#and I’m already thinking about what scenes could take place in the last photo

[indywasdeepfried]

NEW FNAF TEASERS ARE OUT IM TWEAKINNNNGGG AAUYGGH

[eunoia-writes]

The other side of the door • ArthurTV

Summary - After a fight and a misunderstanding, Arthur’s heartfelt gesture forces Y/N to confront her feelings, leading to a pivotal moment in their relationship.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I told him I didn’t feel the same," Y/N said, her voice low and careful. She and Arthur were standing in the middle of Isaac’s birthday party, trying to avoid making a scene.

"Not a big deal?" Arthur’s voice rose, barely contained. "A guy confesses his love for you—my girlfriend—and it’s not a big deal?"

His words only made Y/N more frustrated. She clenched her jaw, trying to stay calm. She didn’t want this argument, especially not here. "Arthur, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you," she said softly, but it didn’t stop him.

Arthur continued, his voice louder now. "It’s a big deal, Y/N. How could you not think this was important enough to tell me?"

Y/N’s patience snapped. "What is it, Arthur? You think I’m keeping my options open?" she shot back, her voice sharp. And he said nothing.

"Fuck you!" she spat, storming out of the house. Arthur called after her, his tone suddenly desperate, pleading for her to stay. But she didn’t turn back. By the time he realized he had gone too far, she was already gone.

That night, Y/N ignored the endless stream of texts and calls from Arthur. Apologies filled her screen, his words tumbling over themselves. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. The texts kept coming until they suddenly stopped.

The silence might have worried her if she wasn’t still so furious. The next morning, she woke up to a single message.

Not from Arthur. From Nicole, his ex.

A photo. Arthur and Nicole in bed together.

Y/N stared at the image, her chest tightening. Hurt. Rage. Betrayal. She didn’t know which emotion to lean into, but she knew one thing: she needed answers.

Her roommate drove her to Arthur’s place under the impression Y/N was just collecting her things. She had no idea Y/N was about to unleash hell.

"Arthur!" Y/N stormed into his flat, her voice echoing through the space. Isaac appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow.

"Chill with the yelling. Prince Charming’s on the couch, regretting every drop of tequila," he said nonchalantly. Y/N didn’t respond. She headed straight for the living room.

Arthur sat slumped on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked up, bleary-eyed, as Y/N marched in. "Y/N, I’m sorry about last night—"

"I don’t care about that!" she cut him off, shoving her phone in his face. "What the fuck is this?"

Arthur’s face turned pale, his mouth opening slightly before he finally managed to speak. "That’s not what it looks like," he said, standing up.

Y/N took a step back, shaking her head. "So, one argument, and you run back to her?" Her voice cracked despite her best efforts to stay composed. Tears welled in her eyes. "Was this what you wanted all along?"

"No, Y/N. Please, listen to me," Arthur pleaded, stepping closer. "Nothing happened. I drank too much, passed out in the spare room. I didn’t even know she was there until I woke up."

"I don’t believe you," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. She turned on her heel, tears streaming down her face. "Isaac, will you drive me home?"

Isaac hesitated, glancing at Arthur, whose silent plea was clear. Still, Isaac nodded. "I’ll take her."

Arthur stepped forward. "No, I’ll drive her."

Y/N didn’t have the energy to argue. She climbed into the passenger seat, staring out the window in silence as Arthur tried, and failed, to explain himself. When they pulled up to her house, the weight of everything hit her all at once. She burst into tears.

"Y/N," Arthur said softly, reaching out to her.

"Just leave," she choked out. Her voice was firm, even through her sobs.

Arthur got out of the car, walked around to her side, and opened the door. Instead of walking away, Y/N fell into his arms, crying harder than she had in years. Arthur held her tightly, lifting her off the ground and carrying her up the stairs to her door.

For a moment, they stood there in silence. Then Y/N finally whispered, "Leave."

Arthur’s heart broke, but he nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. He wiped his own tears and walked away, giving her the space she needed.

Hours later, Y/N was lying in bed, her pillow soaked with tears, when a soft tapping sound broke through her haze. She ignored it at first, but when it continued, she dragged herself to the window.

There he was. Arthur. Standing in the pouring rain, holding her favorite flowers in one hand and a pebble in the other.

"What are you doing?" she called out, her voice thick with emotion.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. "I’m in love with you, Y/N!" he shouted over the rain. "And nothing—nothing—is going to change that. I didn’t do anything with Nicole. I swear. I’d never hurt you like that."

Y/N’s resolve wavered. She shook her head, tears threatening to spill again. "There’s nothing you can say to make this right, Arthur," she said, but they both knew she didn’t mean it.

Arthur’s voice softened. "If you really mean that, come down here and tell me to leave. Say it to my face, and I’ll go. I promise."

Her heart pounded as she stepped back from the window. She slipped on her shoes and walked outside, the rain soaking through her clothes in seconds. Arthur stood there, drenched, his eyes locked on her.

"Tell me to go," he said, his voice trembling. "And I will."

Y/N stared at him, her lips trembling. "Arthur..." she began, but the words she meant to say wouldn’t come out. Instead, she surged forward, capturing his lips in a desperate, rain-soaked kiss.

Arthur wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could. "I love you," she whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too," he murmured, holding her tighter, knowing she was his again.

[14thcommander]

best kept secret and your biggest mistake | hange zoe x reader

summary: your relationship with eren is a facade, and hange is your secret lover. they wish it was more than that, but they’ll take what you’ll give them. (inspired by nobody puts baby in the corner - fall out boy)

cw: smut, 18+ ONLY. angst, cheating, drinking, sex under influence of alcohol, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise. afab!reader, they/them pronouns for hange zoe. the characters are flawed and reader has a personality. 

Parties have never been Hange’s scene.

Not in a superiority complex way – at least that’s what they like to think – it’s just that people aren’t really Hange’s thing. Although the consumption of alcohol has become an increasing habit in their life, the noise and social interaction are the worst parts of attending parties, they figure.

“Tch, can’t believe we’re being dragged to this shit.” Levi comments, rolling his eyes at his own boyfriend. The short man always seems to be stressed or annoyed, but this time it feels genuine. When it comes to his partner, though, it never lasts long – not really. “This is your fault, Erwin.”

Erwin Smith, ever the social butterfly and recognizable persona, is able to fluctuate through almost every social group in Mitras. Which is precisely the reason why they are entering Zeke Yeager’s birthday party, crossing the threshold of a luxurious two story house — Hange wonders if the guy isn’t a bit too old to throw parties like this anyway, but hey: it’s free alcohol. 

“Sorry eyebrows, gonna have to agree with your boyfriend.”

Erwin snorts at Hange’s words and Levi simply huffs in agreement. A typical conversation so far. The living room is crowded, the atmosphere pumps a generic pop song, and Hange already wants to leave. There are so many people Hange recognizes, realizing that they will have to greet most of them in order to be polite. They look around, scanning the room for something they know will hurt them. 

You.

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Levi.” The blond says, placing a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. The gesture is suggestive, something only lovers could share. “You’ll have fun, I’ll make sure of it.”

Hange scoffs at the scene before them, with a roll of their eyes and a bitter taste on their tongue.

“Ew, get a room, you guys are fucking disgusting.” They say, face contorting with faux discomfort. “I’m getting a drink.”

-

There’s a golden locket hanging from your neck, a collar as heavy as prison. The photo inside, blurry and bright, is of your boyfriend — which was an anniversary gift from last year, or something. The both of you are always breaking up anyway, so Hange doesn’t fully understand what the point of celebrating an anniversary really is. The jewelry doesn’t fool anyone when it comes to deceiving the mess that is your relationship. It isn’t like a necklace would make them forget how he treats you.

As if it would make you look away from his affair with Mikasa Ackerman. 

Hange can’t help but eye it, as it gleams viciously, almost as if inviting them to destroy it. Instead, they take another swing from the sweaty beer bottle in their hand. 

Everything about you is more complicated than it should be. Someone like you shouldn’t be dating Eren Yeager of all people — he’s petty, childish, the embodiment of everything you’re not. You are no saint either, however being with someone like Yeager is something that Hange takes as a personal offense. 

This is bullshit. All of it. 

“Gonna grab another beer. Want one?” Levi says, the baritone voice is somehow louder than the music that plays from somewhere in the living room. 

“Sure.”

It has been an hour or so since they have arrived, and Hange is a few beers deep in

Your boyfriend has a hand on your thigh, marking his territory just in case anyone dares to look at you with lust in their eyes. Hange fights the urge to punch him. This is bullshit. All of it. 

You mutter something to Eren, lips close to his jaw, pressing a kiss to it after you are finished speaking. Hange assumes it is something about wanting another drink. They wonder if your boy toy knows what you like, at all. For starters, you prefer silver — why would he gift you a locket that is fucking gold? 

-

Hange decides to go upstairs in order to escape from the hell that is this party, unable to watch that circus any longer. The house is crowded, causing the atmosphere to feel even worse. It’s almost claustrophobic.

And, for some unknown reason, your friends are into that. 

The bathroom — third door on the right — is thankfully empty. It is clean, too: no signs of drunken regret in the form of vomit. 

The luxurious bathroom is covered in marble with gold adjacents, from floor to ceiling. There is an enormous bathtub on the end of it. Hange if the Yeagers ran out of money when renovating the house: the bathroom is all marble but there isn’t fucking decent lighting. 

Hange locks the door, back pressed against it. They let out a sigh, something from deep in their lungs and even deeper in their heart. They adjust the thick oval glasses on the bridge of their nose, feeling emotionally exhausted after watching you play pretend with Eren.

“Fuck.” They mutter shortly before splashing their face with cold water, feeling droplets fall down their neck. It refreshes them, sure, but the sinking feeling in their stomach is still there. 

Objectively speaking, Hange knows it doesn’t have anything to do with them, or they are – the whole situation is entirely your fault. You are the one who is – allegedly – in a happy, committed relationship. Hange was merely caught in the crossfire of your desires. The jealousy that bubbles in their stomach every time they have to witness you kiss him is your fault. 

But they can’t bring themself to hate you for it. 

-

After all, is it greedy to want both of them? 

You dream of dark, charcoal eyes only to wake up to an ocean gaze staring at you. It is confusing, complicated. You wish you were not pulling and pushing, stuck in between two different worlds.

The party was becoming too much for you – too much noise, too many people. You go upstairs, to the second floor of the house, needing to get away from everything and everyone. Wondering if there is an option — begging for a sign from God — to escape all of this, your hand grabs the doorknob of the bathroom, only for it to twist magically.

And, on the other side of it, is Hange Zoe. Dimly illuminated, the first few buttons of their shirt undone, tanned skin glowing — almost reflecting, luring you in. 

“Oh.” Is all you can come up with. 

Standing face to face with the truth isn’t funny — or easy — in the slightest. The sight of Hange before you feels like the universe is taunting you with the possibility of a life you could have.

“Hi.” They greet you, voice as buttery as you remember. 

You are overwhelmed with flashbacks of car seats, foggy windows, whispered sweet nothings. The ghost of Hange’s mouth still sends chills down your spine.

And, here you are — red solo cup in hand, filled halfway with a nasty drink your own boyfriend made for you, apparently unable to know the basics of your likes and dislikes. The golden locket around your neck is so heavy, so heavy you almost drop to the ground and as your skin turns blue.

“Hey.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Hange is a few inches from you, and you can breathe in their scent, as it intoxicates your lungs. They smell of cologne, and a subtle undertone of cigarettes. You want to ask, since last time you talked they had quit the poisonous habit – it’s as awkward as it is already, though. 

You haven’t seen them in a month, since the last time you got back together with Eren. Hange took the message when you started ignoring their texts, and posted a picture with him again on your social media. Still, they don’t understand why. 

“How long are you planning on avoiding me?” They ask, shoulder leaning against the door frame. Because fuck this — fuck all of this. Fuck Eren Yeager and his superiority complex, and how he has the only thing Hange has ever truly wanted.

You.

Considering your options, you realize you have the chance to play dumb and pretend you don’t know what they are talking about. Except, this is Hange, who knows you better than anyone else in this world — who knows your soul and brain and heart like the palm of their hand. 

“Hange,” the sound of their name tastes unbelievably sour on your tongue. “You know. You know it’s complicated.”

They know this – at least that’s what they tell themself. Hange does their best to understand you, to feel empathy about your situation. Your relationship is obviously unhealthy, maintaining you in a chokehold. Eren always has a short leash around your neck – in the form of a gold necklace, mainly. He is always around, always with an arm snaked around your waist or a hand on your shoulder. Well, except when he sneaks around to cheat on you with Mikasa. 

“Is it?” Their words make your heart beat heavily against its organic cage, begging to be freed from its confines. “You say that every time, yet you won’t leave him. I thought you had a bit more self-respect than that, to be honest. You don’t seem like the person I met anymore. Not at all.”

They take a step towards you, bringing themself unbelievably close. 

“What happened to you, huh? Little Eren made you his pet?”

Their words drip with venom, poisonous and ready to kill. They want to hurt you as badly as you hurt them, but truly, they would not be able to do so. Hange is all bark, and no bite. You, on the other hand…

“Fuck you. Fuck you from even saying that.” There are stubborn tears threatening to spill from your eyes, a mixture of anger and plead.

Hange knows they might have gone too far, their words intended to stab you in the heart and apparently they did. Alcohol doesn’t suit their anger issues, after all. 

“Tell me to step away. Tell me to fuck off and I will. I’ll go downstairs and pretend I haven’t even seen you.”

You know they would do it, in case you requested — or better, ordered. These days, you wonder if there is anything Hange wouldn’t do for you. There’s a brief moment of silence, voices echoing from the party downstairs, music pumping through the walls. 

They move closer, so close, until their forehead is pressed against yours. 

“Hange.” You mumble their name like a confirmation, like a warning. What it implicates sits heavy in your stomach. 

It is messy, you don’t know who moves first, however your lips end up moving against theirs, with a synchrony that should be long forgotten.

The disgusting liquid that you were once holding ends up splattered on the floor. Your drink of gin, that tasted like kerosene, stands out on the marble floor. Someone would have to take care of it, but not right now. Not now, that your tongues are intertwined. Hange tastes like beer, and you probably taste like something similar.

And just like that, Eren Yeager’s empire falls, right into Hange’s hands. 

They grab your waist, moving you towards the dimly lit bathroom, in order to give a bit of privacy. Smoothly, Hange closes the door and presses your back against it, the rage of Hange burning from deep in their heart — you can feel it on your bones, in your marrow. You know this isn’t a hate fuck, but it isn’t making love either.

No, this is way more intense, as they press open mouthed kisses on the warm skin of your throat. They notice you still wear the same perfume they once complimented, and they can’t help but think it’s because of them. Hange can’t help but wonder about the impact they have in your life, or if they have any at all.

They whisper something that sounds like your name, and it sounds so different from how your boyfriend says you. In this very moment, with Hange gripping your hips tightly, canine teeth grazing the side of your neck, you feel no empathy for Eren. You feel no regret at all, and if that makes you an asshole, then so be it. Being a goody two shoes, a people pleaser, has never gotten you anywhere.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” Hange confesses, as they pull your skirt up, guiding you to lay in the empty bathtub, on the other corner of the bathroom.

“I know. I missed you too.” You reply in the form of something in between a whisper and a moan. It's not what they said at all, but you know they mean it anyways. 

Your tits are exposed, bra tossed somewhere on the ground. Your skirt is a puddle around your waist, panties moved to the side — the sight of your glossy cunt exposed to Hange, as they offer you a smile that isn’t nothing short of wolfish. 

“Aw princess, your cunt is so wet already. So messy.” The condescending tone drips from their voice like honey, much like the wetness that drips from you.

Biting their tongue, they fight the urge to ask, is it all for me?

They take a moment to appreciate your body, fingers dancing along your soft skin, occasionally running through scars, unevenness, and a birthmark. Details they want to remember for the rest of their life, but would much rather be reminded of those every chance they get to see you strip for them. 

“Please.” You whimper, as your hips buckle. 

They shush you, fingers lightly grazing your pussy, teasing you through your wetness.

“I know, baby. I’ll give it to you, I promise. Just be good for me, yeah?” They say, pressing kisses under your year, on your neck, towards your collarbone. “Think you can do it?”

You whimper in agreement. They’ll take it

“Gotta be quiet, or someone might notice.”

Digits find themselves playing with your cunt, spreading your inner lips apart as Hange presses a single finger against your entrance, touching you just enough to drive you crazy. It sends a white hot feeling through your body.

