I remember sitting at the dinner table and there was a sudden BAM and the chandelier swayed a little bit.

What do you think is the next movie you'll see at the cinema? No idea. It's been years since I last cared about any movies that were coming out.

Do you live near a bodega? Nope. I've never heard of anywhere other than New York City having bodegas.

[melisusthewee]

Fanfic Writer Questions

I was tagged in this by both @dreadfutures and @blarrghe ! I did this once a few years ago, so it's interesting to see what's changed since then.

Tagging forward: @theluckywizard @greypetrel @darethshirl @natliecole @if-not-now-tell-me-when @madame-fear

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 35, though I believe 5 of them are artwork only for exchanges and not actually fics.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 87, 413 words

3. What fandoms do you write for? In my AO3 era: Hockey RPF; Dragon Age; La Sociedad de la Nieve/Society of the Snow Pre-AO3 (the ff.net/LJ era): Digimon Adventure, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, Doctor Who, Beatles RPF, a little bit of DC/Marvel

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. The Tang of Liquor On His Tongue (Dragon Age) 2. The Dreamer Sets the Rules (Dragon Age) 3. mala suledin nadas (Dragon Age) 4. Smut Challenge 2: War Table Boogaloo (Dragon Age) 5. Mañana (LSDLN/SotS)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! Or at least I try to! There have been a couple of times where I've gotten overwhelmed or have been busy and fallen behind. But I try really hard to reply to every single comment I get.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? That's hard to pick. I think that a lot of my fic endings lean more towards catharsis than raw angst. Perhaps "Lathbora Viran" is the angstiest ending because it concludes a trilogy of fics about Solas' spirit friend Wisdom and ends with the implication that Wisdom became corrupted into the Regret demon that appears in Skyhold in "Tevinter Nights".

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Any of my romantic fics, I guess? If I had to pick one then I would probably say "Nothing Else Than What is Now" which was the extremely long one shot that led to all my Quinn Trevelyan/Horatio Morris nonsense. It originally wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, but about midway through writing it I changed my mind and even though OC / OC is extremely niche in just about any fandom, I'm still glad I did it.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet. We'll see if that changes now that I've mentioned I've written LSDLN fic.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yep. 2 out of my top 5 fics are smut, and 2 more out of the top 5 have implied sex. I suppose that says I must be good at it. I don't really know what kind of smut I write since every smutfic I've written has been either a challenge or a prompt fill or a gift. I think I'm an example of that meme of "the 2000 word blow job is an important piece of character development". I really lean into tricking you into having emotions and feelings and getting introspective inside characters' heads while they're naked and getting down dirty. Come for the smut, stay for the emotional feelings!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I did when I was younger, but haven't really vibed with it much in recent years. In terms of published fic, maybe the Harry Potter/Beatles crossover drabble I wrote based on a piece of artwork that an old friend of mine had done. I still have the fic, but the artwork has sadly been lost to the ethers of the internet. But the idea was that the Beatles didn't really break up in 1970, they just took on a different career.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge. But I have taken to granting permission in my author's notes of new fics for anyone who might want to translate them into other languages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, actually! Some of my very first fanfics were co-written with a friend of mine. We never published them, but it was just fun to write little stories together.

14. What's your all time favourite ship? Even though I've never written any fanfic for it, I am 100% pure unleaded Chrobin trash. They are my OTP and I am probably due for a replay of Fire Emblem Awakening for it again. "YOU ARE THE WIND AT MY BACK AND THE SWORD AT MY SIDE."

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? One of the very first fics I ever started writing for the Dragon Age fandom was an Alistair/Cousland piece that looked at the period of time between the Warden's disappearance and their (hopefully) eventual return. It was meant to be 10 chapters, with each chapter split between a section in the past that looked at their romance over time and a section that took place in the more immediate present as Alistair navigated the events of DAI. I still have the document sitting on my laptop as well as backed up in my google drive, but I only ever finished the first chapter and even though I go back to it sometimes and make notes, I've not worked on it with any serious attention in years (I started this fic not too long after the Trespasser DLC was released) and at this point I doubt it will ever be in a publishable state let alone finished.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm really good at dialogue! I'm very good at conveying personalities and speech patterns in written dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Blowjobs

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? For me, I think it depends on the amount of dialogue that is being spoken in another language and whether or not it's something the character whose POV is being written would understand.

With fantasy settings like Dragon Age, most of my fics are written from the POV of one of the game protagonists which are all human in my world state. So they wouldn't understand things like Qunlat or Elvhen, but also as those conlangs are incomplete languages, I will usually just refer to dialogue as being spoken in a language that the POV character doesn't understand. In a few fics where I've written from Solas' POV, I have used things like italics or sometimes <<special dialogue brackets>> to denote that this speech is being spoken between two characters in another language. Since the languages are fictional but the story is being told in English, it makes sense that the "author" translates in a similar logic to how Tolkien's books are "translated" for us to read.

With stories and settings that are more grounded in reality, I'll use other languages where appropriate. Usually this is in the form of nicknames or titles or expressions that I feel can't really convey the same tone or idea if they were translated into English. I've been very fortunate to find several new friends in the LSDLN fandom who have taught me a lot about monickers and nicknames and phrases in different regional dialects of Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Technically it was Digimon Adventure - baby's first Mary-Sue fic

20. Favourite fic you've written? It's a tie between "In the Long Hours of the Night" and "The Many Faces of Wisdom". With the former, this was the fic where I first felt like I finally got Quinn Trevelyan. It was the fic where he emerged as a more formed and complete character and I'm still proud of it. With the latter, it was an experimental idea that toyed with a rather ambiguously-defined relationship between Solas and the Inquisitor. It also was the first time I played around with writing Fade scenes and spirits and you can see a lot of the building blocks that I would eventually revisit and explore more as I fleshed out my own lore. It's also the one fic where I started with a very specific image in my mind and that I would really love to commission art for one day.

Blank Form Under the Cut

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

[aurorangen]

sims get to know me tag!

@akitasimblr @oasivy @duusheen @druidberries thank you so much for tagging me ❤️

1. What’s your favourite sims death? getting eaten by a cowplant!!

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match? maxis mix! and i have a lot of alpha hair too. i can't help it, they all look so pretty...

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight? not for weight but for the muscle. idk but it seems funny that they go buff so fast even if you've not made your sims exercise for long

4. Do you use move objects? it's on as soon as i enter build mode

5. Favorite mod? mccc and ui cheats. but for gameplay wonderfulwhims.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got? get to work! and then i got that bundle with parenthood and vintage glamour/bowling night.

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing? now that i think about it i've called them both ways.

