#and engage when someone tries to bring up a concern

[pragmatic-optimist]

An Appeal re: Anon Asks

For the last week (although honestly, the last six months), I've been having conversations on and off about the responsibility of answering asks on your blog and the impact it has on fandom as a community. 

At some point during Season 2 of Lone Star, the Anon asks, in particular, got truly out of control, and it's only gotten worse over time. Your blogs are your blogs, and I respect that. At the same time, as a fandom community, we share this space. Whether or not we all know one another, we're all coexisting in the tags and on this site. It takes a lot of emotional labor and time to filter and block on Tumblr, especially when folks don't tag consistently or correctly. Like many in this fandom, I also want to have fun while I'm here, but it's hard to do that when there seems to be little to no discernment in answering asks or properly tagging them.  

When it comes to unnecessary negative comments on fanfic, we often say, "it's not hard to close out of something if you don't like it." The spirit of that applies here, too. It's easy not to answer an ask, especially an Anon ask.

If someone isn't putting their name on something they're asking you to post to your blog, I would argue it requires an additional second and third look and careful consideration of how you answer it. (Certain asks are answered flippantly and then tagged for all to see, but that is an entirely separate post I won't be writing). 

Everything you share gets eyes; how many depends on how loud of a voice you're considered in the fandom. And it's been my experience that the louder the voice, the more substantial the likelihood you'll find problematic Anon asks in your inbox. Answering these asks on your blog gives them a platform, and tagging them gives them an audience outside of your followers. If you're a "big blog," it increases the odds that some of us will also be subjected to these problematic asks through reblogs. All of this broadly impacts fandom conversation because now it's deemed acceptable to send XYZ type of ask, use XYZ word(s), bring up XYZ topic, or talk about XYZ actor(s) or character(s) in any type of way.

The whole "this is Tumblr, it's not that serious" argument is privileged because some of this stuff is serious for someone like me (and others in this space). I can't just pretend someone isn't implicitly making it seem okay to say certain things, especially if their blog is looked at as a popular fandom source.

This ask is just one example of what I'm talking about:

It's the use of a racialized fetish term, and honestly, it's super cringe. Seeing this in the show tag is deeply uncomfortable as a Latinx person. What was the point of answering this ask and then tagging it? It serves no purpose and hangs out in the show tag like we all just throw it around (we don’t). It's been brought to attention, and still, it lingers. 

A fandom community should be safe and fun for all, but we don't live in a perfect world, so it takes work. Part of being in a community and doing the work is kindly holding people accountable to make it that way and being willing to have constructive conversations when concerns are raised. It's not accountability if you only show "remorse" when your friends bring something to your attention, and then nothing changes.

Accountability also ceases to exist when the fandom community chooses deep avoidance, handwaving things away whenever someone tries to share a concern. I have no idea why this keeps happening here, but I do know that every time it happens, it is profoundly isolating and makes it clear that fandom is only meant to be fun for some. The rest of us have to either put up with it or leave. 

If that's the message the Lone Star fandom intends to send, it's being received loud and clear. 

****

(Edit: the post is finally down, but I’ve shared a screenshot because it took three days and more than one person to address it publicly and this is exactly what I’m talking about.)

[cuubism]

Dreamling idea:

Randomly had a thought about the Endless being a family that is essentially dying out. However the parents are determined to have heirs even if it means selling their children into unwanted marriages or possibly short term “engagements”. Of course this becomes complicated with each of the children having various aspects that make them unsuitable (or in a few cases they vanish in the night to escape). Ultimately their hopes all rest on Dream.

He, though, is NOT having it. He’d recently met an older man - he has money but not the “right kind” aka ill gotten wealth. He isn’t from their class and, worst of all, he doesn’t seem interested in children. Obviously not a match, as far as the Endless parents are concerned.

However there IS a prospect in a nearby town.

Dream tries to run but unfortunately precautions were taken and he is locked away to await his fate.

Meanwhile, Hob waits for him at the tavern where they promised to meet.

And waits…

I had a particular scene in my head of Dream fighting with his mother over her demands only to be silenced by her slapping his face.

oh yeah. dream and his illicit older criminal fiance. his parents won't be pleased. that's what you get when you treat your kids like possessions though. rebellion...

--

Hob is waiting for him. Hob, beloved Hob, who like a fairy tale prince, or perhaps a fairy tale bandit, has promised to take Dream away from all this, steal him from his locked carriage and whisk him away into the night. Hob is waiting for him.

And Dream is faced with a locked door.

He yanks again on his bedroom door. It's locked from the outside. How had they known? He'd given no indication he intended to go out tonight. Or that he'd been going out at all. Death had even been covering for him, lying to their parents about Dream's whereabouts and acquaintances. And yet.

He yanks on the door for a fourth time, increasingly frustrated, and this time it swings open--but not of his doing. His mother stands on the other side, holding the key.

"No more of that," she says. Dream takes a step back as she steps into the room. "Sit down, Dream."

Dream has never been a particularly rebellious child. But even those who truly want to follow the rules can be pushed to their limits when the rules become too unfair. "No," he says, and it's only thinking of Hob that keeps his voice strong. "I am leaving, Mother."

She stares at him incredulously. "Leaving? To run off with that-- that man?" She sounds like she wants to use a far ruder word, but good breeding holds her tongue. "No. I think not. What, precisely, do you think that man wants with you, Dream? A proper spouse? You think he won't simply use and discard you?"

"It's my well-being you care about?" Dream says, disbelieving. "If you cared so much for that, or for Hob's age or the quality of his wealth you would not be bringing me suitors like Roderick Burgess."

"At least Burgess comes from a good family. Gadling is a common criminal."

"Don't speak of him that way!" Dream says, raising his voice against his mother for the first time he can remember. "Hob has been better to me than all of you."

His mother steps forward and slaps him across the face. Dream reels back, clutching his cheek, as she says. "You won't say such things against this family. You will stay here until we find someone suitable to take you."

With that she leaves again, locking the door behind her.

Dream sits down hard on the edge of his bed, still holding his face. For all that his parents have often been domineering, neither of them has ever struck him before. Such are the consequences of speaking his mind. Of pursuing what he wants.

He sits there for a long time, despondent. He wants to see Hob. But Hob will think Dream changed his mind, when Dream doesn't show up. Will think Dream abandoned him.

Dream wraps his arms around his knees, rocking himself back and forth. His mother is wrong about Hob. Hob is good to him. He treats Dream kindly, and listens to Dream talk about his interests when none of his family ever seem to care, and he is so handsome, has taught Dream the pleasure of being looked at as though he is something to truly desire--not as a prize or possession, like the suitors his mother picks out so often look at him, but as a sexual being deserving to want and be wanted. And he brings Dream to such heights of pleasure in his bed, when they meet.

He is still wallowing in his misfortune, feeling very pathetic indeed, when a crack comes at his window, and then the exterior lock breaks.

Dream startles, backing away, as the window swings open with a creak. Hob is there, leaning over the sill, out of breath from, apparently, climbing up the wall. "Hey, darling," he says.

A common criminal, Dream thinks, lips tugging up in a fond smile.

"You didn't come to our meeting point," Hob continues, hefting himself up and over the windowsill.

"So you came to me?" Dream asks.

"Couldn't let you get away that easy." He steps in close, taking Dream's face between his hands. Dream leans into him, clutching at Hob's shirt, as Hob's gaze searches his. He smiles, craftily, at what he sees there. "Still want to be stolen away?"

"Please."

Hob takes his hand. Kisses his knuckles. Dream doesn't look back at his room as Hob helps him over the windowsill, keeps him steady as they climb down the wall and land in the garden, where Hob catches him in the cradle of his arms.

"Not a very auspicious start for a marriage," Hob says, grinning. "Didn't even get it blessed by a priest or anything."

Dream surges up to kiss him, almost knocking Hob off-balance, and Hob laughs, kissing him back, arms tight around his waist. Then he takes Dream's hand again.

"Come on, my sweet, I promised you adventure." And hands gripped tight, he leads Dream off into the night.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 5 of Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

Word Count: 9.8 k

Warnings: light mentions of smut (nothing explicit), pining, mutual pining, heavy angst, forcing a decision

Captain Price bristles at the private’s words, taken aback by this impromptu revelation, but he hides it all behind his usual stone cold stare. A gruff exhale exits his lips as he runs his fingertips over the perimeter of his mustache. “Don’t care ‘bout what happens on off hours,” he says full of contempt at being dragged into this bullshit. “It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours either, so best just drop it private.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; the captain is supposed to march over to the lieutenant’s quarters and break up your little lovefest right this second at hearing his confession. At least that was what the private was hoping for when he decided to make this visit. He needs something more. 

“But sir,” he says more exasperatedly, “it isn’t just after hours. The first time I caught them, the lieutenant and sergeant were going at it in the munitions depot when I walked in; you remember that day you sent me to fetch Lt. Riley. They’ve even been engaging in activities in the field as well. During our mission they neglected their watch duties to screw around like some fucking teenagers. Is that what you call acceptable, sir? Is this how you run your operations?”

Goddammit, now it is Price’s problem. Messing around when off duty or on leave is one thing that can be easily overlooked as you are both adults who are engaging in activities with consent, but risking it all when out in the field is another matter altogether. There are protocols and you are supposed to be professionals. And if this bit of information gets out it could have dire consequences for the validity of this task force. 

“Maybe I should bring my concerns up to someone higher,” the private mutters in the silence that follows as Price mulls over everything in his mind. 

“What did ya say?” the captain fires back as he rejoins the conversation, his firm glare boring holes into the private.

Immediately the young man regrets having uttered it aloud, but there’s no going back now. “I just… I-if I need to, I-I will have to go above you, sir,” he stammers out as he tries to maintain his resolve.

Fuck, this is bad.

Price sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving the private even though he tries to divert his gaze; each time he brings it back Price is ready to meet it head on. “You will leave this be private,” Price threatens, his voice firm. “This is not under your jurisdiction, nor is it in your ability to decide who needs discipline in these matters. I will take care of it as I see fit; I am the one in charge, not you. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I should at least get to know that you are going to do…” the private tries to argue some more, but the captain is having none of it.

