#alexa play just sign the papers!

[liveorganism]

calzona divorce arc for real this time... well shit!

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Now, I just want to start by saying I love BabBee and Dadimus. I do, 10/10 would enjoy again, but I think Y'all are neglecting the comedic and story potential of Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ and still becoming a family.

Imagine with me, if you will, Cybertron ravaged by war. Things have fallen to shit. Megatron has been dragging these divorce proceedings out for years. Bumblebee was born around the beginning, give or take a few years, I don't care about specifics. His parents were sadly killed early on in his life due to something war related and Bumblebee has grown up alone. He manages to survive to adulthood, and he joins the Autobots. Bumblebee has been drowning in the consequences of this war since day 1 and he wants to help fix it. If Megatron won't sign the divorce papers then Bumblebee will. Yada Yada Yada Sad Backstory This is so sad, Alexa play The Less I Know The Sexy Back.

Anyhoo, Bumblebee is very good at his job as a scout. Top of the line shit, best of the best, 5 stars would eat here again. He's so good he gets promoted to work directly under Optimus Prime himself. Look at our boy go, we're so proud of him, you get that bag sister. Overtime, Bumblebee manages to become friends with Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime but we're focusing on Optimus rn) and they get pretty close. They're work besties, Bumblebee will make a joke over comms and Optimus will smile and say "I N D E E D, B U M B L E B E E.". Fucking insufferable, the both of them, it's so cute. You know how you can become friends with people twice/half your age when you're working at a hard job? That's what happened here, they've been through the (actual) trenches together, they've bonded.

So at some point, Bumblebee gets seriously injured while under Optimus's command, like some life threatening shit. Whether or not it's voicebox related is universe dependent , so we're not going to specify what happens, but it's serious. Bumblebee survives, obviously, but Optimus feels SO bad about it. Oh the Guilt is strong. When he's visiting Bee, some of this leaks out and Bumblebee tells him that he should not blame himself, Bee is choosing to fight, if he dies while fighting for the good of Cybertron, so be it. Better him than some innocent spark in the future. Plus, Bee only got hurt because of a stupid mistake he made, not anything Optimus did.

Bumblebee says this to try and reassure his friend/superior, but now Optimus feels WORSE. Bumblebee is like half Optimus's age (Bee and Optimus are whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of 20 and 40 are, respectively) and had nothing to do with the start of the war, and he's just as ready to die as Optimus is? And he's blaming himself for his injury? That he only got because Optimus told him to do something? Optimus is NOT going to let that slide, no he's not! Over his dead body! He is not crying in the club rn, what are you talking about.

Optimus has decided Bumblebee can not die now. He has declared, as the 13th Prime, that Bumblebee dying has become illegal and he will do everything in his power to enforce this new Law of The Universe That Should Never Be Broken Ever. Now, whenever the two are on a mission, Optimus tries to protect Bumblebee as best he can. He doesn't want to coddle him, Bumblebee is an adult and Optimus respects that but he'll be damned if he lets Bumblebee get seriously hurt when he could have prevented it. He also starts checking up on him when they're not fighting, asking how his day is going, how a mission went, making sure he see's a medic if he's hurt, making sure he's eating his energon, all that good stuff. Bumblebee is his friend, he's going to make sure he's okay, this is perfectly normal friend behavior. The rest of team prime is doing a similar thing, they all want to make sure Bumblebee is doing okay. Optimus isn't being parental in the slightest, he is being very normal. (Author's note: Optimus and Team Prime are being very Not normal about their emotions. All of them have some level of abandonment issues/lost-a-loved-one-itis and can no longer be normal about people they care about.)

Bumblebee recognizes what Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime) is doing. He knows that Optimus cares for him; he cares for him right back. Bee's not stupid, he knows that he's been getting some special treatment in the form of vaguely parental affection. And you know what? He likes it, a lot. He didn't get any growing up and now he's getting it from a guy he really looks up to, why would he pass this up. Bumblebee tries to return this affection he's being given in any way he can. He makes sure Optimus isn't overworking himself by visiting him while he's working, he makes sure Optimus is eating by inviting him to eat with him, he drags Optimus into the med-bay with him so he see's a medic every once in a while, he tries to make Optimus smile with his dumb jokes and antics, the whole kit and caboodle. Bee sees Optimus as some kind of parental figure, and he's going to make sure his newly acquired pop-pop is okay, just like he's doing for Bee. The Pop-Pop thing was a joke (Kind of). Why is he looking for cybertronian legal papers? That is none of your business, Bee just wants to see them for fun. No he's not drunk, the container of high grade started empty.

Life continues, Optimus (and Team Prime) continues to take care of Bee in his unknowingly parental way and Bumblebee is vibing with his newly acquired dad. It takes a while for anyone to acknowledge the new dynamic, Bumblebee just doesn't explicitly bring it up and Optimus hasn't pulled his head out of his suppressed emotion ass long enough to realize it. And keep in mind that Bumblebee is still an Adult and they are still technically coworkers, they still have a job to do, a war to win. Eventually though, maybe after the Autobots have left Cybertron, Optimus finally processes his emotions and realizes he see's Bee as family.

Optimus: Bumblebee, I care for you deeply, and I've come to see you as family.

Bumblebee: Aw, thank you! I consider you family as well. *Hands OP a data pad* In fact, you adopted me months ago.

Optimus (who did not sign any adoption papers at any time): I did what?

Bumblebee: I forged your signature.

At some point in the future, some guy is being a dick to Optimus, i don't really know what could happen, but Bumblebee steps in to defend Optimus with "That's my dad, you bitch!" and fucking slams the guy and Optimus is just standing there buffering, bc he's still getting used to showing and taking obvious affection and he approches Bee later to ask if he really considers Optimus as his dad. And Bee just kind of stares at him then points at the bumper sticker on OP's chest and says "yes, you idiot, I gave you that sticker for a reason" bc the sticker says "Worlds Best Dad" and it matches the "Worlds Best Son" sticker Bee got for himself and I'm rambling, I'll shut up now.

I made more

i did it again

[luke-hughes43]

hard to love | will and dani

dani is struggling learning how to be a girlfriend, let alone a good one, to will. on top of having some serious doubts about them being together given how different their personalities are.

also, this is gonna be so long and I kinda apologize for that

~

I am insensitive, I have a tendency, to pay more attention to the things that I need, sometimes I drink too much, sometimes I test your trust, sometimes I don't why you stay with me

will sees dani walking towards the library while he's on his way to get dinner with the boys. he smiles and jogs over, "hey baby."

"oh hey will. what's up?" dani says smiling at him.

will takes her hand, "you going to your study time?"

"yea. why what's going on?" dani asks. will shakes his head, "nothing. I just haven't really seen or heard from you today."

"oh, sorry. I got caught up in just everything today. look, I have a really important paper to write, but I promise to text you when I'm done and if it's not too late maybe we can get ice cream or frozen yogurt or something?"

"yea sure. I'm getting dinner with the boys but I wanted to see you. I'll see you later baby." will says and kisses dani's forehead before she walks away and into the library.

he walks to the dining hall where he was meeting ryan, gabe, and jacob a little defeated that dani kind of blew him off. it wasn't just that day that he'd hardly seen her, it had been a week.

I'm hard to love, hard to love, oh, I don't make it easy, and, I couldn't do it if I stood where you stood, I'm hard to love, hard to love, and you say that you need me, I don't deserve it, but I love that you love me good, mmm, yeah

(dani overhears a conversation of will's teammates talking about them being together and it gives dani doubts about being with will. and then a few days later, she overhears some of the lacrosse freshman saying the same thing.)

"how does smitty date lady duke? like she's just so cold and antisocial and kinda bitchy and he's this like happy-go-lucky, kid in a candy store kind of person. like doesn't he get tired of dealing with that?" Connor says to Timmy.

Timmy says back, "I don't know what he sees in her but he's in love with her. and from what Lenny was saying, he has been for like 2 years. I agree though, how is happy and smiley will smith dating cold and stone faced dani duke. like she doesn't even smile when she's with him. I don't think I could ever do that."

"no for real. like I will never understand what will actually sees in her."

dani walks away after that comment. she's hurt to hear what will's teammates think of her relationship with him. but she also doesn't think they are wrong, she knows that she's cold and doesn't show her emotions often but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel things for will.

~a few days later~

dani is about to get out of the shower in the locker room when she hears voices and her name. one of the freshman girls, ali, is saying, "god I wish I was dani and dating will smith. like he's so hot and have you those curls. to die for."

"for real. like what does will even see in dani? she's very closed off and to herself. like we play on the same team as her and she's always at all of the team bonding events and stuff but I feel like I don't know her. I don't even know what she studies. like how does something has friendly and extroverted as will date such an introvert like dani? what do they even talk about?"

"it could have something to do with dani's twin brother?" Molly says.

alexa questions, "dani has a twin brother?"

molly nods,"yea. his name is ty, he plays hockey at michigan with her older brother dylan. I did a little social media dive into all the girls when I committed. they are all over her instagram with her sister but there's no sign of will. how long have they even been together?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know until I heard gabe's girlfriend talking about a double date. like we barely know dani and we spend all of our time with her so like there's no way that will knows enough about her to date her. there's no way anyone knows enough of anything about her to date her. let alone say that they love her."

she hears enough of what they are saying and storms out of the locker room and locks herself in her dorm for the night. and all she can hear in her head is everyone saying how she doesn't deserve will and that her personality is too cold for him and all the reasons that she shouldn't be with him.

and she can't help but believe them so she cries herself to sleep just thinking about everyone being right and will breaking up with her because he starts thinking it too.

I am a short fuse, I am a wreckin' ball, crashin' into your heart like I do, you're like a sunday mornin', full of grace and full of Jesus, I wish that I could be more like you

since dani has overheard not only her own teammates, but also will's teammates, having doubts about their relationship. dani has been short with everyone. including eden. will knows that something is wrong with dani and is doing everything he can to get her to talk to him but she won't budge.

she's just been going to lift, then class, then practice, then the library, and then her dorm without really talking much to anyone about anything. she's even shut her phone off.

will is upset at dani for avoiding him so he waits for her outside one of her classes and basically ambushes her. he sees her walk out and goes over to her, "dani, what's going with you?"

"what are you talking about will?"

"you've been avoiding me, hell you've been avoiding everyone. so what's going on, how can I help?" will says while he softly grabs her hand and gives a gentle squeeze.

dani looks down and rolls her eyes before saying, "nothing is wrong, I just have a lot on my plater with playoff coming up. I know that you get that. I promise I'm fine."

"then why haven't I heard from you?"

"because I shut my phone off so I could focus on everything that I need to do. I've been spending a lot of extra time on the turf and in the weight room to get ready for post season. I'm sorry I haven't texted you or seen you for a few days, I've just really been trying to dial in." dani says somewhat lying through her teeth.

she has been trying to focus on playoffs and but also avoiding will because she doesn't want him to know that people think they shouldn't be together.

will sighs, "I do get it dani. it just feels like your using that as an excuse to avoid me. I'm not saying that it's true but that's just how it feels. and if I did something wrong, I wanna know so that I can fix it and make things right."

"you didn't do anything wrong will. I promise. and I'm not avoiding you, or at least not trying too. I'm just trying to not let my team down in the playoffs and bring the natty home. I'm sorry, if it seems like I am avoiding you." dani says making eye contact with will. she even goes up on her tip toes to kiss him softly.

will smiles, "it's ok dani. I get it. how about tonight, I come over at like 9 and we just hang out? no phones, no teammates, just me and you and netflix or something?"

"sounds good. I gotta head to the turf, but I'll see you later." she says smiling. she kisses him one last time before rushing off to practice once again.

will still feels like there's something off with dani but she obviously doesn't wanna talk about so he's not gonna force her too. he just goes to her dorm for 9 like they talked about and dani even cuddled into will despite hating being touched.

I'm hard to love, hard to love, oh, I don't make it easy, 'nd I couldn't do it if I stood where you stood, I'm hard to love, hard to love, and you say that you need me, I don't deserve it, but I love that you love me good, love me good

will has finally reached a boiling point of dani shutting him out so one night as she's getting back to her dorm, he says to her, "hey dani. we need to talk."

"what's wrong will?"

"not out here. in your dorm." he says and follows behind her up to her dorm room. once inside, dani asks, "what's so urgent that you ambushed me at my dorm building?"

"us, dani. I know that you've been saying how you're just trying to focus on playoffs lately and I'm not saying that you're lying but I know that you aren't telling me the whole truth. did I do something and you've been pushing me away while you figured out how to break up with me?"

"no. that's not it at all. like not even close." dani says shocked that will thinks she is gonna break up with him. that's the farthest thing from the truth. she's afraid that he's gonna break up with her. she then says quietly, "I've been pushing you away because I'm afraid that you're gonna break up with me."

"what? how could you possibly think that dani? I'm so in love with you and I have been since I first saw you 3 years ago." will exclaims a little hurt that dani thinks he's breaking up with her.

dani lets his words sink in and starts crying. it's the first time will has ever seen her cry. she says through her tears, "it's just, we're such different personalities and I know that everyone wonders how and why were together and what you see in me and sometimes I wonder too. because I know I'm not the happiest or friendliest person and that I can be a bitch to everyone, especially you. and you are just so nice and thoughtful and loving and one of the best people I've ever met and I'm scared that you're gonna realize everyone is right and that we shouldn't be together and break up with me."

will's entire body softens seeing dani break down. he says softly, "hey, that's not gonna happen. I'm not breaking up with you. not now, not ever. I love you dani, there's not a whole of things that you could do that would change that."