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? so i made this gorgeous sim in cas and he just became my favourite right there. he will eventually make an appearance in tjol posts, but my favourite sim you've seen it's bryce of course!!

9. Have you made a simself? yep! once i saw that simstrouble hair i had to make myself! but i've only shared it to my good friend @oasivy!! maybe i'll show you all in the future.

10. What sim traits do you give yourself? lazy, foodie and hot-headed. nooo those are awful traits but it's true....ok if i had 5 traits then it's also clumsy and perfectionist!!

11. Which is your favorite EA hair color? i love all the blond hair swatches!!

12. Favorite EA hair? when i saw that outdoor retreat hair, the one wavy hair parted in the middle i used it on all my females! it was my favourite at the time, but now i only use cc hairs.

13. Favorite life stage? has to be YA. i always have lots of plans with them and get the most gameplay at that stage (as you can tell).

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? definitely gameplay, but my building is slowly improving! i rarely go into cas unless it's to create a new sim for my legacy

15. Are you a CC creator? nope! no skills or patience lol

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad? yes! i have talked to a lot of wonderful people here, simblr would not be the same without you guys!!

17. What’s your favorite game? sims 4!! but sims 3 for the nostalgia.

18. Do you have any sims merch? no.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims? no.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing? i was an on/off sims 4 player since 2015 and back then i was completely vanilla, then i found out about cc in 2018! only in 2022 i started using more skin details and gshade. but one thing's for sure, i have always been a legacy player!!

21. What’s your Origin ID? same as my simblr, but there's nothing on my gallery. i changed it bc it used my real first name and i upload sims for ppl to download on simblr, but ive not done that for a very long time.

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator? there are too many creators that i have downloaded everything of. i love everything from pralinesims!!

23. How long have you had a simblr? this simblr is almost a year old! i started posting on the 13th July 2022!

24. How do you edit your pictures? i completely rely on my personal gshade/lighting mods and don't really edit, i just sharpen on photopea or add the moodlet stuff when needed.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far? when cottage living came out it was my absolute favourite!! i made all my families live there including nsb pink gen, gen 4 of another legacy and my 100 baby challenge! by the time i started my postcard legacy i played with too much cottage living so i decided to start on freegan.

26. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next? honestly it would be great if the sims team improves the older packs, i feel mostly everything from previous games have been included. but it was family gameplay i wanted before growing together was released.

i'll tag: @weindenburg @raiiny-bay @bloomingkyras @glowbloom @igotsnothing but feel free to ignore ❤️

[fiadorable]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag, @curator-on-ao3 🫶

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 46 works, but if you parse the three drabble collections and a ficlet collection it jumps up to 96.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 142,888

3. What fandoms do you write for? Star Trek Strange New Worlds, The Librarians, Once Upon a Tme, Star Trek Voyager, The X-Files (none on ao3), Harry Potter, and King & Maxwell

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Where Flowers Bloom: The F*ck You Bouquet Once Upon a Time, SwanQueen, Rated T, 2.8k words Prom season is keeping Regina Mills, proprietor of Fairytale Flowers, busy, but when Emma Swan storms into her store one day with a unique request and a hidden connection, her day shifts from busy to odd to (dare she say it) hopeful.

revelation in the light of gray Star Trek Strange New Worlds, PikeUna, Rated G, 2.8k words Ensign Uhura stumbles into sickbay late one night and discovers something new about Captain Pike and Number One.

love is a ghost you can't control Star Trek Strange New Worlds, PikeUna, Rated T, 4.3k words One or two times Christopher Pike, uh, asked Una Chin-Riley about romance while they were both serving on the Antares. (This fic was inspired by and based on a scenario referenced in @curator-on-ao3's fic The Haze!)

Of Paperwork, Knots, and Warm Glowy Things, or, Roland Registers for Kindergarten Once Upon a Time, OutlawQueen, Rated G, 10.5k words Sometimes, Henry lets him sit on his bed with his old textbooks splayed open on his lap, the large tomes covering his legs as he runs his hands across the shiny paper, drinking in the bright pictures breaking up the dark columns of text. The older boy warned him he might not have hardbacked books like that until first grade, but Roland doesn't care. He's going to carry his own backpack and learn how to write and memorize all the names of all the bugs in this realm.

Trekalicious Drabbles Star Trek Strange New Worlds, PikeUna + La'an & Chapel + La'an & Una + Sir Adya/Z'ymria, Rated T, 2.1k words A collection of 100 word drabbles for the #Wednesday100 challenge

5. Do you respond to comments? I'm trying to! I'm very bad about doing it in a timely manner 🙈

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh, definitely the scorch. That piece is pure, distilled angst.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Of Paperwork, Knots, and Warm Glowy Things is pretty saccharine

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, I attracted a few trolls with So Are We Alright Then?. Luckily they were no match for the almighty "delete comment" function. Most people are nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Eh? Kind of? Most of my stuff stays M or below.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've done one: an ending unforseen, which is a crossover between Strange New Worlds and Voyager. I threw Christopher Pike into the Delta Quadrant on Voyager so he could have a chat with Kathryn Janeway.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yep!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I can't pick a favorite, but I will say that Mulder/Scully, fanon Janeway/Chakotay, OutlawQueen, and Pike/Una have all been formative ships that I've enjoyed watching/reading/writing for over the years.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? First Day (Once Upon a Time OQ). 1 chapter published as a one shot that was received so well I turned it into a novel-length fic that was never published (19 chapters, 8 alternate universes visited, 40k words written with barely the surface scratched). I love it. It's my white whale. I open it up and marvel at the audacity and ambition of my younger self every now and then.

16. What are your writing strengths? Characterization, dialogue. Sometimes I concentrate hard and pull off some nifty minimalist prose.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Details and self doubt.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm not bilingual, so if I did, I would 100% run it by a native speaker if someone was available to spot check.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Either Voyager or X-Files, I can't remember which

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I love writing the drabbles, they're little puzzleboxes of happy.

tagging: @enterprise-come-in and @meddow with apologies if y'all've been there done that

[byemizumikahago]

Mizumi's Main Twitter (or X i guess now) account

Mizumi uses a variety of social media accounts to post her artwork online, such as tumblr, reddit, deviantart, instagram, and twitter (not calling it X because that's a stupid name). Specifically for that last one, mizumi uses both an art account, and a main, private account. You would assume that, because it's private, that mizumi wouldn't want anyone outside of very close friends to see it. Nope. She let me gain access to it through accepting my follow request. Yep. It was that easy. Because I know Mizumi lurks here, she will likely put two and two together and figure out who I am, and then subsequently block me. So, in preparation for that, I will be posting some of the more notable tweets from her account that I considered to be most important. So, without further ado, here they are:

1: A post she already crossposted to reddit a few months later 2: Arguing with Nagito stans, as usual. 3: A meme 4: Another reddit crosspost 5: The person she's tagging is an ex friend, so don't bother them. 6: Another meme. 7: Artwork that she crossposted to tumblr (unfortunately, the post is deleted and I can't find the link or an archive) 8: (Translated with DeepL) the text says; My pictures for the challenge "Draw cute animals" :) The first one is an OC of mine, seen that way. The second "fanart" And the last two, my cats at the moment. I think only the 1st and 3rd & 4th count then. ^^

So, overall, nothing too out of the ordinary. There are some memes and her replies to art posts sprinkled inbetween original posts, so yeah. nothing too out of the ordinary. Until I came across this:

(The image mizumi replied with is just a gif of that one scene from OHSHC where Haruhi's dad walks in on them and Tamaki)

Anyways, the person is 17 years old. 15 years old when these tweets took place. Mizumi is 26, and was 24 when she tweeted that.