“So fucking pretty, princess. Prettiest goddamn pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Given Hange’s history, that means something. Even if it didn’t, the praise would still make your body sing underneath them. It’s hard to properly explain the effect they have on you. 

Their experienced fingers finally find their way inside you, as a thumb rubs against your clit. It’s magical, it’s heaven. If you could choose to die like this, you would. 

This right here should make Hange feel bad, overtaken by a sense of regret at least, but they can’t. Not when you look this good, moaning and whimpering and begging. You have a boyfriend, and they couldn’t care less. 

Their fingers start pumping in and out of you, slowly at first, but growing in speed. Hange knows just how you like it, they right amount of pressure to press on your clit, and curling their fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck, ohmygod.” You pant, dignity long forgotten. It’s shameless, you are horny like a fucking teenager, but it feels so good. “It’s so good.”

Hange swallows another moan from you, mouth pressed to yours messily, a mixture of tongue and teeth and spit. 

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” They ask, not showing you any mercy, already lowering their body in between your legs. “You have no idea how much I missed this pretty pussy.”

“Please, please.” You whisper in response. “Need it, Hans. C’mon.”

They smile wickedly at you.

“Know you do.”

And then, finally — finally, they press open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, careful to not leave any marks. If there isn’t any proof of your crimes against Eren, then he can’t hold it against you. This is how it works. 

You want all they can give you, unable to quit them. 

Tiny explosions spread through your entire body, as you grind your hips against Hange’s greedy mouth. Now, this is greed — the overwhelming lust, the need to make you theirs. 

The bubble of warmth on your lower abdomen only grows, threatening to pop at any given second. 

The way Hange takes care of you with subtle touches, making it clear that they pay attention to your every reaction brings a bittersweet taste to your tongue. The contrast between them and your boyfriend is even clearer, starkly obvious. This is too intense: a mixture of passion for your lover and regret for your relationship. Somehow, it feels similar to falling in love.

Your hands find home in Hange’s dark hair, like they have many times before. For some unknown reason, this time is bittersweet – perhaps, the emotions, the touches that are so fresh on your body, send you into sensory overload. Tears escape from your eyes, like a broken dam. 

Your mind is a mess, and so is your body – wetness clings to your inner thighs, a thin layer of sweat covering your entire body. 

Their name falls from your lips like a mantra, as if your body is solely devoted to Hange – no one, not even Eren, is capable of earning such a reaction from you

You are so close – your hands pull on Hange’s hair lightly, just enough for them to moan into your cunt. Their teeth lightly graze your clit, sucking it like their life depends on it. The Earth stutters on its axis as you come, the bubble of warmth on your lower abdomen finally exploding, creating a mess out of you. Your legs tremble in pleasure, as Hange carries you through your height. 

It is quiet for a while, only your heavy breathing and the bass of music bumping from downstairs creating noise around you. Hange helps you get dressed, adjusting their hair and glasses shortly after. It isn’t silent, however wordless – an old choreography you have smoothly executed many times before. 

But, really, what is Hange supposed to say? See you next time? Can’t wait to do this again? Is this-

“I’ll leave him.” You mutter, while fixing your makeup in front of the mirror, attempting to clean it in the dim light. You look at them through the mirror, fixing your smudged eyeliner as you do so. It is still unclear if your boyfriend knows about your escapades with Hange, but you make sure to return to him as impeccably as you arrived to them. Maybe it’s better this way. 

They scoff once again. You sound like a broken record at this point, and they are tired of believing you. 

“I will-”

“Yeah, you said that last time.”

You sigh, turning around to look where they stand behind you, with a shoulder pressed against the door. Supporting your body against the sink, your gaze falls to the ground. 

“I mean it. I’ll leave him. I don’t know when, or how, but I will.”

Hange sighs.

“Alright.” They turn to you, one last time before opening the door. “But you gotta do this for you, not for me.”

With that, Hange leaves you – you wonder if this is what they felt after the countless times you were the one to leave them.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Behind The Scenes

Mat Barza x fem!model!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: some jealousy, a guy being a creep, smut, pregnancy, being naked, mentions nerves

Takes place early 2025

“I’m cold,” you complain with a shiver and scoot closer to Mat, letting his warmth heat up your body.

Right now you’re both on set for a photoshoot with Vogue. You and Mat are going to be on the cover, which is one of the biggest honors and you’re so excited. Aside from this being a big time shoot, you and your boyfriend are also announcing your first pregnancy to the world. You’re excited and nervous while Mat cannot stop talking about it. You’re happy that he’s excited and that he’s doing this cover with you.

“Come here, baby. Let me warm you up,” he wraps his arms around you, his large hands resting on the expanse of your back. He quickly makes all of your goosebumps disappear as if they were never there.

“I’m really nervous. This is going to be big news. Everyone is going to freak out,” you pout at him.

Gently, you cup his cheeks and squish them together. It earns your boyfriend’s famous cackle and it makes your heart melt.

“It’s exciting. I think I might’ve been a model in my past life,” he says and sways you in his arms. He fidgets with the seam of your robe, immediately alerting you that he has some nerves.

“I mean if all else fails, you have modeling to fall back on,” you roll your eyes as you tease him. You hope that it’ll wash away his hidden nerves.

“Haha,” he shakes his head with sass and it makes you giggle.

“Y/n and Mat, we’re ready for you,” an assistant informs you.

“Ready Mr. super model?” You ask, carding your fingers through his already tousled hair.

“So ready!” He guides you to the setup, eyes glued on you as you peel off your robe.

It’s the one thing he doesn’t like about today. The inspiration behind this photo shoot is being comfortable in your own skin and embracing the simplicity of being bare with someone you’re comfortable with. Mat doesn’t have a problem with it at all, he’s confident with his body and you’re confident with your body. The problem is that everyone who’s behind the scenes will see your breasts. Your breasts that have grown with being pregnant, and that are for his eyes only. Mat usually wouldn’t mind because it’s your job and he’d never tell you what to do or not to do with your body. For him, it’s mainly about the people gawking at you with no shame. It makes his skin crawl with jealousy.

“Pose 1, guys.”

You and Mat both stand, your chest pressed into his bare one while he rests his hands on your hips. You stare into his eyes while the cameras flash around you, partially thankful that this first round will only focus on your bodies. He mouths a silent “I love you” and you slightly lean up to kiss him.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips.

Mat can’t help but take in your soft features and the way your eyes softly peer into his. He wishes he can caress your cheeks the way he usually would when you flash him a loving expression.

You smile at the way his hands flex over your hips. You know him well enough to know that he’d put his hands on your cheeks if he could.

Soft moments like these make it seem like everything around you disappears. The cameras aren’t on you or your baby daddy and it’s just you two in the room.

It sadly doesn’t last long.

“Pose 2!”

Mat moves to sit on the floor with one leg propped up. You straddle his lap and hold onto the sides of his torso. His hands go to your ass, giving you a hearty squeeze that makes you giggle.

“Sorry, I had to. Your ass looks too good in these jeans,” Mat muses, eyebrows lifting in a casual cool sense.

A red, hot flush fills your cheeks adding to your already glowing skin. You love the way Mat always gives you attention. It’s like he was born to compliment and love you.

He’s so sexy.

“Okay, this angle isn’t working so we need to see your side profiles. Mat, we need you to smolder and Y/n, do your open mouth pout with your head tilted back. You’re going to have your breasts right under his chin,” the photographer guides you.

Mat feels his chest tighten when he realizes everyone will get a good look at your boobs. He has a hard time not making eye contact with those who stare at you like they’ve never seen a pair of boobs in their entire lives. Even the bright flash can’t distract him. At least your thumb swiping at the skin of his torso helps him relax.

“Great! Y/n, you look amazing,” one of the assistants says, making Mat snarl at him. It’s almost like he isn’t even there, posing in the same picture.

“Okay! Next pose.”

Mat moves to fully face the camera while you move to his side, hugging his arm and blocking your nudity from the camera. As you do so, Mat watches the eyes of many men who can’t seem to look away. As you were adjusting your pose, your breasts were out in the open and those guys took it as the perfect opportunity to stare.

He lets out a silent huff which gathers your attention.

“What’s wrong?” You ask after a picture is taken.

“These men keep staring at you like you’re something to eat and it doesn’t sit right with me,” he explains, trying not to let his facial features show his jealousy. It doesn’t work, though. His face is set in a frown and his lips are pouty.

You kiss his jaw and nudge your nose into his skin.

“I love you, baby, but they’re just making sure we’re all doing what we’re supposed to do,” you reason with him.

You’re used to being exposed around many people and sometimes their eyes tend to wander for longer than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You can understand your boyfriend, though. He’s not used to everyone seeing you.

“Well, they don’t need to be staring at you,” he grunts.

You turn his face towards yours and slant your lips over his. Something about him being jealous turns you on. It shows just how much he craves you, despite being pregnant and it’s an ego boost.

“You’re so hot,” you whisper, eyes darkening with lust.

Quickly his mood flips and he’s matching your smirk with one of his own.

“One more before break!” You’re both snapped out of your lustrous haze.

For this photo, it’s just you. You lay out on the floor with your hair fanning out around your head. You cover your breasts with your hands just so the main focus can be your growing bump.

The main photographer lets her apprentice take a few shots. He’s standing above you, getting a bird’s eye view while Mat seethes in the back.

“Damn, you’re one lucky guy. The rack on her is insane,” Mat hears to his side.

His blood boils and the veins in his neck start to pop out. Does that guy know who he’s talking to?

“Excuse you?” Mat says finally turning to see who was audacious enough to utter those words.

“You’re one lucky man. I bet you hit that every night. I know I would,” the other guy groans, eyes locked in on you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Have some fucking respect and take your eyes off my wife,” Mat growls, stepping closer to the jerk.

He’s done with these guys thinking they can just stare at what’s his. There’s also no way in hell Mat would ever let a man talk so crudely about another woman, let alone his girl.

“Dude chill!”

“I’m not your ‘dude.’ You need to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Mat almost roars and everyone stops what they’re doing.

You hurriedly pull on your robe and make your way to the scene.

“Are you okay?” You ask your man, hands coming to rest on his heaving chest. His skin is hot under your palms. His eyes hold even more fire.

“Everything’s fine because he will be leaving,” Mat claims, not asking permission for this guy to be thrown out.

“No way!” The guy yells.

“Can we get this guy out of here, he’s causing unnecessary issues,” you ask a higher up.

Everyone moves in a haste to get the guy off set and make sure everything is all good.

“Everyone take 30!”

You cup Mat’s cheeks and stare into his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am now,” he whispers, pulling you into a chaste kiss that isn’t enough for you.

He moves you to a secluded corner, crowding you into the wall with his muscled frame. Mat inhales a deep breath and looks around at your surroundings. Even though you’re both hidden, people can still be heard and partially seen.

Allowing his emotions to drive his actions, he pulls your lips to his by the back of your neck. Your hands eagerly hold onto his firm body. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, dominating yours as one of your legs comes up to wrap over his hips. You try to grind against him as you feel the wanton need for friction take over.

“Are you wet?” He asks against the shell of your ear, his lip dragging down the side of your face.

“Yes,” you respond, nodding your head just in case he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s all for you,” you state, pulling him into another kiss.

“Damn right. You’re my girl and you’re carrying my baby,” your boyfriend claims, a hand rubbing your small bump.

“Fuck me, Maty,” you whine and pull him impossibly closer to you. You don’t care if there is people around or if he fucks you into the wall. You just want his cock inside of you.

“Come with me,” he says, pulling you back to the most recent setup.

It’s a king size bed made up with cream colored bedding. It’s displayed for the next round of photos, but Mat would never have sex with you in an uncomfortable position- especially while you’re pregnant. So for now, the bed is yours and he’s about to take you on it.

You pull him into another kiss as he lays you down, your legs coming to wrap around his waist. Your boyfriend sits up on his knees, his hands reaching out to pull off your jeans and robe. You lay bare in front of him, feeling warmth cascade over you. He pulls down his own pants and underwear, leaning over you to caress your body with his lips.

“Who do you belong to?” He questions, lips right next to your ear and his fingers collecting your wetness.

“You,” you whine and rut your hips up into his hand, desperate to feel him fill you up.

“Who?” He teases, fisting himself before guiding his tip to your entrance.

“You,” you gasp as he slides into with an ease that’s only possible with being pregnant. When you get wet, you get wet.

“Oh my god,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. The feeling of him sliding into you takes you to another planet.

“Look at you dripping for me,” he grunts, hands on your hips as he starts to fasten his pace.

He’s hard and heavy, snug between your wet walls. The thick head of his cock nudges deep inside of you, making you clench down on him.

“It’s all for you,” you moan and rut your hips up into his movements.

He cups your bouncing breasts, eliciting a squeal due to the sensitivity. Your arousal drips down his shaft, drawing Mat’s attention to where he’s splitting you open. Your pussy sucks him in and pulls away every shred of sanity he has left.

“Your pussy is mine,” he moans, pushing your legs as far into your chest as possible. He pounds into you, a thick finger coming down to circle your clit.

“All yours, baby,” you whine.

“You take my cock so well baby,” he praises you, words sweet but cocky.

His eyes are molten and you can feel the heat wash over you as he stares at you.

Whimpers and the squelching of wet skin hitting wet skin echo off the walls. You flutter around him, your greedy hands reach out to wherever you can reach. Your blunt nails dig into his skin, leaving angry red lines behind.

“I’m cumming,” you scream as you release around him.

Your entire body tenses up before the brunt of your orgasm crashes into you. Your body arches off the bed and full body chills work their way on your body.

“You’re so sexy carrying my baby. You enjoy being pumped with my cum, don’t you? I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re dripping with my cum,” he heaves out through his labored breathing.

His hips snap into yours and you can feel him pulse inside of you. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he stills his movements and then he pulls out to spurt the rest on your mound. His abdomen twitches, his own orgasm crashing into him with a heavy force. Sweat drips down his pretty face and his curls stick to his forehead.

As he catches his breath, he watches his release spill out of your spent hole. It’s a sight he’ll never get over, especially how you flutter around nothing because you miss the feeling of being full.

“I love you,” you sigh, finally coming back down.

He rubs his cock against your pussy, making sure to collect every single drop of cum. Soon he’s fucking his cum back into you and you feel another knot form in your tummy.

“I love you, baby. Your fucking pussy was made for me,” he responds, eyes closed and head tossed back.

His hips slowly rock into you and before you know it, your walls are collapsing on him again. You tremble as you welcome the surge of electricity to hurdle through your body.

“Just like that, baby. I love you,” he whispers against your lips. He continues to slowly thrust into you, hips moving like honey.

You softly push at him before you can feel the effects of your overstimulated muscles.

He carefully rolls off of you, but pulls you back into his side. He caresses your body with gentle hands- a stark contrast to the roughness he just displayed.

“Are you okay?” He kisses your temple, moving your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Perfect,” you reply as you kiss on his neck.

You rub at his torso and watch how he reacts to your touch. There’s nothing more appealing than your man becoming weak at the tips of your fingers. It makes your core tighten and drip with arousal, or it could just be his release pooling out of you again.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” he rasps, mouth coming down to catch one of your nipples.

You lean into his affection, blood pumping with fervor all over again. Being pregnant has made you incredibly insatiable and with Mat being incredibly beautiful, you cannot get enough of him.

“We have like 5 minutes left,” you inform him.

He cocks an eyebrow up and smirks at you. He quickly moves down your body, spreading you open, and eats your pussy like the starved man he is.

5 minutes later, no one questions your unkempt hair or the content grins you both wear.

a/n: Sorry this has taken so long😭 I hope you all enjoy this!!

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 8) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies (kind of)-> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, McLaren, bad jokes

Word Count: 4,277

A/N: I tried out some different writing styles this chapter and candidly, I’m not sure it’s my best work. There are more scenes from DR’s perspective and I found out that writing race dialogue is very difficult. I tried to stay true to the actual Abu Dhabi 2022. Please bear with me through this chapter, feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Please, thank you, and enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

When you arrived at the paddock, Daniel was still distracting himself by taking pictures of literally everything, including the ground. You let him be though, no matter how silly it seemed. The last thing he needed was to psych himself out before the race. As you approached, the McLaren PR crew was already waiting with cameras to get content for the last Unboxed video of the season which was your cue to peel off.

“How are you feeling?” you asked hesitantly, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from your client.

“Honestly, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll feel different once the suit’s on, but right now I’m good.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” He caught the seriousness in your tone and found it endearing you were being so protective of him. It seemed you were more nervous than he was.