"but why do you love me? what's so lovable about me? I'm quiet, I keep to myself, I don't let anyone in, so how can you know that you love me when you barely know me?" dani forces out.

"because I do know you dani. I know that you're favorite color is black because it's a color that matches with anything, I know that you wear your hair in the exact same style for every single game because you think it's good luck, I know that eden is your best friend in the whole world because she is the first friend you made in michigan, you see cutter like another brother because he's dating eden and although you don't think anyone is good enough for her you know that he treats her right, I know that you look up to alyssa and treat isla like the little sister that you always wanted, and I know that you don't let anyone in but I also know that you let me force myself in. and I know that because there's no way I'd know all of that stuff if I didn't know you. and I know that if you didn't have any sort of feelings for me, you never would've let me take you on a date or be my girlfriend. I know you so well dani duke, and I love every single part of you." will explains to her as he cups her face.

dani looks in his beautifully blue eyes and just sobs. she chokes out, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry will."

he pulls her in for a hug and just holds her tight, "hey, shhh. it's ok dani. it's ok." he tries calming her down by rubbing her back or his fingers through her hair. it works a little bit but she's still crying pretty hard. he says softly, "baby, I need you to breathe for me. we're ok, I promise, I just need you to breathe dani."

"I'm sorry for pushing you away and thinking you were gonna break up with me." dani chokes out.

will makes her look at him and he says softly, "what made you think that I was gonna break up with you?"

"a few weeks ago, I heard your teammates talking about us being together and how they didn't know how you put with me and what you saw in me. and then a few days after that, a few of the freshman on the lax team were saying similar things and how I spend all this time with them and they barely know me so how can you know that love you me if my own teammates don't even know I have siblings. and it got all in my head and I started thinking that they might've been right." dani explains.

will sighs, "why didn't you tell me?"

"because I didn't want you to hear it and then agree and break up with me. because I didn't want them to be right or to cause any problems. it's your teammates and my teammates were talking about here. we spend so much time with them and so we can't have problems or issues."

"I don't care if they are on the same team as me. I love you and you're my girlfriend, they don't get an opinion on who I date. only I do, and I wanna be with you. I love you dani, and no one else."

"I know you do. and someday, I'll be ready to tell you the same but I'm just not there yet."

"I know. I can read you like an open book dani, I know how you feel and it doesn't matter if you aren't ready to say it yet. that's never gonna change how I feel." will says smiling at her.

she smiles back and hugs him tightly. she mumbles against his chest, "I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm just not good at this whole girlfriend thing."

"it's ok baby. and you need to give yourself more credit, you're a great girlfriend. I love you, and I know that you'll tell me when you're ready."

dani smiles and kisses him softly. will pulls away and says, "so how does watching a movie sound? unless, you need me too how you how much I really love you?" he smirks by the end of his question with an eyebrow raised.

dani smacks his chest playfully, "absolutely not. no sex until I win the natty. I gotta focus."

"you're joking?" he exclaims. dani playfully rolls her eyes, "it's 3 weeks, you can last. but a movie and maybe some cuddling sounds good." she says hopefully. he nods and they get in bed with a cheesy rom com that dani picked.

she falls asleep like 20 minutes in but will keeps the movie on in case she wakes up. he kisses her head and whispers, "I love you so much and I will do everything in my power to make you believe it."

[bullet-prooflove]

The Choice - Nestor Oceteva x Reader (feat: Miguel Galindo)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @lyly00 @oureternalbond  @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @trublu2u @@the-person-in-the-circle @thanossexual

Companion Piece to the Choices!Series

Nestor doesn’t expect company this late at night.

It’s a little past midnight and you’re already in bed, fast asleep. Despite the fact it’s been over eight months since your injury, you’re still recovering. You tire easily these days, he thinks it’s your body’s way of trying to get you to slow down, to settle, to take some time to find yourself. He smiles when he thinks about the languid kisses he’d stolen from your mouth as he undressed you, of your hands tangling in his hair as he plants kisses down the curve of your throat before he guides one of his t-shirts over your body.

You’re relaxed when he tucks the sheets around you, his palm smoothing the hair away from your face as his lips brush over your forehead. When you’re breathing evens out, he retreats to the kitchen, turning the music down low on the Alexa as he puts away the dishes.

When there’s a knock at the door, his gaze strays to his gun, resting on the sideboard near the front door. His fingers wrap around the grip, the weight of it feeling like an old friend in his palm. It’s only when he peers through the peephole and sees Miguel standing there, that he sets the weapon back down.

Even dressed casually Miguel looks like he’s stepped off the cover of GQ. He’s wearing designer jeans and a leather jacket that Nestor knows cost more than most of the furniture in the apartment. His hair is artfully tamed into that cross cropped side parting of his. Comparatively Nestor is wearing the faded grey Method Man t-shirt that David gave to him before he died and black boxers shorts, his hair is a mass of loose curls falling across his shoulders like a mane.

“Mikey?” he questions, holding the door open. He opens his mouth to say something else but already Miguel is striding past him like he owns the place. For the briefest of moments Nestor regrets letting the other man sign the lease as a guarantor.

 “I need to talk to you.” Miguel states as he deposits himself on the couch, his arm coming to rest upon the back of it. “I…”

He trails off and Nestor follows his gaze to the jar of multicoloured paper flowers perched in the centre of the coffee table. He watches as Miguel’s brows furrow into a frown before he gestures at the origami roses.

“Where did you get those?”

Nestor knows he’s at a crossroads and he only sees one path because he remembered that time, right back in the very beginning. The one when you were sitting across from Miguel, your hands working almost by compulsion as you folded and plucked at the delicate petals of a napkin. He remembers being captivated by it, the grace of your movements, the elegance in the finished product. It was something you did to keep your hands busy; you had explained to Miguel at the time.  

He doesn’t get a chance to answer because the bedroom door is opening and you’re standing in the doorway, rubbing the back your hand across your blurry eyes as you say.

“Are you coming to bed my love?”

It feels like he’s been handed a gun with a bullet in the chamber and asked to play Russian Roulette. Miguel’s head snaps towards you, his mouth setting in a firm line as he registers your attire. One of Nestor’s t-shirts and a pair of black cotton panties.

“How long?” Miguel asks his gaze darting back to Nestor.

Nestor shrugs because honestly, he doesn’t know. Your relationship isn’t linear, it’s a series of moments where the two of you exist in the same space. He doesn’t keep track of it the way other people do. There’s no six-month anniversaries, or Valentine’s Day dinners. There’s just the two of you, together, making the most of the time you have.

“You must have some idea.” Miguel says forcefully.  “Months?”

Nestor shakes his head; he knows it’s been longer than that. He thinks it might have been over a couple of years since you buried that body in the desert together.

“Around two years.” He tells Miguel honestly.

Miguel laughs and it’s bitter, Nestor can practically taste the sourness on his tongue as Miguel rolls his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for strength.

“So, it’s serious then?” Miguel questions, his eyes surveying the rest of the room. Nestor can tell he’s cataloguing all of the small personal touches you’ve added. The Aztec style blanket thrown over his recliner from where you’d fallen asleep reading earlier, your book – a feminist retelling of the Medusa myth set on the side table. His gaze lands on the wild flowers, those pretty dried blooms with those vibrant pops of colour and his jaw tightens. “Because it looks like you’re fucking living together.”

“I’ll give the two of you some space.” You begin, pulling the hem of the t-shirt down to cover your panties.

“Oh no.” Miguel says, gesturing for you to step out of the bedroom and join the conversation. “Let’s get this all out in the open, I want to know more about my friend’s paramour.”

“Mikey, this isn’t about her…”

“Of course, it’s fucking about her.” Miguel snarls, jabbing his finger in your direction. “You’ve let a fucking assassin into your life, into your home. I feel I should be conducting a fucking intervention.”

“OK so I feel like I need to be wearing pants for this conversation.” You tell the two of them.  Miguel waves his hand, dismissing you from the room. It’s only the look that Nestor gives you, that prevents you from biting back at the other man.

Let me handle this.

You comply with his wishes before heading into the bedroom to dress. By the time you return, the tension in the room has increased tenfold. You’re fully dressed with your go bag slung over your shoulder. You’ve packed a couple of clothes and a sudoku book because from the looks of it, this is going to take all night and you think its better you’re not in the vicinity because you still want to kill Miguel for the position, he put you in all those months ago and the expression on his face right now is equally as murderous.

“I am going to go,” You tell the both of them as you remove your leather jacket from the coat stand and pull it on. “Let the two of you talk.”

“You should stay.” Miguel says, his gaze on yours as he leans back into the couch, seemingly completely at home in his surroundings. “I want to know how you infiltrated my fucking head of security.”

It’s the ‘head of security’ part that does it. Not friend, not brother, not the man whose been by his side since he was a fucking teenager. The sheer fucking audacity of Miguel Galindo astounds you.

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” You snap at him, eyes blazing. “Infiltrate? He’s your fucking friend, treat him like one.”

A silence falls, your words hanging in the air as the two of you stare at one another. There’s a fury in this man, you can see it in the way his shoulders tense and those dark eyes fucking burn like coals as they bore into you. He forgets that you’ve met men far more dangerous than him, that they’ve had their fucking hands wrapped around your throat, that one tried to bury you alive in the desert once he was finished with you. You’ve lived your nightmares, surpassed your demons and you’ve come back from hell with a thirst for blood. Miguel Galindo may have done some nasty shit, but you’ve done worse.

It's the simple act of Nestor clearing his throat that diffuses your rage, it brings you back to the present, reminds you that this isn’t your fight. As much as you may hate Miguel, he’s an important part of Nestor’s life, you can’t just wipe him off the face of the earth no matter how much you may want to.

“Let me know where you land.” You say quietly to Nestor, your lips brushing his cheek before you close the door to the apartment quietly behind you.

He knows what you’re doing, you’re giving him an out. It shouldn’t have to be a choice, his lover or his friend but if it comes down to it you’re telling him you’ll bow out gracefully. If it needs to be one way or the other, you won’t fight him. It’s self-sacrificing bullshit, but it’s part of the reason he loves you. You’ve always had his best interests at heart.

“She’s right Mikey.” Nestor says finally as he sits on the edge of the recliner. “When’s the last time we actually talked?”

He watches the cogs turn in Miguel’s brain as he considers his words. He’s trying to pinpoint a time, a date, an event but it all comes back to the exact same thing. He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Nestor anything about his life.

“I guess we haven’t.” Miguel says, rubbing his palms over one another. “The last time we spoke about anything personal was Emily. We sat on the stairs at my house and you said ‘honesty buys honesty’. Do you still believe that?”

“I never lied to you Mikey.” Nestor tells him, raking a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t tell you.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie.” Miguel states accusingly.

Nestor shakes his head before inhaling deeply. He normally doesn’t have a problem keeping his temper but this shit right here, the hypocrisy of it…

It’s starting to piss him off.

“Then I guess it’s time for us to put a few things on the table.” Nestor says frankly as leans back in his chair. “You have questions, ask them.”

“Why?” Miguel shoots at him. “Why settle down now? Why with her? You’ve never wanted that before.”

Nestor sighs because that is to fucking far from the truth he isn’t even sure where to begin.

“It was never available to me before.” Nestor explains, his eyes meeting Miguel’s as he searches for the tiniest fragment of understanding. “You know how hard it is to maintain a relationship that’s built on secrets. You can’t let that person see that side of you, you can’t tell them what it is you really do. It tears you apart inside, it eats you up and eventually that relationship, it dies because there’s no trust.”

“You’re talking about me and Emily.” Miguel says, his gaze lowering to the wedding band on his finger as he rubs his thumb over the gleaming metal.

It’s then that Nestor loses his temper, because somehow, it’s happening again. Miguel is hearing what he wants to hear, twisting Nestor’s words to reflect on a situation in his life.

“No I’m talking about me.” He erupts, his voice raising as the frustration of what feels like decades surges through him. “About how I haven’t had a fucking relationship in years because it always ends the same way. Not everything is about you Miguel! You preach loyalty to your family, but I am your family and I have been nothing but loyal to you. I have killed for you, I have bled for you, I have protected the ones you love but there’s no space for me, not the way there used to be.”

“So what?” Miguel asked him, jabbing his finger at the jar of paper roses on the coffee table. “This is your way of proving a point?”

Nestor wants to scream, he can feel that urge brimming in his chest as he stares at the man he’s known for the majority of his life as if he’s never seen him before.

“The point is Miguel, that I found someone who makes me happy. Someone whose knows everything about me and accepts it, someone who loves me for me.”

“Who loves you?” Miguel laughs and the sound grates on every single one of Nestor’s nerves because it is so fucking dismissive. “What do the two of you even talk about? Top ten ways to torture someone? The type of knot to use when you’re staging a suicide. She doesn’t love you; she’s fucking using you!”

“Christ Mikey, it’s not fucking about you.” Nestor finds himself shouting. “You think we sit here and talk about the latest happenings in the Galindo Cartel? What you’ve been up to that day, who you’ve been seeing?  No we fucking don’t. We talk about books, about music, about life, about shitty normal things and the other crazy shit we get up to. You aren’t even a topic of conversation.”

Miguel looks at Nestor as if he’s slapped him, like he can’t comprehend that he’s not a factor in this relationship. Nestor hopes it fucking stings. He watches as Miguel leans forward, his hands clasped together as he speaks in a low authoritative tone.