Enough said.

[Onto another topic. Because Twitter is currently self imploding thanks to a certain letter-X-obsessed CEO, you cannot actually directly message people unless you're a verified account. I do not own a verified twitter account. So, if someone out there DOES, it would help a lot if you could DM the dropbox link in this blog's description to these two; mizumi's friends.

DO NOT go and harass these people. That still needs to be stated, because some people still think that's an okay thing to do. Whether you can dm them or not, still don't go out of your way to harass them. Just tell them about what mizumi has done (since they probably don't even know that she's a child predator), send them the dropbox link, and move on with your life. It's more simple to do that, than it is to spread more negativity.

(PS: once someone does that, I'll remove these people from the post, along with all the text instructing you to dm them. it wouldn't make sense to tell people to dm them about mizumi after they already know, after all.)]

[sluttyhenley]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @starrybouquet (thank you!!)

1. how many works do you have on Ao3?

50 (actually 51 if you count the one that hasn't been revealed yet)

2. what's your total Ao3 word count?

269,637

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I have posted in 18 different fandoms on ao3 but most recently 911, Top Gun and The Old Guard

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

my heart is working overtime (e, 911, buddie, 4k)

is forever enough (e, 911, buddie, 10,4k)

lover good be good to me (e, the old guard, joe x nicky, 20.4k)

a twister to blow everything down (t, 911, buddie, 17.2k)

when one plus one equals three (t, 911, buddie, 3.6k)

(gonna also say how blown away i was by the reception to my heart is working overtime, considering it really is one of my sillier fics)

5. do you respond to comments?

yeah, it typically won't be right away, but i do tend to reply to comments definitely! on a multi-chapter fic it doesn't tend to be until i'm posting the next chapter

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the sound of glass (kate daniels, m, hugh d'ambray x christopher steed)

i wrote this fic for the kate daniels series last year for yuletide. i kept it within canon parameters and therefore there was no way for this pairings ending to be anything but angsty. to this day my fic is the only one in that pairing tag.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

either is forever enough (mentioned above) or put a hold on my heart (e, tgm, rooster x phoenix, currently sitting at about 31k) which i haven't finished posting yet, but like i did finish writing it and let me tell you that ending is some of the sappiest shit i've ever written

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have. both times i deleted the comment with the intention of moving on, the second time the commenter didn't let me do that so i responded with a rocky horror gif

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i didn't used to but boy howdy those scenes sure do seem to be finding their way into my fics. i have a wip in the works that opens practically right out the gate with two explicit scenes. it took me a bit to get back into m/f smut after writing so much m/m for buddie. (i haven't posted any f/f but i have written it for an original work)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

yep! only one and it was a cross between the old guard and leverage and it was such a fun time actually

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

if so i don't know about it

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nothing beyond bouncing ideas back and forth with others

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

oh god. i have like. the ones that scratch an itch in my brain and ones that i love writing for. i got new ones this year (icemav and rooster x phoenix) i love writing buck x eddie and i have had a lot of fun writing book of nile.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a couple of ideas that i started and then kind of moved on from those fandoms (i had a couple of hp wips that i was excited about but will now never finish) but really a lot of what i have sitting in my docs that are unfinished are things i would like to come back to someday

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, probably. and humor

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i've had to spend so much time developing my imagery skills, and describing action. explicit scenes are such a challenge for me, from vocabulary to action. but as i work on them more i find myself developing those. but all of that are still very much weak points for me

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i won't really do it unless it's just a few words. i did it in a book of nile fic a while back, but i kept it to a few french phrases that i could translate in text.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

the first fandom i ever posted fic for was the librarians. i actually wrote some doctor x rose stuff that never went beyond the privacy of my own docs.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i'll do three that i'm really proud of (and a bonus one that i can't name because it hasn't been revealed yet) put a hold on my heart (i just am so fond of it and all the little details that i came up with for the story some of which will be expanded on in other fics) words i've never said (it was fun to write a mistaken identity christmas fic for buddie and i really do like how it came out) let's get lost (and let the good times roll) which i wrote as a companion to lover be good to me (mentioned above) and i just really liked getting to explore and expound on another facet of that story and i really liked the character dynamics i created

tagging (no pressure of course!): @natashatrace, @reachingforaspark, @ladywaffles, @redbelles

[shamazingwrites]

ShamelVerse

Hey, Shamblers! I'm Shamel La Torre, an 18 year old who loves K-dramas, reading books, and FOODS. I'm here to share my journey and experiences with you on this little space of the internet!

Even with my obsession for these hobbies, I manage to ace my academics and get involved in extracurricular activities.

From academic achievements to leadership roles and everything in between, I'm here to share my experiences.

Believe it or not, since daycare, I've been winning contests. Yep, you read that right!

• When I was in daycare, I won the 'Best in Costume' award during our United Nations parade. I got recognized for having the most impressive outfit among all the kids who were part of the parade representing different countries. 🏅

• In kindergarten, they put me in a spelling bee contest. Not just at the school level, but at the district level. And you know what? I ended up winning first place. That's not all. Among all kindergartens in our school, I was the top one. 🏅

• Then came Grade 1, where I competed in the MTAP. And I also landed in the class top 5 overall. 🏅

• Grade 2? Still in the MTAP. I Also made it to the class top 10 overall. 🏅

• Grade 3 was amazing - we competed in the MTAP and grabbed 3RD PLACE! 🏅

• By Grade 4, I secured a top 3 spot overall. 🏅

• When I was in grade 5, I won first place in a storytelling contest at my school. Because I won there, I got to go to the next level of the competition, which was for the whole district. 🏅

• Grade 6 brought another challenge, a group storytelling competition at the DIVISION LEVEL. 🏅

• From Grade 7 to Grade 10, I maintained honors, was part of the SSG, and led various school orgs. 🏅

• In Grade 11, both semesters were honor-filled. 🏅

• And here I am in Grade 12, still with honors in the middle term (fingers crossed it continues!). 🏅

Guess what? From Grade 1 to Grade 10, I was always in Section 1. Yep, that's me!