“Actually, hold on,” he stopped walking.

“What? Is everything alright? Oh-” *click* “Daniel!” He laughed at your disgruntled expression as he lowered the camera.

“I’m fine, promise. I’ll see you after the race.” He gave you a polite pat on the shoulder as he began to walk away, but you grabbed his arm before he was out of reach and pulled him in for a big hug before you could second guess yourself. He didn’t think twice as he wrapped his arms around you. You quickly released him, reinstating the arm’s length between you.

“Good luck today, you’re going to do great,” you said as you composed yourself. He walked backwards continuing your extended goodbye, unable to look away from you.

“I know,” he said, with a cocky smile plastered on his face. *click*

You snorted, your stoicism overpowered by his charm. You waved one last time as a sendoff before he disappeared into McLaren hospitality.   

-

As usual with race day, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Daniel exchanged helmets with Lando and Zhou, sat for photos with the team, sat for photos with the grid. He tried to take in every detail. He laughed when he walked in the garage and saw his mechanics donning cowboy hats embroidered with “yee-haw thanks DR” and the outline of him doing a shoey.

Everyone seemed to think he would be walking around as though he were attending his own funeral, but for the moment he felt he didn’t have much to be sad about. He needed a break – from the spotlight, from McLaren, from training, from racing in general, and there was no shame in that. In twelve hours that break would become a reality, and that was something to be very happy about.

When it came time to change into his race suit, he waited with baited breath for the garment to exert some kind of magical force over him. He stood in his drivers room waiting for the tears, or nerves, or something. Everyone told him it would hit him when he put the suit on. But he examined himself in the mirror, widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. Power pose. No, he was still the same Daniel Ricciardo, despite what people tried to tell him. And this was just another race.

It was less than ideal starting P13 due to a three-place grid penalty carried over from the Brazilian Grand Prix after his run-in with Yuki, but Daniel pushed aside all the growing frustrations as he waited eagerly for the lights to change, feeling his pulse sync with the idled roar of the engine. The few seconds before the race played out in slow motion, as they always did. The rest of the pressures of the moment faded away as he focused on what was in front of him, ready to react. He was at peace, and allowed himself to feel the overwhelming therapeutic emptiness. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

And it’s lights out and away we go!

He survived the first lap shuffle and chaos, but lost a position to Lance. There was still plenty of race left though, and his goal first and foremost was a clean race without a DNF. Making it through the first few clustered laps unscathed was step one. Once the pack started to disperse, he began his grueling climb back to the points.

Here comes Daniel Ricciardo on the inside of Schumacker, gaining a place back.

It was lonely for a while. He extended his lead from Mick, but couldn’t seem to fully catch up to Lance. Lance pitted on lap 14, as expected with mediums if going for a two-stop strategy, allowing Daniel to gain a position. It subsequently opened up the floodgates, others shortly following suit bringing Daniel up to P8. He knew he would have to pit eventually, but if he could just nurse this set a bit longer and maintain this position as long as possible, he had a shot to finish in the points.  

Lap 18, Daniel Ricciardo still hasn’t pitted yet.

Even in the last race, it shouldn’t have surprised him that McLaren would try to short stick him one last time. Good riddance he would be done with this circus in an hour. George passed him, as he expected in better machinery and on fresher tires.

He finally pitted on lap 20, switching to hards. The team did a great job with a 2.3 second pit stop but he came out in P18. He had a job to do, it was time to get to work.

Daniel Ricciardo, down in 18th place. Making some overtakes and having a bit of fun. Makes a lovely move on Kevin Magnusson going into Turn 9.

In quick succession, he picked off Mick and Bottas, Seb pitted, and somehow Alonso DNF’d. Before he knew it, he was back to where he started in P13.

Fernando Alonso has not had the best of luck, our first retirement of this evening. Mechanical failure. That is a real shame for him, real shame. Meanwhile, here comes Sebastian Vettel! Haven’t said that in a while. Very nice move on Pierre Gasly.

News at Alpine that there’s some water leak, that was why they had to pull Fernando in. He feels the unreliability there has cost him nearly seventy points during the course of this season. Since he came back to Formula One, well, the reunion with Alpine then Renault has ended in retirement. Sad for all parties. And this means that Fernando Alonso has been beaten by his teammate, Esteban Ocon. But I’ll tell you a bit more about that later, as Daniel Ricciardo manages to get past the Alfa Romeo of Zhou Guanou.   

He encroached on Alex, smelling blood in the water. Even though Alex nicked the wall, he maintained the position longer than he thought. He had to respect the work the kid was doing in that tractor trailer of a Williams. The track conditions were cooling as the sun set, making it difficult to regulate the temperature of the tires.

Daniel Ricciardo trying down the inside there on Alex Albon. Now you saw what happened in Mexico when he tried that on an unsuspecting Yuki Tsunoda and they came together, but this time around they managed to keep apart. But uh, for McLaren they need to start clearing a few cars here. Norris is seventh. Ricciardo out of the points. Albon now pits.

He wished he could have overtaken Alex properly, but he wasn’t complaining as he gained another position. The second stoppers continued, moving his way up to P9. He could breathe a bit now that he was officially in the points. But it was short lived as his friend, former teammate, and mentor had popped up in his rearview, more than two seconds behind, but quickly closing the gap. There were still fifteen laps requiring him to preserve the tires while defending his position.

Sebastian Vettel is gaining a bit on Daniel Ricciardo in tenth place. Ten laps to go.

He almost missed the second Aston Martin in his rearview as Lance passed both of them. He shared Seb’s frustration that they were the sacrificial lambs of their respective teams testing out the one-stop strategy. He was still in the points for now, but Seb was an admirable adversary and with only seven laps left in the race he would not take the position for granted. With officially one second between them, he had to push. They were both on very old tires, but Seb’s were younger.

The two leavees, Ricciardo and Vettel. Vettel’s closing in on Ricciardo, and he’s going to get him in the next lap or so if the current pace keeps up. Five laps to go in the Formula One season, 2022.

And oh my God, what’s this? Hydraulic problem for Hamilton, as you can see as Carlos Sainz passes Lewis who’s still stuck in seventh gear! This might be curtains for Lewis Hamilton this evening. He’s got it down into fifth gear – oh. Oh no, this is disappointing.

As was the nature of racing, he wasn’t going to question his adversary’s misfortune. With a mechanical failure taking Lewis out, he moved back into P9. He was so close to the finish line he could taste it, but Seb was still less than a second behind.

The final lap. He saw the fireworks go off for Max, but he couldn’t lose focus.

Daniel Ricciardo under immense pressure from Sebastian Vettel. This is going to go all the way to the wire.

There’s twelve million dollars on Sebastian Vettel trying to overtake Daniel Ricciardo here, twelve million dollars if they can get extra points at Aston Martin to see if they can get above Alfa Romeo in the Constructor’s Championship. Is it Ricciardo or Vettel? Nineth or tenth? Both drivers leaving as of the end of this season. Ricciardo potentially to go as a reserve driver at Red Bull. Sebastian Vettel waving goodbye to Formula One and giving us thrills and excitement right to the checkered flag! Is he going to get past Daniel Ricciardo? It’s going to be close!

Ricciardo takes that nineth place, Sebastian Vettel scores tenth in his final race! And well, what did he say? “Remember these times, they might not last forever.” Sebastian, thank you. The memories definitely will.   

Daniel's jaw unclenched to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in that moved his whole chest, shoulders relaxing. He barely had time to process what he had just accomplished when his engineers came on the radio.

“Yes mate, P9. Good job. Finished in the points. Good stuff, good stuff.”

“Cheers guys, that was, uh, that was fun at the end. Think we did well to hold him off, well done. That was good.”

“Great race buddy. Great overtaking, that was a proper Honey Badger show, that was good.”

He bit his tongue. He could only be so pleasant to the people who had diminished his confidence over the last two years. Having officially crossed the finish line of his last race, he would remain polite and cordial but didn’t feel the need to suck up to them more than he needed to.    

“Daniel, could I have Purple Default 64X. And if you could go back to Purple C1.”

He did as he was told, unphased by the short radio congratulations. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when a picture of his win at Monza last year popped up with the rest of the team. The memory of that day came flooding back and the feelings that went along with it. The triumph he finally felt. The renewed sense of hope for what may come with the rest of his tenure with McLaren. The Daniel in the picture had no idea he would basically be kicked out of the sport he loved so much in less than a year. He had no idea he would fall out of love with it, even as he was just starting to get his groove back.  

“That’s cool,” he chuckled. “That’s really nice, thank you guys.”

“Cheers buddy. It’s been an honor, Daniel. It’s been an honor, really great good two years.” He hated the lump he felt in his throat. “I know we haven’t always had the results we’ve wanted, but we’ve had some pretty good ones along the way. And uh, I think I speak for everyone on the team when I say how much we’ve all enjoyed working with you.” He swallowed thickly, praying no one had eyes on the front facing camera in the car.

“Yeah, appreciate your efforts. Thank you…Alright, it’s nice to finish in the points. Well done guys. Thank you.” He did his best to switch the conversation back to race at hand, taking away the focus of the gravity and finality of the situation. Looking at it in isolation, away from the totality of the last two years, it was a good race. He continued to drive and wave around the track, doing some donuts here and there, but the gestures felt empty.

“Ok, so into the pit lane, and when you turn the engine off then go to P0. Kill the car and switch everything off.” The back of his eyes began to sting. Switch everything off.

“Understood. Uh, alright guys.” There was so much he wanted to say but he was never good with words, especially not at this moment. “Thank you. I think you know…how much I appreciate your efforts over the last two years. So… thank you.” He tried to keep his tone steady, but felt his voice crack. “And thanks for this display, on Purple C64. Cheers.”

“Yeah, 03 we weren’t really able to use I’m afraid.” He knew the engineers were only talking about the mechanical configurations, but the words felt like a gut punch. They were done with him. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The feelings he had waited for all day, the ones everyone expected, suddenly hit him like an avalanche. He wanted to get out of the car desperately, but couldn’t do so when he was a mess like this. It was probably the last time for the rest of the night that he would have any time to be by himself with just his thoughts. It was done – and he realized again after taking a few moments to compose himself, maybe for now that was a good thing. What was it Seb had said?

“There are a lot more important things than racing in circles.”

He jumped out of the car, feeling the impact of the gravel below his feet. He stretched his limbs, finally free from the confines of the cockpit and was hit by a wave of relief that washed over him. He was free from expectations, restrictive diets, constant jet lag. Free from McLaren. All he had to do was get into his ugly orange team kit one last time for post-race interviews. He knew he would be asked hard questions, about his past and his future, but he was ready. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything, had many things to be proud of. You’re the only driver to have won in that brick of a car in the last ten years you constantly reminded him. He finished the season on a high, including a great race battle with Seb. He was done hiding, done minimizing.

So he went from interview to interview, unafraid to be honest with himself and the world. It’s ok to admit that he’s had a hard time the last two years, that he’s happy to be taking some time away from the sport and to take care of his mental health.

He slowly made his way back to the McLaren garage as he pushed through the crowd, dodging fans trying to get selfies and autographs, politely declining additional interviews and comments from strangers. In a sea of blurred faces, he spotted you. One of the mechanics had gifted you an extra celebratory cowboy hat and you appeared to be in deep conversation with one of them. Your hands moved around animatedly as you spoke, like they always did when you were passionate about something. The mechanic laughed, and he wondered what joke you had told or whether you had said something unintentionally funny. He found himself smiling, excited to get the answer.

The mechanic noticed him first and waved. He touched your shoulder and pointed in Daniel’s direction. You squinted as you searched the crowd with intense focus. Daniel’s heart nearly exploded when your eyes finally landed on him – you waved eagerly with the biggest, brightest smile on your face that put all the track lights and fireworks to shame.

The mechanic gave him a quick hug and pat on the back first, adding a subtle wink for good measure before walking away, seemingly aware of the need for the two of you to have your own space. For the second time that day, you engulfed each other in a warm, firm hug that perhaps lasted a beat too long. He liked how you perched on your tip toes to get your head as close to the crook of his neck as possible. He liked the feeling of your small, delicate hands on his back. He liked that he could smell your hair products, distinct from the scent of your perfume, sweet florals and jasmine contrasting accents of patchouli and bergamot. He liked you.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, you were amazing today,” you gushed.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing that the flush he felt in his cheeks wasn’t from the race.  

“How are you feeling now?” you asked sincerely. He took a moment to think on it before answering.

“I’m not sure. Good I think, but tired.”

“That’s valid.”

“How was your day?” It was an innocent question, so he was confused when you laughed. He was just trying to make conversation. “What?”

“You just had your last race of the season and you’re officially getting out of your contract with McLaren tomorrow, and you’re asking me how my day went?” He shrugged.

“I’ve already talked about myself more than enough today. I want to hear about you.” Your laugh lines softened.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t have to work, I met Usher, and I got to watch my friend’s last F1 race and he kicked so much butt. So I’d say it was pretty great.” His heart skipped a beat. Friend.

“You met Usher?” He glossed over the other stuff, unable to trust himself if you delved any further into the topic.

“Yeah, he was hanging out in the McLaren garage. Did not have that on my 2022 bingo card. But uh…” a sheepish grin grew on your face. “I don’t think he appreciated I kept dropping his lyrics in casual conversation.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, and the smile on your face grew.

“Y’know… just when I thought I said all I could say, he was like…yeah. And he also said -”

“Hold on let me guess,” he said between giggles. “You remind him of a girl he once knew.”

“You know…you would not believe all the things she put him through,” you said, joining him in laughter. He observed you playing with your hands behind your back, your chest puffed slightly, clearly finding great joy in your own corny jokes.

“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll perform at the McLaren afterparty.” The words rolled off his tongue before he had the chance to think about what he was asking of you. It was one thing to go out with some of the other drivers offsite, but a McLaren sponsored event when you had been their adversary only a short few months ago was less than appropriate.

“You’ll have to let me know.” His heart fell a little, not missing the polite decline of his subtle invitation. He didn’t want to admit how much he truly needed you there. But he was on a roll with this whole honesty thing, so he bore his soul to you.

“I don’t want to go,” he said in a low voice, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I’m tired and I don’t know how I’m supposed to spend the night celebrating with these people. I can barely look half of them in the eye.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had begged for anything. He hoped his plea would be convincing enough, but you only gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll be ok. Lando will be there, and there are plenty of people in your garage that had nothing to do with the decisions Zak or Andrea made. You still have people in your corner. Lots of them. And they want to celebrate with you.” He closed his eyes as you encouragingly rubbed the side of his arm, but finished with a firm pat. “Chin up. You’re almost done.”

Right. The race was only half the battle he would face today. Until the end of the day, he was still an employee of McLaren.

“Will you come pick me up if the kids at school are mean to me?” He always used humor as a defense mechanism, but he hated how much truth there was in the metaphor. You leaned in close to whisper your reassurance, a calm pleasantness in your shadow of a smile. You spoke slowly and deliberately.

“I will commit a felony and make it look like an accident if anyone is mean to you.” He was left grinning from ear to ear when you pulled away, your quiet resolve contagious as he felt his anxiety melt away. “You got this, and I promise I will celebrate with you after everything is signed tomorrow.” You extended your pinky, and he gladly linked his with yours in a solemn vow.

“Fuck ‘em all, yeah?”

“Fuck ‘em all.”

-

You sat in bed freshly showered, full body shaved, and facemask on. You felt guilty as hell sending your client off to the lion’s den with no support, so you had gone straight back to the hotel once he was out of sight. There was no need to go to the Amber Lounge or anything, not that you would even be able to get in without Daniel. Besides, you had your own personal Super Bowl tomorrow that you needed to be prepared for. You had ordered room service and shot off a few emails when you heard a knock. You checked the time – it was nearly midnight. You wrapped yourself in the cozy hotel robe for modesty before checking the peephole. To your confusion, but not surprise, you saw Daniel standing by himself in the hallway.

“Hi?” He looked up, admiring your frame in the doorway. You were just as beautiful in a robe and slippers as you were in a LBD and Louboutins. He bit his lip for a moment, clearly holding back a smile.

“Hi. Uh, I think you got something-” he trailed off, lightly brushing the tip of his nose with his finger.