“You’re dismissed,” Price barks as he points a steady hand towards the door.

“But sir…” he tries to protest again and again he is cut off. 

“I said, dismissed private, or would you rather I start my disciplining with you,” Price says unyieldingly, staring him down with a glare that means he is seriously done with this conversation and with being disrespected. 

Quickly the private gets up from his seat with a furrow-browed nod and a rushed, pointed ‘yes, sir,’ that he mutters through his gritted teeth before he turns on his heels and stalks to the door to fling it open and stomp off into the night, leaving Price alone in his office once more as he slams it behind him. 

With the immediate quiet that follows, all Price can think about is what the private has revealed to him. To have the highly trained professional that is Simon Riley abandon everything to mess around with anyone during a mission is unheard of, but it being you makes this even more complicated. This is territory he has no prior knowledge on; something big must be happening for everything to be turned on its head and he doesn’t know what the fuck he is going to do about it all.

Though he knows he cannot just let this go. At least he has the weekend to think it all over, but he knows come Monday he is going to have to act or risk too much because that private is not going to let this go, that much is clear.

The captain decides that that is enough for the night and packs it up to head out. As he leaves out and turns to get back to his own quarters, his eyes linger over to where a specific officer is housed. “What the fuck have ya done Simon?” Price questions aloud to himself as he steps off into the darkness with much weighing on his mind, pondering the next steps of what actions must now be taken.

Back in the lieutenant’s room, hours pass in the blissfully exhaustive ecstasy produced from your union. Both of you slumber on peacefully, wrapped in one another, entirely unaware of anything outside the confines of the mattress until something unfamiliar makes Simon stir awake.

Intaking a full, deep breath, he fills his lungs with a flood of air as he comes back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in a mild panic from movement at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that it is you rolling back over to face him that has caught him off-guard; he forgot that you would still be in his bed. Mystery solved, he calmly settles back down into his pillow and watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, admiring how tranquil you look as your dark eyelashes rest delicately against your cheeks.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s slept beside anyone; he’d almost forgotten how comforting it can be to have another laying beside you. A weak smile spreads across his lips as careful fingers reach over to the side of your head so that he can tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

God, you’re beautiful just like this. How did he get so god damn lucky to have something so pure sleeping soundly next to him? You let out a whispered sigh and suddenly he is caught up in a whirlwind of feelings that have been in hibernation for years as his fingertips linger delicately against the soft flesh of your cheek a moment more. He wishes he could kick himself for not trying to get closer to you sooner, if only to have you here lying next to him as if it has always been this way.  

Those copper eyes drift to the plain black and white standard government issue clock tacked to the wall. It’s nearly five in the morning; still too early to be conscious just yet, but once he’s up there’s no going back down. He takes a few more minutes to silently appreciate your sleeping form by capturing the image of you like a polaroid in his mind and then decides to just let you sleep until the last minute before he wakes you up to send you safely on your way.

Who said you needed to rush off anyway? 

As carefully as all 6’4” of him can, he eases his way out of the bed and creeps bare-arsed to the en suite bathroom so that he can grab a quick shower, though he’d like nothing more than to keep the scent of you on him a little longer. It won’t do him any favors to go around base today with the fragrance of sex covering him like a beacon to draw people’s unwanted attention.

Cautiously he eases the bathroom door to where it is slightly ajar, not risking shutting it since he knows how bad the damned thing squeaks, and only then does he flick on the fluorescent lights to illuminate the space. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the harsh brilliance, he opens them and immediately catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that faces the door.   

Even though he still carries the signs of sleep in his distinct features, he can already tell that he is different somehow and he walks closer to his reflection to get a better look. Everything is exactly where it should be, but his eyes seem brighter, more full of life… as if he is happier than he has been in recent memory. He stares back into them as if he is looking at a different person, a reunion with an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.  

And he doesn’t know what to think. It is a gift from you, after all…though you don’t even know you’ve given it to him yet.

Simon shakes his head and chuckles to himself, not fully ready to accept this drastic change to his appearance just yet, as he pulls from the mirror and walks the few steps to the shower to get it going. The pipes running to the showerhead squeak to life as run for a few seconds when without warning he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as a warm, naked chest presses into his back. It momentarily takes him by surprise as he is still getting used to having someone around, but he eventually settles into your embrace. 

“Was tryin’ not to wake ya yet,” he mutters as he runs his hand over yours that is against his stomach.

“Heard the shower kick on,” you murmur sleepily into his shoulder as you place your lips to the smooth skin near his shoulder blade, “thought I could do with getting clean myself, so I wanted to join you.”

It isn’t a total lie, you do need to wash up after the mess from the night before, though you wish you could be honest and say that you just wanted to be close while you still can. You know you are going to have to leave soon if you want to make it back to your quarters without detection, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that looms like a gray cloud at the back of your mind that you will have to part ways. 

Simon holds your palms pressed rigid and flat against his abdominals so you can’t let go as he leans in to check the temperature of the water with his free hand. The heated liquid rains down onto his palm perfectly warm, but not too hot, and being satisfied he pulls you both inside the cozy oasis. 

He moves you in front of him so that your back is directly under the shower head, letting the heated water run through the length of your hair and down the curves of your bare back to keep you warm. It feels like you’re still in a dream the way the steam rises around your bodies in the tight space, the condensation clinging to your skin like a warm blanket. Maybe you are still asleep in his bed, you feel barely awake as it is, and if that’s the case you hope you don’t wake up cause you don’t want to leave the fantasy just yet. 

The soothing water lulls you into a drowsy calm as Simon holds you close against him while he naturally rocks you both back and forth with slow, easy movements as he gently tries to help you wake up. He cannot help admiring the flush in your face brought on by the heat or the way the droplets trickle over your soft, delicate skin. Reaching out, his hand connects with your cheek as he strokes his coarse thumb over your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth before dragging it heavily over your bottom lip until he has them parted. 

“I swear you’re a fuckin’ dream, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hand on your face brings it in towards his so that he can gently connects your lips. 

Memories of confessions from the night before spring back to the surface, admissions of possession that he doesn’t want to take back even though that mind-numbing haze from being inside you is gone. You can hear him sigh heavily as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

If only he could wake up like this every day. Could that even be a possibility for someone like him? Inside the steam-filled oasis that cloaks you both from reality, he allows himself to fantasize just a little. Maybe…maybe…

Simon lets you go only to grab the soap from its place sitting on the edge of the tub, ready to clean up the mess he made. Taking care of someone other than himself is an oddly comforting sensation to him and even though you try to protest that he doesn’t have to, he still takes the time to wash you down anyway before tending to himself. 

He leaves you inside the shower to finish up as he steps out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel securely around his hips, making sure to leave a towel for you as well before he heads to the mirror. His rigorous actions between your legs last night left a rather rough patch against your thigh that he caught sight of in the shower and checking his face in the foggy bit of glass above the sink, Simon decides it’s about time to shave.

…cause he is definitely going to get between those legs again soon. 

A bag of random toiletries lies at the edge of the sink and he rummages around in it until he locates his razor. He steps up to the counter and turns on the sink just as the creak from the shower handle rings out and the water is shut off. From the mirror he can see you step out and wrap the towel he’s set out for you around your chest. 

You ring out your hair behind you before you move to his side and turn to rest your butt against the edge of the countertop. Looking down, you spy the shaving instrument in his hand.

“Gettin’ rid of it?” you ask with a hint of disappointment as you reach up and run your fingertips over his jaw. The steam from the shower has already softened the hairs so they don’t prickle roughly against your touch as you outline his face.

Suddenly he can’t find his voice; every single time you touch him it’s like the first time all over again and it makes his head spin. Clearing his throat he looks down at you. “It’s a bit too rough, innit?” he says, tapping at your thigh with the abrasion on it. “Don’t wanna hurt ya again.”

Why did it sound more deep a sentiment than it should have been? A lump wells in your throat as you realize he is doing this for you and you alone; it’s just a shave, but to have him care about your wellbeing is very special to you. Especially after the confessions from the night before; clearly he has meant it: you belong to him now.

“Well, if you must…but, I wonder. Can I?” you ask with a smile as you reach for the blade in his hand.

Simon pauses before giving it up to you. This is a new one for him and he is a little unsure, but curious enough to see where it leads. You move your body between him and the counter so that you can hop up and sit yourself in front of him. Opening your legs, you pull him in close.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you ask barely above a whisper as you situate him in the middle of your legs. 

More than anyone, he thinks to himself as he silently stares back into your eyes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, he just drops his hands by his sides and tilts his jaw up.

Your ankles link behind the small of his back as your hand grasps his chin to keep his head steady so you can place the razorblade to his cheek. The sharp edge of the blade pushes into his skin and is dragged slowly down the line of his face until it reaches your hand where you pick it up to move on to the next section. It’s like an intimate dance, the risk of it all as the blade continues to pass over his skin, but you skill keeping him safe from cuts, making his heart race so you can feel his pulse under your fingertips.

“Just hold still,” you say as you feel the sensation of his hands moving up your bare thighs, running up towards your hips that have peeked out through the slit in the towel. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ya won’t,” he says in that gruff tone without hesitation and you can feel the warmth rise in your face. 

There is steam still lingering in the air from the shower; it is fogging the mirror and adds a filmy haze to the atmosphere. The aroma of his soap is strong between your bodies, both of you coated in his usual plain, clean scent. It’s nice just being here like this with him. 

Another pass of the blade and more of that thick stubble comes right off under your careful hand. You move the blade over to the sink to rinse it again and that’s when you feel it, a stabbing against your thigh from within the confines of his towel. His damp, hair-covered chest rubs against your forearms as he moves in even tighter to you.

“Like the way ya look, all serious like when you’re workin’ hard at somethin’,” he says in a breathy whisper as you finish another swipe of the razorblade across his jaw. “Didn’t know how good you’d be with a sharp object in your hand.”

“Well, if you keep moving I might not be so precise. I’m almost done,” you scold him, but Simon isn’t deterred just because you have something sharp in your hand. He has something just as deadly prodding into you too.

His strong fingertips jab themselves into your hips, stabbing into the meat hard through the towel as he presses himself into you and suddenly it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath. He hums deep in his chest, a low, guttural sound that makes your clit throb as those long fingers of his twirl the loose, wet strands of your hair between them.