“Nestor, I want you to be happy.” Miguel states. “Just not with a fucking woman, who can take a man apart like he’s a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop.”

“You’re not hearing me.” Nestor shakes his head vehemently.

“No, I am hearing you perfectly. You want to settle down, have the white picket fence and fuck out a bunch of babies that’s fine.” Miguel informs him, before using his palm to draw a line underneath the statement. “But this thing with her, I can’t have that. It’s too much of a distraction.”

“For you or for me?” Nestor asks cocking his head to one side. “You still have my loyalty Mikey, my relationship hadn’t effected my ability to do my job over the past two years and it won’t effect it now. You need to accept that this is happening, with or without your permission.”

He hears Miguel’s intake of breath, sees him recoiling because Nestor has just thrown down the gauntlet and he knows it’s the last thing that Miguel ever expected. He has never denied the other man anything but he won’t give up his shot at happiness, he’s not letting him dictate who he falls in love with. If it puts a target on his back so be it, the two of you can weather it. He’s done being the lap dog, the one that’s coerced into submission. He won’t let Miguel take you from him, not now, not ever.

Marcus’s words ring in his head, that warning from when he’s first found out about the two of you.

At some point you’re going to have to make a choice, Marcus had told him. And I pray for your sake you make the right one.

When it came to you there is no choice because he loves you with every single fibre of his being.

“Alright Nestor.” Miguel says as he raises to his feet, fixing the lapels of his leather jacket before he meets Nestor’s gaze. “You’re out. Effective immediately.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bleakmidwinter00]

The Last Gambit

Part 3

Robert sat there, the weight of the signed contract in his hands, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Alexa Martin.

She had outmanoeuvred him without him even realising it. Every moment of their conversation, every perfectly timed pause, every flicker of amusement in her sharp green eyes - it had all been part of her game, not his. He had walked into this evening assuming she was still deliberating, still sizing him up. But she had made her decision before he even arrived. His mind whirred with the realisation, replaying their exchange with new clarity. She wanted to see more of him. That’s what this was. Not about numbers or strategy - those had already been settled. This was about him.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught on until now? That irked him more than he cared to admit.

The soft click of heels against the polished floor pulled him from his thoughts.

He looked up, and there she was - calm, collected, amused.

Alexa took him in with a knowing look, her lips curving slightly as she settled back into the booth. Her gaze flicked to the papers in his hand before meeting his eyes.

"You’d made your decision before I got here?" he asked, voice smooth but edged with something unreadable.

Her smirk deepened as she took her wine glass, swirling it lazily before bringing it to her lips.

“Robert…” she said lightly, and he immediately noticed the drop in formality. No more Mr. Fischer, no more rigid pleasantries. Just his name, spoken with an ease that hadn't been there before.

She set her glass down, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him.

"I made my decision by the time I walked out of that boardroom." she admitted, her voice steady, deliberate. "I just wanted to see more of you. Outside your team, outside the work - before I gave you that."

Robert exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers once against the contract before placing it back into the envelope.

"Well." he murmured, leaning back slightly. "I suppose I should be flattered."

Alexa arched a brow. "You say that like you’re not sure whether you are or not."

He smirked, shaking his head slightly as he picked up his whisky. "Let’s just say I don’t usually like being a step behind."

“You want the truth?” She asked, her tone shifting slightly, into something softer. “It takes a lot for me to put my name to something. To go into business with someone. I have the luxury now of being…selective…” she took a drink.

“…about who I associate myself with. I don’t just look at figures, profit, reputation. I look at the person at the back of it all. Their values, their morals, their incentives and their limitations.” She paused, her green eyes steady on his. “I would have never entertained business with your father.” She stated, non-apologetically. “I’ve dealt with versions of him all my life. Men who patronise, who mansplain things to me. Who call me ‘sweetheart’ in the middle of a negotiation. But today, I kept waiting for you to follow that trend. To attempt to palm me off with cliched sentences. But you didn’t. You listened. You respected. So, when that contract came through with that additional clause, it reaffirmed what I’d already decided.”

Robert hadn’t expected this shift. Not after everything that had come before. Not after the power plays, the careful manoeuvring, the strategic back-and-forth that had kept them both at arm’s length, neither willing to give the other too much ground. But now?

Now, her tone had changed. Softer. Not weak, not uncertain - just less guarded. Robert, for the moment, said nothing. Because there was nothing to say. She wasn’t looking for sympathy. She wasn’t making a statement about gender, or power, or entitlement - she was just stating a truth that had shaped her. And he respected that. He finally leaned forward slightly, setting his glass down next to hers.

"And what had you already decided?"

Alexa’s lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t amusement this time. It was certainty. "That you were worth going into business with."

Robert held her gaze for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded. Slow. Controlled. Because that meant something. And they both knew it. However, he should have known it wasn’t going to end there. That she wouldn’t just hand him that moment, that admission, without something else attached. Something sharper. Something that reminded him exactly who he was dealing with.

Alexa leaned in slightly, her green eyes flickering with something unreadable, her fingers tracing the stem of her glass with deliberate ease.

“But…”

She let the word linger, just long enough for him to notice the shift - the slight change in her posture, the subtle edge returning to her voice.

“Don’t take my admission as weakness.” She warned. “I told you that because you should know why I do business the way I do.” she continued, her voice controlled, precise. “Not because I’m looking for sympathy. And certainly not because I need validation from you.”

Robert didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She had given him a rare insight into the battles she had fought to get here - but not because she needed him to acknowledge them. She didn’t want his reassurance or approval. She wanted him to understand - because understanding meant respecting, and respect was something she demanded, not something she asked for.

“I wouldn’t dare.” he said simply.

Alexa let the moment linger, watching him carefully, then finally, with the same effortless confidence she had carried all night - she lifted her glass one last time, the candlelight catching the deep crimson of the wine as she gave the smallest, most deliberate nod.

"Then we’ll get on just fine."

Robert exhaled through his nose, his smirk slow, satisfied, as he lifted his own glass in response. This - the mutual understanding - was the real deal. It wasn’t about power. It wasn’t about leverage. It was about trust. Not the blind kind. But the kind built on calculated decisions, mutual respect, and the absolute certainty that if either of them ever tried to screw the other over, it would end in mutually assured destruction. Alexa had chosen him. And Robert?

Robert had never been more certain that he had made the right choice in choosing her.

Alexa stood, her movements unhurried but decisive, gathering her bag and coat with the same deliberate ease she had maintained throughout the night. She didn’t rush to leave, but she didn’t linger either. This moment - this final move - was hers to control. As she rounded the table, Robert leaned back slightly, eyes following her every step, but his expression remained measured, controlled. She stopped just beside him, close enough that he could catch the subtle, intoxicating trace of her perfume - something sharp but smooth, sophisticated but bold.

"You’ll send me the details of when and where you need me.” she said, her voice firm but composed. A pause. Then - the smallest tilt of her lips. "My secretary will ensure my diary aligns as far as possible."

That part was purely for amusement. Robert smirked, knowing full well that Alexa Martin would never let anyone dictate her schedule unless she wanted to be there herself. She lifted a hand toward him. Not in formality. Not in habit. But in finality. A silent, binding agreement. Robert took it, his grip firm, his blue eyes burning into hers as their hands clasped. There was something unspoken in the way their fingers curled around each other - something solid, something real. Then, as smoothly as she had taken his hand, she released him - but not before one final move.

Her fingers trailed lower, effortlessly lifting his whisky glass from the table before he could react. Robert watched, entirely still, as she brought it to her lips and took a slow, steady sip. The burn of the whisky didn’t faze her. She set the glass back down, the faint imprint of her lipstick staining the edge, marking it. A claim. A parting signature. She met his gaze again, eyes glinting with a quiet, knowing amusement.

“Good choice of mine.”

And with that, She turned. And she left him there. Robert didn’t stop her. Didn’t call after her. Didn’t move for a long moment. He just watched her disappear into the night, the signed contract still sitting on the table, the taste of her calculated victory still lingering in the air. And for the first time in a long time, Robert Fischer had the distinct feeling that he had just met his match.

******

The weeks passed in a relentless cycle of meetings, negotiations, and plans being set into motion. The partnership between Fischer Morrow and Martin Equity Group had officially launched, and with it came a surge of movement on their joint venture. The development in Singapore had already been in motion before Alexa’s involvement, but since her investment, the project had escalated - faster timelines, increased resources, a wider scope of influence. Robert barely had time to process one meeting before moving on to the next. His days were a blur of high-level discussions, strategy briefings, and site reports. The weight of leading Fischer Morrow had never been light, but now, with another powerful entity at the table, the stakes felt different.

David Fleming, his Strategic Lead on the Singapore project, had been at the centre of it all. A sharp-minded tactician with a talent for logistics, he had been the one working through the contractors, timelines, and execution strategies. He had built the core team overseeing the development and had spent the last few weeks ensuring that every moving piece aligned. Robert sat at the head of the conference table now, his fingers laced together as he listened to David present the latest updates.

“The foundation work on Phase One is nearing completion.” David explained, gesturing to the detailed blueprints on the screen behind him. “We were slightly ahead of schedule, but there’s been some pushback from local vendors regarding procurement delays.”

Robert exhaled through his nose, leaning forward slightly. “How significant?”

David flipped a page in his folder, his expression unreadable. “Not enough to derail progress yet, but enough that we’ll need to rework some supplier agreements to keep things on track.”

Robert nodded, already thinking through possible solutions, but before he could respond, a voice cut in.

“We need to handle that now, not when it becomes a problem.”

The room turned as Alexa spoke, her tone composed but firm.

She sat across from Robert, her posture relaxed yet completely in control. The past few weeks had seen her seamlessly integrate into their high-level meetings, her influence undeniable. Despite the initial uncertainty among some of Fischer Morrow’s board members, she had proven exactly why she belonged in the room. David didn’t falter at her interjection - he had already learned that Alexa Martin didn’t wait for permission to speak.

“I agree.” he nodded. “I can escalate discussions with the contractors this week, but I’ll need leverage if we’re expecting them to expedite shipments.”

Alexa glanced toward Robert then, waiting. Robert met her gaze, the unspoken exchange between them almost second nature now. He exhaled, tapping a pen lightly against the table. “Fine. Loop me into the negotiations. I want direct oversight before we adjust anything with procurement.”

David gave a curt nod, making a note in his folder. “Understood.”

*****

The following week, Robert and Alexa found themselves once more in a room. As another meeting wrapped, the room began clearing and Robert’s team began to disperse. He noticed Alexa hadn’t moved. Hadn’t made any effort to pack away her laptop and papers. She sat back in her chair, her coffee in hand, her expression unreadable as her team packed up around her. She didn’t move, didn’t glance up, didn’t acknowledge the unspoken expectation that she should be following them out.

Her associates hesitated only briefly before taking their cue, exchanging a brief look before Darren finally asked, “Will we just meet you back at the office?”

Alexa nodded once, saying nothing more. And just like that, they left.

Robert stayed seated. Not because he had planned to. But because she hadn’t moved, and something about that told him there was more to come.

Wilson, who had been sitting next to him as normal, lifted his briefcase and glanced between the two. “Need me to stay Rob?”

Robert finally shifted, his fingers tapping idly against the table’s surface before he glanced up at his long-time advisor and shook his head. “No need.”

Wilson nodded, taking one final glance at Alexa before reluctantly making his way out the door, leaving the room in silence. And sure enough, as soon as the door shut behind him, Alexa leaned forward slightly, setting her coffee cup down with a soft clink against the table. Robert’s fingers stilled against the table as he watched her move. She stood and began walking toward the door, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She cracked it open just enough to glance down the corridor, her head tilting slightly as she scanned in both directions. Then, after a pause, she returned, slipping back into her seat across from him.

Something cold settled in his chest.

She wasn’t the type to be paranoid. If she was checking their surroundings, it was because what she was about to say demanded absolute discretion.

“Wilson.”

Robert’s brow flicked up at the name. His gaze instinctively shifted to the now empty chair on his left before returning to her. Alexa watched him, her expression sharp, assessing.

"Do you trust him?"

Wilson had been with Fischer Morrow for years. He had been his father’s right hand, and in the transition of power, he had been his -a steady, unshakable force beside him. He had seen Robert through the growing pains of stepping into the role, had kept him from drowning in the weight of a legacy he hadn’t been sure he wanted. But Alexa wasn’t asking the question lightly and he knew this wasn’t going to be good.

He didn’t answer at first. Because before he could, she reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. A simple, unmarked folder. One she set in front of him before flipping it open. Robert’s eyes dropped to the pages inside. For half a second, he only registered what he was looking at. He stared at the pages for half a second - just long enough to recognise his own firm’s internal reports, side by side with documents from another company. Emails between Wilson and multiple competitors. Then - he reached for them. His jaw tightened slightly as he flipped through them, scanning quickly, catching details he shouldn’t be seeing. Rival firm. Silent advisory partner. Meetings off the books.  Conflicts of interest. Numbers that should have never been shared.

Not just some leaked information. Not just a passing whisper in the wrong ear.

Wilson.

His second-in-command. The man who had stood at his father’s side for decades. The one who had guided him through the transition of power. Leaking internal documents. Advising a rival. Betraying him. The realisation hit hard. Robert had trusted him. Had leaned on him through the transition, had relied on him to help stabilise the shift after his father’s death. He pressed his fingers against the edge of the folder, closing it with a deliberate motion. Alexa sat back slightly, watching his expression shift, but not gloating. Not smirking. Not enjoying the revelation. Instead, she spoke evenly.