“What? Oh! Fuck. Right.” You turned around to quickly rip the nose strip off your face. You winced, feeling the sting of the adhesive. You did your best to hide your discomfort and embarrassment with a smile when you turned back around. “Sorry about that. You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah. I figure I showed enough face for the evening. Plus big day tomorrow, right?” You nodded, unsure where this exchange was going as he fidgeted in place. “Also…” he looked around cautiously. “I didn’t want to get caught stealing this.” He pulled a bottle of very expensive champagne from behind his back, proudly presenting it to you. Your jaw dropped and morphed into a giant grin in spite of the arguably illegal activities that had transpired.

“You didn’t…For me?” You grabbed the bottle from him, feelings goosebumps form when your fingers brushed. “Wait. If I accept this, does it make me an accomplice or accessory after the fact?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, you’re the lawyer. You tell me.” He took a step forward.

“Well. I’m not going to say no to a free drink I suppose,” you said, examining the bottle in your hands. He cleared his throat.

“I figured we could enjoy it after tomorrow – or, I mean, you could enjoy it,” he took another step forward. For reasons unknown, he seemed to lose confidence as the gap between you narrowed.

You looked back up at him, inspecting his condition. Perhaps he was a little tipsy, but he was far from being wasted which you were pleasantly surprised about given his apprehensions going into the evening. It either meant he wasn’t leaning on alcohol to handle his emotions, or he was taking tomorrow’s signing very seriously, or both. Whichever one it was, it demonstrated restraint and growth and you were proud of him for it. Admittedly, you had also been nervous leaving him to his own devices for the evening. You had wanted to go with him, to be there for emotional support. You had relied on the rationale that it was a McLaren sponsored event, but at this point the two of you had a consistent track record of blurring the lines of professionalism and friendship whenever you went out together. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him – you didn’t trust yourself.

But the man standing in front of you was composed and mature (relatively speaking, of course). Perhaps a little nervous, as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. But nevertheless, even after the emotional, mental, and physical turmoil of the day, he stood before you with respect and poise. Yes, you trusted yourself with him wholeheartedly.  

You took a step back, opening the door wider.

“How about we enjoy it now?”

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

[bobsyourdylan]

Okay, so – a few thoughts on Izzy’s death. I’m sure other people have also laid this out, but I haven’t stumbled across it yet, so this is partially for me to get my thoughts organized. For the record, I love Izzy – he fascinated me (in a horrified sort of way) in season 1, and then he grew on me significantly in season 2. What a weird little guy. But also – I’m fine with them killing him off, and also with how they did it, because I think it makes sense for the story. But I know that a lot of people are super upset about his death, and also about the way he died. So, a few semi-coherent thoughts on that: 

Why not a sacrifice play?

This writer’s room is so self-aware, so deliberate about engaging with tropes – there is no possible way that they sat around breaking the story of Izzy’s death and no one said “woah, wouldn’t it be symbolic and gut-wrenching if he sacrificed himself for Ed? Or Stede?” No way. So why didn’t they go that route? 

Izzy’s arc in season 2 has been all about becoming his own man, separate from Ed/Blackbeard. Like – that’s what he’s worked towards, this whole season. That is his growth. It would be insulting to take that away from him at the last minute, and make his death purely about Ed and Stede.

Listen, I love a sacrifice arc as much as the next person. But Izzy’s life isn’t about sacrifice anymore – that’s the whole point of his season 2 arc. He has spent decades sacrificing both himself and Ed to the altar of Blackbeard. No more. 

It also means that Ed and Stede’s mourning doesn’t have to be tinged with the guilt of “he sacrificed himself to save me/my partner.” They can mourn Izzy purely for himself, because he is worth mourning. This, I would argue, is the send-off that Izzy’s character deserves.

Izzy’s death wasn’t accidental on Ricky’s part – it wasn’t a stray bullet.

We see from the scene when the crew is locked up in Spanish Jackie’s that Ricky recognizes Izzy. We know from their conversation that, for Ricky, Izzy is the epitome of piracy – Izzy, not Blackbeard, is the legend.

The thing is – Ed and Stede are both in the scene where Izzy dies (I’m not sure if you can see Stede on screen, but the bts photos show Rhys’ position, on what would be the far right of the shot). Arguably, Stede would have been the easier shot – Ricky wouldn’t have had to complete a full 180-degree turn before he could pull the trigger. So why doesn’t he go for Stede, who abandoned him to the tender mercies of Spanish Jackie in the first place? Or Blackbeard, arguably the greatest/most famous pirate alive, with the possible exception of Zheng, who he’s already targeted? Sure, you could argue that he’d going for Ed here… but I don’t think he is. The shot’s too low to be accidentally aimed for Izzy – it would hit Ed’s knee or something, probably. I think that yes, it’s a panicked shot, not well-aimed at all. But if it’s aimed at anyone, I think it has to be Izzy. And at the very least, the symbolism of it is very much not accidental.

For probably the first time since they created Blackbeard, Izzy isn’t just a stand-in for Ed. His significance is his own in this scene – in all of his interactions with Ricky. He’s not targeted because he’s Blackbeard’s first mate (why go for the first mate when you could go for Blackbeard?). He’s targeted because he’s Izzy Hands – because he is significant, powerful, famous, respected in and of himself.

And more than that – this is an arc about the end of piracy. And Izzy Hands is piracy – the show has been telling us from the beginning that piracy is a mixed bag, full of the good and the bad, and Izzy represents that  – represents both the toxic, violent side of piracy, and the side of piracy that he grows into, that he explains to Ricky – piracy as family, home, belonging. Izzy dies, and it hurts, because not only is he a great character, but he represents in one person all of the complicated, hilarious, heartbreakin, violent, loving aspects of piracy – and of the show. But it is so, so important that Izzy dies as himself – not as a symbol or shield of Ed, or Stede, or Blackbeard. Not even as a symbol of piracy, but instead as the active embodiment of piracy – as something/someone who grows, changes, ends. Not as static or passive, but as better than when we first met him, as transformed as Buttons in his own way. 

Izzy’s death sets up a possible revenge arc:

We know that everything in this show ties back to the main relationship between Ed and Stede. Izzy’s death is, I think, significant on its own, for him as a character – but it is also, by necessity, significant to Ed and Stede’s relationship. Namely – it sets up an interesting conflict for season 3 re: a potential revenge arc for Ed. 

Now, clearly they’ve carefully ended season 2 on a relatively high note in case we don’t get a season 3. But we know they’re gonna be terrible at running an inn, and we know there’s unfinished business with Ricky. Ed’s current strategy of dealing with everything that’s happened seems to be “I don’t want to be a pirate, get me out of here” – which, while fair enough, won’t last, because that’s the nature of unfinished business. So, at some point, Ed and Stede are going to need to confront Ricky again. And, if the writers decide to lean into the revenge arc, I’d say the odds are pretty high that, when Ed lays eyes on Ricky again, we get a flashback to Izzy’s death. 

And this sets us up for a pivotal, and necessary, moment in Ed’s character arc: when confronted with pain, loss, negative emotion in general – can Ed deal with it without losing himself? Ed needs a balance between the Kraken, Blackbeard, and Edward, and we see at the end of season 1 and beginning of season 2 how challenging that balance is for him to find, especially when confronted with loss or pain. We can see Ed working towards that balance when he’s interacting with Low – Low’s taunts don’t push Ed to violence, but instead get to Stede. But comparatively, Izzy’s loss is a much greater blow, and at some point, Ed is going to need to confront that.

Plus – we know the writing team are thinking of Izzy’s death at least partially in terms of the mentor/mentee arc, which often confronts the question of revenge – after the mentor’s death, the mentee is required to choose on their own how to go on, what kind of person they want to be. And this often requires a confrontation with both the mentor’s loss and a decision about how far they want to take their desire for revenge.

Why not a cooler death?

Okay — I get this criticism. I do. Izzy is an amazing fighter, we all love that about him. And you can keep most of the above symbolism and still have him die fighting two dozen British soldiers. 

But — again — we are back to the root of this show: Ed and Stede. 

Izzy has two deaths this season: one in the premiere, one in the finale. The first is Stede’s fantasy. Cool swordfight, and Stede triumphs, obviously — but the premise of the fight is that Izzy’s a great swordsman and Stede bests him because now Stede’s a great pirate. This is Stede’s ideal pirate fantasy. 

But Izzy’s actual death is not like this. It is messy and inelegant and painful and no one gets any glory from it at all and Ed is crying with Izzy dying in his arms, and Stede wants to help, goes for bandages, but he doesn’t know what to do and it’s not enough anyways — And this is not a fantasy anymore. This is piracy, and this is the piracy that Ed wants to escape. And it’s important that Stede sees this, sees what Ed is done with. 

And it’s also important that Stede tries to save Izzy. Izzy isn’t just a symbolic barrier between Stede and Ed anymore, to be sacrificed to Stede’s reunion fantasy. He’s his own person, with his own death, and Izzy has grown, yes, but so has Stede.

And by using Izzy’s death to make this point, we both get Stede learning the reality of piracy and growing beyond his fantasy, and the glorious fantasy fight kiss i love you reunion between Ed and Stede (if Ed and Stede had reunited by fighting off dozens of British soldiers, but Izzy had died doing the same, the dissonance would have messed with both the death and the reunion, because we the audience wouldn’t be able to distinguish between the fantasy and reality worlds). And getting both of these is the premise of the show — fantasy and reality both. 

And sure — you can be mad that the show used Izzy in this way. But that is the show’s premise — everything is in service of the protagonists and their relationship. This is not a surprise— it’s been openly talked about since day 1. 

You don’t have to like what the writers did. You don’t have to agree that it was the correct choice. But they have proven to us, time and time again over the last year, that they are self-aware and careful with this show that they know we love so much. So we absolutely owe it, to them and to ourselves, to ask why they made a choice that not everyone may agree with. What is the payoff? Why did they decide to do this thing that they knew would upset fans? Because we know it’s not that they hate us. So what is it? You don’t have to agree that the payoff is worth it. But do the writers, and the show, and yourself the favor of recognizing that there is a payoff here.

[kcrabb88]

Quinlan Vos and Obi-Wan Kenobi Are Not Normal About Each Other (A Thesis Statement)

Fandom: Quinlan and Obi-Wan have had sex, but it’s a reach to think they could be in love and/or care deeply about each other in some manner, it was just physical (this is not me saying I don't think they have sex I HELLA do and I've written a lot of smut to prove it, but I've seen wayyyy too many posts that basically say they can only be romantic as Padawans and NEVER as adults and/or were just fooling around as teens and didn't have deep feelings in some way whether they're FWB or romantic partners or whatever you like)

Me: *unrolls my scroll* I'm here to make a POINT as an addendum to this post I made recently.

Look at these little darlings! They just met and Quin's already trusting Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan WANTS Quin to trust him. In another panel from this same comic, Quin helps Obi-Wan with his anxiety and it's very sweet.

Quin's been struggling with the dark side while undercover, and everyone thinks he's really truly fallen and can't be brought back except for Aayla, Tholme, and, YOU GUESSED IT! Obi-Wan. He goes looking for Quinlan on his own and finds him and they chat. Plus, look at this flashback of these little nerds flirting. Quin literally falls into the river and almost dies trying to flirt with Obi-Wan.

What do I even say about this panel??? Look at them!! Look at Quin trusting Obi-Wan with the dark parts of himself and Obi-Wan believing in him? Look at that hand clasp? Like shut up I can't take it.

Obi-Wan refusing to leave Quinlan behind and Quinlan, stubborn Quinlan, listening to him.

Their banter here shows how well they know and play off each other and that joke in the last panel SENDS ME.

This is from the new comic that came out in September, and this is just ONE instance of several of Quinlan mentioning Obi-Wan, who only appears in this comic via a psychometric vision, but Quin keeps bringing him up anyways.

I mean this is. THIS is what made me WANT to know more about Quinlan in the first place! It's not in this gif, but the way Obi-Wan smiles in this scene? The way his eyes light UP? That's love, babey.

I could literally paste so much stuff from Dark Disciple, which to me has always been a QuinObi book in addition to Vostress. Quinlan has fallen (pretty much without understanding he has because he so badly wants to uncover Sidious) and missing his check-ins with Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan keeps going back to their bar over and over again and he's been waiting for like, two hours at this point when Ventress comes in.

"Not him." Okay, buddy. Okay. Obi-Wan has like three panic attacks and outright defies his fellow council members at various points through this book because he believes so hard in Quinlan. He is INSISTENT that Quinlan can be brought back to the light.

These two pages made me SOB.

"She saved Quinlan" in italics. Not just his life, but his spirit. Those italics speak for themselves. And "Vos knew he could never repay Kenobi for that, but he has the rest of his life to try." Do ya, Quin? The rest of your life, huh?

Anyhow, truly, this is just me scratching the surface as I was limited by only being able to use 10 photos in a post. I’m leaving out sooo many other examples. You don't have to ship them! But these guys care a lot about each other and saying that it's just, impossible for them to have romantic feelings on posts or fics where the creator is, indeed, shipping them is ... weird. So is trying to overlay other ships onto specifically QuinObi content.

This has been a PSA.

[glitteringcrab]

Unmortricken s7e5 - Evil Morty backstory (spoilers)

I feel like we have caught only a glimpse of Evil Morty’s backstory.

1. He was given a way out. He could “quit”. If “our” Morty was given the option to quit and and wanted to do just that, then he’d… go back to school. Hang out with Summer. Live with his mum and dad. Be normal. And yet, for Evil Morty, being told he could quit was the absolute last straw. What did he do? Did he go back to school? Nope. Did he puppeteer Rick into NOT doing adventures so he could live the rest of his days with his family in peace? Nope. After “Evil” Rick was killed, did he go back to his family? Nope. He stayed in the Citadel. Why did he not try to go back home?

2. He looked pretty scared when Rick started yelling at him. He didn’t even try to shield himself from the fall, he tried to shield himself from Rick… even though Rick didn’t actually raise an arm and looked sad afterwards.

3. He says “sorry to be such a high-maintenance Morty”. It’s like he knows what the spectrum for Morty agreeableness is and his place in it.

4. And then there’s the eyepatch thing. Sure, he could make an electronic eyepatch relatively easily, AND apparently he was knowledgeable enough to perform brain surgery on Rick… but kinda unlikely he could do the same to himself. In his room. This points to his right eye already being altered before this scene played out.

5. How did he know about the Central Finite Curve? OUR Morty didn’t. It doesn’t seem to be common knowledge. We weren’t shown Evil Morty finding out about it and seething in anger, that wasn’t his tipping point. He already knew all about it. Once he wrestled control, his plan was to go straight for the Curve.

6. And the first step to achieving that, was to erase his record from a Morty Agency. Why was his record there in the first place? It kinda points out to him being a clone Morty or a discarded Morty.

7. His photo in the Morty Agency is clearly disillusioned. He’s already SO DONE.

8. He described “Evil” Rick as “a man with an ego so big you could grab it like a joystick”. This kinda points to him knowing LOTS of Ricks and being able to compare.

9. After he seized control of the citadel, in his very first day, he closed the school brainwashing Mortys. Clearly he knew very well what was going on in that school.

10. I kept thinking how evil he must be to kill all Ricks (understandable) and all innocent Mortys (not so much) in the Citadel… He showed no hesitation nor remorse. And when he left, there was no triumph, only relief. (It was the first real smile we’ve seen of him, too).

Then I remembered our Rick killed many, many “innocent” Ricks too… whose only known crime was being a Rick and therefore potentially Rick Prime. Our Rick didn’t get so nihilistic for no reason though, we know his backstory. There’s no way 14 year old Evil Morty became EVEN MORE nihilistic for no reason other than verbal abuse.

…I think Evil Morty had no real home. His whole planet/dimension could have been ruined (probably by Rick shenanigans). Or, even worse, he was “bred” in the Citadel. Those memories of the Morty supply line/slaughterhouse might have been HIS.

He was enlisted in a Morty Agency, repeatedly cycling through various Ricks… And if we take into account what Evil Morty said through “Evil” Rick’s mouth (“if there’s one truth in the universe, it’s that Ricks don’t care about Mortys”) he was not once treated well.

He was taken in by Ricks who would drunkedly promise “Rick and Morty… a hundred years… forever…” (all the while picking him so they could replace their previous Morty, which I’m sure he was aware of) and then use, betray, abandon or return him to the Morty Agency if he wasn’t meek enough.

He would be taken (adopted? hired?) again and again, and have to live in the homes of families that weren’t his real family (and if they knew their Morty was dead probably didn’t treat him as their real Morty), all the while being promised that this team-up with Rick at least was “forever”.