“I’ll give ya ‘bout another minute to get it done,” he says as his gaze lingers longingly on your mouth. “That’s all I can wait.” 

Suddenly the room isn’t the only thing that is obscured in a haze; your mind is misfiring terribly now as you hurry to finish the job while also being sure you don’t miss any spots. You rinse the blade for the last time and quickly check him over, flashing him a satisfied smile at your handiwork. 

“I thought we just got clean for the day?” you ask as he takes the blade from your hand and sets it on the countertop beside you.  

He doesn’t answer the question with words, instead letting his mouth do something else to convey his thoughts. His kiss is softer now with the missing stubble, though just as passionate as it always is and it takes your breath away. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good, cause I don’t plan on stoppin’ anytime soon, sweetheart,” he groans as his fingers reach up to your chest to find the edge of the towel; with one small tug he has it undone. It drops down around the sink as he leans in more aggressively to capture your mouth.  

There’s still enough time for another shower, right? Fuck, at this point he’ll make time.

Dawn is just beginning to break its first soft light over the base as you step out of the shower for the second time and hurriedly get dressed. Simon meets you at the door with a knot in the pit of his stomach; time’s up whether he is ready or not and if you want to make it back undetected it has to be now.

“Got plans later tonight?” he asks as he pulls you to him one last time.

You look up into his face and shake your head. “Not that I know of. Gonna be a light day today. Why?”

Simon pins you against him with his arm around your waist as he tilts his head down to kiss your lips. “Just thinkin’ ya might want ta be in later,” he says, giving one last peck before he opens the door and you immediately take off in the direction of your personal quarters.

He keeps his eyes on you till you’re out of sight, trying to wipe away the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door.

The rest of the day is spent in a blur, punctuated by the few times you just happened to catch a glimpse of Simon through the days as you go about. Your mind constantly wanders back to what he meant by you might want to stay in later, so when Soap asks if you’re gonna come hang in the rec with them for a bit of Saturday fun, you decline and stay put in your room instead.   

It’s a little after 9 o’clock when there is a heavy knock on your door, loud raps that echo through the room and make you put away the book you are failing to distract yourself with under your bed. You hop off the mattress, your heart fluttering in your chest. Making it to the door and pulling it open you immediately come face to face with the person leaning against your door frame: Simon. 

“Ya gonna let me in, luv?” he asks. “Or ya just gonna fuckin’ leave me out ‘ere all night?”

You cross your arms and furrow your brow as if you are agitated, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before you are breaking character. “Couldn’t stay away for one night, could you?” you pick back.

There is a visible smirk beneath the thin fabric of his lightweight balaclava. “ ‘S part a my routine,” he says as you grab his hand and drag him inside. “Too used to it now.” 

“Well far be it from me to stop you,” you say with a smile as you shut the door and bolt it behind you both while Simon quickly rips off the mask and pulls you into a kiss. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Maybe I like you around,” you say back.

Maybe I like bein’ around, he thinks as he kisses you back harder as you lead him over to your bed. 

Sunday evening is spent in the same vein except with you both switching off again so that you are the one to come over to his to spend your evening together. Cause he is right, this arrangement has become routine now and your day just doesn’t feel complete without seeing him. Unfortunately though, it being Sunday you both decide to call it earlier as your duties will call you to work early in the morning.

One lingering goodbye later and Simon is once again watching you walk away, secretly making a wish that maybe you’ll get the chance soon to spend more time together when something breaks him out of his thoughts. As he shuts the door behind you, suddenly he can hear a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere near his bed. He knows that sound; it’s his cellphone. It’s late and he never gets a call at this time, so quickly he grabs it up off the nightstand near the bed and as soon as he is able to get a look at the screen, his heart sinks into the floor: Price is the one that is calling. 

He picks it up. “Yes, sir,” he answers in his usual stern tone.

There is a pause over the line before the captain speaks. “Lieutenant,” Price says, “I apologize for calling, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in my office tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. There are some things we urgently need to discuss.”

This strikes Simon as odd; never has the captain called him this late to inform him of a meeting the next day, so why would he be doing it now? Something feels off about it all and though he has no information other than that his presence is needed, there is something in Price’s tone that has his blood running cold. 

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asks, keeping his voice metered as his heart begins to race. 

Price sighs. “I would rather wait till the mornin’ to talk further as this is something that needs to be discussed in person.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon agrees.  

“That is all lieutenant, enjoy the rest of your evening,” the captain says in a rush and with that the line goes dead, leaving Simon confused and slightly worried.

Time seems to drag on endlessly as anxiety keeps him up the entire night tossing and turning as he stares into the ceiling. He thinks about texting you just to see if you’re up, but he talks himself out of it. His needless worries shouldn’t bother you, even though he knows you’d answer him in a heartbeat. No, he just needs to get through the night and then in the morning everything will be settled; it’s going to be fine.

An hour before he is supposed to meet the captain and Simon is already up and dressed; his office is less than a ten minute walk from Simon’s, but he wants to be early. It’s better to just get this over with so he can enjoy the rest of his day and make plans to see you later. With twenty minutes still to go he heads out and makes his way across the base. 

With a knock on the door, he waits until Price looks up before entering the office. 

“Early as usual,” the captain greets him.

“Better than late,” he says, before nodding back behind him. “Ya want me to shut the door?” 

“Not yet,” Price says and Simon leaves the doorway to take his seat in one of the chairs facing the large, wooden desk.

He’s sitting for just a few minutes before Price’s eyes dart up to the door and he can feel the shadow of another person standing there. “Ah, yes, come in and shut the door. Now that you are both here, we can get started,” he hears the captain say as he turns his head to see who it is that has arrived; he had been under the impression that this was a solo meeting this whole time.

Suddenly his heart stops as the person comes into his line of sight. It’s you, the blood draining from your face as you see him sitting there. It’s clear you have been caught off-guard by this as much as he has. The atmosphere becomes tense and strained as you take a seat next to Simon. Captain Price sits tall with authority as he stares back at the pair of you, a grave look in his gaze. 

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?” Price asks, looking first at you, then the lieutenant.

Neither of you feel keen enough to say anything, but you finally speak up first, if only to break the anxiety bubbling under your moderately calm surface. “No, sir.”

Price takes a hesitant breath. “I have been informed over the weekend about you both engaging in acts of misconduct,” he says firmly. “You’ve been seen cavorting with one another on several occasions. Now, there are things that can be overlooked and if it were up to me I woulda simply turned a blind eye and pretended to know anything, but it has been brought to light that these ‘activities’ were done while out in the field on your latest mission. Is this true?” 

The hair on Simon’s arms is standing on end and he feels like he is about to be sick, the bile violently churning in his stomach as his worst fear is realized. Instantly he feels guilty and begins to blame himself; this is all his fault. After all, he was the one to break protocol back at the safehouse. His careless actions have caught up to you both and now you will have to face the consequences.

Price turns his attention to you as there is no hiding the guilt on your face like Simon can behind his mask and though neither of you have spoken yet to confirm, there is no need. Your body language mixed with his lieutenant’s silence alone tells him that the accusations that were made are indeed true.  

“You both understand that this is out of my hands,” Price emphasizes the point. “If this reaches anywhere outside this base my authority will be brought into question and this operation cannot afford that. Not to mention that I risk the possibility of losing either one or both of you if things escalate. What the hell were you thinkin’, doin’ that while deployed?”

The lieutenant doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that will make this all go away. The problem is that he wasn’t thinking; all he knew was that for the first time in a long while he wanted something so bad that the consequences didn’t matter in that moment. Now he has to pay for them and unfortunately that means you do as well…and that is what is breaking his heart. 

He has dragged you into hell with him.

“You both have crossed a line that I can’t pull you back from,” Price continues with a defeated exhale. In all honesty, he wants nothing more than to let this go, but there are too many variables at stake. “The one who reported this is threatening to take this up the ladder as far as they need if I do nothing. My hands are tied on the matter.”

“Sir, if you’ll let me explain, perhaps we can come to an agreement…” you try to reason with your captain, but that is not how this will go.

Price can hear the tremble in your voice and he knows he’s struck a chord. The look he gives you is one full of remorse. “But in the end we’re all adults here and that means ya have a say in what happens to yourselves. If you want to request a transfer or, hell, apply for a discharge, I can’t stop you; that is a decision you have a right to make.”

The wind feels like it has been knocked from Simon’s lungs and though he can see Price talking, his mind will not allow him to fully comprehend what is being said. 

Amidst the stunned hush that has fallen over the room, Price slowly pushes his chair out from the desk and makes his way to stand. “I know I’ve sprung this on you both without so much as a warning, so I’ll give you some time alone to make your decisions. Otherwise, I will have to make them for you and that is something I want to avoid.”

With that he steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and thrusting you both into an uncomfortably tense stillness. It lingers for far too long as Simon battles internally with what to do, struggling to accept that his happiness has imploded as it always does, but one thing he keeps coming back to is the fact that no matter what, you will be forced to separate if one or both of you decide to stay in this line of work.  

The taskforce means everything to you just as it does him and this is so much bigger than simply exploring the depths of a crush. This is your entire life, all the blood, sweat, and effort you’ve both put in to be here; it’s all you’ve worked so hard for. It is all you both have ever known. 

Can you really give that all up? It’s too soon to be having this type of life-altering conversation.

Out of the turmoil in his mind, he hears you calling his name. “Simon? Hey,” you call out to him again to get his attention; it feels like he is a million miles away even though he is still sitting right beside you. 

He can’t bear to look you in the face and keeps his eyes locked on his shoes; his gaze is so avoidant that it is painful, especially after how close you both have become. Still, you try your hardest to lighten the mood even through the ache making your chest tight. 

“Not the best way to start the morning,” you chuckle uncomfortably. 

More silence follows, more agony. He’s going to have to say something at some point and when he does it’s all going to come crashing down. As long as he is quiet he can suspend the moment for as long as possible. 

“Listen,” you say, “I know this sounds bad, but we can figure it out. I mean, I don’t have a problem with requesting the transfer if I have to.”