“I don’t tell you this for one-upmanship.” she said, her voice smooth but firm. “We’re a team now. A crack in your system is a crack in mine.”

Robert glanced up at her. She didn’t look away.

“I’m telling you because I trust you to handle it.” she continued. “And because I meant what I said at the start. I don’t just look at figures and profits. I look at people’s values, their morals.”

A pause. A pointed pause. She let her meaning settle.

“I don’t go into business with people without fully knowing the key players.”

Robert sat back slightly, the weight of the papers still in his hands, his mind already running through every move Wilson had made in the last few months. Every private discussion. Every deal that had stalled without reason. Every decision that, in hindsight, now made too much sense. 

Alexa continued, her voice lower now. Measured. Controlled. “It took me a bit of time to get enough together to bring it to you. I didn’t want to place doubt unnecessarily.”

Robert inhaled deeply, opening the folder once more and tapping the pages lightly against the table, organising them on instinct. His brain was already shifting - already moving from shock to strategy. He looked back at her, eyes sharp, but not angry. No - there was something else there now. Something deeper.

“You really don’t miss anything, do you?” he muttered.

Alexa smirked just slightly, but her tone remained serious. “I can’t afford to.”

Another pause. Another long, silent exchange of understanding.

“I know he… means something to you.” She spoke carefully.

Robert’s jaw tightened, his grip flexing slightly on the folder. The weight of it felt disproportionate to what it physically was - just a few pages of printed evidence, black ink on white paper. But in reality, it was heavier than anything else in the room. The pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t even realised was incomplete were now slotting into place, and he hated it.

Not because of the betrayal itself.

He had been in business long enough to know that loyalty was, more often than not, an illusion - something people preached right up until a better opportunity presented itself. He had dealt with deceit before, with corporate backstabbing, with people who said one thing and did another.

But Wilson had been his father’s right hand, the closest thing to stability Robert had inherited when he took over Fischer Morrow. The press had written their stories, their profiles on the “inner circle” that had kept him afloat in the wake of Maurice Fischer’s passing. And Wilson had been in that circle. He had been there, guiding him through the chaos, helping him find his footing when the weight of the company had landed squarely on his shoulders. And now, that foundation - something he had relied on, whether he admitted it or not - had fractured beneath him.

Now, he wasn’t sure what had been real, and what had been calculated. Alexa must have sensed the shift in his thoughts, because she didn’t leave. She didn’t pick up her bag or walk toward the door. Instead, without overthinking it, she stepped behind him. And placed a hand on his shoulder.

Warm. Steady. Grounding.

Robert tensed - just slightly, just instinctively - because it had been a long time since someone had touched him without expectation. Without intent. Then, just as quickly, his body relaxed. She didn’t say much. Didn’t fill the air with meaningless words of sympathy or false promises that it would be okay. She just said - softly, deliberately, sincerely…

“I’m sorry.”

And for the first time since she had dropped those documents in front of him, since she had forced him to see the truth that he had been too blind to notice. Robert believed her. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t react immediately. The warmth of her hand reverberated through his shoulder, the weight of her words still lingering.

I’m sorry.

Not for the deal. Not for the business.

For him.

For what she knew this revelation meant.

For what it would feel like when he had to face Wilson - someone who had been a fixture in his life for years, someone he had trusted, someone he had defended - and accept that their loyalty had never been to him. Alexa didn’t wait for a response. She gave his shoulder a small, gentle squeeze - a brief but undeniable acknowledgment of the moment - before stepping away. She moved back to her chair with her usual grace, but there was something softer in the way she sat down this time. Not calculated. Not sharp. Just…there. She reached for her coffee cup, absently staring into it for a second before setting it back down again. Then, her voice was lighter, a quiet shift, as though giving them both permission to pull away from the weight of what had just passed between them.

"Do you want a real drink?"

Robert finally exhaled. A breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He turned his head slightly, looking at her across the table, the exhaustion in his features momentarily eclipsed by something else. Something close to relief. Because she wasn’t offering sympathy. She was offering normalcy. A reset. A chance to regain his footing before he did what needed to be done. Robert’s lips twitched, just slightly. He dragged a hand down his jaw, exhaling through his nose.

“I think…” he murmured, finally looking up at her, really looking at her, “that’s the first good idea I’ve heard all day.”

Alexa nodded in understanding and stood smoothly, gathering the papers with the same quiet efficiency she brought to everything. There was no lingering over the moment, no heavy sighs or weighty pauses. Just practicality. Because what was done was done.

And Robert appreciated that. He didn’t need a conversation about how he felt. He just needed a drink.

“Come on.” she said, slipping the last of the documents back into the folder. “There’s a decent bar down the street.”

Her voice was lighter now, a shift away from the hard truths and into something easier. Not avoidance, just…a necessary transition. She turned toward him, file in hand, and held it out. “I’ll leave this with you?”

A question, but not really. This wasn’t her mess to clean up. She had brought him the truth, but what he did with it now was entirely his call. Robert stared at the folder for a brief second before taking it. His fingers pressed against the thick paper, the weight of betrayal still heavy in his grip. But for the first time since she had dropped it in front of him - he wasn’t thinking about Wilson. He was thinking about her. About the fact that she hadn’t needed to tell him this. That she had done it anyway. Because despite everything - despite the tests, the posturing, the negotiation battles, she was on his side.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders back slightly as he stood. "Let’s go.” he said simply, tucking the file under his arm.

Alexa nodded once, then turned toward the door.

***** The walk to the bar was silent. Not uncomfortable - just silent. The kind of silence that carried weight but didn’t need to be filled.

Robert kept pace with Alexa as they moved through the city streets, the night air cool but not biting. The world around them continued as if nothing had shifted, as if the foundation of his reality hadn’t cracked just an hour ago. But inside his mind, the gears were still grinding, still turning over Wilson’s betrayal, still piecing together what came next.

Alexa didn’t push him to talk. She didn’t try to fix it. And for that, he was grateful.

When they finally arrived at the bar - a sleek but understated place tucked away from the corporate circuit - she stepped inside first, scanning the space with her usual assessing gaze. Then, without turning to face him, she tipped her head toward the back.

“Go get a booth.” she said smoothly. “I’ll get the drinks.”

Robert arched a brow slightly but didn’t argue. She didn’t ask him what he wanted. Didn’t wait for him to rattle off a preference. Because she already knew. He let out a quiet exhale, rolling his shoulders slightly as he made his way toward the back of the bar. The dim lighting softened the atmosphere, and the low hum of conversations buzzed around him as he found a booth in the corner, away from the main traffic of the room. He slid into the seat, rubbing a hand down his jaw as he settled in. The tension in his body hadn’t fully dissipated - not yet - but it was easing, if only slightly. As he leaned back against the leather, he glanced up just in time to catch Alexa at the bar. Even from here, she was impossible to ignore. She stood with unshakable confidence, exchanging a few quick words with the bartender. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. She knew exactly what she was ordering. Robert exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming lightly against the table as he watched her.

She was different.

Not softer, not kinder - but realer in these quiet moments.

And as he waited for her to return, for the inevitable conversation that would follow, one thought settled deep in his mind. He hadn’t just gone into business with Alexa Martin. He’d let her in. And he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

A few minutes later, he watched as Alexa returned to the table, her movements smooth but there was something intentional in the way she placed the drinks down. Not just the whisky she knew he’d drink. Not just her wine, but his eyes shifted over the two small shot glasses that accompanied them.

Robert’s eyes flickered for a second as she slid his whisky over to him, then took her wine, settling back into the booth with the same composed ease she always carried. Then, with a knowing smirk, she pushed the shot glass toward him, holding onto her own.

“Sometimes.” she murmured, watching him, “situations like this call for hard liquor.”

The words weren’t flippant, and they weren’t dismissive. She wasn’t trying to make light of what had happened earlier, of what he had just learned, of the trust that had just been shattered in his own office. She was purely trying to give him something he rarely had…a break. A moment of levity. She watched him carefully, waiting to see if the tension in his shoulders would ease. The finally, he cracked a smile. It was brief, but real.

Robert barely had the shot glass in his hand before Alexa’s voice cut through the space between them, smooth and unapologetically direct.

“It’s a tomorrow problem, Robert.”

It was simple. Straightforward. And exactly what he needed to hear. He had been holding onto it all since she’d placed the folder in front of him. The betrayal, the weight of what he had to do next, the realisation that someone he had trusted had been playing both sides. It had been clawing at the edges of his mind relentlessly, pressing down with the familiar pressure of responsibility, expectation, damage control. He looked up at her as her gaze fixed on him, unwavering, and with the clink of their glasses, he realised he had one moment where he didn’t have to fix everything right away.

"Tomorrow problem.” he murmured, almost to himself. Then, with a small, almost non-existent smile, he knocked back the shot.

[polyhedralmice]

I just signed up for the Shit or Get Off the Pot game jam on itch.io that challenges participants to design and publish 10 1-page solo ttrpgs in the month of May. I’ve already got a list of random ideas going for when the jam starts on May 1st. The (growing at an alarming rate) list includes:

- playing as the Angel AND the Devil on someone’s shoulder

- Mapmaking?

- Yahtzee style dice pool

- Playing cards/tarot cards

- A non d6 or d20 game

- Weird west?

- Travel based

- Field journal

- Radio/radio station themed? Cassettes? Mixtapes? (Use Spotify playlist? Supply Spotify playlist?)

- All the oracles

- Fate hack

- Superhero insurance agent

- Build a drum solo/guitar solo

- Dice stacking mechanic (d6s) (dice pool, when you fail you lose the die from the pool when it gets stacked. A game of inevitable failure.

- Build a Frankenstein-y monster

- Word association

- Choose your own adventure/flow chart

- Alexa keeps getting weirder (misinterpreting requests etc) Eldritch Alexa (Cthulhu?)

- Something that involves coloring shit in

- Word bank- connect the dots (words) to tell a story (include a bunch of versions for replayability )

- One-up (having to build upon the last turn with something bigger and better until there’s just utter chaos)

- Gardening (pollinators?) (set collecting) (do something/take an action, this lets you roll, you’re trying to compete something-a garden maybe?)

- Rock paper scissors combat

- Dungeon maze (play phase 1 as the lich who’s laying out all the traps and shit and play phase 2 as an adventurer trying to get the prize in the center. Phase 2 on a timer maybe?)

- You’re a villain in an Agatha Christie style murder story- plan your crime (motive, means, opportunity, victim, red herring, the twist, etc).

- A pirate burying treasure

- You play each member of a group of people trying to operate a mecha

- Roll and write

https://itch.io/jam/shit-or-get-off-the-pot

[diomedrian]

I do have to admit these summer breaks, however long, made me more comfortable as a person and now I have 379346 facial expressions and LOTS OF HAND MOVEMENTS and clearly very loud (working on that) but also just as welcoming and I don't know how to feel bout that because really, I wanted to be a brooding, in the background sort of person that looks like she reads philosophy and history for fun and knows a lots of languages because I do but instead I am a walking meme that no one understands

[the-fangirl-diaries]

92 Thoughts I Had While Watching: A Royal Affair (2012)

Guess I’m learning Danish now. 

I have a bad feeling about this ending. 

Been engaged since she was a child, eh? 

Oh, some of it’s in English. 

Hiding behind a tree? How old are you, 12? 

A little socially awkward, but he’s trying, I guess. 

Isn’t he your cousin? 

The town’s a bit of a fixer upper. 

Aww, doggo! Doggos make everything better. 

Oh, no. Politicians. 

Okay, apparently she’s the Queen Dowager. 

Books under Danish censorship? Guess I’d better throw mine out. 

Girl! You’ve barely known him for a day! 

And she plays piano, too? I say she’s a keeper. 

What? You don’t like it?! 

“Move your fat little thighs?” ~ An actual quote. 

“Oh, so you humiliate me and now you wanna--?” ~ Caroline, probably. 

And next thing you know, he’s with someone else. Figures. 

And she’s pregnant. 

“A true queen delivers with silence and dignity.” ~ An actual quote. 

“ARE YOU PUSHING THIS BABY OUT? I DON’T THINK SO!” ~ Caroline, definitely. 

Wait, as soon as she gives birth, you leave for a year? Nice. *eye roll* 

Apparently believing in equal rights is wrong. 

You don't need a doctor, eh? Good sir. Your mood swings say otherwise. 

How to earn my trust and friendship: quote books.

Yes, make sure the dog is taken care of. 

The dress she's wearing looks like Elizabeth Swann's. 

“You want them to cheer or you'll jump in the canal? Okay, who's stopping ya?” ~ Johann, maybe. 

The king published a poem about the size of someone's derriere? M’kay. 

Look, in his defence, I'd be crazy signing papers all day, too. 

Hi. The only word I understood.

Taking a detour, are we, your majesty? 

She's not your mother! If she were, she would slap you.

Fencing? This just got interesting. 

Forget Grey’s Anatomy. There’s a hot doctor right here. 

Yes, my mood definitely needs improving. *wink wink* 

And you share a love of books and travelling the world? Soulmates! 

That awkward moment when you take your patient riding in the country air and you see a dead man on a wooden horse. 

I think if an expert in the field suggests something, like, say, a cure for a deadly disease, you'd do well to hear him out. 

So the cure worked and you need to administer it in hospitals but you're all worried about money? 

Sitting on a bench together unchaperoned while talking about life. Very romantic. 

‘Two bros, one in a bathtub, and one sitting down, cause they're not gay.’