Judging by his reaction when “Evil” Rick towered over him and by the modification in his eye, some of the Ricks beat him and some did surgical “improvements”, obviously for their own benefit and doubtfully with his consent (our Morty can supposedly turn into a car as well).

The argument he had with “Evil” Rick in the garage wasn’t a repetition of the same old argument Evil Morty kept having with his own grampa; it was the repetition “Evil” Rick has had with multiple discarded Mortys in the past. And it was Evil Morty’s last attempt to civilly demand to be treated well. He tried to express his disappointment in a healthy way and was basically told to go back to the Morty Agency and go through the whole spiel again with a new Rick, or being forced to live in the slums of the Citadel.

Evil Morty’s reenaction of “Rick and Morty, a hundred years, forever” was the mocking echo of the cruel false promise that had been repeatedly made to him.

People are saying Evil Morty is being set up to become the final threat in the series, but I think everything he does screams that he is an abused child who has given up on having a loving attachment with anyone and just wants to be left alone. I feel like he will get a healing/redemption arc in the end, intertwined with Rick’s healing/redemption arc.

…Also, I might add that Evil Morty is currently a prime target for any super-technologically-advanced interdimensional being that wants to become even more advanced. Sure, he is very clever, lives in a well protected base, doesn’t go looking for trouble, has lots of resources and advanced shield and weapon systems…

…but is also alone, with no allies, and his brain contains the schematics of tools and weapons stolen from countless Ricks, including our Rick and Rick Prime. Which can be stolen from him in turn… if he gets caught.

One final thought:

If there is any reason he let our Rick live, I think it’s because he could tell that our Rick cares for his Morty… which might come in handy for Evil Morty if an interdimensional being ever tries to use against Evil Morty a weapon similar to that was used on Diane…

(Plus I suspect the weird SUPER SUDDEN switch-places thing that Evil Morty did with Morty might not have been an animation mistake; I kept rewatching to see when they could have switched, but it there was no gap where it could have happened, unless it happened in a literal instant, which could been done by a device Evil Morty has. I know this is a stretch, but IF it’s true, it’s not too bad an idea to keep around a mad genius scientist who cares for his grandson, if you can instantly switch places with said grandson in your hour of need)

[reviewdiaries]

Nancy x Ace and the quandary of choice in 4x10

Guys, guys, guys. Nancy has taken terrible decision making to a whole new level.

We had 4x08 and those gorgeous beautiful moments between Nancy and Ace, both at the loading dock and the telephone call at the end of the episode. And we all went YES, MY BABIES, YOU ARE BACK ON TRACK.

And then. AND THEN. We had two episodes where Nancy and Ace basically don’t interact at all. Which seems so counterintuitive to everything we’ve had in the run up. Even when they stopped trying to break the curse they were still interacting, hell, they were practically breaking up every episode. So to go from that to nothing was SUSPICIOUS. 

I trust the Nancy Drew writers completely. Even when it seems bizarre and off track, you end up watching each season back as a whole and everything slots so beautifully into place and you have the slow dawning realisation that even whilst you were screaming at the screen because WHAT ARE YOU DOING, it actually links in and every thread ties together and it ends up becoming this gorgeous whole which is so much fun to re-watch.

So when things seem weird, suspicious, and downright off key for this point in a season, I trust that it’s actually going to make sense and come together and I’m going to have an OH moment.

And things in Horseshoe Bay are SUSPICIOUS AS HELL right now. 

Nancy was a mess in 4x08, not only over her feelings over Ace, but also the grief over her mum and the anniversary. And when grief is particularly strong we don’t necessarily make the best life choices. If you were heartbroken, if you just wanted to stop feeling the pain, and you knew there was a way to take that away, would you take it?

Others have already analysed Nancy’s outfit in the photo of her at the wash basin, and placed it the night of the anniversary. I personally think that she goes after the phone call, our last beautiful moment between these two. Think about what’s said. Ace says to her, “It’s hard to be your friend right now” then pauses before continuing “I’m a better person with you in my life.” She thinks about this for a moment before replying “I’m not happy without you in mine.”

GIF Credit   @nancy-drew  

But it hurts, so so much, for both of them. And slowly it dawns on her after they’ve said their goodbyes, that there is a way to solve this. He wants her in his life, she’s not happy without him in hers, but he just said it, it is so hard to be around each other.

So she goes back, back to the Yacht Club, back down the stairs, not even aware of the tears that have dried on her face on the drive over. Because she doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to take it away. 

GIF Credit   @livelovecaliforniadreams  

And this hurts even more thinking about that scene with Ace earlier in the evening when she tells him memories are all we have left because she’s about to remove even that. That photo of her taken after speaking her sin, she’s defiant, gutted, as though this has cost her everything to do but she’s not sorry. Because in her pain filled haze this is the only answer, this is the logical next step. Take away the memories, take away the pain, take away the feelings, and things will be ok.

But she’s miscalculated, the same as Ace when he said they could go back to before. There is no before, there is no going back, and Nancy and Ace’s relationship is nothing but feelings. They’ve never just been friends, it’s all so tangled up together that it’s like trying to remove the heart and expecting the body to keep living.

So she speaks her sin, and there’s a wealth of things she could choose from - choosing Ace instead of the town, killing her soulmate, lying to him about wanting to move on. How far back has she gone? What has she asked the sin eater to consume?

And then we have 4x09 and 4x10. And something is off, something is wrong. Ace is removed from the group, there’s barely any engagement, and Nancy isn’t pining, Nancy is fine. Nancy is more than fine, she’s moving on. And that just doesn’t track against soulmate, he’s my person, best kiss of my life Nancy from the first half of the season. It doesn’t make sense, and in a show like this, something not making sense is not poor writing, it’s us as the audience not yet having all the pieces of the puzzle yet. 

Sure there’s a whole other branch of excitement where we think Ace has picked up a speaking to dead people curse, which is further added to by Bess not being able to hear this ghost, and please for the love of everything Bess will you stop thinking about all the other things and focus on the fact that Ace can suddenly hear a dead person after disposing of that curse?!

But that helps to highlight the wrong, the slight shift in gravity Horseshoe Bay has undergone. Suddenly the language Nancy is using is different, there’s no mention of a curse, no mention of an epic love. Just about things getting messy and complicated with her ex and wanting something simple. That doesn’t track. That’s not Nancy, that’s not what we’ve just watched. It’s such a complete tonal shift from everything that has come before. And none of the others are commenting on it. Previously we’ve had little comments and moments where the others have talked about her and Ace, where the curse has been discussed, and now suddenly there’s nothing.

And this is a powder keg waiting to blow. She was in pain, sure, but Nancy has violated everyone in the Drew Crew by speaking this sin and asking it to be taken away. But none more so than Ace. How has her sin altered their memories? It seems to have removed all knowledge of the curse, all of their feelings for each other. Ace is not going to react well to that, and rightly so. Nancy has reverted back to old patterns and behaviours - I will fix the thing on my own, I don’t need anyone else for this. She has come so far, she works so well as part of a team, but this thing, this painful heart breaking hole inside her that can’t be filled by anything but Ace’s smile and the touch of his fingers on her skin and the way he breathes out her name, this feels like it’s hers and hers alone. 

She’s felt so alone, ever since Ace told her he couldn’t carry on trying, ever since he walked away. That was the ultimate abandonment, and so she has assumed this pain as her own. Stopped considering Ace in this, because he keeps telling her it’s fine, he’s fine, they’re fine, they can go back. Their inability to communicate properly has led to her feeling like he isn’t hurting too.

So she takes the curse, and the knowledge of it, and she destroys it. But nothing stays buried forever and Ace is going to be furious when he realises she’s taken his memories from him. Altered his feelings, removed his choice from this. The fallout from this is going to be catastrophic, because how can Nancy justify this, explain this away to Ace, make it make sense that she would do this to him, to them?

Because what they’re living now isn’t better. They’re both still miserable, they don’t have the other in their lives in any meaningful way. They’re just existing. 

[justherefortua]

The Teaser Trailer: Transcribed

I got so hyped that I combed through the entire teaser trailer at 0.25x speed to catch everything for prediction and speculation. But this might be helpful for people with screen readers, maybe? Or who can’t watch for any other reason.

This is pretty informal, but very interesting to think about!

(1) Luther and Ben walking into the a place lit with orange light.

Speculation: (manor?) I also might be wrong about it being Luther, it’s in shadow, hard to see.

(2) Zoom in on a decrepit, old, cobwebbed “Hargreeves home for Wayward Boys”, and a bird flies away.

(3) Reginald: “Our world is changing,”

(4) Five standing in a subway station as an empty train comes by.

Speculation: time traveling mechanism, also Ben was on a subway in the last scene of season 3, so could be connected!

(5) Reginald: “has changed.”

Another shot of Five looking at the subway from a different angle, slightly alarmed somewhat (I think)

(6) Reginald: “There are some among us”

Viktor as a bartender gets a call, and rubs at his eyebrow a bit.

(7) Reginald: “gifted with abilities”

Allison holds Claire’s cheeks, smiling, in some sort of bedroom.

(8) Reginald: “far beyond the ordinary”

Someone closes the door on Ben, who is holding a plastic bag and appears to be facing a bunch of prison cells, or some other grimy facility.

(9) Diego turning around a small girl with a big grin, who’s about to hit a pinata at a celebration, a bunch of other girls in party hats and their parents, presumably, in line behind her.

Speculation + Commentary: absolutely precious. This is likely Diego and Lila’s daughter.

(10) Reginald: “I have adopted six such children.”

Luther putting on a space helmet in a space suit.

Speculation: Something pertaining to Abigail was on the moon…that was the first timeline, but Spaceboy is looking to be returning!

(11) Reginald: “I give you.. the inaugural class”

Klaus in some sort of grimy apartment. It’s kind of hard to tell.

Speculation: He might be hanging from the ceiling, floating perhaps?

(12) Reginald: “of the Umbrella Academy”.

Viktor, Allison, Five, Klaus, Diego holding Ben’s jacket, then Lila in front of a phonebox in a snowy area.

(13) Luther using the camera to take a picture, saying “aaaaand…..smile!” The van (Diego’s van, most likely) is in the background.

(14) Viktor, Allison, Five, Klaus, Lila: not pleased, Viktor and Lila actually partly cover their faces.

Klaus says “oh no”.

Diego and Ben pose cutely, Diego looking serious while Ben is the only one actually smiling.

The screen gains a white border to show us the actual photo taken.

(15) Netflix logo

(16) Shots of them walking, then shots from the top, then shots from the “front” where we follow Diego.

Diego: “We’re back. We’re back, out the way. Out the way. Out the way.”

Lila: “I’m going in the front!

Allison: Why are you yelling?!

A chorus of groans from the rest.

Ben: Shut up!

(17) They get in the van.

Diego, punching the roof of the car: First mission back!

Ben: Hell yes! Let’s go kill this b****!

Diego driving, Five passenger, Klaus-Lila-Allison middle, Klaus is breathing into a paper bag

Ben-Viktor next to each other.

Luther in the very back.

(18) Comedic pause as everyone reacts with “what the hell” faces.

Allison: This is a rescue mission.

Ben: …Right.

(19) The subway line aesthetic comes in.

Typography: On August 8

The song, “The Final Countdown” starts playing in the background

(20) A huge drone helicopter takes off.

Speculation: I’ve already seen this on the timeline, but apparently this is “The Minerva” from the comics. Credit to @/feralnumberfive for pointing this out!

(21) Subway line graphics

Typography: See the Final Timeline

(22) Five and Lila at a glowing orange subway map, Lila running her hand across it.

Speculation: Likely how they traverse the timelines.

(23) Allison(maybe) and Luther(maybe) looking up at a white and blue pristine building, the van is parked.

(24) “You children bicker constantly..”

Luther does a light shove at Diego, who is in his vigilante gear again.

(25) They’re in the manor, Viktor is angrily punching someone (Ben?) while the rest look surprised, Klaus and Diego try to intervene.

(26) Viktor: “Yeah, and we drive each other crazy.”

Cut to Reginald, who is having this conversation with Viktor.

(27) Five and Diego about to punch each other, with Allison(maybe) coming in yelling at the end.

(28) Allison hitting a steering wheel/car dashboard.

(29) I assume our new characters for the season doing a dance and a synchronized clap. In an attic room (maybe) decorated with multicolored lights.

(30) Viktor: “But when things go to hell,”

On the clap, it cuts to an explosion. A dead soldier with a gun lies to the right, but it’s hard to make out.

Speculation: This is likely connected to the last scene with Ben and the soldier.

(31) It cuts away very quickly, but Five and Lila entering a ruined area, bright fires burning around them. They enter out of the subway with some strange runes and symbols for the “Station”.

Speculation: Another timeline, another apocalypse, or a destroyed Commission headquarters.

(32) A retro diner that sells chicken nuggets. The waiters are handing out guns.

(33) Viktor: “They’re there for me”

Shot of Viktor talking, then Five holding Lila as she breaks down crying. I think they’re still in the subway.

(34) Room with blue neon lights. Reginald strapping Allison down into a machine. Someone else strapping Diego down into a machine. There is a woman behind him. The lights turn red.

Speculation: The woman might be Abigail, Reginald’s wife. Doesn’t look like Grace. This machine might have something to do with the marigold that powers them all.

(35) A lever is pulled. Screen goes dark.

(36) Klaus: “God, what a bunch of losers…”

Klaus sits on the floor, Five, Luther, Allison on a couch.

(37) Diego shirtless and Luther, who seems to be big again, doing a fun little handshake.

(38) Five blinking except its purple instead of Blue.

Confusion: is this the subway again, or somewhere else? There’s a bunch of tile.

(39) A Santa running while shooting guns in both of his hands.

(40) A shot of the magical timeline subway from the subway’s perspective.

(41) A reveal of an Umbrella Tattoo, except instead of curving down it looks like the Umbrella is inside out and spiking up.

(42) Klaus with a bunch of candles and Knick-knacks, likely doing some sort of Seance.

(43) They’re in the van again. No Ben. Diego driving, Allison passenger, Lila-Luther-Five, and Klaus in the back.

(44) The drone thing flying somewhere

(45) Luther emerging from a ball pit with joy in his eyes.

(46) A gloved hand grasping another non-gloved hand with intense orange-yellow-red energy

(47) In a extremely white and fancy room, Reginald approaching with a gun and someone in the foreground falling over (unclear)

(48) Viktor with orange palms sending a plastic of energy at someone.

(49) Luther seems to be fighting someone, and Diego is throwing someone wearing heels through a glass door, same outfits as the handshake scene.

(50) A soldier being dragged by a tentacle. There are dismembered limbs on the floor (hand, head, part of a leg, maybe?).

In the background, something is on fire. Ben’s tentacles sprout from the back instead of his stomach. He takes a deep breath, the soldier flung far into the background with ease.

[storiesofsvu]

Love Comes Quietly Ch 9

*not my gif* Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, usual BAU/unsub type case work, flirtation. chaotic emily.

“I think I have a crush on Alex…”

“And you’re just realizing this now?” Emily groaned, letting out a laugh, “Jesus Christ I thought this was about work! Do you know what time it is?”

“I couldn’t sleep!” You shot back.

“I don’t know what this is about.” Rossi’s tired voice broke through the conversation and the two of you jumped, looking toward him as he wandered down the hallway toward the two of you, “but this,” he raised his phone, “is about work. We’ve gotta get back to D.C.”

“Alright.” Emily sighed, squeezing at your arm, “I’ll drive you, go wake up Blake, we’ll get the rest of the team.”

*

“I can feel you fucking vibrating from here.” Emily grumbled, her eyes moving from the road ahead of the SUV over to you, “you gonna explain now?”

“I thought I already did?” You practically shrieked and she laughed, “I think I’m crushing on Blake!”

“Oh because this is some wildly new development that none of us could have seen coming!”

“Stop!” You shot her a glare.

“At least we’ve finally got some fucking progress.” She teased, “so what sparked this?”

“Oh I don’t know!” You rolled your eyes, dropping back into the seat, “maybe just fucking waking up curled in her arms close enough that her shampoo was invading my fucking senses.”

“What!?” Emily’s eyes shot to you, her hand shooting out to punch you in the shoulder, “you two already fucking slept together and you didn’t tell me!!”

“Eyes on the road!” You punched her back, “you just missed the exit.”

“Fuck.” She muttered.

“And not like that!” You groaned, grabbing the coffee from the cup holder to take a swig, “we… may or may not have been sleeping in the same bed for like, the past… two weeks?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Emily gaped before turning the car into a parking lot to turn around, “how the fuck did you not mention that earlier!?”