That’s the last thing he wants; you can’t leave. If you leave it will kill him. “Sweetheart… don’t…” Simon speaks up for the first time since you entered the office and it sounds like he’s being tortured. 

“Would a transfer really be so bad? Who knows? It could just be for a short while until everything cools off,” you remark, still hopeful, but he simply shakes his head.

Simon pauses. “No, ya can’t do that,” he says and you can feel a lump forming in the base of your throat that makes you almost gag.

“Isn’t it my decision? Don’t I get a say in what I do?” you push.

Another drawn out pause. “Ya don’t wanna do that, I know ya don’t.”

“Don’t speak for me,” you say harshly as you know where this is headed and you can’t stand even the thought of it. “I can choose to do what I want.”

“I can’t let ya do that,” he denies you again, his words firm. “I can’t let ya fuckin’ give up everythin’ for me, no matter how much I may want it. Ya forget I read your personnel file when ya arrived, I know ya worked your ass off ta get ‘ere. You made it all the way ta sergeant by the sweat of your brow. Don’t fuckin’ throw it all away jus’ for somethin’ so new.”

More pauses. Why is there so much silence present now? It hurts to have all that quiet be filled with sadness where it was only comfort before. 

“So, this is it then?” Your heart is shattering into pieces, you can physically feel it crumble as you suffocate on the sadness. When did this get so god damn complicated?

Simon bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste copper. “I don’t know what else ta fuckin’ do…” he says quietly. “This is all so sudden, I don’t ‘ave a plan. I just know ya can’t leave and I need more time.”

He’s not as quick to act on this as you are and you can’t fault him for that. In all honesty he isn’t wrong; this is all happening so fast that it’s overwhelming and nothing really feels like the right decision. So, even though it pains you to concede to his argument, you do and the heartbreak wins. Yet you cling on to the hope that maybe there is a way out of this. He did not say outright that he is completely done, only that he needs time to think. 

You can give him time, right?

“Please, Simon, just look at me.”

Those brown eyes drift up to meet yours and the agony of this whole fucked up situation is written in his gaze. This is supposed to be something wonderful, not something that has casualties, and he is being ripped apart by duty and what he wants most. He wants to scream, beat his fists, break anything, but it won’t do any good; he is like a man cursed…somehow this was always going to happen.

“ ’m sorry,” he says and a heavy bit of silence follows as you sit there just looking at one another. 

Overcome with emotion, you swallow hard. “I know,” you retort as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know.”

Simon slides his long fingers in between the spaces in yours and holds on so tight to your hand it’s almost painful. Irrationally he thinks that maybe if he squeezes hard enough not even fate can take you from him, but that isn’t the case. There is no stopping what has to happen and though you both can prolong the moment, you can’t stop time. 

Releasing his grasp, he lets you go and all at once you feel like you’re drowning. He leaves your side only for a moment to reopen the door as a sign that a decision has been made. Several more excruciating minutes pass, but eventually Price reenters the office and again takes his seat. There is a gloom that sits in the room now like a fog and he knows without even having to ask that a decision has been reached and it is one that clearly was not reached happily.

“It’s over, sir,” Lt. Riley confirms with the short response; any more than that and he may fall apart.

Price nods in acknowledgement. “In that case, I think it best to send ya both out on separate missions very soon. It’ll show that action has been taken in case anything else comes from the allegations. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter; I know it could not have been easy.”

You nod back firmly in agreement and Lt. Riley does the same. 

Price quickly dismisses you both and you immediately bolt up from your seat to make it to the door in a flurry of quick steps, too overwhelmed by your emotions to sit still another second more beside the one thing you can no longer have. You can’t seem to catch your breath and even though you make it outside of the stifling atmosphere inside the office, it does not lessen. 

Your feet carry you forward to where you have no clue; there is no rational thought left with you right now. All you know is that you need to put distance between everything and everyone that you can before you shatter because it hurts like you are being torn in half from the inside and if you are going to rupture you want to do it where no one can see.

But grief is a volatile and disastrous thing; it consumes and destroys and confuses. Right now, your mind is scrambling to feel something other than the pain of your loss, any other emotion it can experience that won’t murder it and it settles on the emotion that is the opposite side of grief: anger.

Halfway across the site you spot that familiar mohawked head near the mess hall and a rage builds in you. You and Simon had speculated before about Johnny’s knowledge of your situation, what if he was the one that told Price? Intentional or not, what if he is the reason all this is destroyed? There is not a shred of proof, but your brain is desperate to find someone to blame, anyone to throw all your anger on and that just happens to be him. Before you can stop yourself, you are already bounding his way. 

Johny looks up as you come within earshot, turning his back to the building. “Hey, stranger, ‘aven’t seen ye ‘round much this weekend. Wonder why that is?” he says with a knowing smirk, but it drops from his face as he sees the look on yours. 

Without warning you grab Johnny by the collar and manhandle him until you are able to haul him forward and slam into the wall behind him, knocking the wind from his lungs as you crush him up against the concrete. “Was it you?” you spat the question with fury into his face. “Tell me now or so help me God…”

“What the fuckin’ hell are ye talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks back as he struggles under your tight grip around his collar. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Blinded by rage, you pull him back only to shove him harder into the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, the venom in your voice full of acid. “Were you the one that ran like a bitch to tattle on me to Price? You better have a fucking good reason why.”

Johnny pauses and stops struggling against your grip, confused. “Wait, what?” he asks. “Someone’s gone te Price ‘bout somethin’? Ye gotta explain everythin’ cause I don’t get it; seriously, what’s this about?”

The tone of his voice causes you to really discern the look in his eyes: he is genuinely confused by your statement. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” you question.

He shakes his head. “No and I’m bein’ serious.”

In the time you’ve known him, Johnny has always been straight with you and you do genuinely trust him to tell you the truth. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but honesty is always something that you have shared. If he says he doesn’t know, he must really not know.

“Tell me, what’s happened?” he asks, his brows drawn together as he stares back at you with serious concern. 

You choke back the emotion gathered in your throat as your eyes sting. No sense in hiding anything; he’d probably find out eventually anyway if gossip gets around. Besides, keeping this inside makes you feel like you’re rotting. “Price knows about what me and the lieutenant have been doing in secret and what we did while we were on our last mission,” you admit as you hang your head. 

Johnny is silent for a moment. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he says with a chuckle, which he immediately regrets as you pop your head up to give him a heated glare. “No, I… look, jus’ listen ta me for a moment.”

Releasing him from your grasp you take a step back, the anger subsiding to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. Tears burn around the rims of your eyes at how lost you feel and how easily you are flying off the handle; it makes you worried. How are you meant to control this? How are you meant to survive?

Johnny straightens himself up and continues. “Yes, I knew ‘bout ye and the lieutenant…cause I was the one that orchestrated the whole setup. I seen tha way ye two kept eyein’ each other an’ I decided that ye both needed a push in tha right direction. Why the hell would I get ye together only ta get ye in trouble with Price?” 

You divert your gaze again. “Well, it’s all over now,” you can barely say aloud; just hearing yourself speak it into existence feels like being stabbed in the chest. “Whoever ratted us out is threatening to go above Price’s head if they need to. There’s nothing left for us to do, but end it or shit’s gonna get worse. It’s already done.”

Fuck, you can’t hold back for much longer and the last thing you need is to cry, but a pair of strong hands clasp around your shoulders to bring you back from the brink of your sadness. 

“Look,” Johnny tries to reassure as he is genuinely worried about your wellbeing. “I’ll figure out who it was that stuck their bloody nose in it, alright? Jus’ leave it ta me; I’ll get ye a name and hell, I’ll help ye gut the bastard if ye need. We’ll figure it out, honest.”

Somehow you don’t think anything will come of it, but at least it is something. Right now hope is a drug you have to take just to get through.

Days pass the same way with little variation in your mood. You try to stay as busy as you possibly can, filling your schedule to the brim with as much work as Price can give you. He doesn’t mention it, but everything he assigns you seems to keep you from even crossing paths with your former lover and for that you are grateful. Then a few days become a week and a week becomes two, but time does nothing to stop the ache in your chest and at the end of each day, when you return to your room and the quiet hits you, it’s impossible not to shed a few tears into your pillow as you pine for the company you once had. 

Thankfully mission assignments finally go out and you can spend your time consumed in preparation to depart to fill the void that settles in your chest. It’s a couple of days before you are meant to leave and information makes its way through the grapevine that Lt. Riley is headed out tonight with his team and god if it doesn’t kill you not even to get the chance to say goodbye.

You can’t even finish your lunch today; you are so upset by the news that you quickly toss your food into the trash and head out. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you don’t even hear Johnny calling to you until he has caught up to you outside of the mess hall and is grabbing your elbow to drag you alongside him. Where are you going? You have no clue.   

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, not up for whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull today. 

“Jus’ keep walkin’,” he says, his head constantly on a swivel as if he is looking for something. You try to protest, but it gets you nowhere as he keeps booking it across the base with you in hand until you both reach the munitions depot where he finally comes to a stop and lets you go. 

You look up at the building. “Why are we here?”

“Keep yer head and jus’ go inside,” Johnny says as he gives you a shove towards the door. “Ye only got a couple minutes, so ‘urry the hell up.”

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? You really aren’t in the mood for his shit, but you also don’t have the energy in you to fight him on it; you let out a weighted huff and grab the handle, pulling it hard so that the door swings open and you head inside. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?” you question yourself.

There is movement and you hear the sound of boot steps. “That would be me,” a gravelly voice sounds at your side, making you jump.  

You are thrown into respiratory distress as you turn around where you’re greeted with that familiar mask and its wearer is just standing within reach. “Simon,” you breathe his name like a prayer, forgetting decorum.

“Wrangled Mactavish inta helpin’ me, said he’d bring ya and guard the door,” Lt. Riley says as he stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I-” he sighs, “I had ta see ya ‘fore I leave.” 

Suddenly the room is spinning and you can’t figure out which way is up. After the agonizing chasm of space that has been put between you it is disorienting to be this close again and you aren’t sure what to do. Do you run into his arms? Do you keep your distance?

It doesn’t make sense.