You don't want your town smelling like waste? Seems like a good law. 

Making doggo an honorary member of the council? Again, good idea. 

Boy, I wish they still had balls and galas nowadays. 

The. Flirting!! The. Eye. Contact. 

They were worried about the age difference. Where is it? I don’t see one. 

She wants you to come to her chambers? For what – oh. OH!!! 

Wow, that was…. okay. I need some water, stat! 

They want Smallpox inoculation? Carriages to drive people who've had too much to drink? A home for orphaned children? Better treatment for peasants? Honestly, these are perfectly reasonable laws, so why are the council rejecting them?

 Of course they want to conspire against the doctor because he has good ideas and because he's German? I didn’t think that sort of thing started for a few more centuries. 

 Yes! Good for you for standing up for yourself and your friend. 

Um, you're just gonna smell the sheets? Not what I would do, but sure, whatever. 

A new TLC show: I'm Pregnant With the King's Physician's Baby. 

Hide the evidence by sleeping with him. Good plan, other than he doesn't like sleeping with her because of….er…issues. 

Hey, Alexa: Play Tango de Roxanne. 

Oh, so there is a problem with money. I thought it was an excuse. 

Of course the Dowager thinks something's up. And of course the maid who smelled the sheets is going to tell on them. 

Baby's coming!!! 

“We’re a family now.” ~ Caroline, actually. 

*Hits stop* Aww, what a great movie! Time to --

Oh, no. There’s more. *sighs and sits down again.* 

No one’s gonna take the child. This isn’t The Light Between Oceans. 

Yes, Your Majesty, you should stay in the castle until the fire dies down. 

A little boy who escaped a Dutch Trade ship? I forgot it was this time. 

The people are suggesting he’s poisoning the king? What do they know? 

Poor woman hasn’t slept in days, but 

Awww, he’s going to take care of her. 

ALRIGHT, I SEE THE MADS APPEAL NOW! 

YOU TOOK A BLOOD SAMPLE OF HIS - UH, YOUR DAUGHTER? 

YES! Protective Mama Bear mode activated!! 

Family dinner, yay. 

So we’re all hugs now? Great. 

Lady, you’re taking this way out of hand. 

Now everyone wants Johann dead? *groans*

The king may be immature, but he won’t betray his friend. 

Don’t listen to them, no one’s planning on murdering you! 

Hold on, Isn’t that Johann’s friend who’s telling him? 

Yes, come bang on the door and scare the baby, why don’t ya? 

Caroline crying makes me wanna give her a hug. 

She’ll never see her son again? 

So torturing a man for days will get you the answers? 

The king wants to pardon you. 

PLEASE LET THIS ENDING BE HAPPY! 

Or not. *cue ugly crying*

EXCUSE ME! DID YOU JUST CALL THE BOY THE ‘N’ WORD?! 

Have I ever told you how much I wanna slap you? 

What do you mean you’ll see her again soon? 

GREAT, SHE’S DYING, TOO! *More crying* 

The son inherited his father’s temper? Oh, goodie. 

Then again, he was old enough to remember what happened, so I guess I can’t blame him for being angry and hurt. 

The laws were reinstated? Good. 

Well, that certainly was a roller coaster! Probably should have stuck with the happy ending, but I was feeling bold today. Bad decision, me thinks.

[nymphacae]

A LEGEND in the Rymin fic community loves my fics?? I’m gonna cry /lh /gen

Also might I ask what your headcanons for the silly lil guys are? It’s always interesting to hear how other people interpret these lovable music dweebs.

ahhh i have a LOT of headcanons and it feels like a lot of them vary based on which AU/story i'm working with, hc's are a lot like trying on clothes at thrift stores for me — sometimes you just wanna try a new one out for size and think 'hm!' @ the mirror, it's what makes community engagement so much fun imo !

but i will ATTEMPT to narrow down some of the constants i find when working with rymin and ones that aren't, yknow, confined to specific AUs — although i'm sure if you're familiar with paper trails, you know some of these already lmao

RYAN

HE LOVES REPTILES. You HAVE to know this about me by now but i push ryan lizard propaganda like my life DEPENDS on it!!! He loves bearded dragons in particular – his favorite girl is named Spitfire and she’s a proud lesbian (min in the bg telling ryan to stop pushing a sexuality on her, but he’s ignored). But he loves snakes too, and spiders and lizards…I imagine he names them all after musicians for funsies, spitfire just happened to break that code for me bc i liked the name too much lol

Second thing people probably know about me is how hard i push anti-beatles ryan akagi bc it’s true

He picked up a habit of smoking on the road and he’s since then quit – going cold turkey after getting abducted by a train will tend to break that habit

His sibling’s names, in order, are Alexa, Miya, Ethan, and Eikoh. Both his sisters kinda had to mother him; though he’s closest to Miya (who’s an interior design/textiles major, also engaged) bc Alexa had a severe case of eldest daughter syndrome and it made her pretty snippy – she also fled the nest the second she could and only really calls to yell into the receiver about her job and secret girlfriend

Ryan’s a Schrodinger’s Gender situation for me, so it fluctuates often just based on what story i’m telling. In the AUs/stories where he’s transmasc, ryan names himself after a homeless guy named Ryan who’d sit outside his family’s local supermarket and play a sick riff. One day baby ryan spotted him throw a banana peel at a police officer was chasing him (for dignity’s sake, he always tells friends he was just inspired by ryan roxie, the guitarist)

(also in these AUs, he has insanely intense cycles due to the cursed cocktail of anemia/endometriosis, which leads to minor complications when he’s on the road and can’t afford T/birth control anymore. It’s a whole Thing, he had to be hospitalized for it at age 13 and the doctors basically shrugged, as doctors do. I’ve wanted to explore this caveat before but never found the time, oh well)

also shoutout to prism who engraved 'pt ryan transfem' into my brain you were so real for that

his specific mental diagnosis is also a roulette wheel based on what story im working with, shrug. idk who said that min is adhd in an autistic way and ryan is autistic in an adhd way, but whoever said that changed my life so ty and you're right!! i also lean towards him having/on the watchlist for forming bpd - looking back on pt i believe he showed signs of bipolar disorder

Tulip and Ryan are bffs. I’m not budging on this. They make friendship bracelets and play mario kart and sing karaoke and ryan does her hair bc lake won’t do Femme Things™ with her anymore and they love each other SO Much

Ryan’s acespec; I touch on this whenever I can, but this plays a Big role in his relationship with the music industry. Sex Drugs And Rock N’ Roll is a subculture he could never fit into for a plethora of reasons, and it was another way he felt isolated while going solo due to all the aggressive expectations. He’s sex-POSITIVE, bc it’s important to me to shed the stupid ‘asexuals are all sex-repulsed puritans’ agenda i see being spread sometimes. He thinks it’s fun, and with the right person it is!

He's the one who gets carsick/boatsick and is terrified of flying

He's really into boozy cocktails but he'll pretend he isn’t — he likes tequila and vodka which is funny bc i picture his favorite drink to be like a hurricane or sex on the beach

He's lost a lot of friends by reviewing their mixtapes

He really gets into making pastries and desserts farther down the line! Depending on the timeline this could be a hobby encouraged by a therapist or just an interest he picks up naturally, with min always finding comfort in food and cooking himself

MIN-GI

His mom’s name is Soo-yeon and his dad is Tae-hyun. He visits Jeju-si in the summer since his mom has two sisters living there

Min loves helping his mom around the kitchen/folding laundry. His parents have a huge garden out back with flowers and some veggies, and he likes harvesting from there when his mom lets him (she’s very picky about who touches her flowers!)

Plants are min’s comfort item; they’re basically to him what reptiles are to ryan! He’d cover the entire van/flat with them if he could, he loves succulents in particular and he likes to sing to them

He’s a HUGE dog person!! Whenever he’d come visit the Akagi’s he’d make an IMMEDIATE beeline for the family dog; however when his mom bought a Pomeranian to cure her empty nest syndrome, he despises it (for comedic purposes he only addresses his mother's dog as The Dog)

He leans more on the side of whiskey in drinks; he also likes gin. His taste in alcohol is definitely WAY stronger than ryan’s, less diluted with flavors, but both have the same level of tolerance. he enjoys a good sazerac

He’s a dark chocolate kinda guy

He won the spelling bee in grade four

Once he travels with Ryan and becomes more comfortable with his identity, I think he'd experiment with gender and appearance. while i enjoy seeing gender hc's for My Lads, for me and my writing it's nice to work with a min-gi who embarks on a gender journey and comes back deciding he likes being a cis guy just fine. not that this affects him playing with makeup or clothes lol, also if he were to wear skirts at all they'd be long and loose

Wherever I can apply it, Simon and Min are always gonna be roommates who are stuck in a perpetual loop of basically reenacting that always sunny ‘mac and dennis move to the suburbs’ episode

He looks up to Grace a lot; she’s kinda The Mentor Friend who intimidates you just enough for you to get your shit together, and outside of Kez he'd consider Jesse his closest friend

He loves cooking! He likes making hearty meals for his friends, and he especially enjoys teaching them how to cook if they’re curious

Big ol ADHD mess over here, an icon

He’s the one that most comfortable with his identity, which is very funny to me seeing how he’s the one that casually accepts ‘queer’ as his label while Ryan keeps picking terms out of a hat and then furiously stomping on the slip of paper lmao. Mins just chillin, he likes who he is and he’s not about to challenge that 🤷‍♀️

FOR BOTH:

-ryan's got the cold hands and min's got the warm hands

-they’re both qpps with kez bc it’s important

-min's the one who chugs down coffee like it's water, and ryan likes fancy coffees, but he's more of a tea person lmao (lots of sugar though)

-they both have bad tattoos

-in modern era, they’d do the neurodivergent Thing of assigning everyone they know pokemon teams – they’d be HUGE pokemon fans and would trade cards/art all the time (to discuss their pokemon teams with me would initiate an entirely different conversation……..)

-i've gotten into Agree To Disagree disputes with mutuals over this but i stand by 'min's the one with the 13-in-1 wash and ryan has 12 different hair care products' bc Neurodivergence(tm)

-they both smoke weed and will ruthlessly roast your spotify playlists

I’m hosting a friend rn so uhhh hopefully this suffices

[diegos-butt]

Professor Syverson.

Professor Syverson x you

Part 2. Continuation of this hihi. But could be read alone I guess?

Warning: Yes. Just yes. Mention of oral (f receiving) kinda nervous to post this cuz I never written anything smutty before😳

Wordcount: 1.2k

A/N: could not let this go. So, part 2! 👀

•••

The last two weeks had been torture. Sitting in professor Syverson’s class twice a week, but never having a chance to see him after class like the first time. That time, he had made sure there were new marks on your body and you had been sore for days. Never you could look at that desk in the lecture hall the same ever again.

Right now, you were looking at that exact same desk. Professor Syverson was explaining something, but you weren’t paying attention at all. All you could think of was the way he had bend you over that desk.

Suddenly the students around you started packing their bags. Hopefully you look at the front of the lecture hall, but hope soon vanished as you noticed multiple students lining up in front of the desk, eager to ask professor Syverson questions. Signing you collected your belongings, and started to leave until you heard a deep voice calling your last name.

“I need to see you in my office. I have a few questions about your assignment. Meet me there in 30,” professor Syverson said. The mischievous look in his eyes told you he had no questions about the assignment at all.

“Yes professor,” you replied quickly. Hastily you left the room, and followed your friends outside.

The next 30 minutes went by slowly, too slowly. You sat outside, in the sun, with your friends. You were happy you decided to wear a sundress that day. Well, you had decided to wear dresses the days you had his class. To tease him.

Usually you sat in the far back of the lecture hall, but no, not in his class. The second time you had his class, you sat at the front, in your dress. Making sure he had a good look of your lacy panties every now and then. Professor Syverson had glared at you for that, almost scolding you with that look. But it was precisely the reaction you were hoping for.

Maybe today you had reached the limit, and he was about to do something about your teasing. That was all you were hoping for. With all the assignments and things you had to do, all you wanted was to let him rail you good. To let go of all the stress and tension. He was the only one capable of that.

You said goodbye to your friends and quickly made your way to his office. You knocked on the thick wooden door twice, and heard a muffled ‘yes’ as a reaction.

“You wanted to see me professor?” you said as you opened the door and walked inside. The musky scent of the old furniture and books mixed with professor Syverson’s cologne and sweat filled your nostrils.

“Come in and close the door.” You closed the door behind you, and was about turn around to face him when professor Syverson continued speaking. “Lock it.”

Goosebumps spread over your body while You quickly locked the door. You turned around and looked him in the eyes. His pupils were dark and he was breathing heavily. He was sitting in a large brown leather chair, legs spread wide, hands resting on his thick thighs.

The sight of him made you nearly moan, but you suppressed it by biting your lower lip. You stood in front of his desk, dropping your bag to the floor.

“You had questions about the assignment I handed in the other day, professor?” you asked, empathizing on professor. You knew he didn’t call you in here for the assignment, yet you choose to tease him a little bit.

“I said, come here,” he stated sternly. Slowly you walked around the large desk, noticing it had been cleared of papers and clutter. You came to a stop in front of him, filling the space between his spread legs. A shiver ran down your spine as he looked you up and down.

“You started wearing these dresses on purpose to my class aren’t you? You thought I wouldn’t notice?” Professor Syverson said and played with the hem of your dress.

A grin formed on your face, and you tried to look away from his piercing eyes.