This blog is like my personal diary where I talk about how I manage to enjoy my hobbies while doing well in school and other activities. I've been winning competitions since I was in daycare and now I'm dealing with the ups and downs of school while exploring different things I love. I've picked up a lot of lessons on this journey.

[catch-me-hello]

BOSS RIIZE, Episode 9: The Great RIIZE Betrayal

Written on September 27, 2024

An important Monsta X update before we get started: Minhyuk will be finishing his military service in less than a week, on October 3rd. I’m tracking details on YouTube and Reddit. He will be doing some kind of fan meeting right after he returns.

Joohoney (Jooheon) will be discharged in January 2025, Kihyun will be discharged in February 2025, and Hyungwon will be out in May 2025. I didn’t realize so many of them were serving at once. The only one left in Monsta X to enlist is I.M, and given that he’s 28 years old, he should be enlisting very soon. Some K-pop sites say his deadline will be the end of this year.

Stay safe and well, guys.

Now for a quick housekeeping item. I’m going to be doing two overlapping projects soon. These episodes of BOSS RIIZE can take a while to be released on streaming services, since the show is still airing, so it took me three days to get access to Episodes 9 and 10. Instead of just sitting around, once I get these two episodes recapped, I’ll start my next recapping project – I-Land, the 2020 survival reality show that brought us Enhypen. I’ll be working on that while wrapping up this show.

Okay. Let’s get started on Episode 9 of BOSS RIIZE and find out who won the Horror Mission.

Sung Chan and Anton are automatically eliminated for dropping out. Anton should be penalized for abandoning his terrified bandmate in the dark, but whatever.

In fourth place is Eun Seok. His time was 11 minutes and 7 seconds, most of which was spent in a failed attempt to identify his own group’s song.

Third place is So Hee. I’m bummed about that. I wanted him to win based on attitude alone. His time was 10 minutes and 50 seconds, again due to spending too much time on the song challenge.

So now it’s between Won Bin and the current BOSS, Shotaro. Since the show is moving toward setting up Won Bin as the next BOSS, I’m guessing he’s going to win. Yep, it’s Won Bin, at 8 minutes and 4 seconds. He wins 5 more ballots, along with the extra ballots from being on the winning water sports team. I love that one of the reasons Shotaro took too long is because he kept losing at Rock Paper Scissors against a ghost who was trying so hard to lose.

So Eun Seok has won four extra ballots, Sung Chan has six, and Won Bin has nine. It’s already almost midnight, so Shotaro’s reign has ended anyway. Time for another vote. We’re reminded that Won Bin and Eun Seok formed an alliance back when they were washing lettuce, but now that Won Bin has a total of ten ballots, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need that alliance anymore.

We also get a flashback to the budget-breaking feast, where we learn Won Bin had formed an additional alliance with Anton, which in hindsight was about as useful as an alliance with the surrounding squirrel population.

In the voting booth, Anton keeps his end of the bargain and votes for Won Bin and Shotaro. We see the others go in and out of the booth. The votes are counted, and the winner is …

Sung Chan.

HOW.

We get our answer when Eun Seok bows to Sung Chan and reveals himself to be the kingmaker. He broke his alliance with Won Bin. We get a flashback showing that while Won Bin was busy in the voting booth, filling out his ten ballots, Sung Chan promised Eun Seok he’d be exempt from being a worker, and so a new alliance was formed. Eun Seok cast his five ballots for Sung Chan. Plus, Sung Chan had picked up secondary votes from other bandmates, so here we are.

Won Bin is PISSED. One of the scaredy-cats who couldn’t complete any of the challenges in the Horror Mission is now the new BOSS. I did NOT see that coming. “I can’t trust anyone,” says Won Bin. RIIZE is going to break up after this, aren’t they?

Sung Chan gets the laurel and stamp. He signs his appointment letter and announces that Eun Seok is spared from being a worker. Won Bin warns the new BOSS that his new bestie is a traitor. His actual words, according to the translation, are, “That bastard is a traitor.” Everyone is a bit surprised at this language.

Getting back on track, Sung Chan decides to ask the Magic 8-ball Cards whether or not Shotaro should be a worker. The guy who was frozen in fear on the Ghost Trail now wants to involve the Occult in his decision-making. He draws a card that says, “Accept what you need to accept” and holds it up to Shotaro, who must now accept that he has to be a worker for the first time on this series. Everyone else has been a worker, and Won Bin’s been given that assignment twice.

But life isn’t fair in South Korea either, because Won Bin is up for being a worker again. He and Anton have to play something called the Tomato Game. Anton loses, so he’s now the second worker. I’ll take that as poetic justice for abandoning the new BOSS during the Horror Mission. Sometimes, life IS fair.

And now, for what feels like the 20th time, they must decide on sleeping arrangements. It must be three in the morning by now. How much sleep do they plan on getting? Sung Chan chooses the bigger room with Eun Seok as his roommate. The other four will have to cram into the second room.

Before bed, they work on individual journals of their trip. I’m guessing when this show is over, Won Bin will self-publish his on Amazon under the title Best Served Cold: How to Destroy the Lives, Hopes, and Dreams of Your Bandmates. I will order an autographed copy.

Later, they make ramen while staring into one of the cameras. Won Bin says he knew the camera was there because he watched footage of the previous show on YouTube. I’m glad this show’s editor is asleep at the wheel so we can get telling footage like this.

Night passes, and we’re now on Day Two of this trip, which has felt like a full week long. I can’t believe that just 24 hours ago, these guys were on the beach, doing the first round of voting. Actually, I can’t believe the show expects us to believe that, especially since these guys have had time to see the edited footage on YouTube.

We find out that in the cramped room, only two of the guys slept in the bed. Won Bin slept on the couch, and Anton took the porch. Anton wakes up first and pulls fellow worker Shotaro out of bed so they can make breakfast for everyone. We learn that out of all the possible workers, Sung Chan chose the two who can’t cook.

The crew tells them they can find freshwater snails in the creek in front of the village. Neither of them have eaten snails before. They have to Google “snails” on their phones. Apparently, snails for breakfast is a bridge too far even in a country that regularly eats spicy octopus and kimchi (although to be fair, Anton did grow up in the States). The two of them wonder how to cook snails, and Anton finds a recipe for freshwater snail soybean paste soup. I felt my stomach heave just typing that.