“It wasn’t important!”

“Oh sure!”

“We both have bad insomnia, figured it would help and it turns out it did.”

“Okay so what makes you think you’ve got a crush now?”

“Remember the warehouse?” You asked, your voice quiet and Emily’s gaze softened as she looked over at you, “I think it really started that night. I was in a bad place, Alex… she helped me through it. She was there for me when I was trying to turn everyone else away. And that kinda made me realize that she had already always been there! She’s supported me since the day we fucking met, she gave me a place to live, she helped me with the job, she’s… a fucking gem. And after that first night? Falling asleep in her arms? Holy shit Emily, I mean, I didn’t think it would spark shit but like, I haven’t slept that well in forever.”

“God you really are smitten.” She teased with a grin.

“I fucking hate you.” You scowled in her direction and she cackled, “I thought it was just like, appreciation and friendship at first. And then… something shifted, suddenly it felt like butterflies and I had a very vivid sex dream last night. I couldn’t be in the room any longer after waking up with her in the next bed.”

“Sharing bed at home but not on the road? God, I wish we had more time to unpack this.” Emily muttered, pulling into the parking lot.

“I am not telling you what happened in the dream.”

“Oh c’mon! Why not?! It’d be fun!”

“We’re at work right now.” You pointed out, unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the car door, “you are my boss, this is wildly inappropriate!”

“Oh what, you gonna call HR on me?” Emily called after you with a laugh, a wicked grin on her face.

*

The team debriefed on the jet on the way back to Quantico, reading through case files, picking through crime scene photos and tossing ideas around. Two weeks ago the body of a woman in her thirties had been found abandoned in an alley way, she’d been dressed like she was having a night out on the town, alcohol in her system when they did the autopsy. It had been presumed that she’d just ran into a bad apple sometime during her night and dealt with by the local police. When the second body was found there wasn’t anything to connect the two, local pd brushed it off on a one time murder and moved on with their lives. The only connection was that they were in an area of town that night clubbers frequented, easy targets, that was it.

It was when the third and fourth bodies were found, these two together that the locals realized there was likely more to it. The last two were both female, after talking to family and the friends they had been with that evening it was discovered they were a couple, they’d been out celebrating their engagement.

“What’re those marking on their wrists?” Spencer asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make it out on the crime scene photos. Emily leaned over, looking to where he was pointing, “it looks like it could be an apple?”

“It’s a peach.” Emily replied, sitting back in her chair, “A League of Her Own.”

“That old baseball movie?” He asked, looking over at her and she laughed.

“Well, technically yeah, but it’s also a lesbian bar over on eighteenth. Their admission stamp is a peach.”

“All these bodies were found early Sunday morning.” You pointed out, flipping through a file.

“So the unsub’s got a schedule.” Morgan commented and you nodded.

“And it’s Saturday.” Emily sighed, “which is why we needed to get back right away.”

“It’s not as clear but the first two bodies have the same stamp.” Alex glanced up from the file in her lap, “our unsub is definitely hunting at this bar.”

“The question remains,” Rossi started, “are they targeting the bar itself, or queer women?”

“I’ll have local pd start to canvas the bar,” Penelope commented through the screen, “find out if there’s any bigger connections between the victims, maybe one of them worked there?”

“See if we can get a guest list for the last few Saturdays.” Emily instructed, “and scan through social media tags and geotags to find witnesses, if there was someone lurking around they would’ve noticed it.”

“Talk to every one of their bouncers, if someone was kicked out on any of those nights it might’ve been a trigger.” Morgan commented.

“On it.” Penelope cut out of the screen with a smile.

“So what’s our plan?” JJ asked, looking across the jet to Emily.

“I think the best thing we can do right now is make sure to have someone in there tonight undercover.” She replied, eyes drifting over to you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked immediately, your eyes widening, “I don’t like it when you look at me like that.”

“You’re in the right age range of the other vics.” Emily shrugged and your eyes narrowed at her, “Blake, you’ll go with her.”

“I will?” Alex’s head shot up, praying her cheeks weren’t turning as pink as they felt as she silently begged Emily to not play this game right now.

“Look at the age gap of the couple, maybe this unsub has mommy issues.” She said it casually enough no one else would pick up on it but all you wanted was to disappear into your seat, glaring her down hard enough that if looks could kill, she’d be incinerated right there on the jet, “c’mon, you two are the most comfortable with each other, you spend enough time together, you’re practically married, you could fool anyone. Murphy, didn’t your jacket say something about excelling in undercover work?”

“I guess it did.” You dropped back into your seat with a sigh.

“Blake, any issues?” She glanced her way and Alex cleared her throat.

“Nope.” She shook her head, purposely avoiding your gaze, knowing her cheeks would absolutely burn if she looked your way.

“Good, then get cozy.” Emily smirked one last time in your direction before glancing down at the file in her lap.

*

Tonight it was your turn to be the one tearing up the coaster as you stood at a high top table waiting for Alex to come back with drinks. Your fingers drumming on the table as you chewed on your lip, nerves trickling their way through your body. A drink was placed down to your side and you felt her hand on the small of your back and tried not to jump as a drink appeared in front of you and her hand slid down your arm, interlacing her fingers with yours and her lips practically brushed against the shell of your ear.

“You need to calm down.” She murmured, her free hand coming up to brush your hair behind your shoulder, “the unsub will either make us or get scared off and go for someone else.”

“Fuck, sorry. I know.” You let out a huff, turning your head to smile softly at her and Alex couldn’t help the instinct to lean in and press a kiss to your cheek before she settled perpendicular to you, leaning against the table. “I guess it just feels weird.”

“Spending time with me?” Alex teased with a laugh, though she was currently completely on the same page, this whole faking it thing certainly wasn’t helping the conflicting arguments in her brain.

“No.” You laughed, “being on a date.” Your voice lowered to not be overheard, “pretend or not.”

“When was your last one?” She asked, her hand remaining linked with yours on the table top, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as she picked up her drink.

“Bout a year ago.” Your brow scrunched as you tried to remember a proper timeline, “I was complaining to Daniela about how horrible tinder was and she tried to set me up.”

“Ever the matchmaker that one.” Alex laughed and you couldn’t help but smile, thinking about yet another connection you had, and the one that had technically brought you together in the first place. “I take it, it didn’t go successfully?”

“Have you seen me parading any girlfriends around the house?” You replied with a laugh, picking up your drink to take a sip, “mmm, is this—”

“You’ve been on a gin kick recently.” She smiled with a shrug and you did your best not to blush.

Outside in the van Emily had to hold back a groan, rolling her eyes at the two of you.

“I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”

“You tend to change your drink with the season.” She explained, “gin or mojitos when it’s warmer, cooler weather it’s more red wine, maybe a nice bourbon, and you always opt for more complicated drinks when you’re out.”

“Okay I don’t need you to profile my drink menu.” You muttered softly with a laugh and Alex couldn’t help smiling across at you, “have you ever noticed you crave Indian food on cold nights?”

“I—” Alex stopped, ducking her gaze while she laughed again, looking back up at you, “I hadn’t made the correlation, no.” You chuckled, feeling the familiar sensation of warmth blooming through your veins as you gazed across at her, wondering if somehow this could be real.

Before you could speak again, Emily’s voice nearly jolted you out of your daydream, echoing through your earpiece, knowing Alex was hearing the same, “potential unsub number one just walked in the door, you two may need to amp it up a bit.”

You had your back to the door but Alex’s eyes flicked in that direction, giving you the tiniest nod to confirm what Emily had said and you wordlessly slipped closer to her. Her hand moved from yours to rest on your thigh, her thumb stroking at you softly and you did your best to keep your heart rate under control.

Alex watched as the man made his way through the crowd, her eyes darting between him and you, keeping a grin on her lips as you continued your small talk. He picked up a drink from the bar before he began his own searching through the crowd. She felt her heart leap in her chest, so much of her wishing this was under a different circumstance, but she reached out, brushing your hair back behind your ear mid conversation, letting her fingers trail down your jaw, thumb soothing across your cheek and for a moment she could’ve sworn the blush on your cheeks was real. She leant closer to make sure your conversation wouldn’t be overheard,

“He’s got eyes on us and if you ask me he’s about to make a decision.”

“So what’s your play?” You murmured back, glancing up at her with a raised brow.

“Follow my lead and don’t hate me for it.” She muttered back and before you could even think her hand was back on your cheek and you were surging forward to meet her lips in a kiss.

A kiss that you were certain you would never forget, your own hand quickly coming up to the back of her neck, wishing you could pull her closer to you. Your lips moved gracefully in a dance it felt like you’d known forever but never gotten to perform before, like it was exactly where they belonged. Alex felt the burst in her chest, unable to control it, running her tongue along the seam of your lips and you eagerly opened them, letting her tongue surge into your mouth. It was as if she sucked all of the oxygen from your lungs, everything in the world disappeared except for her, she invaded every single one of your senses and you never wanted the moment to end. Alex couldn’t help it, her other hand coming to rest on your waist, practically wanting to yank you off the stool so she could feel the press of your body against hers. She never wanted to stop kissing you, you were without a doubt her favourite kiss, the one she wanted to experience over and over again, the one that she wanted to wake up to, to go to sleep to and she was completely lost in the moment.

That was until you were both wrenched back to reality at Emily’s voice in your ear’s, “good work. He’s headed your way.”

You very reluctantly pulled away, lips curving up into grins against each other as Alex stole another kiss and you prayed you weren’t blushing as much as you thought you were. Her hand came up, smoothing back a piece of your hair and you giggled, a sound that made her nearly melt. You reached out for your drink, taking another sip before the two of you managed to control yourselves back into the mindless pretend conversation. You felt a presence at your back, an arm nearly wrapped around you before the unsub came into your vison on the other side, placing himself between the two of you.

“Evening ladies.” He greeted with a smug grin, “don’t suppose I could steal this one away for a dance or two?” His arm squeezed around you and you let out an uncharacteristic giggle “maybe buy you a round of drinks?” You glanced towards Alex as Emily’s voice rang through the ear piece again.

“Murphy he just spiked your drink. Pretend to finish it but do not swallow a fucking drop, then accept that dance and let him get you outside, play the part, we’ve got him.”

“As long as it’s okay with her, sounds great.” You smiled back at him, glancing towards Alex again.

“Rental only, you have her back to me after two songs.” Alex teased with a grin, placing her arm on the table in front of her drink as you pretended to suck yours back, adding on a fake wince at the taste of booze before you let the man drag you onto the dance floor.

It didn’t even take two songs for the unsub to convince you outside, dragging you away from your pretend partner, baiting Alex to follow you out to find out what was going on before he attempted to blitz attack you and the team moved in. It was nothing new, nothing intense, just a regular day at the office for you, minus the kiss of course, though Alex’s hand found yours, squeezing softly to reassure you. You weren’t sure if it was supposed to help calm your heart rate, but it certainly made it sky rocket as you shot her a warm smile.

Emily complimented the two of you on your work and considering you’d gone directly from an out of town case into this one, once your statements were down, she sent you on your way. Alex had driven so you slipped into the passenger seat, letting out a soft sigh, dropping your phone down into the cup holder.

“It’s not too late, did you want to pick up food on the way home?” Alex offered.

“Honestly McDonald’s sounds fucking amazing right now.”

“I was thinking the same.” She chuckled, daring a glance toward you as she tried to untangle the thoughts in her brain.

It wasn’t much longer before she was pulling into the drive thru and you were both very satisfied with the food on the way home. You had started to completely forget about work until your phone began to buzz in the cup holder.

‘I assume you’re getting busy tonight?’ You rolled your eyes at Emily’s text.

‘No. That was work. She would never.’

‘Oh come on! She fucking likes you!’

‘No she doesn’t.’

‘Really? Cause I was just watching that kiss and I would say otherwise. Plus… as a profiler… she was jealous as fuck when you left with him.’

‘Oh, okay, so what do you suppose I do?’

‘Enjoy the pool’

‘What?’

‘Okay, or hot tub. Put on that red suit you like to thirst trap with and say you’re going to relax.’

‘Have you been stalking my Instagram?!’

‘I’m just saying… respectfully… if you showed up in that suit I would have no choice but to immediately bend you over whatever the closest surface was. It makes your tits look incredible.'

‘I’m calling HR in the morning.’

Emily outwardly laughed, rolling her eyes at your continued denial as she tossed her phone down onto her desk. There was no way what happened tonight would be brushed under the rug and she knew it.

_________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @swimmingstudentchaos891 @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean

[ellethespaceunicorn]

use a photo on your phone camera roll and write a quick scene/hc for it

Hi Nonnie!!! Funny story, the last time I wrote for these two, I was on pain meds for a tonsillectomy. Now, I've got Covid and I'm awake at 4:19am posting this story. I hope you enjoy!!

Title: My Little Strawberry 

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) 

Fandom: Sand Castle 

Word Count: 556 

Summary: A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Warnings: mention of creampie, sexy fluff?, mention of oral sex (f receiving) 

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist 

“There she is. Eating her breakfast. Looking mighty fine as usual.” Sy walks up to you and kisses the side of your head. 

“Whatchu want, boy?” You smile up at him through your lashes. 

“I ain’t want nothing at all, Peaches,” Sy holds your chin and gives you a peck on the lips, “But there is one thing I had to talk to Strawberry about.” 

“Strawberry?” Your cute little eyebrows scrunch up in confusion and Sy turns your chair around to face him as he laughs. 

He runs his hand over your swollen six-month-pregnant belly before kneeling to talk to it. “Hey there, Strawberry. How’s Daddy's little girl?” 

“I see you stuck with the fruit theme. And since I’ve been eating strawberries for months now, you named her after my craving?” You could barely hold in your laughter at your husband’s tenderness. 

“I don’t know. It seemed perfect. And I know she’s gon’ be sweet if she’s half you,” Sy planted a kiss on your belly before standing up to his full height. “And since she’s half me, I apologize in advance for her temper.” 

“I knew what I was getting into when I wouldn’t let you pull out, you know that right?” You bite your lip and wink at him. 

“And I knew what you were doing when you turned on Tennessee Whiskey and poured me two fingers of Jack. And you were wearing that damn sundress with the little yellow flowers on it. Pretty as a picture.” Sy remembers the night you made Strawberry fondly. 

“So, what did you have to talk to Strawberry about, baby?” Popping a sliced piece of fruit in your mouth, you chew and wait for Sy to start talking to the baby. 

“Alright, Strawberry, so look. Mama here has been such a sweetheart. She has given you a nice first apartment while continuing to take care of your old man. So, I was thinking of getting her a little something. And I wanted your opinion on it,” Sy leaned in to whisper into your belly so you couldn’t hear, then turned to place his ear close to listen to what the baby says. When he leans back, a smile paints his features. 

“Well? What did she say?” You ask, more than invested in Sy’s little conversation with the baby. 

“She told me to thank you for taking care of her and me. And she told me to make sure I pay attention to you when you’re being ornery because that just means you need a firmer hand.” Sy rubs the sides of your belly. Moving his hands up to your waist and then further up your sides to cup your face. 

“She said all that?” Your eyes close as he rubs a thumb over your cheek, already feeling warmth rise under your skin. 

“She did. She also said I could probably take you upstairs right now and have my way with you. But I’m gon’ let you finish your breakfast first.” Sy sits next to you, picking up your fork and feeding you. 

You take the offered bite and get up from the table, picking up the bowl of sliced strawberries. “C’mon, I can eat these in bed while you eat me in bed.” Winking again, you turn to scurry up the steps with Sy on your heels. 

**Taglist**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @geralts-yenn @peyton-warren

[luribourdon]

Spoiler for AA : Dual Destinies, last case, Cosmic Turnabout

(English is my second language, sorry for incorrect phrasing, hope you still understand me)

.

.

.

Anytime someone rewrite Cosmic Turnabout and go "Clay is now the defendant", I go "Yay! Clay alive (as he should)! :D"

But then I read "Solomon Starbuck is now the victime" and I'm like "Noooo... I also really like this guy! :("

But can we consider the fact that this case doesn’t need a murder.

'Posing bombs' is RIGHT THERE!

If you really want someone dead, an unfortunate soul that got killed by the explosion at the space station, or a witness who saw the Phantom and got disposed of, their death being put on one or both of the astronauts.

Don't kill Mr.Starbuck please he's cool! We can have a happy ending, come on!