“I know I shouldn’t have brought ya ‘ere like this,” he says, “but I…missed ya.” He pauses and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose through the mask. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’. I’m supposed ta follow orders no questions asked, but…” 

Standing there, waiting on bated breath, you stare back at him with those big doe eyes until you are able to speak and break the silence. “But what?”

More silence follows your question as he steps closer and closer and closer. Then he stops and there are only inches between your bodies. He reaches out his hand and the backs of his gloved fingers brush against your own with a touch so delicate it doesn’t seem humanly possible, most of all from someone like the lieutenant. 

“Priorities are changin’,” he admits as he takes your hand into his grasp hesitantly, eyes unable to look anywhere but at the connection as if he isn’t sure if he should touch you at all. “I never experienced somethin’ like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to do.” 

“Are you saying you want to go against Price?” 

His sight lingers on your conjoined hands as his jaw shifts under the mask, struggling to find the words. As he clears his throat, his gaze finally draws back to your face to meet your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can read the sentiment in his gaze: he is being tortured by being forced to choose between his duty to this task force and what he wants above all else. 

“Listen, yeah? As long as we follow orders, we get ta stay near each other. Fight it and who knows what the fuck’ll happen. I…” he pauses, the pain of confession hard to stand, “I don’t know if I can risk not bein’ able to see ya at all, sweetheart. Even just a glimpse cross the way.”

“You think that is better than one of us leaving?” you want to ask, but the question dies on your tongue and in its place is only a bitter taste in your mouth. 

You know if you say anything at all it’s only going to make it harder- for the both of you. You are just two soldiers bound by a need to do what is right and nothing is going to change that. Fuck do you want to scream, to rage at what you are being strong-armed into doing against your will, yet your exterior stays a calm mask against the storm inside. The situation puts you between a rock and a hard place and though you don’t want to admit it he is ultimately right; if all you get is to have nothing or what you had before all this mess started, then you would choose the latter.

At least you can still be around one another; at least you can still see him. Even if every time you do it is going to shatter your heart all over again.

Lt. Riley feels like he is being ripped apart as he catches the agonizing pain in your eyes. “I need ya ta know, if circumstances were different…” 

You stop him before he can say more by gently placing your hand against his covered lips; you cannot bear to hear anything else about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It’s too painful right now to dream. Accepting reality is the only thing that is going to help you survive now. The lieutenant’s eyes drop to the floor as he comes to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid. 

Removing your hand from the fabric of his mask, you can feel that recognizable mass welling in your throat and you know you are going to have to leave soon or risk him seeing you cry. That is an image you don’t want to leave him with, not if this is what he has to see before he goes.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you leave,” you say while forcing your best smile for him. “It was hard thinking you’d leave and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye at least.”

He nods as he cups your cheek. “Ya be safe, yeah?” 

You lean into his touch and close your eyes; god, it’s hard not to enjoy his touch. “You too.” 

Time is slipping away fast like sand through a sieve and he knows that you only have a few short minutes left that you will go unnoticed so he blurts out the question that sits on the tip of his tongue and he can’t stop it from coming out. “One last kiss?” he asks, though he hates himself for doing so.

A ragged breath is pushed out of your lungs as your eyes flutter open. The question is surprising, but you already know the answer; you can’t say no because to deny him would mean denying yourself and your heart won’t let you. His hands paw at your face as his eyes beg. 

Your heartbeats mesh together as you press your body against his until they become one rhythm. He keeps his hands locked to your face as you reach up and slip the bottom of his mask up over his lips and rest it on top of his nose. It feels like you are holding your breath and time stops as you again capture his unwavering stare.   

“Make it count,” you breathe.

You can feel the shudder from his desperate inhale as he collapses into you like the burst from a dying star, crashing his fiery kiss onto your mouth with an intensity that makes your knees buckle, but he has you. His arms keep you up as he aggressively steals your lips over and over again, pinning his mouth on yours until it burns, stealing your breath, tasting your kiss, letting that gnawing ache that had been festering in his heart eat him alive.   

His intensity is matched with your own as you kiss him back with everything that you have. You need the feeling of his lips to be imprinted on yours for as long as they can and you push so hard he cannot catch air. But just as quickly as it started, it has to end.

“Eh, ye need ta ‘urry guys,” the sound of Soaps voice calls from the door, forcefully thrusting you both back into reality. Lt. Riley grips around your biceps and pries himself from you with everything he has and with that he bounds away as you fall to your knees and enfold your arms around yourself like a hug, the tears streaming down your cheeks in heavy, engorged droplets. 

He is gone.

The time away does nothing to ease the pain of your separation. Being off base makes your absence in his life even more prominent. You are in his head constantly after that last kiss, haunting him like a ghost that he cannot get rid of and though he knows he should, part of him won’t let go; he can’t. No, that’s not entirely it. Even if he could let go, he won’t.

The lieutenant’s days spent on assignment pass by agonizingly slow and he begins to realize that as much as he enjoys what he does, that it is no longer holding the same importance in his heart as it once did. That feeling has been replaced by something else and that is the way he felt with you. He had thrown everything outside of work to the wayside because never believed that he would get a chance at bits of normalcy in his life. Until you…

What if he is throwing away something that could fulfill him more than his work with the 141? Could he live with that? Whenever he finds himself with a free moment, he spends them silently contemplating that question, mulling it over incessantly in his mind even though he keeps returning to the same conclusion: he can’t live with it. 

He would rather regret leaving all this behind if it meant he could be with you than to regret letting you slip through his fingers. And he desperately wants to tell you that he finally knows what to do.

The thought eats at him until one night, as he lays awake staring at the pitch black ceiling, he can no longer take it and without thinking he is digging through his pack to grab his cell phone and just like that the small, square device is in his hand and he is turning it on. As the light pierces through the darkness, missed call after missed call pops up on the screen all from… Mactavish?  

It’s only been off for a few hours. What the fuck is going on?

Lt. Riley hurriedly moves himself into a quiet corner away from the others sleeping and quickly redials the number. The repetitive ringing continues until they instantaneously stop and the young sergeant answers with an urgency in his tone that makes the lieutenant’s heartbeat pound in his ears.

“LT, fuck, been tryin’ te get a hold a ye fer a while now,” Soap says over the receiver. “Don’t ye ever answer yer god damn phone?”

The lieutenant tries to speak quietly so that he won’t draw any prying ears into eavesdropping on this conversation. “What the hell sergeant? Ya think I just have all the fuckin’ time to chitchat?”

Soap ignores the lieutenant’s agitation; this is more important and he is risking a lot by even having this conversation at all, so it’s gotta be quick. “ ‘Ave ye spoken te Price? Laswell? Anyone back ‘ere?” he asks as if insisting on a swift answer.

“No,” Lt. Riley confirms. “Haven’t had a need. Why?”

“Fuck, so no one’s said anythin’ te ye yet?” Soap questions as if the fact is distressing him.

“ ‘Bout what? Today, Mactavish,” Lt. Riley says with a hint of unchecked panic in his voice. Nothing about how Mactavish sounds is making the lieutenant feel any better, not the way whatever it is has him flustered like this. 

“We ‘ave a situation,” he says firmly and what comes out of his mouth next makes the usually calm and collected lieutenant nearly drop his phone as his entire body goes numb. “The sergeant and her team deployed right after ye, as ye know… all was fine until a few days ago.”

Simon can’t breathe as Soap finishes his sentence. “...we’ve lost contact…they’re all currently MIA.”

Tag list: @flameohotpotatooo @shadowtfpcod @xnyx1n @igotmajordaddyissues @essentialbeats-blog @mishaglass

[calicoheartz]

please please write a smut fic inspired by that that pic of caitlin with her hair wet 🙏🙏

Wild & Wet ; Caitlin Clark ᶻz

꣑୧ — summary | cait w wet hair makes u go absolutely feral !

wc ; 891

— warnings | NSFW under the cut! read ur own risk ! ab riding , dirty talk , scissoring, etc

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : tysm for all the love on my last cc nsfw fic ! tried to make this one a little bit more interesting for yall, enjoy !

There was something about your girlfriend with wet hair that made you go absolutely feral. You didn’t know how to even explain, there was just something about it that gave you a little problem that only she could fix.

So it wasn’t surprising that when Cait came back from a victorious win , she would hop in the shower and go about her entire self care routine, one of which involved her washing her luscious locks.

This didn’t concern you, I mean you loved the way your girlfriend smelt after a shower. It was what came after that concerned you.

She kissed your forehead gently, mumbling a “im gonna go shower and then im all yours,” you nodded at this, as the brunette turned away and headed towards your shared bathroom.

Around 30 minutes later, you heard the water shut off, and a pair of familiar footsteps headed towards your bedroom, with the door creaking slightly as it was opened.

You wished you could save this moment forever, the sight of your girlfriend standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around her neck, her hair wet and sticking to her face slightly, as she adorned her signature black sports bra and matching sweats.

You grinned at her slightly, as she plopped onto the space beside you, immediately bringing your face to hers as she began to softly pepper your face with kisses. You took this as an opportunity to crawl into her lap, facing her directly as silence followed.

Your hands planted on her chest, palms accidentally pressed against her nipples as you try to gain more leverage. You looked at her with a loving gaze, as the brunette gives you a smirk in reply. “Someone missed me.” she chirped, causing a pink haze to form on your cheeks, as her hands made their way to your sides. Moving them up and down lovingly, earning a whimper from you.

Your head drops slightly, eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips back and forth slowly. Your arousal glistening on her skin, leaking through the grooves of her abs. The prettiest sounds fall from your mouth as she gently massages your thighs that are pressed against the sides of her torso.

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Yeah, keep moving your hips like that. Youre so fucking pretty-ohmyfuckinggod” the brunette mumbles out, her voice low and raspy from her own wetness pooling inside her.

Your whimpers progressively getting louder and louder as you torturously overstimulated yourself on your girlfriends abs.

Cait quickly flips you over onto your back, her tall frame towering over you as she asks, “are you going to be a good girl and let me do whatever I want to you?” you not eagerly at this, desperate for any friction against your cold, anything to solve the mess happening in your panties.

She tugs at your panties, giving her a nod of approval, she slowly slips them off you and discards them somewhere in your shared bedroom.

The brunette slowly opens your legs, and situates herself on top of you, discarding her own boxers in the process.