Shotaro suggests making bibimbap, which is rice and vegetables and sounds like a MUCH better idea. But they land on bibimbap AND soybean paste soup with snails. I could never live in Korea.

They pick lettuce and scallions in the garden, and then they find a section of chives. I never would have guessed chives were growing there. It looks like regular overgrown grass. If I lived in that house, the first thing I’d do is mow what I thought was the lawn, wondering why the clippings bag smelled like onions.

"How about this? Is this food?"

Now they go to the creek to get the snails. This is the most demanding thing I’ve seen any of the workers have to do on this show.

Back at the house, Won Bin wakes up So Hee by pinching his nose shut. This show has destroyed any goodwill he’s had toward his bandmates. The two of them go up to the second house to wake up the BOSS and the “traitor.”

Eun Seok demands to know if breakfast is ready and then says if Anton is a worker, they won’t eat today. Eun Seok, you’re in Yangyang-Gun in the Gangwon Province. I went on TripAdvisor and found three restaurants in your area that serve breakfast, so eat what Anton serves you, or zip it and start walking.

In the barbecue area, the workers are cooking while the others make their way over, complaining about how long it’s taking. This is a weird place to end the episode, but here we are.

We only have three episodes left, and two of our RIIZE guys haven’t been BOSSes yet – Won Bin and Anton. I’m worried about what kind of coup Won Bin is planning. He’s not screwing around anymore.

See you next time. Prepare for battle.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Sunday, 12-08-24, 8am Pacific

'Mornin' all, a caffeine-challenged Mr. Baggins continues wrestling with his coffee-making accoutrement, but we've got just the thing to get us moving, and yep, you guessed it, it's our final three Preludes and Fugues from Book 2 of Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier. Our trouper of a Harpsichordist through all six LPs has been Malcolm Hamilton, from the 6-record boxed set on Everest Records. Today we hear Preludes and Fugues Nos. 22, 23, and 24 of Book 2.

Let's hear the fourth of Rossini's String Sonatas, which he composed at the age of twelve. Marriner/ASMF do the honors.

And now let's hear the fifth of the twelve-year-old Mendelssohn's String Symphonies. Nicholas Ward leads the Northern Chamber Orchestra.

And now let's have the next installment in our Beethoven Symphony survey, and we are up to Symphony No. 6 in F Major, Op. 68, the "Pastoral" Symphony. We hear Lenny and The Vienna from a live recording made in Vienna in 1979.

Next we turn to Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 14 in E-Flat Major, K449. Alfred Brendel is our pianist, with Neville and the Academy.

We've heard Vladimir Horowitz play all four of Chopin's Scherzos, next we will have him play the Ballades for us. Here is his 1947 RCA studio recording of Chopin's Ballade No. 1 in G-minor, Op. 23.

Next is a real treat, a live stage performance from the University of North Texas, The Center WoodwInd Quintet plays a wind quintet arrangement of Ravel's "Le Tombeau de Couperin"...wonderful stuff!

One last selection for this morning, a little Bach to send us on our way to the rest of the day. Here is his Orchestral Suite No. 4 in D Major, BWV1069, played for us by Neville and The Academy.

And that wraps up our Morning Coffee Music for this Sunday. I do hope you've enjoyed the selections this morning, and possibly heard something new to your ear. Mr. Baggins signing off for now, I'll return at 2pm Pacific with our Afternoon Stack of Classic Wax!

Until then, be kind, babies, be kind.

Baggins out.

[espionage-goth]

It’s been over 5 years since I’ve been on this site, and over 8 since I like… actually used it. Sheeeesh what a little cringe time capsule this is. I once did a challenge for 10 songs off of shuffle about 8 years ago, let’s compare 15 year old me’s music taste to 23 year old me’s music taste

1. Then: Duality by Slipknot // Now: Perfect Circle / God Speed by Mac Miller

2. Then: 1985 by Bowling for Soup // Now: Coffee’s for Closers by Fall Out Boy

3. Then: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance (still an absolute banger) // Now: What’s Inside a Girl? by The Cramps (absolute banger)

4. Then: St. Patrick by PVRIS // Now: Past Life by Tame Impala

5. Then: In The Dark by Flyleaf // Now: Time & Place by Queens of the Stone Age

6. Then: Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival // Now: Police On My Back by The Clash

7. Then: Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down // Now: Pretty Lady by Tash Sultana

8. Then: Beautiful Girls by Van Halen // Now: Keep On Knocking by Death (clearly the superior song)

9. Then: Disposable Teens by Marilyn Manson // Now: Tin Pan Alley (aka Roughest Place In Town) [Live At Ripley’s Music Hall] by Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble

10. Then: Black Me Out by Against Me // Now: So Far out of Control by The Shivas

Yep… that’s a blog post alright. See y’all later, or don’t. If you see this for some strange reason, let me know and challenge yourself to see how you’ve changed if you ever did this originally.

[chornayadrakoshig]

saw this fic writter tag on @oh-hush-its-perfect page and decided to join too :) I'm not tagging anyone directly but feel free to participate!

My Ao3 if anyone is interested: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChornayaDrakoshig

1. How many fics do you have published on Ao3? 

70 currently posted; I'm moving to Ao3 from another website and there is one collection of oneshot translations that I haven't reposted yet + a few essays/character analysis works that are kinda in question, as well as some old things and original works (I'm still not 100% if I want to repost them or not, maybe I'll do some editing first)

2. What's your total word count on Ao3?

235,711 at the time of posting (9 feb 2024) - not a total word count ever published, but the other website I've used doesn't have stats like that (it's in pages and this stat is disabled since I've hidden everything into drafts there)

3. For which fandoms do you write?

mostly Code Lyoko; second largest is Harry Potter, but I doubt I'll write any more HP after finishing the current WIP crossover. I'm not going to say "never" but well...

besides that, I have a few one shots written for Miraculous Ladybug, Humans, Parked, Testament of Youth (yes, I was hardcore Colin Morgan fan okay? I watched most of the films/shows with him pre 2016 and even one theatre play recording)

and I have a lot of fandoms on my "want to write" list including one large fic activelly in planning/plotting stage 👀

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

tbh I barelly have any kudos on my Ao3 account because I'm reposting my works under original publication date so they are deep, deep in the tags. Also at the moment I'm writting/translating in russian only, and Ao3 isn't even in top 3 of popular fanfic websites for this language. But I picked it for reasons

so, originally posted top 5 were (unsurprisingly all HP):

Сломанный маховик (time-travel fix-it, marauders era, Sirius/OC - and that's the largest multichapter I've ever did)

Шесть шагов (Jily one shot)

Чем пахнет свобода? (Sirius-related one shot, OC mentioned but unspecified, related to 1st fic but can be read separately)