“Eyes over here sweetheart,” he said and with one smooth movement he stood up. Trapping you between his chest and the desk. His hands around your waist, your hands found their way to his chest. Professor Syverson was wearing a white dress shirt, it was a bit too tight but that’s how you liked it.

He lifted you up, so you were sitting on the desk. A small gasp left your mouth, which made him grin. His mouth was inches away from yours, you thought he was about to give you a mind blowing kiss until you two were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Professor Syverson? Do you have a moment? I’d like to discuss the work of a student,” Professor Stuart said from the other side of the door.

A heavy sigh left professor Syverson mouth. You could see he was annoyed. “Come back in an hour, I’m in an important meeting.”

Professor Stuart muffled an ‘okay’, and you two heard footsteps shuffle away.

Professor Syverson had rest his hands on your thighs, unaware of the pressure he was giving. He was kneading the soft flesh of them roughly, like he needed a way to let go of his annoyance. You made soft whimpers, making his eyes shot up.

Professor Syverson sat down again, taking his hands of your thighs, and grabbed one of your feet instead. Not very gracefully he took your sneaker off, and the other as well. He threw them on the floor and placed your feet on his thighs. His hands slowly travelled their way up from your calves to your thighs.

The air in the room was thick, silent, but full of desire. His chest puffed up and down, and you could tell this man was not going to be patient with you for much longer.

“The reason I called you in here is ‘cause I’m hungry. So be a good girl, and let me take those panties off,” he growled. You bit your lower lip, and nodded. Professor Syverson hands found the waistband of your panties, ripped them down your legs and put them in his pocket.

His warm hands spread your thighs, giving him a good look of your wet slit. You were basically dripping on his desk.

“Well, you better start eating if you don’t want me to spill it on your desk,” you said.

“Good thing I’m starving,” he replied and started placing kisses on your thighs. He reached higher and higher, leaving you desperate for more.

“Please,” you panted.

“Easy sweetheart, this meeting is supposed to last an hour. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum with my mouth,” he grinned.

The mischievous look in his eyes and smug grin told you he wasn’t kidding. No, he was going to me sure you would not be able to walk straight of out his office. You might need to hide under his desk for the rest of the day.

Before you knew it, professor Syverson was dealing with his appetite and you were making a mess of his desk and beard.

•••

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[elegyforiphigenia]

ALEXA, PLAY 'THE CULT OF DIONYSUS' – or, an alternative way to enter the world of the burnt city via dionysian ritual.

You tap your feet uncertainly on the pavement, shielding under the thin sliver of roof jutting out from the building. Behind you, a queue is beginning to gather, mumbling their way through slapping on facemasks and shuffling for tickets. Some of them offer knowing looks to others, the air of past experience colluding between them; the scent of hidden fragrance a codeword. Others scrunch their noses, a bit of trepidation simmering as they look at the barriers erected, cordoning visitors into their respective queues. The barriers are woven with ivy, threads of green lusciousness a needed contrast to the constant concrete city intruding wherever you turn. It is the slightest breath of green, but you like it – even if you are a little confused at the imitation flames burning away at intervals between sections of the barriers. Undoubtedly, it offers up anticipation into your soul. Even so, the whole sight, slight as an offering as it may be, does creep further pressings against your heart. A squirming worms into you. To alleviate this a little, you dig into your pocket, unfurling your ticket. Checking the rules, the terms and conditions, all the bits and pieces orderly and informative, it calms you. Just like the orderly queues and cordons, there is rules. You breathe.

There’s a slight incline in the path as you enter. All seems normal enough, even if the faux flames do continue, and you swear that a woman behind you is doing some strange little gesture as she walks, flicking her head backwards every so often. Shaking your head, a chuckle slips out, bemused at the snippets of strangeness amongst otherwise normality. Small things continue: when you pass your bag across to the cloakroom, you are thanked – informed that one of the first steps is to offer up your worldly belongings, a signal of your devotion to the experience ahead. Choosing to forgo the toilets for the time being, you are directed to a man holding a box filled with…sticks. Like wands made of reed, and there seems to be a selection of boxes with similar ones – though each box contains a different flower topping the stick. Tentatively taking yours, the man whispers to you that yours is poppy, and you must hold onto it, for this will be your key to entering. In you step, into a room emblazoned with signs suggesting this brave new world to be a place named Peep. Posters dotted around indicate various guest performers; one of these is Pan, a name thrumming with recognition. Exploring before your poppy is called, you explore a little. On one of the walls is some framed photos. Peering at the writing underneath, it tells you in good calligraphy that it is of two other names you recognise – Dionysus and Ariadne. On some tables, there is paper, with small details regarding incidents such as the sacrifices of names like Iphigenia, Polyxena, and Polydorus - the murders of some men - and other snippets of information about various people.

Waiting for something you've nervous longing for as much as this is a torment surely designed for residents of Tartarus. However, music is beginning to play all around. Not the sort you expected; drums and pipes are the instruments, a warbling running its mouth off. You do not have time to get accustomed to it. One of the lucky ones, entering first, poppy is called, and you stroke your way through some half-hearted attempts at nature scattered around the bar. When it seems all those clutching poppy are past a thin cordon of vine, and into a small black room, a man begins the first spiel you will hear that evening: Mircea Eliade once spoke that through ritual, man detaches himself from profane time and magically re-enters the Great Time, the sacred time. Even now man seeks to excavate the past and step back through the hourglass till we will find ourselves in that sacred time, that time of gods. Though I must warn you – the gods have their demands, and if we are to attempt this ritual, you must follow theirs. Though we shall follow principles of Dionysus, we must ask you to obey some opposing thoughts provided by Apollo: there is an order and structure to be adhered to.’  A few of these things are outlined, and you nod attentively. They continue. ‘We will ask you to remain masked throughout your experience. If you are lucky enough to enter that which we desire, you will be thankful of these white masks. And we make one final request: Be brave. Fortune favours the bold.’  You take your mask as it is passed to you, a white one, and as florals start to swim into the room, you are reminded of plague masks. There is purpose in those. There is purpose in these. Fingering the red string – Ariadne’s string, you think, proud of yourself for your classical knowledge – you are transformed. You are brave. The man sends you forward into a new room; stamping a stave, as he names it, onto the ground, he slams the door shut once all are in.

Two people ahead of you and your fellow initiates in a long room. Both are draped in long white cloaks, and though you are not entirely confident in your guesswork, you think a sort of animal skin is layered over it. Their hair is woven with ivy. Beneath those odd garbs, the dress of each is different; one wears a jacket and sleeves, red string round their wrist whilst the second is in tight black leather. Each carries a tray, upon which is numerous little goblets. Similar music to the bar plays, growing louder and more manic as the time in the room goes on. Beginning to walk forward to you and the others, they speak. ‘We speak now for Dionysus, and you should heed him if you wish for this ritual to succeed. Though he will be absent from this evening, his spirit shall soon guide you, even in this age where many forget the worship of he and the pantheon. Take from us a goblet, and drink once we end our speech. Drink the Kykeon and liberate yourself, though remember the warnings you have been given. In drinking this, we offer you freedom, we offer you celebration. If grapes are the living, then wine is the dead; the god in the underworld and that is where the sacred time might still play out. Once you have drank – run, run up the mountain, and step through the doors. We hope the ritual works for you; that you are freed and born anew into the cattle of myth, free from the burden of yourself and the world you leave behind. Now – drink.’  As they conclude, you think your heart is aflame with the guilting rush of freedom they speak on. Sipping slowly at first, your lips slip a little as the two who spoke begin to wail out hymns; flipping their heads backwards and dancing an intriguing sort of stagger up and down the room as the first initiate begins to run up the ramp. They disappear through the doors. You are bold, and you neck your drink. Exhilaration pounds throughout your body. Stepping onto the ramp, you flick your head backwards and chant as you race forward, heart bounding, soul chanting, eyes alive through your mask with a pumping in your veins you have never known. You feel as if you are slipping backwards through time – and you step through the door into the myth of the Trojan war.

[collecting-stories]

Dear John - John B Routledge

Request: can i request dear john by taylor swift with John B

A/N: I love this song so much, I think it always gets over looked as just another breakup song but it really is deeper than that.

TS Anthology Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

Maybe the ocean should’ve given away the temperate feeling that cascaded over you as you stepped off the ferry, or maybe you should’ve known that the Outer Banks wouldn’t feel like home any longer. Either way, the warning signs were ignored as you stood on the dock hands clutching onto the straps of your backpack, that familiar feeling settling into the pit of your stomach. The feeling that had haunted you for a year, a long, excruciating year, of nothing but emptiness. And if it wasn’t for Pope graduating you thought, you wouldn’t be here at all.

-

“I’m going to fall!” You’re voice felt like it echoed in the darkness as you climbed out of the window and onto the roof with John B, your hand gripping onto his.

“You’re not gonna fall, I’ve got you.” He promised, pulling you as your knees found ground, collapsing against him. “See?”

“I see,” you laughed, leaning into the space between the two of you to kiss him.

The sun was just rising and he’d woken you up, insisting that the two of you watch the morning sky together. You had stayed up late with him the night before because he couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares of his father out at sea, and had practically begged you to come over and ease them. Exhausted yourself, though feeling guilty instantly for thinking you’d rather sleep, you had snuck out of the house and gone to the chateau.

“Hey,” he nudged you when you leaned your head on his shoulder, “stay awake.”

“I am,” you promised.

“No, you’re falling asleep. I want you to see this.”

“I am, I promise.” You repeated, blinking back sleep to watch the sun.

-

The road back down the cut to the Chateau was etched into your memory. A recent hurricane had taken down the tree you always thought was shaped like an arm, reaching out to grip passers by in terror, dragging them back to the woods. It was cut up in pieces now, lying on the shoulder, defeated by the storm and then again by men with chainsaws determined not to let some old tree stand between them and the rest of the island.

You steadied your breathing as you drew closer, heart pounding in your chest as your mind did it’s best to conjure up images of John B. You couldn’t help yourself. You had gotten so far away that you told yourself you forgot what he looked like, what his town looked like, and yet each landmark seemed to jump out at you along the way, familiar to you, however changed. You wondered how much of that would be true of John B. If he too was familiar but changed and in what ways? A new coat of paint, like the Wreck, just a fresh color covering up all the disappointment and manipulation. Or would he be like the ghost tree, cut down and pushed aside, had he retired his condescension and his snark.

-

“No, of course not,” you swore, holding your phone against your ear as you sat up on your bed, trying to apply enough pressure to the heating pad on your stomach, “I just don’t feel good, JB, the last thing I wanna do is go out tonight.”

It wasn’t technically your anniversary, that had been three days prior, when John B was busy with ‘stuff’ as he so eloquently put it and couldn’t get together. He’d promised to make it up to you and tonight he had intended to fulfill that promise, which might’ve been fine if you weren’t laid up in bed with ginger ale and saltines, trying to keep anything down.

“Oh well, I’m sorry that the last thing you wanna do tonight is spend time with me!” He snapped and you could hear the sound of things being slammed around.

“That’s not what I said!” You snapped. You were exhausted, the stomach bug had kept you unable to relax for the entirety of the day and all you were really hoping for was a little relief now.

“Look whatever, you’re still pressed about not spending the actual day together but I rearranged my whole day just to go out tonight!”

You knew it was a lie, it wasn’t even a necessarily good one. But still, the anger in his voice would’ve made you get up and go out if you didn’t think you could puke at any given moment. “I’m not upset about the other day,” you promised, “I know you had work.” You replied, “I’m really sick though John B, ask Pope, he’ll tell you.” You just wanted him off your back and for a split second you failed to realize that telling him Pope knew you were sick would only send him into a tailspin.

“Ask Pope?” John B repeated, “should I call him or do you just wanna slide the phone over…maybe he could do a fake sick voice too?”

“He’s not here!” You snapped, frustrated and a little more confident since he wasn’t physically in your room, just a disembodied voice on a phone. “He came by earlier cause I called Heyward’s for groceries. God, what is your problem today?”

“My problem is that my girlfriend is unappreciative of the fact that I had other shit to do and I put it aside to take you out.”

“I’m sick!” You practically yelled it, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room before pulling your blankets over your head and closing your eyes. The phone rang again, ten more times in total but you ignored the calls, trying to get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow John B would be feeling different, better.

-

You pulled off the road and down the dirt driveway that Big John had always sworn he was going to pave. It had never happened, mostly because saying things and doing them were not actions easily connected in either of the Routledge’s minds. You parked behind an older Subaru that you recognised as Kiara’s, a ‘save the turtles’ bumper sticker on display near the license plate.

There were other cars, some familiar to you, like Luke Maybank’s truck, no doubt driven over by JJ, or Sarah’s SUV, but there were other cars you didn’t recognise. Ones that belonged to people you didn’t know well enough or know at all. You cut the engine but didn’t open the door, sitting there in the yard just staring at the house. Could you do this? Could you walk back in there? Would the parts of you that had taken so long to reconstruct, the pieces that you had to reassemble into some new version of a past you, survive inside that place?

It had been some months, years really, since you had run. Not so long that you had erased all the bad memories but long enough that they no longer played on a loop in your mind. John B wasn’t your only example of love, just the worst one.

The car door felt heavy when you shut it though not so much as the screen door on the porch of the chateau. It was Sarah who answered when you knocked, graduation gift tucked securely under your arm. She hugged you, looking a little more tired than you remembered and you wondered how much of a place you had to step in and say something. Was she there yet? That desperate place where she would listen because this wasn’t what she remembered wanting.