She begins slowly rubbing her pretty clit against yours, as she watched in awe how drunk you were from it. So so so submissive for her, being such a good girl for her as she took your tongue in her mouth, engaging in a deep but fiery kiss. “Mm…cait-” you said, pornographic moans escaping your lips as you gripped her shoulders, grinding against her.

“Hm? What is it my sweet girl?” her voice traveling through your ears, making you wetter by the way she spoke. “Feels s’good ohmygoddd” – “I know, you make me feel just as good- fuck”, your exchange cut off by how horribly sloppy the situation was, you were horribly wet. Embarrassing actually. But you couldn’t help it, she looked so good. With her hair down, a few strands sticking to her forehead as her pretty lips parted to let out the cutest and muffled sounds. She looked so good, her muscular arms flexing as she holds herself up, continuing to massage her pussy against yours.

Less than two minutes later you feel your orgasm approaching, as juices bursted out of you so quickly, you could no longer tell which belonged to you.

Caitlin licks her lips as she sees your face contorting with pleasure as she helps you ride out your high, as you throw your head back and groan.

“Good job, baby.” Caitlin says between breaths as she climbed off your shared bed, walking over to the dresser to steady yourself. You laid flat on the bed, reminiscing on the best orgasm of your life, staring at your beautiful girlfriend. The brunette gathers her breath, and turns to face you, her goddess-like build flooding your line of sight. She smirks, before walking over back to the bed as she takes your hand, kisses it gently, and smiles back at you.

“Such a good girl for me, you did so well” she soothes, as you roll over closer to her. She climbs into the bed fully and holds you in her arms, as you laid there in silence, resting your head on her chest. You lean in for a kiss, as the brunette mumbles out a tired “I love you”, you giggle in between kisses,

“I love you more.”

what it finna play?? WOAHHHH !!!! probably my favorite nsfw/suggestive fic to date. Chefs kiss ! As always , tysm for reading 💌

[littlefireball]

Please can you do a San x Reader period sex like f**k away the pain. Pretty pretty please. But she's a squirter and doesn't know it. Nor has she ever had sex on her period so she thinks he will be disgusted etc?

~🐶~

Okay!! Here you go😎

ᴄꜱ|ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴍ)

ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴀɴ x ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ (ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ||ꜱᴀɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.6ᴋ

Fk away the pain series

Masterlist

As a tool for political marriage, one cannot anticipate affection, nor should one expect genuine concern from a spouse. Were it not for the strategic interests binding the two nations, this man would be entirely irrelevant to your existence. His daily companions are hardly the epitome of refinement, and witnessing him engage in earnest labor is a rare occurrence.

More often than not, he is either indulging in drink or entangled with various women, showing little regard for the responsibilities of royalty. Externally, you are burdened with the fallout from his indiscretions, while internally, you grapple with an overwhelming array of duties.

When frustration envelops you, you often escape to the garden beneath the night sky, relishing the tranquil beauty of the deserted space. Although you initially sought solitude, you cannot seem to shake off San, your husband’s knight. His stern presence has become a point of annoyance for your spouse, prompting him to assign San to you. Initially, you were indifferent to his company, yet there are times when his unwavering attention feels a bit stifling.

"Your highness, you drink too much." San once more cautious you against excessive drinking, emphasizing its detrimental effects on your health.

"It's okay, San. I'm not drunk. See, the moon is beautiful." As you lean back, your head cradles in your hands, you admire the luminous moon, a soft breeze caressing your face as you swing. "Hey, San. Push me." "Yes, Your Highness." A resigned sigh escapes San's lips, for his only recourse is to comply with your wishes and ensure your safety.

The enchanting aroma that surrounds you captivates him, causing him to gulp nervously whenever he draws near. He's powerless to resist. You radiate beauty, courage, and intelligence, surpassing every girl he's encountered. As you lean your head against the headrest, your head brushes against San's stomach with every gentle pull of the swing. Oops, something bad pops up in his mind.

"Hey, San. Do you like someone?" Your words make him pause, hesitating for a moment before he resumes pushing the swing. "Your Highness, why do you suddenly bring this up?" As you open your eyes, you catch his anxious gaze. "It's time for you to think about marriage." "I…I'm…not ready for that." You raise an eyebrow and gently hold his face, which he tries to shy away from, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. "Or do you prefer boys? That boy named Wooyoung?" "No, no! I like girls!" He grips your hands tightly, his nerves overwhelming him, fearful that you might have misunderstood his intentions.

"Kidding." A playful smirk crosses your face, a rare pause in your hectic schedule, and he's completely enchanted. He might not remember the exact moment he fell for you, but one thing is clear: he will do everything for you, no matter what.

"So, you have feelings for someone?" He bites his lip and nods slightly. "Oh, that girl must be lucky. Who is she?" "Your Highness, do you really think she's lucky?" "Why do you ask?" "Because… she was forced into a marriage with a man who didn't love her, burdened with all the royal responsibilities that were never meant for her." You release your hold on his face, the realization dawning that he's speaking of someone you know all too well─yourself.

"Maybe you may think she's not lucky." Lowering your head, you clench your fist, stammer. "But…I think she's lucky because she has someone who likes her." Both of you fall into silence, only the sound of breathing can be heard. His face remains hidden from view, leaving you uncertain if your words are causing him any distress.

San, your devoted knight, holds a unique place in your heart. In moments of peril, he is always the first to shield you, to rescue you, and to reassure you of your safety. Unlike others who seem preoccupied with the life of your so-called husband, San's loyalty runs deeper.

Initially, you believed his actions stemmed solely from duty, yet they often blur the lines of propriety. Who else would allow a princess to rest her head on his shoulder, shedding tears into the night? Who would clasp her hand in a moment of vulnerability? He understands he should maintain distance, yet he finds himself unable to resist the pull of closeness.

"I…I wanna go back." Silence. "S…San?" As you pivot, he unexpectedly envelops your eyes with his large hand, leaning in to press his lips against yours. His warm breath lingers on your skin, mingling with his gentle caress, catching you completely off guard. Time seems to stand still; the distant chirping of birds and the gentle breeze fade away, leaving only the soft pop of his departure from your lips.

"I… I beg your pardon…" He withdraws his hand, avoiding your gaze. Words elude you, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming your senses. "N-nothing…" You stammer, the feelings swelling within you struggling to escape the tight confines of your throat, leaving you with only that single utterance. "Just go back." Your eyes meet his, filled with a profound disappointment, extinguishing the spark that once ignited within him.

"I shall summon the maid to escort Your Highness to your chamber. I deeply regret my actions." San turns away, leaving you in solitude upon the swing.

-------

Not long ago, an exquisite invitation graced your presence, beckoning you to a lavish dinner party hosted by the illustrious Kingdom of the Far West, in honor of the joyous arrival of the king and queen's precious baby girl. Should your rapport with the royal family be strong, attending this splendid affair would be a matter of course. However, the kingdom's secluded location presents a considerable journey, and while this is a minor inconvenience, the true challenge lies in the discomfort of your period pain.

"Goodness…" A sharp hiss escapes your lips as the agony in your stomach intensifies. The painkillers you've been relying on seem utterly ineffective now, as if they've lost their power over time. Perhaps your body has grown accustomed to their presence, rendering them useless in your battle against this relentless discomfort.

"Your Highness." The sound of a knock at the door draws your attention, and San's icy voice echoes in your mind. Ever since that fateful day, a chasm has formed between you, with him deliberately steering clear of you. You yearn to reach out and clarify things, but your hectic schedule keeps you from doing so. Frustration wells up inside you, and you can't help but loathe yourself for it.

True to form, he had the limousine door swung wide open, patiently waiting for you to slide into the seat. You stifled the unease bubbling inside and offered him a smile, yet he feigned ignorance, as if he hadn't noticed. Internally, you berated yourself for being so distant in your reaction. The truth was, you were at a loss for words at that moment. Despite the mutual affection between you, the differences in your identities loomed large, creating an undeniable barrier.

San sits across from you, deliberately averting his eyes or shutting them to escape your gaze. A yearning to engage him stirs within you, yet the weight of your anguish holds you captive. The constricting embrace of the seatbelt heightens your discomfort, prompting you to release it, hoping that San may not notice it.

"Kindly secure your seat belt, Your Highness." "Blast it," you mutter, prompting San to arch an eyebrow at your unexpected cursing. "It is for your protection, Your Highness." "I'm not feeling well, okay? I don't want to buckle it." Your sharp retort takes him by surprise, as it is uncommon to witness your ire, save for matters concerning your so-called husband or during your period.

"Would you care for some pain relief, Your Highness?" "It's useless." You sulk, a blend of annoyance and delight washing over you as he finally engages in conversation. "However, you insist on securing your seat belt first, despite its discomfort." "No way." You fold your arms defiantly, resembling a petulant child, prompting San to exhale deeply as he approaches you, the limousine stops.

"What are you doing?" "Assist you to fasten the seat belt, Your Highness." Just as his hands move toward the seat belt, the limousine starts up, causing his balance to falter and his entire form to lurch forward into you. His face falls into the crook of your neck with both of your chest pressing against each other, causing blushes creeping up your faces and something hard sinks between your thighs.

The moment he hits you hard makes you crave for more, wanting him to collide with you harder and deeper until you reach your limitations. You can't help but doubt if it is normal to be horny during your period.

"I apolo…" Just as he prepares to depart, you draw him into a fervent embrace, your breath a soft whisper against his ear. "Do you recall the vow you made when you pledged yourself as my knight?" "I would move mountains for you, come what may." Your fingers curl into a fist, the pressure of your nails biting into your skin, leaving crimson impressions on your palm. "Is that promise still binding today?" "The vow endures for eternity, Your Highness." "Then do me a favor."

You draw him into an ardent kiss, surrendering to the moment without hesitation. His eyes flash with astonishment, yet he swiftly gathers himself, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut. With a deft motion, he slips his hand beneath you, pivoting your form to nestle you upon his lap as he takes his place on the seat.

"I've loved you for so long." He whispers against your chest, placing a tender kiss before rising to lock eyes with you. You cradle his face, bestowing a delicate kiss upon his lips. "Me too. I'm sorry for that day." As your words resonate, tears glisten in his eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. Without hesitation, he closes the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that is both tender and fervent, his tongue dancing with yours, leaving a trail of warmth that drips down your chin.