Крёстная (7ish years post main canon [not epilogue], Teddy Lupin and his OC godmother - again related to 1st fic but can be read separately)

Осеннее обострение (Jily oneshot)

and on Ao3 currently:

Сломанный маховик (yep again)

Снежный Ангел (Code Lyoko, that's a translation actually! William/Aelita)

Остаточное погружение (Miraculous Ladybug, one shot, darker take on the results of akumatization, focuses on Alya)

Маршмеллоу и овсяное печенье (Miraculous Ladybug, one shot, fluff, Alya/Nino)

Lyokober (Code Lyoko, one shot collection made for challenge, each fic is a different pairing - has both popular ships and rarepairs)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to everyone (especially now when I don't get a lot of them on the new platform)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ooooh I love angsty open endings :) I think one of my favourite is "Ритуал" (Code Lyoko, aftermath of main character(s) death, kinda apocalyptic AU)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

that's the hardest question so far xD As I mentioned I like to breathe in the angst, so, eh, I think "Сломанный маховик"as it was time-travel fix-it?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? I got a few "this is a dumb idea" type of comments, but it was few and far between idk if it counts as hate comments.

But I got banned from one discord server and part of the reason was mentioning one ship I've written for. So...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not my thing really - tbh I rarelly read smut too (maybe like, 25% or less of things I read?). If we don't include translations, I have one original work that's kinda Prelude/PWP without Porn thing. And one one shot with rape/non-con. Most of the time, if the fic even touches that, I'm more "fading into darkness, no detailed description of body parts of poses, feelings-focused, T rating at most" type of smut writer.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written?

I love crossovers but I've ever written (or, rather, I'm currently writting) only one. It's Code Lyoko & Harry Potter, where Harry's world is a virtual reality that Lyoko Warriors explore.

However, I like to go into inspired-by-fandom AUs that aren't really full crossovers, as they don't include characters or detailed worldbuilding from another fandom, but they are heavily inspired - I think I have multiple fics like that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I had one fic stolen (I think one of my HP ones? honestly I don't remember at this point). Also had a few shorter original works reposted with minor edits and no links/credit on social media.

And, unrelated to writting - there was an art of my fan character (not made by me, I think I got it as art trade or gift?) that was recolored & reposted on instagram once.

12. Have you ever had a work translated?

No, but I translate a lot myself - currently out of 70 posted works 16 are translations! I mostly translate from english but there are 2 french-russian translations too.

13. Have you co-written a fic before?

Nope, but I helped to beta-read/edit a handfull of works before. Also worked on ideas/worldbuilding for original work together but I haven't wrote for it. Also co-translated a fic once!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Odd/Aelita (Code Lyoko)

Sirius/Hermione (Harry Potter, a specific subset of time-travel fix-it fanfic but I occasionally read other stuff)

Raine/Eda (The owl house)

Crowley/Aziraphale (Good Omens)

Eddie/Chrissy (Stranger Things)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but probably never will? 

I had one WIP (not reposted currently and probably never will) that is canon retelling in format of poetry, kinda witty and satirical. I'm bad at poetry. And at satire. The original show is over 100 episodes long. I wrote 3 poems on this wave of inspiration and abandoned it. But I still think the idea is funny and it would be cool to finish it but I have all those other WIPs I'm a) more interested in now b) more likelly to finish

16. What are your writing strengths?

God I like descriptions. Maybe even too much. Also with book-based fandoms, I've often got comments that my writting gives the same vibe as the book writting, so I guess I tend to imitate the tone & writting style relativelly well?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm so bad in plotting long-form content it's not even funny. I tend to get one-liner ideas, about a setting, AU type, or a scene, but I struggle to come up with conflict, character development, events. I literally completed only 2 multichapter fics.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in a fic in another language?

I'm not a big fan of including whole dialogs in one language into a fic written in another. My go-to is 3 or less phrases per chapter, with translation in the notes. If I need to include larger dialogue, and the scene include character(s) that don't know the language, I write it in translation, maybe highlight it in italic or bold font, and sprinkle in mentions of what language are they speaking and that other character(s) don't understand what's going on.

Maybe I'm traumatised by reading "War and Peace" back in school but 1st tome has pages after pages that are almost all in french. The footnotes with translation take half of the page. It's not fun to read when you don't know the other language!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Merlin (this fic is an abandoned wip and currently isn't on my Ao3 but I plan to repost it for sentimantal reasons :) - written in 2011)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I can't pick one they all are my babies 😭 but some of the favourites:

Гордое фарфоровое божество (Humans, poem, Astrid/Niska)

Вырви мне сердце (Parked, poem - and it has stunning podfic that makes me emotional every time I listen to it)

Крёстная (HP, Teddy Lupin and his OC godmother)

Снаружи (current WIP! Code Lyoko & Harry Potter crossover)

[theplumbnerd]

Throne Makeover: Jack Thompson's Step-by-Step Guide to Bathroom Toilet Replacement

Introduction

Greetings, plumbing pals! It's Jack Thompson, your trusty PipeMaster from Denver, and today we're diving into the royal realm of toilet replacement. Yep, we're giving your bathroom throne a makeover. So, roll up your sleeves, grab your tools, and let's embark on this DIY journey together! Throne Makeover: DIY Bathroom Toilet Replacement with Jack Thompson With years of plumbing under my belt, I'm here to guide you through the ins and outs of replacing your toilet. No jargon, just straightforward DIY wisdom. Let's get started!

Signs Your Toilet Needs a Makeover

Before we put on our DIY hats, let’s recognize the signs that your toilet might be crying out for retirement: Signs: - Frequent Repairs: If your toilet has become a regular at the repair shop. - Cracks and Leaks: When cracks or leaks turn your bathroom floor into a waterpark.

My DIY Approach to Throne Makeovers

Time to transform that throne. Here's how I tackle a bathroom toilet replacement like a seasoned pro: Step 1 - Gather Your Arsenal - Tool Check: Ensure you have a wrench, plunger, putty knife, and a new wax ring. - New Toilet: Unbox that sparkling new toilet and check if all the parts are present. Step 2 - Turn Off the Water - Locate the Water Valve: Find the water valve behind your toilet and shut it off. - Flush and Drain: Flush the toilet and hold down the handle to drain as much water as possible. Step 3 - Disconnect Water Supply - Unhook the Hose: Disconnect the water supply hose from the valve. - Bucket Brigade: Have a bucket handy to catch any remaining water in the hose. Step 4 - Remove the Old Toilet - Wax Ring Farewell: Loosen and remove the bolts securing the toilet to the floor. Say goodbye to the old wax ring. - Lift-off: Carefully lift the old toilet and place it on a garbage bag or old towels. Step 5 - Clean Up - Scrub-a-Dub-Dub: Clean the flange and floor thoroughly. - Inspect the Flange: Ensure the flange is in good condition. Replace if necessary. Step 6 - Install the New Toilet - Position the New Wax Ring: Place the new wax ring on the flange, ensuring it's centered. - Set the Toilet: Carefully lower the new toilet onto the wax ring, aligning the bolts with the holes. Step 7 - Secure the Toilet - Tighten the Bolts: Secure the toilet in place by tightening the nuts onto the bolts. - Level Check: Use a level to ensure the toilet is sitting evenly. Step 8 - Reconnect Water Supply - Attach the Hose: Reconnect the water supply hose to the valve. - Turn On the Water: Turn on the water valve and let the tank fill.