“How’re you?” You had never been mad at Sarah. Everyone always acted like you were, they scarcely talked about her, as if you were waiting for the chance to villainize her. In actuality, you liked Sarah, she was too good for this.

“Good,” her smile strained, “we didn’t think you’d make it.”

“I promised Pope I’d be at his graduation.” You replied, stepping inside with her. Pope looked up at the sound of his name, smiling at you, “I never break a promise.”

-

You stood there in the Chateau, eyes cast just to the side of John B as he tried to explain some trip to Chapel Hill that he took. You stared down the picture of his mom, smiling, and wondered if Big John was the same sort of man his son had become. Had she left because she was selfish or because she wanted her freedom back?

“…and I needed to get into the college to see the paper-“ he kept going, overfilling the story with details you didn’t think actually mattered at all.

“So what’s your point?” You tried again to get him there. Maybe it was the after effects of being sick but the exhaustion that you’d been feeling for the past year and a half had crept into your bones and settled there, wrapping you up like a blanket. You had no other way to explain yourself other than to say that you felt done. Done with this conversation, with his roundabout way of telling you something you didn’t want to hear, as if he got brownie points for ‘breaking the news’ delicately.

“Sarah and I kissed.” John B replied.

“Oh.” What emotion did he want you to have, which did he think you were still capable of mustering?

“I don’t love you anymore, I don’t think I ever did.”

You had to agree, really. You hoped he didn’t, at least, because if this was the way John B loved people, by draining them of any kind of life at all, you hated yourself even more for hanging on.

-

“Oh my god!” Kiara hugged you next, followed by Pope. John B was by the table, you had seen him immediately, waited for the ache but it didn’t come. He was watching you though, as if he was assessing the damage. “You look good,” Kiara said, “happy.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling, “I am.”

The house was just a house after all, just walls put together and not a prison. And John B was just a boy.

-

Taglist: @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaa @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon @mysterious-adventurer @minigranger @obxsummer 

[astralbulldragon13]

Fly Me to the Moon Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Espresso and Cloudy Sky

The smell of coffee and the annoying drone of the alarm clock is what awoke sixteen-year-old Kodi Masters in the early hours of that January morning. She growled under her breath as she rubbed at her sleep crusted eyes and ran her fingers through her reddish-brown curls. Her gray eyes, lined with crimson around the edge of the iris, were shadowed with exhaustion as she threw her legs over the edge of the bed, covered in white sheets and gray comforter. 

“Another day, another wish to shoot someone in the face.” Kodi grumbled as she smacked the button on top of her alarm with an angry glare on her face. “Including you.” She stuck her feet into her slippers and slung her gray  robe over her shoulders, then turned her head to her bedside table where her evening glass of water sat, three-quarter empty, next to a golden locket, etchings depicting interlocked hearts decorating it. She took it and wedged her thumb nail into the gap, opening it to reveal two faces. It was clear that they were both men; in the left half was a man with shoulder length brown similar to hers, and mahogany-colored eyes. On the right was a man with curly black hair down to his chin, and black glasses that Kodi couldn’t help but consider nerdy. His eyes were like hers, silvery-gray that drew the attention of anyone. Kodi smiled and ran her thumb over their faces. “Morning, dads.” She closed the locket with a click and held it to her lip, pressing a kiss to the cold metal that would be warmed up by her skin throughout the day as she clipped the necklace on. 

She yawned and stretched before standing, shuffling her way down the stairs of her loft and into her living room, the early morning light streaming through the wall of windows. She was really thankful that they were tinted on the outside, these studio loft apartments could be a nightmare on privacy. And rent, but since the  police were paying for most of her utilities, she didn’t have to worry so much. 

She was surprised they would do such a thing, but since she was able to trick her last foster guardian into signing a paper waiving their custody of her after sixteenth birthday. Then, with aid from her superiors in the force, she was able to put them away, and made sure that any other children in their care were taken to a safe new home. So, thank goodness for that. 

She made her way to the kitchen where her automated espresso machine was whipping up her cappuccino. Kodi sighed as she added a few teaspoons of sea-salt and caramel, sugar-free coffee syrup. She can’t help but add sweet to her coffee, she needed something with caffeine in it to kick start her day, but she couldn’t roll with the big dogs when it came to coffee by itself. She picked up her phone from its charging station next to the small radio in her kitchen and leaned against the counter, tilting her head upward towards the ceiling. “Alexa,” she called into the air, “Play Sinatra Playlist #5.” 

The lovely sound of jazz floated through the air as Kodi opened her phone to check over her notifications, reaching across the counter and grabbing her silver-framed reading glasses. It was going to be another cloudy, gray, snowy day in Northern Newport, Oregon when it comes to the weather. In the news, another big-shot actor was accused of assaulting some poor intern, and got away with it with barely a slap on the wrist. Typical. 

E-Mail notifications informing her that the police academy was holding a meeting with a prominent psychologist as well as a physician from overseas, some spam-mail, and a few documents with information and files for some of her ongoing cases. 

She sipped on her coffee as she tucked her phone in the pocket of her robe and popped a pair of toaster strudels into the toaster. She checked the clock, and saw that the hour had just struck 6:00 a.m. “Wonderful, six in the morning and not a call from the chief yet. Must be a blue moon.” There was a pop from the toaster as she tossed the strudel onto a small saucer and drizzled them with the frosting before carrying them to the couch, plopping down on the cushions and propping her legs up on an ottoman.

Her apartment was exceedingly minimalistic: No personalized photos, just a few framed classic movie posters that came with the place, same with all the furnishings. She is so used to moving around in the foster system that she doesn’t really see the point of having a lot of things. She sipped on her coffee and munched on her breakfast, closing her eyes and relaxing for a moment, when the playlist switched to a song that she didn’t remember being on her playlist before. She listened for a moment, her soul seeming to freeze at the lyrics. 

How can I be so sure? 

At a crossroads I’m afraid to

But I can’t let fear get the best of me

Someone once said

Burn my dread…

Kodi nearly dropped her coffee mug at the phrase, her heartbeat nearly beating out of her chest. “How… How do I know this song?” She stumbled into the kitchen and put her dishes to the dishwasher. The song had shaken her to her very core, before going into her bathroom. She needed to shower, to purge her body and mind of all this strangeness. 

The blazing hot water made her skin turn bright red as she scrubbed herself with coconut and lavender body wash, the scent was subtle and didn’t irritate her nose with an overly fruity perfume. After scrubbing her hair with some two-in one shampoo she stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, noting the scars littering her body and wincing . She wasn’t ashamed of them, per say, but it was embarrassing how many of them litter her body from foster parents, foster siblings, foster home officials, from fights with jerks in school. She sighed and looked away from the mirror as she reached into the closet and pulled out some clothes. A pair of wide leg slacks in dark gray, a white button up shirt, and a cardigan-style blazer with black compression socks. 

She brushed her curly hair and applied her daily makeup, covering her freckles and the shadows under her eyes. She added some neutral toned eyeshadow and mascara with some peach colored lip gloss before placing her glasses back on her nose. “Alright, better head in for the day.” She quickly ran back into her bedroom, grabbing her pistol from the bedside table and using a special holster to tuck it into the inside of her slacks so it was practically invisible under her coat. She grabbed her bag and made her way downstairs, hoping the trolley would be warm. 

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Studying Together [Request]

A/N: I made this a college AU I hope this is okay for you love!

Seokjin:

"Alexa play my Lofi playlist," Jin heard you call out as he walked into your dorm room, he was carrying drinks in one hand and a bag in the other. He was late for your study session together and he felt awful so he stopped by to get food and drinks to make it up to you.

"You're late," You called out once you heard the floorboards creaking to let you know he was there, he sighed holding up the food and drinks as a peace sign and you smiled at him,

"You're lucky I'm so forgiving." You joked getting up from the table to take the coffee he was holding out for you, you sipped on it despite his warning about it being hot.

"I organised everything," You said as you pointed at the table in your kitchen, it was covered in pieces of paper, folders and flashcards all ready for you both to read from and quiz each other on. He should have been used to this after dating you for the last two years of your college lives but it was still surprising to him to see you have so many notes on one subject.

"It's one history exam-" He stopped talking once he saw the glare he was getting from you, he slipped out of his jacket and went to hang it up. You'd been in the same class together which was how you met and started dating for so long and you were going to pass this class if it was the last thing you ever did.

"I'm going to start on the tudor times and then move on from there, pick whatever you want." He stared at you as you lifted up a giant folder and began flicking through it until you got to the section that you needed. It was going to be a long day and night but as long as you were there to study with him he didn't mind at all.

Yoongi:

You thought that the final exam you and Yoongi would be something practical but instead, you were both taking a written exam while submitting a project together.

"This is stupid, why did it have to be a written exam." He groaned next to you, you were sitting in the library together huddled over a couple of textbooks wondering what could possibly be covered on a written exam instead of something you could physically create and show your talent.

"I know Yoongi, but once it's done it's done and it only counts as 20% to the final." You tried to reassure him but he was far too nervous about all of this for it to be blown off so simple as it not being too much credit.

"Look, I'll help you study and then when you pass you can buy me dinner to thank me." He chuckled as you laid your hand on his thigh as a sign of support. You believed he could pass this if he just put his mind to it. He was sure he couldn't do this but he was willing to give it a try if you were going to be this supportive of him, he'd always expressed his disgust for exams like this which was why he liked the music course so much. It was more projects than handwritten work - except for lyrics.

"I won't let you fail." You teased him kissing his cheek as you got up from the table, you were going to be there for a while so you were going to go on the hunt for food and drink to keep you both stable until you could convince Yoongi to go and get a decent meal with you.

Hoseok:

"Hobi I can't." You were sweating and panting against the cold mirror, your dance exam was coming up in less than four days and you still hadn't nailed the dance move you were struggling the most with. It was a lift - much like the one in the infamous movie everyone loved so much. Hoseok had to lift you into the air by your waist before bringing you back down into his arms.

"We can't replace the move," He told you as he restarted the song for what felt like the thousand times that day, you weren't going to be able to pass this final exam without it and you both knew that.

"Can I just have two minutes?" He watched as you slid down the mirror and sat on the floor, you felt defeated. You'd spent weeks trying to do the move, going around to different places to practice it. You could do the lift in the water, a kids ball pit and even in a field of grass but doing it somewhere like here, somewhere you could get hurt was bugging you out.

"Do you trust me?" He questioned wiping sweat from his head on the back of his hand, you knew he was getting frustrated with you since you were just as equally frustrated with yourself.

"With my life but-"

"Is it the nerves?" You nodded, the thought about doing it in front of everyone was the part throwing you off - that and the thought of smashing your face against the hard dance floor.

"So imagine they're not there when we do it and trust me enough to know I won't let you fall." He breathed wanting you to trust him as you did in your relationship.

"From the top." You whispered getting up from the floor and getting ready to nail the dance.

Namjoon:

Namjoon was giving you a hard stare as you stuttered over your words for the seventh time since you started talking, you groaned laying your head down on the desk in front of you.

"You can't look at me like that, it makes me anxious." You snapped at him, you were both getting annoyed with the upcoming exam. While Namjoon had his speech planned and ready you were still struggling to get through talking it through with him nevermind getting it up in front of a class full of students and presenting it.

"Why are speaking exams a thing? They're stupid." You grumbled looking at the flashcards, around the edges were small words of encouragement from Namjoon but they weren't helping you.

"I might fail it on purpose-"

"No, come on. How many times have I told you that you can do this?" You sighed as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist trying to comfort you in any way that he could but it wasn't helping you.

"Maybe I'm just not meant to pass this speaking exam." He sighed at how you were trying to discourage yourself from it but he wasn't going to let you give up so easily.

"You can normally do this in front of me, why is it hard tonight?" You sighed looking over at his friends who were all sitting on the other sofa, he'd brought them along to try and help you more.

"So just pretend they're not here, look at me and no one else. We'll do the same in the exam." He promised you kissing you on the cheek and returning to where he had been sitting before, he wasn't going to let you give up on yourself so easily.

Jimin

It was Jimin's idea to have a study date at the library but it looked like he'd decided to stand you up, you began sliding your textbook back into your bag when the door burst open and he walked into the room carrying textbooks, notebooks and what looked like coffee on top of everything he was carrying.

"Where have you been?" You giggled taking the coffees from him and placing them onto the desk beside you, he held up some new psychology textbooks and smiled.

"I waited outside all night for these, they're going to help us on the exam and then the stationary shop next door was having a sale on highlights and I know these are your favourite." He said sliding a packet of highlighters in front of you, you had a superstition that if you used these highlighters whenever you were studying you were sure to pass. He knew that since you freaked out the last time one ran out on you and you called him at 3 in the morning crying about no shops being open, so drove to your dorm room to make sure you went to sleep instead of cramming for a practice exam.

"Jimin you didn't have-"

"Yes I did, I also got your study drink and some new post-it notes for us because I know how much you love post-it notes." He kissed your lips softly and sat you down in front of him so he could show you properly everything he bought.

Taehyung:

Taehyung was quizzing you on the colour wheel while you sat on the sofa trying to quiz him on all the famous painters that were bound to be on the final Art History exam. You'd both met on your first day of the art class became best friends until it eventually led to years of you dating and now it was the final year. You were still together and as strong as ever as you tried to cram for final exams together and keep each other from going insane.