You both part from each other, unbuckling San's belt to free his cock, latching back on each other to a passionate kiss. Gently tucking your hair behind your ears, his lips meet yours before moving down to your neck, inhaling his favourite scent while leaving a trail of red marks on that. "Others may see." "I want to show them." Giggled, you wrap your arms around his board shoulder and slightly lift up yourself to let him slide down your pants and underwear.

"I'm on my period…" "It doesn't matter cuz I love everything about you." He sucks on your collarbone after a tender kiss. "You are exaggerating." Smile at your light patting on his chest, he takes out a condom from his pocket and tears the package by his teeth. "You have it?" "Just be prepared for the unpredictable, just like now." His strong arms move to your thighs, pushing you up to aim at his arched member. "San…" You stop him by gripping his shoulder. "It's dirty…" "I said I love everything about you. It's okay, princess." Pulling you closer to him, you slowly sink down after he is wrapped up.

It is your first time. Everything is overwhelming once his hard tip thrust into your emptiness, rub against your wall deliciously. "Gosh…" Your head falls into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly. "It's okay, just take it slow." He murmurs, leaving a broken kiss on your neck as a comfort. Thanks to your blood, adjusting his huge size is not as difficult as you imagine. He starts to thrust upward as you grip his shoulder tightly, stopping each time for a while after another push.

"You're so deep." You struggle with your breath with an open mouth even if it is not intense at all. The period pain seemed to be hard for you to enjoy. "Let me help you, babe." His arm wraps around your small frame, laying you back against the seat without pulling out. "Is it better?" You respond with a nod as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, a warm smile gracing his face. One hand steadies himself on the seat while the other rests on your waist, sliding in and out at a steady pace. You tilt your head back, and he showers your skin with kisses, leaving a trail of marks that declare to the world that you belong to him.

"He doesn't deserve you." He confesses while continuing to roll his hips into you, making your back rub against the seat from his movement. "I wanna claim you as mine if I could. I won't let you down, won't let you do all the work." Guiding your palm to his lips, he gives peck on it while locking his eyes with you.

"It's enough if you're on my side." You respond. He claims you into a deep kiss while drawing his hips, shoving your spot as he pushes in. You let out a soft whimper and wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to slide deeper. The pain fades away and is replaced by endless pleasure. Both of your moaning become so loud but the driver can't hear anything because of the barrier between the driver and passenger.

"I'm so close." His thrusting becomes fast enough to ruin you, numbness runs throughout both of your bodies. He let out a low growl and bite on your neck, the pain and the pleasure push you over the edge. "San…san!I'm…oh my god.." You can't even form a complete sentence and his name is the only thing in your mind. Stomach tightened, something is about to burst out and you have no idea how to describe it. Only moaning and screaming can vest the overwhelming sensation.

"Oh fuck!" With a loud cursing, you squirt all and wet San's pants. "Oh my god, I am sorry." "Goodness, you squirted." He chuckles and his cock twitches from your warmth. "So close, babe." With a quick thrust, he finally cums in the condom and rests his forehead on yours, huffs. "Ride me next time." You pat his chest and giggle, slowly calm down from the excitement.

"Let's clean up." He helps you dress up and clean the seat to ensure there is no evidence left in the limousine, apart from his pants. "Hmm…maybe you can change?" "But my luggage is in another car. He caresses your head as a comfort. "It's okay, it will dry later on."

"Just…" He leans closer to rub against your chin with his thumb. "Tell me if you have to cum as I won't be gentle next time." You blink several times as if you can't believe what you heard.

"How can you say this without feeling shy?"

"Well." He grabs your chin so that you turn to face him.

"Isn't you to ask me to fuck you first?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But you said do you a favor."

"Shut up or I'll throw you out of the car." "Are you willing?" You pout as you know you never want.

"Kidding, cutie." He pecked on your lips, a dimple plays on his face as he smiles. "Even if you throw me out of the car, I'll find you and stick with you. You can't get rid of me."

"Is it a horror movie?" "No, no. It's a romantic movie." He cups your face as he leans in to kiss you. A soft moan escapes your lips, prompting him to deepen the kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours in a dance of desire.

At that moment, you just want the time to freeze.

[krirebr]

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

Summary: When you move back in with your parents after a broken engagement, a drunken dare to visit the scary house on the edge of town changes everything for you. Forever. Part of the Psycho Killer AU

Warnings: Please note, these warnings are broad to avoid spoilers. Proceed with caution. Horror, psychological horror (including but not limited to: general mind fuckery, memory loss, nightmares) noncon/dubcon, gore, death (see prompt), violence (mostly offscreen), explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), me wildly picking and choosing from hundreds of years of {redacted} mythology, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty All Hallow’s Tropes challenge. My tropes were The house from all the scary stories; Caught trespassing on private property; and A string of unexplained deaths. I had so much fun writing this one. Thanks so much for hosting Navy and Roo!

I tried out a lot of new things here. Horror! Smut! A ridiculous length! I’d really appreciate hearing what you think, so please drop a comment or reblog if you read it. Or come screech at me about this or anything else in my asks! Thank you for reading lovelies!

Driving through your hometown, you were surrounded by fall colors. It was comforting, in its own way. Just as the seasons changed, so could you. You liked the sound of that, of this being a good change. You needed it. You were ready for it.

You pulled off of the main street and drove the few short blocks to your parents' house, parking on the side of the road. The house was something that hadn’t changed, everything exactly as it always had been. Your eyes drifted to the neighbor’s house, a piece of police tape hanging off the front door. Your brow furrowed in concern. You hoped everything was alright.

You grabbed your duffle from the backseat, deciding that you could wait to bring in everything else. Your entire life fit into your small sedan. You tried not to let that make you sad. This was good. Change was good.

You let yourself in with the key you'd had since you were a child. “Mom? Dad? I’m here,” you called into the house. 

Your mom met you in the entryway with a big hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey.” She took a step back to look at you, concern all over your face. “I could kill Andy for what he did to you.”

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“I know, Mom,” you said, softly, both touched by her concern and a little annoyed that she was making you talk about it. You shrugged, “It’s over now.” Trying to change the subject, you asked, “What happened next door?”

Her face fell, “Oh, our poor neighbor died. They found him in the alley behind the American Legion. There was a whole investigation, but the coroner finally concluded that it was anemia.”

“I didn’t know you could die of that,” you said. Wasn’t it fairly controllable?

“I guess you can,” she shrugged, “if it’s bad enough and goes untreated.”

“Oh. Well, he must have been really sick then.”

She shrugged again, “Not that I ever saw, but how much can you ever know about someone you just say hello to at the mailbox? He was a nice young man, though.” She gave you another scrutinizing look, then gently patted your cheek. “Andy never deserved you,” she said and then made her way back down the hall towards the kitchen. “Your dad’s in his den,” she called over her shoulder.

You put your duffle down next to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and moved through the house to find your dad. You found him in his den, sitting on the worn leather couch they’d had your entire life, baseball on the TV. You sat down next to him and he put his arm around you in a half hug. “It’s nice to have you home, sweetheart,” he said, not taking his eyes off the game.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, appreciating the distance he was allowing you. The past month had been so hard. All the concern in everyone’s eyes, since it had all blown up with Andy, had become really difficult to take. You were happy to just sit here and watch baseball with your dad in silence.

At the next commercial break, he asked, “We have you for the whole night, or are you already making plans?”

You smiled. “I’m getting drinks with Tineka and David after dinner.”

“That’ll be nice,” he said. “Make sure you say hi for us.”

You got to the bar a little late. Your mom hadn’t wanted to give you up so easily, even though you’d be living with them and working from their house for the foreseeable future. You’d been to this bar a few times before, the nights before Thanksgiving when you were home from college, and drinking legally was still so novel. But not in ages, maybe a decade. You made your way through the Saturday night crowd, searching for Tineka before you found her set up in a booth in the back with her husband David, and someone you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Tineka climbed over David to tackle you with a hug. “Oh my god! It’s been so long. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You returned the hug a little harder than she probably expected. Longer, too. She pulled back and examined you carefully, concern in her eyes. You just shook your head and smiled. “I’m really happy to see you,” you said.

She beamed back at you and then gestured to the last person at the table. “Look who we ran into!”

“Robbie, hey,” you said with a little wave. Gosh, you hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d been decent friends your senior year and had even gone to Prom together when neither of you had been able to get another date. You’d lost touch when you’d gone away to school, and he’d stayed home to learn the family business.

“We mentioned that we were on our way to see you, and he wanted to tag along!” Tineka enthused, raising her eyebrows at you significantly. You struggled not to roll your eyes at her; it had been the tiniest crush, and that was so many years ago.

“Welcome home,” he said, sliding over to let you onto the bench seat.

You poured yourself a beer from the pitcher on the table, and you all quickly got into all the customary ‘nice to see you again’ questions. Was it weird to be back in town? Did you miss Boston? Did you know this teacher had retired? Or that that store had closed?

The pitchers multiplied, and when you’d lost track of whose turn it was to cover the next one, Tineka leaned forward excitedly, “Oh, here’s some good town gossip! Someone’s moved into the old Thrombey house!”

“What??” you yelled, louder than you meant to. “No way! I don’t believe it.”

“Wait, what’s the Thrombey House?” David asked. He didn’t grow up here with you, only moving here after he and Tineka got engaged, and she decided this was where she wanted to raise a family.

“It’s this old, abandoned house on the edge of town,” she told him. “There used to be this big, rich family that lived there. This was back in, like, the 70s. It was this old, super-rich guy and all his kids and in-laws and everybody. One night, one of his kids–”

“Grandkid,” you interrupted. 

“Yeah, one of his grandkids, he just loses it and sets fire to the house, with everyone inside. They all die, and Hugh Drysdale, the grandkid, just disappears. No one ever sees him again.”

You nod seriously across from her. “And weird shit starts happening on the property. Like animal carcasses thrown onto what’s left of the porch. Or that psychic that went there when we were kids. She said all she felt was pain, and whatever spirits were there had a desperate warning, but she couldn’t get anything beyond that. And then our senior year, that freshman that disappeared around there. And no one’s ever been able to do anything with it. It just stands there, a burnt-out husk. There’s absolutely no way someone’s moved into it.”