Maintenance Tips for Throne Excellence

Regular Checks - Monthly Wiggle Test: Give your toilet a gentle wiggle to check for any instability. - Listen for Leaks: Pay attention for any hissing sounds or continuous running after flushing. Safety Tips - Turn Off Water: Always turn off the water supply before beginning any toilet-related adventure. - Proper Lifting: Lift with your legs, not your back, to avoid any unwanted soreness. Call in the Pros - For Tricky Situations: If you encounter unexpected challenges, don't hesitate to call in professional reinforcements. - Leak Mysteries: Persistent leaks or mysterious water pools might require the expertise of a plumber.

Conclusion

There you have it, plumbing champions! You've just aced a bathroom toilet replacement with me, Jack Thompson. Now go ahead, enjoy your freshly installed throne, and may your bathroom adventures be ever regal. Happy replacing! Read the full article

[miscmonstro]

The Uno Reverse Adoption Saga Comments Q&A

I’m so sorry I took so long :(

questions and answers below the line

Firstly: Things I clarified and feel could have caused some confusion:

Clarification 1: I do take suggestions! So long as no one is rude I love hearing other people’s thoughts/ideas/feedback/speculations/etc. ^_^

Clarification 2: The trio are all halfas. How? Why? What am I basing their abilities off of? Go read Third Time by DarkNympha, I genuinely cannot write anything better than that to capture the astoundingly awesome ideas and emotions than they did. I tried to write my halfa trio as close to how they were depicted there as possible because it is such a work of art. 20/10 would recommend! 

Secondly, Questions:

1 Q: How did the trio die?

A: See 10 Q or refer to Clarification 2 :)

2 Q: What was the Scramble Incident? 

A: A plot device. The scrambled tech is a challenge for the trio and it does indirectly cause a lot of opportunities/problems I can capitalize on in the story. Currently, fleshing out the incident over time and defeating the scrambler is planned be sort of like a “look how everyone’s changed” deal.

3 Q: Sam and Tucker have mechanical parts integrated to their ghost forms- do they get special functions? 

A: Yep! Sam’s camera can take a picture of a person and the picture it shows is of their death! If it is a place it will show who or whatever died their last. She can control it to some degree by filtering out certain kind of death, like if she only wanted to see victims of drowning at a place, or if she only wanted info on cats that have died recently instead of whatever has died recently in general. They mostly used the camera in the scant old, unsolved cases to help some ghosts find peace (No one really gets murdered in Amity now a day so its old cases). 

Tucker’s PDA is a living extension of himself and so it can’t really be hacked since he can just adjust things on the fly. Anything he has on his PDA is something he can remember. Say he used his PDA and texted someone a month ago- he’d remember the conversation clearly. Additionally he doesn’t have to focus as much as other ghosts to overshadow tech since the PDA acts as a catalyst (in a sense). I haven’t planned out the details of Tucker’s PDA as much as I have Sam’s camera as the camera becomes important sooner rather than later. Don’t be surprised if I tweak what the PDA can do ;)

4 Q: Has Jason mentioned Sam to anyone from the family yet? The Anti Ecto Acts seem like something Batman should know about.

A: He hasn’t! He looked through the acts, read the Fenton’s ‘research’ and realized that he fits the description of a violent non-feeling (he only really expresses anger or irritation these days) ghost pretty well. He doesn’t trust the others, especially Bruce, to see that ‘research’ and still think of him as a person. He’s not going to risk subjecting the trio to Batman either. It gets worse once he has access to the Amity side of the web and reads whatever bs the GIW has been spewing. It’ll get better though

5 Q: Danny has an ice core, so what cores do Sam and Tucker have?

A: I’ve combined strong electricity and fire into a plasma core, and that is what Tucker has. Sam has an earthy leaning nature core. Bonus info- Vlad has either a frail plasma core or a strong combustion nature core, Dani has an aqueous leaning nature core, and Clockwork has a temporal core.

6 Q: How old is everyone? 

A: The trio are 16 and that makes Jazz 19 as she is 2 ish years older than them. Jason is legally 26, and I know that he was dead for 4 years so he’s arguably 22. He and everyone else considers him 26 in story though. I haven’t decided on anyone else’s ages as of yet but Damian is probably going to be 14 because Jason needs more crises for me to address later on. 

7 Q: Are the Mansons/Jason worried that Sam is gone?

A: Addressed in the last 2 chapters! Directly: Jason was worried and now he’s… still worried. Indirectly: The Mansons, and the other party guests, are unconscious/unaware and are being carted off to hospitals. This’ll come up later.

8 Q: Is this on AO3?

A: Yes! You can go here and if that doesn’t work here is the link: 

9 Q: Sam is Jewish. Why are her parents so concerned with Christmas? 

A: This is less about religion and more about influence! They worry about the Christmas Gala because it’s a prestige thing to be invited and they care about their image too much not to go. It can be seen as a snuff if you don’t go and then Upperclass Politics Occurs. Additionally it’s a great time to socialize and do fancy rich people connections stuff. So yeah, their approach is based more the social aspect of the party than a religious one. 

10 Q:

Referring to this I assume: “People who died with conviction strong enough to become an obsession or who died traumatically enough to became ghosts did so with fully matured cores.”

A: When I wrote that I was focusing on how someone died and the events leading up to their death in my mind. For example, if someone was convinced they were being stalked for days beforehand and then is murdered they might have more emotional buildup than someone who gets murdered suddenly out of the blue. I feel like there would be a limited window after a person dies that outside events could still impact if they become a ghost- like if the murderer from the previous scenario hid the body after doing the deed the person might gather more ectoplasm and linger because they want their body to be found (more emotions basically). 

The death of the trio is the portal accident but Sam and Tucker got hit. I used Third Time as the basis for the trio (I highly recommend that read, I enjoyed it a ton). There are differences in abilities but for the most part I yoinked the fic as the background for the trio. I just… I did try to write a one shot in the same vein and then later when I was working out the details for the Halfa Trio I found myself just regurgitating Third Time in various ways. DarkNymfa knocked the ball out of the park. I just can’t do better than the original.