Also the Drama! Between Apollo having doubts about Clay or Sol or even both, the only two, long lasting, stable relationship he have since he arrived in Japanifornia alone. The two who never gave up on him, who were loyal friends, who wants him around. For 10 years.

I believe he would have zero suspicions, he know them and trust them, but secrets are secrets, and again, DRAMA! The fact that Clay of all people doesn’t replicate that trust must hurt Apollo and confuse Starbuck, and worry them.

Sol discovering what Clay had done to him, and feeling like he wasn't enough reliable, letting his anxiety taking so much place that his student, his kiddo, had to go this far to protect everyone. He questionned himself, his abilities as astronaut and mentor. And I want a " You can tell me if you did a mistake, I wont be mad!" before it happen, and a " I’m not mad at you. If anything, I am at myself.” after!

And Clay feeling so bad about it. Thinking he betrayed the person he admire, who trusted him, maybe thinking that he had lost a family member again, because of him. Staying silent because of the plan, and because he feel guilt and shame, not wanting his two long lasting relationship thinking so badly about him. Does he regret it or will he do it again if he had to?

And Apollo being hurt by the courtroom explosion. Does the defendant force him to quit the case, firing him, going for Wright instead, and asking him to go back to the hospital, all for his safety? What will convice them to allow him to continue the investigation?

And how that could affect the others, Apollo's relationships with the WAA and Athéna?

Both Clay and Starbuck shall stay alive, it's so much better this way!

I want them happy pleaaase

Also, for the Hope capsule :

I have an idea, but is it good? IDK you tell me.

They were two capsule, one with the Moon Rock and one empty. An exchange had to happen that day, but because of the explosion, the rotation of the station, the plan... The Phantom end up stealing the empty one.

On trial, Apollo is struggling, until the defendant point out that there is only one capsule on a photo of the 'crime' scene. Everyone ask them to clarify, learn about the exchange, accuse them of being the thief, only to be met with the "Why would I steal an empty capsule for?? Also, I could have done waaay sooner!"

Bonus point if it's Clay "I already have one at home!" and Apollo follows up with a "Yeah, he's telling the truth, take some place and dust by the way. (It was a deffective one and he was allowed to take it with him as a gift. Clay was so happy that day...)"

It could be use as evidence to support the theory that a third person was present, since Sol's memories are all foggy and it's convenient for Clay to claim someone else than them was present at the scene.

[denim-mixtapes]

Not Another Moment to Waste (Hot Summer Night Part 3 of 4)

Word Count: 5k Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Tags: EXPLICIT SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI - Rockstar/Radio DJ AU, canon divergence, set in 1992 and Eddie has more piercings and tattoos than ever, thigh riding, semi public sex, unprotected p in v sex (do not do this), light spanking, pet names instead of y/n (sweetheart, doll, baby), quickie in a broom closet (the smut scene is VERY BRIEF, this is a set up for a 4th and final part that is all smut no plot).

Summary: An emergency at work and a request direct from Steve Harrington lands you in Indianapolis, working before the Corroded Coffin show, and Eddie Munson fulfils his promise to take you backstage and show you a good time.

[AO3] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part4 COMING SOON]

yes that is a photo of hozier in the header no i do not want to elaborate it just WORKS okay

When Eddie Munson promised to bring you backstage at the next corroded coffin show, you half took it as an empty gesture. Nothing more than a few pretty words murmured into your ear while still high off the adrenaline of a quick fuck in a bar bathroom. 

It was great while it lasted, sure, but you were just another girl in another city and at the end of the day, Indianapolis was the next city on the list. A new city with new groupies and new distractions. He’s already probably forgotten about you, or at least moved on. 

So when you’re catching lunch before getting ready for work, you’re surprised to get a page from your station manager marked URGENT. 

Shouldering your way into the phone booth outside of your favorite deli, you dig out change and dial his office number with a huff. 

“WKZT, this is Gary,” his gruff voice echoed through the pay phone. 

“Hey, it’s me, what’s the situation?”

“Yeah, so,” he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Change of plans. Dave’s wife went into labor early so he can’t make the trip out to Indy for the Corroded Coffin gig tonight. Now normally I would send someone else in his place but we got a call from Steve Harrington specifically requesting that you make an appearance.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, “Gary, I’m not– I don’t do live events.” 

Your boss grumbles, a heaviness in his voice that suggests he isn’t happy about this turn of events either, “Like I don't know that. Do you think I’d send you if I had any other option?” There’s a long pause on his end followed by another grunt of disinterest. “Look, Jimmie is going too, he can handle all the on air shit without his co-host, but I need someone there running tech shit. Just make sure nothing goes awry with the broadcast and then you’re scot free, free to enjoy the free concert with damn good seats thanks to Harrington.” 

He can clearly hear the rattling of the phone booth as you hit your forehead against it, contemplating. On one hand, if the band’s management was sending for you, it must mean something good, right? But on the other, you have to spend two hours in the van with your unbearable coworker Jimmie – both ways – and work a live event, something you have absolutely no experience in. 

As if he could sense your hesitation, Gary continued, “The station will put you up for the night, so you won’t be headed back late at night, and you’ll be paid for the mileage. Please, kid, we need you.” 

“Mileage and the bonus event pay Dave would have gotten?” You push. 

There’s a long pause before he gives in. “Fine. But you have to bunk with Jimmie in that case.” 

“I guess I’ll take it,” you mumble, thankful for the tiny victory at least. 

Your boss exclaims on the other end of the line, a sound of relief and uncharacteristic gratitude. He tells you to get packed and get to the station as soon as possible, you have a long drive ahead of you and an earlier call time than usual. 

Packing. 

A task much easier said than done. 

Normally for work trips in the past, you only threw in the essentials. Jeans, station-branded tee shirts, a blazer for professionalism, and comfy, worn in combat boots. Now, staring into your wardrobe, you’re overthinking everything. 

Harrington requested that the station send you. That must mean that Eddie was asking for you, that maybe his whispered promise of pulling you backstage for another roll in the hay had some truth behind it after all. The thought has you squirming in anticipation as you stare down your clothing. 

A look at the clock reminds you of your time crunch, and you throw a few options in a bag, hoping for a quick trip and some time to freshen up in your hotel room before you have to head to the concert. 

About an hour into your drive to Indianapolis, you’re starting to wonder if Eddie Munson is actually worth all this trouble. 

Jimmie Page was exactly the type of man that made you feel like you didn’t belong in this industry. He changed his last name earlier on in his career in the hopes that daft women would confuse him with the musician of the same name. Everything he did and said was calculated, strategically planned to garner attention from the opposite sex, and he was cocky in the fact that it often worked. Not on you. From the moment you started at the station, he saw you as a challenge, but finally after years of turning down his advances (and more than one threat to call HR) he instead started treating you like ‘one of the boys.’

That’s how you got here now, in the passenger seat of the vinyl-wrapped station van, listening to him tell you stories as if you were just one of the guys. Crude, vulgar, accompanied with hand motions that jerked the steering wheel nauseatingly. You’re honestly not sure you prefer this to getting hit on. 

By the time you make it to your hotel to check in, through the suffocating elevator ride, and into the dimly lit room, his voice is practically white noise roaring in your ears. 

You throw your duffel onto one of the beds (thanking Gary, Dawn, and all that is holy that there are two of them), and start digging through it, tossing clothing items and makeup products on the bed in order to start getting ready. 

There’s a low whistle behind you, the sound piercing you between the eyes to awaken the headache that this man always seems to cause. 

“That’s a lot of face paint there, honey.” The endearment is sour on his lips, churning your stomach in all the wrong ways. His eyes turn to the scrap of leather in your hand. “Short skirt too. You hoping to attract some metalhead wannabe tonight? Maybe a greasy little merch boy? I can see how that would seem like the next best thing to the ones up on stage just out of reach in your eyes.” 

Oh if only you knew. 

You bite back the snide comment and push past him roughly, making your way to the bathroom. 

“Just trying to blend in, asshole.”

“Well,” he shouts to be heard through the bathroom door, “we can’t all be prudes like you. So don’t you worry about me if I don’t show up back here till mornin’, yeah?” 

“I should be so lucky.” You mumble to your reflection. 

—

Thankfully, the broadcast goes off without a hitch. You stay in the van manning the equipment while Jimmie parades around outside, interviewing passerby, giving out stickers and tee shirts, and asking them to introduce the next song. He even manages to catch Gareth before he heads backstage and gets him to give another shout out. It isn’t a long show, they never are at live events, which you’re thankful for, and soon enough you’re both packing away work and heading inside the venue. 

You’re worried you’ll have to spend the whole evening with your coworker, but when the usher scans your badges, you’re separated. You are told to stay put for a moment while Jimmie is led to his seat in the press area, off to the side and a little further back than desirable, and he looks at you with a furrowed brow that you only reply to with a shrug. 

Thank. Fuck.

The usher speaks into a headset and tells you to wait there, someone will be there to collect you momentarily. 

Turns out, someone is Dustin Henderson himself, dressed exactly as you would have expected in a Weird-Al-inspired patterned button down, jeans, and an oversized sport coat, flanked by two more men in actual suits that you don’t recognize. 

“(Y/N), Hi!” He greets, taking your hand and shaking it with both of his, comically vigorous. “So glad you could make it.” 

“Uh, hi,” you return his fond gesture, but point over your shoulder in the direction of the press area. “Am I not…there? I thought this was a press badge.” 

“It is, technically, but Munson wouldn’t have it.” Henderson turns and starts walking, confident that you’ll follow. Which you do, eyes trained on the short mess of curls in front of you. He keeps talking to the open air in front of him, gesturing wildly in a way that suggests he’s never been able to keep his hands still. “I don’t know if you’re aware, young lady, but you’ve made quite the impression on our frontman.” 

Your face twists in confusion as he ducks down a quieter hallway, away from the noise of fans and merch tables. “Young lady?” You scoff, “What are you, nineteen?” 

“Twenty-one.” He corrects coolly over his shoulder.

Holding up your hands in defense, you stifle a laugh and continue to follow him down another hallway and through a set of double doors. 

They lead you right up side-stage. Beside you sits a rack of guitars, you recognize Eddie’s iconic red Warlock, as well as another deep emerald green number he’s known to favor and a simple wooden-body acoustic. Curtains obscure your view of the growing crowd and offer you cover from their view, but your vantage point offers you the perfect line of sight across the stage, if not a little bit skewed because it’s from a different angle. 

Smoke pours in from the fog machines underfoot as the opening band plays their set, guitar techs and various venue employees shuffle around you to do their work but you’re never made to feel in the way. 

Dustin gestures to a pile of rolling trunks and equipment cases and smiles kindly, “more than welcome to take a seat throughout the show, but I like the view from here best. Steve and I will be around if you need anything just let one of us know.” 

You nod and thank him with a sweet smile, a little overwhelmed at the special treatment, but then there’s a ruckus from behind you and Dustin is rolling his eyes and running off toward it, trying not to seem as frantic about the commotion as he clearly is. 

And then you’re alone. 

You enjoy the opening band, feeling the music as much as you’re hearing it, the nearby amplifiers thrumming along with the beat, and soon enough the frontman is introducing the last song. The commotion around you grows louder, more excited as more people filter in. Across the stage in the other wing, Jeff sees you and raises a hand in a kind wave, which you return happily. There’s no way you could stop yourself from looking around for a familiar head of hair framing that signature cocky smile. Peeking over your shoulder, you don’t see anyone you recognize except for Dustin, and across the way you can see the rest of the band, but Eddie is nowhere to be seen. 

Until hands grip your waist from behind, making you yelp. 

The sound of the opening band introducing Corroded Coffin and the roar of the crowd are syrupy in your ears at Eddie’s proximity. His hands squeeze where they hold your waist with a sense of familiarity you didn’t expect from him, and his words cut through the dull white noise around you when he murmurs in your ear. It’s a soft, pointed greeting of, “sweetheart.” 

“You treat all your interviewers this special?” You tease, turning in his grasp to gaze up at him through your lashes. 

“Definitely not.” He lets out a dark chuckle, one hand leaving your waist to grab roughly at your jaw and pull your face toward his for a hurried kiss. The hand still on your waist travels south, splaying wide over your ass, his long fingers teasing at the hem of your skirt that doesn’t land much lower than the crease of your cheeks. His voice lowers even further,  “but then, they don’t all look nearly this good in leather.”

Behind him an impatient guitar tech clears their throat, and Eddie smirks. Your lips just barely brush his as you breathe, “break a leg.” 

It’s with a dark chuckle and swift swat where his hand was resting on the swell of your ass that he mutters his own, “thanks, angel.” He finally detaches from you, much to your dismay, and allows the guitar tech to adorn him with his beloved Warlock. Onstage, The Freak matches the energy of the crowd with the bass-heavy introduction to Upside Down, and blanketed in the sounds of cheering fans and his first grungy, prolonged chord of the song, Eddie stalks backward slowly toward the stage. Eyes dropping from yours to take in your figure appreciatively, at the very last moment before he breaks onto the stage he adds on, “but all the luck I need is standing right there in a worn out pair of Docs.” 

It’s lame. It’s so lame that you can’t stop your eyes from rolling at his sentiment, but as he turns to run out and greet his fans, he catches the flush creeping up your neck. 

—

The show is electric. A whirlwind of wicked instrumental solos and Eddie’s powerful vocals, of the roar of a pleased crowd, fabricated smoke and sparks from cheap pyrotechnics, warm stage lights and adrenaline and speakers rattling your chest. Every time Eddie casts a sidelong glance your way, bathed in red stagelight and sweat and pure sex, you return the look with a dramatic blown kiss or an encouraging gesture, thinly disguising the way that every single one of those looks settles right between your legs. 

After a show stopping first half of the setlist, allowing a moment for the deafening roar of the crowd to settle on the room, Eddie slings the Warlock to hang off his back as he approaches the mic stand, cupping both hands around it to speak in a hush. 

“What do you say we give these goons a break?” He asks, voice low and sultry. There’s a hesitation in the crowd, but it’s filled with unsure excitement. Even you find yourself leaning in, waiting to see what he’s got up his sleeve. “What you you say, we make this a little more intimate between you and I? Huh? Would you like that, Indy?” The smile that lights up his face at the enthusiastic screaming from his fans is so boyishly gleeful and out of character that it almost catches you off guard. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of the teenager he was before the murder charges. Before the bandwagon accusations of a hometown that was always against him. Before the loss of a dear friend. The teenager who played DnD and covers-only gigs with these same friends, dreaming of doing exactly this one day. He chuckles into the microphone, then, gaze lingering on you through kissed lashes, he croons, “well then why don’t you allow me a moment to slip into a little something more comfortable and I’ll be right back.” 

Soundtracked by house music, an outburst of applause and excited hollering, all four of them run off the stage toward you. Mirroring their excited energy, you high five the guys as they run past you toward Steve and Dustin who are waiting with bottled water and encouraging grins. You expect Eddie to follow suit, but he beelines for you, handing off the Warlock to the guitar tech with his wicked smile trained on you. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s on you, taking your face in both hands and smacking a hard, hurried kiss on your lips. 

Breathless and sweat slick and warm, he asks, “enjoying the show?” 

“Mmm,” you hum, pressing your lips together in a tight smile and nodding as much as his hold on you would allow. “Very much. They love you out there!” 

Still rushed, not wanting to leave too much dead air on stage, he pulls away and shrugs out of the denim battle vest he’s been wearing all night. Tugging at the collar of his torn up black tank top, he tears it off and throws it over your shoulder to another stage hand. You’re only given a brief moment to appreciate the sight before another shirt is tossed back. “Oh, they ain’t seen nothing yet,” he growls, clearly referencing the crowd but directing his energy right at you. He dons the new shirt, a black and white baseball tee boasting the logo of – if your research is correct – his high school DnD group the Hellfire Club, and takes the acoustic guitar being thrust into his arms. Behind the wall of speakers, the crowd has started to chant his name and he basks in it, grinning. “Time to go bare my soul,” he sighs, winking in your direction and turning in place to run back out to his adoring fans, the first few notes of Wake Up ringing through the sound system. 

Somewhere between the first and second encore, you’re sent for again. The band had run off to the opposite end of the stage, much to your disappointment, but as you watch their close knit huddle fondly, it’s Steve’s turn to sidle up beside you. 

You draw a breath to greet him, but the chant of Master! Master! Master! From the crowd demanding Eddie’s infamous cover of Metallica’s Master of Puppets all but drowns you out. Chuckling, you lean in closer and shout, “is it like this every night!?” 