"Next chapter is your favourite." You laughed flicking over to the next page of the art history textbook and smiling as you saw all of your favourite paintings. He came over and dropped onto the floor beside you, reciting his plan to take you to Amsterdam and visit the Van Gough museum that was there. It had been his plan to take you to every art museum in the world but Amsterdam was the realistic goal for now. You were both planning on going as a way of celebrating for when you passed the final exams together.

"I think we've got it down." He mumbled flicking over the page, you had everything down. You both had a huge passion for the course and knew everything there was to know about it, the final exam was going to be simple but the final project was painting a huge portrait of yourself in any art style you had learnt over the last few years. Now all that was left was making sure you had the style down before you went into the exam.

Jungkook:

You stared at your boyfriend who was sitting carelessly in your dorm bedroom, you were trying to study from a book while he sat throwing a ball to the wall and back into his hand.

"You could at least act like you're studying to make me feel better." You grumbled taking a highlighter from your pencil case and highlighting yet another fact your brain seemed to be neglecting to take in.

"It's not my fault I soak up everything we learn like a sponge." You glared at him from your bed and went back to the criminology book you were trying to remember but nothing seemed to be staying inside of your head.

"You need to take a break." He whispered watching as you stressed about not being able to get anything to stay in your head.

"I can't. Not all of us can get away without studying Jungkook." You snapped, you didn't want to snap at him but you were stressed out about everything and the smallest thing seemed to make you snap lately.

"I'm serious," He closed the book and put it on your desk, he got onto the bed behind you and began rubbing your shoulders.

"Staring at the same page and expecting different results each time isn't going to work. You need to just take a minute, okay?" You nodded closing your eyes as he continued rubbing your shoulders to try and help you unwind. He chuckled as you let out a small moan about how nice it felt.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @snowy-meowl​ @snowy-meowl​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @innersooya​ @taestannie​ 

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 32

While stretched out on the examination table, Alexa twirled the small sterling silver band that was wrapped around her finger, tiny diamonds surrounded its outer core with three medium sized ones as its centerpiece.

She smiled softly as they sparkled via the lighting in the room, meanwhile, the events of the other day, when Rafael proposed marriage, still resonated within; slowly, her train of thought deepened. Alexa envisioned a small gathering with only close friends, especially Olivia, who had become like a sister to her ever since the day they met, and of course Rafael’s mother Lucia, who overtime became more of a mother to Alexa than her own.

The wardrobe for the affair would be traditional on the part of the groom, however, the form of Alexa’s dress would consist of something simple but elegant with a touch of class, as she continued to lay out the details of the upcoming wedding; the faint sound of a door being opened broke her concentration. The focus quickly shifted to the young woman clad in a lab coat holding up a clipboard.

“Hello, so how are we doing today?”

“Well I’m about to push a human bowling ball through my pelvis and I can’t see my feet anymore, so all in all I’m doing alright”

The doctor chuckled as she walked towards the table, “Well I’ve got your test results and overall you and the baby are doing exceptionally well, blood pressure is a little high but it’s nothing serious”

“Well that’s good”

She took a moment to look around the room and found that Alexa was shy of one person, “Will your husband be joining us today?”

Alexa’s face softened, “He’s not my husband…yet, but he said he’d try to make it…he’s in the middle of a very important case…”

Suddenly, the door creaked open at that very moment, Alexa and the doctor looked forward to the person that appeared through the doorway, her face lit up when it was revealed to be Rafael.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I tried to be here as fast as I could,” he joined Alexa at the opposite end of the table where he placed a small peck on her forehead, she reached for his hand, to which he was more than happy to interlock with.

“It’s ok, the doctor was going over my test results. She says the baby’s doing fine but that my blood pressure was a little high”

“Is that something we need to worry about?”

The doctor chimed in, “No, it’s pretty common among pregnancies, she just needs to maintain a healthy diet and avoid any kind of stress” Rafael nodded as he held Alexa’s hand, the young woman stepped towards the sonogram machine where she informed them that she was going to check the development of the baby.

During its initial setup, the ultrasound gel was dispensed onto Alexa’s stomach, once the machine was up and ready, the ultrasound wand was pressed on top of her rounded figure. As the wand spread out the conductive gel, Alexa and Rafael watched the monitor, within a few minutes, an image formed…one of their fully developed, yet to be born daughter.

The grip on Alexa’s hand tightened as they continued to gaze upon their beautiful child, after the doctor made a few notations on the clipboard, she concluded that per her analysis that little Nadia was due any day now. Before, she exited the room, the young woman handed Alexa a paper towel to wipe the gel from her belly then passed pictures of their daughter. When they were alone, she straightened her blouse and let out a small breath, just then; Rafael’s warm hand began rubbing against her back…with that, their eyes linked.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe that any day now…we’ll be bringing a new life into this world”

“I know,” he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips.

They checked out at the reception desk, Alexa was scheduled to be induced a few days after her due date, the couple walked out the front door and headed towards the parking lot. Halfway towards the SUV a man’s voice called out:

“Mr. Barba”

Alexa and Rafael turned around to find an older gentleman, from the look of things, appeared to be the same age as Rafael if not older; he wore a navy-blue suit with a trench coat draped over it. He stepped towards them, but while his face expressed friendliness, something about him sent shivers up Alexa’s spine. She looked upon Rafael, whose joyous expression faltered into one that masked the feeling of dread and aggravation that ran deep beneath his veins, it was then her attention shifted back to the mysterious stranger in their midst.

“Excuse me, but do we know you?”

“Barba…aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé?”

Rafael turned towards Alexa and calmly explained: “Alexa, this is Robert Davalos…my boss”

Davalos extended his hand only to be met with a sense of distrust disguised by a small nod on the part of Alexa, the older man grinned as his hand slipped into his trench coat’s right pocket, then the focus was redirected back to Rafael.

“I noticed you leaving the doctor’s office, is everything alright with the little one?”

“She’s fine, thank you” Rafael responded curtly.

He raised up his hands and said, “Now there’s no need to get all defensive, I’m just expressing genuine concern over a fellow employee’s loved ones…nothing wrong with that is there?”

“Why are you here,” Alexa steadily grew uneasy at the way the situation was escalating.

“I was hoping that the father of your child and I could have a little chat”

“I’m sorry…but we have a busy day ahead of us, now if you’ll excuse us…” the two of them turned on their heels to walk away until…

“You know I was quite impressed with the way you handled your most recent case”

The comment seemed to stop Rafael dead in his tracks.

“Even after I asked you nicely to walk away…you stood your ground. I mean that really struck a chord with me, reminded me a lot of when I was an up and coming DA…I aspired to make a difference in the world and had a big ego to boot. Until one day I realized that to get ahead, you have to play the game…and I’m afraid it’s a lesson that you might have to learn the hard way”

After that last sentence, Alexa whirled around and gave him a look that shot daggers through his eyes.

“Are you threatening him?!”

As soon as she began to charge forward, Rafael put his hand up on her chest to prevent her from inflicting any kind of bodily harm on either party, the response towards this display of aggression was a snicker from the amused older gentlemen.

“Careful now, wouldn’t want to go into labor early, now would we?”

“Alexa, go wait in the car”

“Why, I’m not afraid of him”

“Alexa, just please do as I say”

She refused to let this man intimidate her, but ultimately decided to heed Rafael’s insistence and climbed into the SUV, Rafael shifted Davalos’ direction back to him without wanting to land a punch at the smug little grin he was showing.

“My, my, she’s quite the little spitfire, isn’t she?”

“I’m going to say this once…you leave me and my family alone, do we understand each other”

“Mr. Barba…I don’t think you’re in any kind of position to make threats, especially when you have more important matters to attend to. It was a pleasure meeting Alexa, hopefully I’ll receive an invite to the wedding…until then, enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Barba and be safe out there”

He winked then walked away and disappeared among the vast rows of cars in his wake, while in the SUV, Rafael turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking space. During the ride, back to the brownstone, silence enveloped the vehicle, but when they made entry; Rafael made haste towards the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of scotch and a small glass.

He poured the amber liquid and brought it over to the living room along with the bottle, then placed it on the coffee table, Alexa trailed behind and sat across from him on the couch; Rafael picked up the glass and gulped it down in one shot then poured himself another drink. He doused the second and third one in quick succession, as he was about to go for a fourth, Alexa set her hand on the side of the bottle and slid it from his grasp.

“That’s enough”

Rafael sighed as he slumped backward, she looked at him saddened, it pained her to see him shaken up especially by a man with delusions of grandeur and drunk on power. Her hand reached over and palmed his knee, from the corner of his eye, he met her sympathetic stare at his haggard appearance.

“Don’t let that asswipe get to you”

Rafael faced Alexa, and with a serious look, he grabbed a hold of both of her hands and declared, “You know that I would never let anything happen to you, right?”

“I know”

Alexa rested her head on Rafael’s chest, his arm wrapped protectively on top of her stomach, she held onto him just as tightly. His lips peppered her forehead with soft kisses, however, on the surface, he put on a brave face but Davalos’ words replayed over and over internally, for the first time in his life; Rafael felt a twinge of fear at the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly, it was as if she could read his thoughts, Alexa tilted her head upwards to where their eyes met then the tips of her fingers grazed along his cheek as a sign of comfort.

“Nothing’s going to happen…not when I’m here…safe in your arms”

“I love you…you and Nadia are my whole world, if anything were to happen to either of you…I don’t know what I would do”

“Listen to me, that prick doesn’t know who he’s messing with…you are the strongest, bravest man I’ve ever known. Plus, you have one of the elite squads of the NYPD at your side…trust me, we’ll rest easy”

Rafael felt more at ease from the sound of her words, his face was reanimated with new life as he smiled, their lips became one filled with unsurpassed bliss and warmth. Alexa lowered her head back on to his chest, the beating of his heart lulled her into a deep sleep, not long after; Rafael’s lids began to weigh and within a matter of seconds, his mind drifted off to a restful slumber.

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @madamsnape921 @teamsladsandgents @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @glimmerglittergirl

[dingalingalingis]

Sick

Green breathed out slowly, a cough scratching at his throat as he slowly signed off another paper. His eyes were half lidded, pink rimmed as he sniffled and picked up another tissue.

Alexa turned around the corner, holding the third of a pack of tissues in one hand, worridly sighing out as they joined the rest of them with package in hand.

"Is he fine?" Imperial asked, leaning back to watch through the crack in the door.

"No." Junie frowned "He's been like this all day its only a matter of time until he drops."

Both of them jumped as a loud thump could be heard, pushing open the door. They looked over, frowning at Green's slumped over form.

"......there's the drop." Sterling sighed, pinching the phone from Green's table. Flipping through the contacts all three raised their brows "....Are we making the call?"

Green groaned, red face scrunched up even in sleep as he clutched his stomach and coughed.

"Yes."

Red slowly picked up the receiver, raising his hand to pause his Charizard as he peered. He was silent, though Green was silent on the other side.

"Hey Mr. Red sir?"

Red jumped, waving his hand in shock at the voices he did not know as Green talking. He rested his finger above the end call button until one of them started talking again.

"Hey uh... Green is really sick and he passed out and we don't know what to do?"

Red blinked, they sounded so unsure until it settled in that h i s Green was sick and that h i s Green was passed out. He grunted once, pursing his lips before waving down hus Charizard to fly down even with the wind whipping harshly against his skin. He couldn't afford to stop, not when his Green was ill.

The trainers waited outside, tensly pacing around in circles as they waited. They could hear the call of the pokemon above them and almost fell when Red landed. Panic was on his face, stretching his usually expressionless face into once of distress.

"Where?"

He hissed, shakey and low as he trembled and pushed in when the trainers pointed. He looked around, slamming open Green's office door.

Green looked ethreal in the late night light, even with the feverish blush on his face and the slight sheen on his cheeks. Red sighed out, closing his eyes as he bent down to press his fingers against Green's cheek. The man leaned up to him, opening up to a bright sheen.

"Red...?" His voice sounded weak and hoarse, Red's heart broke "what are you doing here...?"

'Im going to take care of you.' Red stood up, picking up Green and he knew right then that Green was too out of it, all he did was lean into him without complaint, nuzzling into Red's chest with a shiver.

"I'll always be here to take care of you."

Green's small smile was worth it, using his jacket to further cover up Green as he walked out without a word. Green calmed in his embrace, accepting Red's soft touches to fix Green's hair or wipe a streak of sweat off his cheek. Red sighed out when he made it to Green's apartment, hitting the door open with his hip as he watched Green sniffle.

The scent of mint and ocean salt and honey was dimmed by the scent of sickness, clinging to Green's skin like the shirt Red helped him change out of. He slippes one of his own shirts over Green's body to comfortbly take off his pants.

He gently thumbed his hand through Green's hair, stuck onto the bed when Green nuzzled into his chest and begged him not to go. He was sleeping now curled up with a cool rag on his head and a full stomach. Red dragged the blanket up a little more, up to Green's waist as he rubbed his hand up and down his back.

He was gunna be here just to take care of him, no matter what.

(A request from @juniemunie 's friend! Here ya go!)

(YA KNOW IMMA JUST TAG THE PEOPLE I USED THE NAMES FROM SO WHEN PEOPLE READ THIS THEY CAN LOOK YALL UP @juniemunie @imperial-palace @red-sterling @alexa-play-despacito THESE GUYS ARE GREEN'S TRAINERS WHOM HE TORTURES AND ALSO LOVES AT THE SAME EXACT TIME EXCEPT WHEN THEY MAKE RED COME DOWN FOR TRIVIAL THINGS LIKE GETTING A BOX OFF THE TOP SHELF)