As far as Jason and his resurrection goes, I have not yet worked everything out and don’t want to say much on what I have decided on as that mystery is something that can act as a great tool to move the plot forward. Mysteries aren’t fun if they are figured out too quickly.

11 Q: Is Scarecrow a ghost?

A: Nope! He is liminal and the reason the trio mistook him for a ghost (besides his ghostly appearance) was that Jason, who was in the attic below them, triggered their ghost senses. They realized their mistake when Scarecrow/Crane didn’t fight Batman like a ghost would’ve. No intangibility, telekinesis, etc.

And that’s all. I’m sorry that some of these have been sitting in the comments for for months ^_^’

I’m going to try to get back into replying to comments so we’ll see how that goes.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 17 | April 18th – April 24th

Welcome to week 17 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 18»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week

Forever & Always: Stage 1 - Denial | Pt.1 » Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader & Platonic Avengers x Reader — Y/N “Birdy” (nicknamed by her family), comes from a long line of witches and warlocks, living her days at the New Avengers Compound, alongside her friends. The Avengers are part of her family and her family is always welcome to the compound. Things for once seemed to be going well now that all was right from the attack on Thanos, everyone was alive, all was forgiven, friendships were thriving, that all ended when Birdy’s brother came calling with sad news, their mother had suddenly passed. These are the stages of grief Birdy faces, through the loss of her best friend, her protector, her mother.

His Favorite Day » Chris Evans x Reader — Chris’s favorite day of the year is your birthday.

Bucky Barnes

One-Shots:

*No Hidden Messages by @jobean12-blog » TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Sam sends you a picture of Bucky and the endgame is priceless. | Honestly I love me some dominant Bucky, and if Sam had sent me that picture I would have dropped my phone and been like yep that my babe. I was thinking something more dirty but I’ll keep that thought to myself. 😉

Sucker Punch by @buckyblues » Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader — Bucky thought he knew what was his, until he accidentally let it roam free. | Someone come dump a cold bucket of water on me please?

Someone Like You by @startrekkingaroundasgard » Bucky Barnes x Hydra Agent!Reader — Taken from their SHIELD prison cell, the reader finds themself alone with The Winter Soldier negotiating for their life. | I really enjoyed reading this, the sass of the reader and how Bucky handles them. It’s just so perfect. Nicola says there is more to come for this pair and I’m so very much looking forward to it.

(Mini) Series:

Happy & So Happy by @mrwinterr » Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader — You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. | The smut in this is hot and by the end you are hoping the reader gets a happy ending not a tragic one.

*A Tender Heart 💜 Pt. 3 by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader — You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit. [A/B/O dynamics and explicit sexual content, 18+] | I feel the love that is radiating from this story and I really love it and the little bit of smut we get in chapter 3 is perfect!

the (after) party by @buckycuddlebuddy sequel loft music » fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader — “why don’t we have this thing they call goodbye sex? one last time.” he leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear. “i’ll make it good for you.” | In some strange way it was therapeutic to read this but at the same time I felt bad for the reader in the first part. Second part you are rooting for her but still feeling bad. I will say the smut in this is perfect.

Just Like Dad Pt. 3 🦾 Pt. 1 🦾 Pt. 2 by @ladyfallonavenger » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky finally confronts Steve and moves forward with his life. | Very sweet ending and I loved it.

Sweet Dreams 🥞 Pt. 4 🥞 Pt. 5 🥞 Pt. 6 🥞 Pt. 7 by @jedimastermelkor » Bucky Barnes x Reader & ? x Avenger — Your daily routine involves waking up in the morning, going to work and sulking at night. But then you meet the man you’ve fantasized about for your entire life, Bucky Barnes. At the same time, you’ve caught someone else’s eye and his first step in winning you over is to cook you breakfast. But will you be welcoming of that person’s affections? | I like how she named the puppy Pancake and the first thing the mysterious avenger gave her was pancakes. I don’t want to give too much away but things are getting really good and you find out who the mysterious avenger is in chapter 6!

Steve Rogers

One-Shots:

*Caught by @giorno-plays-piano » Bluebeard!Steve Rogers x Reader — If he kept you warm, saying words of love to you every day while he looked you in the face, you’d marry him even if in a year he hanged you just like all his wives in the dungeon of his castle. | It’s dark but in a soft way and it’s so good. I highly recommend you go and read it.

Drabble Request by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader — We find out how Steve and Reader met before they ever got in a relationship. Takes place before Tell Me What You Want. | I loved this so much, I was laughing and pictured this whole piece so vividly in my brain. Also I just want a part where Bucky teases Steve about that night in front of reader making her giggle, maybe at the wedding?

(Mini) Series:

*Yuánfèn 📖 Pt. 4 by @writerwrites » Steve Rogers x Reader — When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart? | I always look forward to the updates on this story. It brings me so much comfort and the relationship that is blossoming between the reader and Steve is beautiful and organic. I highly recommend this.

Misc.

Headcanons:

*Just Like Her Old Man by @rebelwrites » Chibs Telford x Reader — I asked for: Parents get called into school for a meeting due to their daughter fighting, and trying not to be proud. Taking them out for a treat after the meeting. | It turned out so great. If you knew me at my Sons Anarchy Days, you know I loved Chibs the most. This feed my love for him even more. Thank you Heather!!

One-Shot:

*A Simple Solution by @sweetlyscared » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Fem!Reader x Ari Levinson — You and Andy had a purely sexual relationship for several months, and you’d started to grow attached to him. Unfortunately, life has a way of complicating things, and a chance encounter at a bookstore had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. | We all owe a huge thank you to Sweet Lee, for writing and posting this. She wrote our dreams out so perfectly, and if you haven’t thought of this now you can. It’s just so hot and good, I for one am very thankful.

(Mini) Series:

*Give In 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 23 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 24 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 25 by @overr-written » soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | I love this series so much and the lengths that the chapters are. I really am going to be sad when this is over. I don’t ever want it to end. 😭

Seal Team

One-Shots:

Imma Take Care Of Your Body by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Reader is the only female member on Bravo who also has a no strings attached relationship with Rebel. | Let me just say this is hot, like really hot. Give me a glass of water and let me cool down. Thank you Heather for blessing us with this.

Tier One Babysitters by @bravo-four-seal-team » Seal Team; Ray Perry x Naima Perry — Ray and Naima ask the team to watch 6 month old Jameelah. | I promise you will be laughing.

You Are Perfect by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Clay tells you everything he loves about you. | As a big boned girl this meant a lot and has me wishing for a Clay Spenser to call my own.