“Hm,” Steve muses, “not always. But we’re so close to our hometown, Indy crowds always deliver.” A beat of quiet passes between you before he continues, “I was asked to bring you back to the green room, if you want to follow me.” 

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you concede, craning your neck as you follow him to watch them take the stage again. 

Through more corridors and ducking around venue employees, you follow Steve Harrington back past the line of fans and wannabe groupies claiming they know this person or the other to try and make it backstage, toward the irritated security guard who waves Steve through with ease. From the line you can hear gripes from girls in too-tight shirts fresh from the merch table, who even is she? and what’s so special about that one? and why does she get to go back there!? As much as you wish it didn’t, pride swells in your chest at their jealousy. As you pass the guard adamantly telling someone that a press badge doesn’t get them past this point, you turn and let out a surprised laugh at the WKZT polo shirt and Jimmie’s shocked guffaw of your name. 

You offer him a cocky smile and the briefest wiggle of your fingers before turning back around to continue chasing after Harrington. 

There’s a few people milling about when you arrive at the green room. A girl you recognize as Gareth’s girlfriend, if tabloids are to be believed, a couple more girls that look like they were plucked from the crowd to join the band post-show, a few roadies waiting to break down, and you think the girl in the corner is Robin Buckley, long time friend of both Eddie and his management team. She’s sipping on a glass of champagne probably provided by the venue and scanning the pages of a thick paperback, keeping away from the chaos. 

Steve gestures widely to the room without any additional words, catches Robin’s eye and gives her a brief salute, and heads out unceremoniously. As the door slams shut behind you, all eyes turn to you with interest, everyone curious about the new arrival. The girls quickly realize you aren’t one of the band members and lose interest quickly, Robin gives a polite wave, but returns to her book, and you’re left to stand uncomfortably in the doorway. That is, until maybe-Gareth’s-girlfriend smiles comfortingly your way and moves the throw pillows off of the other half of the loveseat she’s perched on, offering you a seat. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, tucking your feet under you as you take a seat and tugging at the hem of your skirt to make sure you remain decent, “I probably look like a fish out of water here, huh?” You laugh at your own expense.

“Nah, you just look a lot like I felt after my first show on tour, happy to be here but a little lost” she waves you off, brown eyes sparkling with kindness. She tosses a curtain of rainbow colored box braids over one shoulder and offers you a hand to shake, “I’m Kiara.” 

Shaking her hand, you offer a broad smile in return and introduce yourself. 

“Oh!” She perks up, leaning toward you excitedly, “you’re the radio host from last night, right? The guys could not shut up about you all day today! Well…some more than others.” 

Your cheeks color at her suggestion that Eddie was the one doing most of the talking, and you rub awkwardly at the back of your neck. “That’s me,” you chuckle, “so Eddie’s uh, mentioned me?” 

“No! Not like that!” Her burst of a laugh is downright musical, and she’s physically waving off the comment with a manicured hand in the air. One hand lands on your arm and squeezes comfortingly. “Well, yeah. He’s Eddie. Of course he did, but I meant all the guys! Jeff said it was one of the best radio spots they’ve ever done. Gareth was practically glowing when he mentioned that you featured his solo. They were all impressed.” 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you let out your own laugh, “well, I guess that’s good to know. They were a pleasure to have on the show, really genuine.” 

The cushions behind you dip with the sudden weight of Robin Buckley’s crossed arms, leaning in conspiratorially. “But….one more of a pleasure than the rest, right?” One brow raised, even she can’t take herself seriously, snorting with laughter at the color draining from your face. “Ah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya, kid.” She tousles your hair affectionately, “it’s been a while since Munson’s been this smitten. I’m pleased to meet the girl behind the voice.” 

Robin and Kiara talk around you, but those words dance around in your head. 

Smitten?

No. That’s impossible. 

He met you yesterday. Well, okay, technically you’d met once before. That show at the Hideout in his hometown was years ago, though. There’s no way he remembers you, no matter how much you may have flirted back and forth. 

Then again, he didn’t have to invite you back, or specifically call the station to request your presence. 

The door slamming open, rattling off the wall with its force pulls you from your thoughts. At the open doorway, flanked by his friends and band members, Eddie Munson lets out a hearty, “That’s how you put on a fuckin’ show!” 

Hoots and hollers fill the room around you as the band filters in, adrenaline pouring off of them, filling the space quickly and wasting no time in pouring themselves drinks and passing around an overstuffed blunt. Gareth fills the space on the loveseat between you and Kiara, making you stand in response to make more room for him. Your conversation was all but over, anyway, and you’ve set your sights on Eddie across the room, who made a detour for the mini bar before making his way to you. You decide to meet him there, instead. 

He’s bent at the waist, leaning with one arm on the door of the fridge, peering into it as if to look for some hidden prize. He closes the door as you approach, leaving room for you to slip between him and the minifridge and perch atop it. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he holds back the fond smile, forcing a more nonchalant look onto his face. 

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a good drink around here?” You ask, reaching out to toy with the tattered collar of his Hellfire shirt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs, leaning in close. You anticipate a kiss, leaning up and into him, only for him to change his course and continue on past you, reaching high onto the shelf above your head to pull down a bottle of bourbon. Uncapping it, he takes a swig for himself, then, grin turning wicked, notches the mouth of the bottle under your chin to tilt your pout up toward him. “I can think of a few things.” 

His eyes follow the drag of your tongue across your lower lip, breath steady but shallow, and you take the moment of distraction to pluck the bottle from his hands and take a swig of your own, your smirk self-satisfied and cocky as the amber liquor burns your throat. 

As he passes, the Freak mumbles to “get a fuckin’ room.”

Nearby, Jeff also groans out, “or at least let us get to the beer, man.” 

Eddie’s shoulders slump, eyes rolling in an annoyed gesture, but the predatory smile never falters. He raises an eyebrow, staring you down, “good idea boys.” He steps back, holding a hand out to help you up, and as he ushers you out of the room with an arm wrapped heavy around your shoulder, he adds, “think I may do just that.” 

Your ears burn at the attention, but you hide your smile in the soft cotton covering his chest and follow blindly down the hall. He peeks into a couple doors, finding them occupied or locked or otherwise insufficient. You're squirming in his hold by the time he opens another door at the end of the hall to uncover a supply closet, he hasn’t even touched you and yet you’re on the verge of melting into a puddle of anticipation and longing. It would be pathetic if you didn’t know for a fact he was in the exact same boat, pent up with adrenaline from a good show.

He doesn’t suggest it outright, but he peers down at you with a questioning brow, lets the door swing open and make the suggestion for him. 

With a sly smile and no second thought, you press the bourbon back into his hand and lead the way into the closet, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. He joins you quickly with a hint of pride shining in his eye. One final pull from the bottle and he slams it onto one of the shelves, freeing his hands to crowd you up against the door, your cheek pressed into the cool metal, and push your skirt up and over your hips. Impatient fingers swipe through your folds and you both groan. You, at the contact, the tease of sweet relief after wanting for so long. He, at the realization that you haven’t had panties on this entire time. 

“Fuck, baby,” he huffs, retreating to make quick work of his belt and jeans, shoving them down just enough. You whine at the loss, drawing a dark chuckle from the man behind you. He fists his cock, lining up with your entrance, pausing just before giving you what you want. “Thought I would’a needed to warm you up at least a little,” his hips snap forward, driving into you with one swift motion and pulling a desperate moan from the back of your throat. “Should’ve known you’d be ready for me, the way you were practically fuckin’ me with your eyes all night.” He grips your hip with one hand, the other propped on the door beside your head, and starts to build a rhythm. Steady but quick, wasting no time. 

“Can– fuck, Eddie–” you interrupt yourself when he hits particularly deep, and a peek over your shoulder at the shit eating grin on his face confirms that it was definitely on purpose. You groan, letting your forehead fall against the door again, “can you blame me? Y’looked so damn good out there, you were–” Another pointed piston of his hips cuts off your compliment with a guttural moan, and you concede, deciding now is not the time for talking. 

“That’s it, Sweetheart,” he urges, mouthing at the nape of your neck, the hand on your hip sneaking lower to rub sloppily at your clit. He takes in your shaky breath, the hitch in it at his touch, and urges you closer to release. It’s over almost as quickly as it started, not your usual gradual build, but rather a startling wave washing over you with a cry. Eddie grunts his approval into your hair, following quickly and spilling inside you. 

You stay that way for a moment, both of you breathing slowly and getting your bearings, until a drunk little giggle escapes your throat, sandwiched between your lips and your forearm where you rest your head. 

Running a hand down your spine gently, Eddie hisses as he pulls out, then swats playfully at your ass. “What’s so funny?” If he was actually bothered by your laughter, he didn’t show it. 

“Dunno,” you giggle, moving as if through molasses as you stand to right yourself, pulling the skirt back down and smoothing wrinkles from your top, “just really glad I agreed to come tonight.” You decided to bite back the tease, to not call attention to the fact that last night he practically promised you the night of your life, only to end up with a quickie in the broom closet. Not that you’re complaining, the man knows what he’s doing, but…

As if he can read your thoughts, he reaches out for you, drawing you into him with a firm hand on the small of your back. He swallows your protest, licking into your mouth with a smug satisfaction to make sure you know he isn’t going anywhere. 

“Oh, you thought I was done with you?” He asks, dimples practically twinkling with the mischief they hold. 

“Well, I…yeah?” You can’t come up with the words, so you just nod dumbly. “Baby,” he noses at your temple, kissing a tight smile into your hairline before dropping his tone to murmur directly into your ear. “That was just blowing off some steam after the show.” Another kiss, this time to the spot just below your ear that he discovered last night, nipping at the sensitive skin lightly and savoring the gasp it elicits from you. “I plan on taking my time with you tonight, you better not be calling it a night on me already.”

[visarcana]

In celebration of the miserable realization that I haven't updated in more than a year

I was thinking of how this happened and if I REALLY have done so little on the fic. A lot is going on but that shouldn't be my excuse; I had difficult years before. So what was I doing for the past year?

I published the Folken oneshot here and here (phew, there's at least something).

I do have SOME version of ch 17 ready that I have continually worked on, it's just that it doesn't feel up to my standards. What is worse, I cannot figure out what comes after. I have the CONCEPT and major scenes but the plotholes could sink the whole thing if I'm not careful. I hoped to have this figured out before publishing the next chapter, I usually had, in similar situations before. I wonder if I should just risk it and just go ahead.

I have some scenes that do not exactly fit into the fic at this point BUT I WANT to have them. What do? Force them in there somehow (I did that in the past already)? Create a separate "fic" for them? I feel like such an inexperienced writer when things like this and the previous one slow me down while others can produce chapter after chapter much more regularly.

I did A LOT of translation last year, and it was the hard kind, the novel translation. You kinda have to employ your skills there as a writer, too, besides dedicating buttload of time and patience. Maybe I tired myself out and hit the limits of my creative energy? It certainly feels like it at times. This is something that took me by surprise, in the past, the translation fueled rather than impeded my writing.

I did have some very engaging fic talks with a few of the readers and friends, I'm really thankful for that. They were obviously about the stuff I had already posted but I guess it doesn't hurt to think on the past things again, quite often, an inspiration hits from that. Not to mention motivation, it's incredibly motivational to have someone care about your story, I don't think I even need to say that. I even was lucky to lay my eyes on some fanart for the fic and although I can't say I contributed there such a treat ALWAYS deserves gratitude and mention <3

The questions also helped me understand where my writing is unclear or where it may get confusing. Besides the answers, I had to even look up some photo references and even did some pencil sketches. Although they are not great, it's the only thing that I've drawn in long months.

So, in case someone else wondered about the same things, and since I have some of these answers typed out already (with some of them quite elaborate as usual), I will post the "questions" below.

If there is any interest in any of the answers, I will publish them here. I wouldn't want to spam you otherwise, I mean, I get that it's the new chapter people would want to read, if anything. I can't make any other promises but I'll keep working on that as well. Anyway, an update of this blog was long overdue, so I did at least that.

-- CHAPTER 16

What are “sliders”, “lum”, “Telandir” etc.? Basically, worldbuilding Q/A.

What does Van mean exactly when he says “There are four of you, and you will come down with me peacefully. Or there will be less… if you think you can outrun me.”

Is it “Cyro” or “Cyrien”? How old is he? How does he feel when Hitomi intercepts on him on the way to the command tent and what does his apologetic shrug at the end mean?

What is Hitomi wearing and why does no one pay much attention to her until she speaks up at the war council? Why do the soldiers call her “Private Sweetling”?

How does Van feel about the whole situation with the captives? Are Hitomi’s concerns substantial?

What really happened and what are the physical actions (and reactions) of the characters during the argument taking place in Van’s tent?

What is the meaning of Van and Folken’s conversation about Hitomi, when Folken says his brother “disappoints” him?

What is the meaning of Folken’s “what if I told you I’m done being useful”? What does Van’s reaction to that mean?

Why does Allen see younger himself in Van and what are his regrets?

What does Hitomi mean when she says “everything is shattered”? -- PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

Why does Hitomi so easily accept that Gaea was real after all, when she had been thinking it was a dream for several years?

Why is Hitomi so formal with Millerna at the start? Why is she starting from zero with some of the relationships like Millerna and Van?

Why do people call Hitomi “seeress” in VA?

Are Hitomi’s abilities gone? Why can Van dowse and can anyone do it?

Why does Dornkirk want to separate Van and Hitomi? What is the connection between Lenz’s tasks and the ch15 forest scenes?

Why was there not a scene revealing the reactions of the characters back on Earth to Hitomi’s disappearance?

[thatgirl4815]

do you think the ex will be coming back? i’m starting to think they won’t at this point but who knows since bls love to throw in the ex storyline at last minute (well this isn’t your stereotypical/cliche kind of bl however they have been tackling many bl tropes head on and spinning them/doing a commentary on them so they might do it with the ex too). i fear for ray’s reaction if the ex comes back but i also fear for sand’s. i don’t believe sand would be swayed if he and ray decided to go all in but there’s clearly still a lot of hurt and bitterness there towards his ex so he clearly still cares and if for example the ex is good at manipulating …who knows what could happen.

i’m also curious as to when sand’s sex scene with someone not in the main cast is coming. where will sand and ray’s relationship be? will it be a flashback (doubt it at this point unless they decide to really give us ex backstory)? are sand and ray are in a bad place again possibly after the apartment fight and he wants to not feel lonely or get his mind off ray (would once again be scared for when/if ray finds out) so he gets a one night stand or even worse it’s with the ex? i’m so curious about it simply because of the positive way the sandray relationship seems to be going next ep (that we know won’t last but still).

I keep expecting the ex to show up, but he never does, and at this point we're getting pretty close to the end. If Ray's alcoholism/mental health issues occupy as much of the plot as I think they're going to, then that doesn't leave much room for an ex storyline. To your point about the series subverting common tropes--if the ex comes in, I don't think the series will follow a typical "ex comes to stir up drama and jealousy" arc. Up to now, the whole reason the "Sand ex" thing has come up at all is because it's contextualized Sand's feelings about Top and given him motivation to tell Ray about the sex tape. So it's hardly related to Sand and Ray's storyline at all (yet).

From a SandRay storyline perspective, I don't know if we need to see Ray be jealous of Sand's ex to move their plot forward...we can already infer how Ray would react to that. Plus, we saw it on a smaller scale with the Freddie Mercury guy in Ep8. It could give Ray more clarity about his feelings for Sand I suppose, but tbh I think Ray isn't too far away from admitting how he truly feels with or without an ex plotline to rile him up.

Sand's sex scene with someone else is something I cannot reconcile with the plot at this point. I feel like it would almost have to be a flashback, or he and Ray have a huge fight that leads him to cut off Ray permanently (or what he thinks is permanently) leading him to distract himself with someone else. Idk why, but I don't get the feeling that Sand would hookup with someone right after an argument as a way of getting back at Ray? Though I suppose it depends on just how nasty the argument they have is. If Sand thinks they can still come back from it, I don't think he'd go after anyone else.

But a flashback at this stage of the plot? For an ex that can't take up too much of the storyline? Idk. I've seen some people speculate that the love scene Jojo hinted at next episode with the blurry-ass photo is Sand and Nick, which...:/ I can't pick apart the pixels and peer through all the blurriness, but I am 99.999% sure it's Sand and Ray. Hopefully I don't jinx it by saying that.

So all in all, I am very confused about the ex's involvement in the plot. The preview doesn't indicate that they will appear next episode either. So where does that leave them? I'm on the edge of my seat.