Tineka was nodding furiously, but Robbie leaned forward and butted in. “Here’s what actually happened,” he told David. “There was an electrical fire. Everyone died, probably including Hugh.” Tineka took a breath, and Robbie put up his finger to stop her. “They never found his remains because he was burned to a crisp, and there wasn’t enough to identify.” He raised another finger, “It was abandoned long enough that animals moved in and left their prey lying around.” A third finger went up, “All these stupid stories and rumors have made it a beacon for the unwell and scam artists.” Another finger, “That kid disappeared because it’s where all you dumbasses would go to party, and he was drunk and wandered into the woods and got lost or fell or something.” He raised the last finger on his hand, “And whoever’s owned the property over the years probably doesn’t want to be responsible for the cost of demolition, so they’ve just done the bare minimum to keep the city off their backs.”

You turned to look at him, mildly annoyed, “I don’t remember you being this boring in high school.” He just rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever,” you said and turned back toward Tineka. “I still can’t believe someone’s moved in there. They’d have to gut the whole building!”

“All I know,” she said, slurring a bit, “is that someone’s been coming and going, and sometimes there’s a car parked there.”

“What? Have you been staking it out? Says who?”

“People!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then her face lit up dangerously. “I know! We should go out there right now so I can prove it to you!”

You shook your head. “I walked here from my parents’ house, and I,” you placed both hands on the table to steady yourself, “definitely can’t drive.”

“Robbie can!” You could tell, now that Tineka had the idea in her head, she wasn’t going to let it go. “Right? Please, Robbie!” she whined. 

Robbie, who’d switched to water after his second beer, who knows how long ago, looked to David, who shrugged, and then to you. All you could do was grin at him and nod. You hadn’t done something stupid like this in such a long time. The feeling was a little thrilling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Robbie said. “It’s so dark out. You won’t be able to see anything anyway.” He looked around the table again and then slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out there too long.”

Robbie pulled up to the entrance of the lane leading up to the old Thrombey house and parked the car. Tineka leaned forward from her place in the back seat and lightly slapped your arm. “Alright!” she said, “this is where you get out! Good luck.”

“Wait,” you turned to face her, “I’m going on my own?”

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

“When did this become a dare?” you asked, starting to get an uneasy feeling in your gut. “What if I get shot for trespassing?!”

“I thought no one could possibly live there,” she taunted. 

You tried to look to David for help, but he’d fallen asleep next to his wife. Robbie just gave you a shrug. “Fine,” you said, somewhat angrily. “But if I’m not back in 10 minutes, you better come find my body.” You got out of the car, slammed the door closed, and started your walk down the path.

The lane was surrounded by dense trees, and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t see the car behind you. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves in front of you, and you wrapped your cardigan around you as tightly as you could. A few minutes later, the house appeared before you. 

The outside had remained mostly intact, but you knew that it was basically a husk now. Still, it was large and foreboding. Most of the glass in the windows was cracked, and ivy had overtaken much of the siding. As you got closer, you could see that there was, in fact, a vintage beamer tucked against the side of the house. Damn it, Tineka was right. You were about to admit your defeat and go back to your friends when the front door opened. You froze as a man carefully walked out onto the decaying porch.

You could have sworn that a moonbeam suddenly appeared where there wasn’t one before to light him directly. He was dressed in a sweater and slacks underneath a long camel overcoat with a colorful scarf. He looked right at you even though you were sure that the area you were in was too dark to be spotted. “This is private property. You’re trespassing,” he said. Something about his deep voice and insistent stare had you pinned to your spot.

“Um,” you said, trying to look away, but there was something about him that had you transfixed. “Uh, sorry, I just– um, I didn’t think anyone lived here. How– how do you live here?”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow at you. Everything had gone completely quiet. In the moonlight, his skin glowed, looked so pale it was almost translucent, and you felt completely hypnotized. He might have been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

“Sorry,” you said again, or maybe just breathed it. “We were just– we were drunk and–” You didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Why were you here?

He looked you up and down. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Not tonight then.”

“What?” you asked, even though you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than to you.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, grinning a little meanly. “I don’t have much of a taste for cheap booze.”

What a strange thing to say. It’s not like you were inviting him for a drink. What did he mean?

His focus shifted to somewhere behind you, and it was like you suddenly found yourself back on earth. The sounds of the forest filtered back in, and you didn’t feel held in place anymore. As you tried to adjust to the sudden onslaught of your senses, you slowly processed that you could hear Tineka calling for you, and the sounds of Robbie’s car quickly approaching.

“Better run, little rabbit,” the man said. “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”   

You turned around to see the car pull up, and Tineka hopped out without waiting for it to stop fully. “Holy shit, you scared the shit out of us! You didn’t come back! This was so dumb, I’m so sorry.”

You turned back to the house, to say what, you weren’t sure. But the man was gone. Maybe he’d never even been there? Maybe you were even drunker than you thought. “I’m not sure what happened,” you said, in a daze, as you let Tineka and Robbie herd you back into the car.

You were awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door. Your mom let herself in without waiting for a response. She was carrying a large vase filled with roses so deep red, they were practically black. 

“What are those?” you mumbled, barely awake.

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked as she placed them on your dresser. “Someone left them for you.”

“Wha?” It was too early for this. You rolled over to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. Oh. It was 11 AM. Fuck. You didn’t think you’d had that much to drink the night before, but you felt incredibly hungover. This was drinking in your thirties, you guessed. “Is there a card?” You finally mustered the awareness to say. 

“Not that I saw.”

“Then how do you know they’re for me?”

She looked around theatrically. “Who else could they be for? Your father?”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for bringing them in, Mom. I’ll be down in a bit.”

She nodded and left. 

You got up and examined the bouquet. They were beautiful, but… dark. There was something about them that made you feel a little unsettled. The vase looked old. Vintage. Expensive. No card. No sign of where they came from. 

You opened your phone and pulled up the contact you’d made for Robbie the night before. You wrote out the text and hit send before you could think better of it.

Hey, weird question. And please know that I’m embarrassed to even ask it, especially if you say no, but. Did you send me flowers?

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

You cringed and tossed the phone on the bed to create some distance. You hadn’t even been back 24 hours yet. Who could they possibly be from?

Late that night, you were wandering through the grocery store aisles, making your way towards the freezer section. Your mom didn’t keep snacks in the house, and you’d had a sudden craving for ice cream. Just as you were coming up on your prey, someone stepped right in front of you and turned around to face you.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trespasser,” the man from the Thrombey house said. It was startling to see him in the middle of the grocery store. He seemed so out of place, wearing his same overcoat and scarf, which from this distance you could now see was silk. Everything about him seemed expensive, even his smirk, and here you were in yoga pants and a too-large sweatshirt. How did he even recognize you? It’d been so dark that night.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, somewhat bashfully, “sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a cold smirk that you were starting to think was just the permanent state of his face. “I kind of liked the novelty of it. It’s not very often that your kind comes right to me, instead of the other way around.”

What the fuck did that mean? Did he mean not wealthy people? Well, you weren’t the one living in a house that was about to fall down. This man was so strange. “Well, anyway,” you said, “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” You tried to step around him to get to the ice cream case, but he followed you there. 

“What’s your poison?” he asked. You grabbed a carton of Moose Tracks and showed him, before trying to walk away again. 

He kept pace with you. “What’s your name?” he asked.  He stepped in front of you again and looked you right in the eye. “C’mon, tell me your name.”

It fell past your lips without you ever making the conscious decision to tell him. He smiled. All of his smiles were a little mean. “You can call me Ransom,” he said. 

You’d arrived at the self-checkout. You were so ready to get out of there. “Well, okay, Ransom. It was nice meeting you, but I’m gonna check out now. And let you get back to your shopping.” You noticed for the first time that he didn’t have a cart or basket with him. And he wasn’t holding any items in his hands. He could have just gotten there, not started shopping yet, but something in your gut told you it wasn’t right. 

He paused at the opening of the aisle opposite you. “Yeah, I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” he winked, and then turned around and finally walked away.

You tried to suppress the shiver that coursed through you. There was something not right about him. It didn’t matter. He was gone. You paid for your ice cream and walked out the automatic doors–

You were sitting in your car. Something niggled at your brain. You couldn’t remember the walk through the parking lot. That was strange, but you were probably just on autopilot. Plus, you were tired. Exhausted, really. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were. There was a twinge in your neck. You tried to stretch it out but the skin pulled a little painfully. You looked at the clock. It was later than you realized. You needed to get home, eat this ice cream, and go to bed.

That night, you dreamt of a river of blood and you were drowning in it. You woke up choking on nothing.

In the morning, you still felt tired, but you could hear your parents moving around downstairs, so you got up and got dressed. You put on a T-shirt and jeans, a cardigan, and then found an old scarf that you looped around your neck a few times. 

When you got downstairs, your mom was scrambling eggs at the stove, while your dad read the paper at the kitchen table. He smiled and wished you a good morning, then nodded at your chest. “Is that your passive-aggressive way of telling me to turn the heat up?” He laughed at himself.

“Huh?” you asked and looked down. Oh. The scarf. Was it odd? Now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure why you’d put it on. It had just felt… important. You didn’t know why. But you also couldn’t take it off. You curled in on yourself, a bit defensively. “I just liked it with this outfit.” 

Your mom came over to the table. “Leave her alone, you,” she said to your dad as she set a plate of breakfast in front of each of you. “I think it looks nice, honey,” she said to you as she sat down with her own plate. “Although, maybe a little warm. It’s cooling down, but it’s not winter yet.”

You fingered the fringe of the scarf self-consciously. “I just like it,” you said, quietly. It was just a scarf. You didn’t know why everyone cared so much.

Your dad was the one to finally change the subject. He shook out his paper as he asked you, “Didn't you go to school with Shannon McCready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said around a bite of eggs, “She was a real bitch. What? She get arrested or something?” 

Your mom grumbled unhappily next to you about your language, but you barely even noticed because the next thing your dad said was “No, she died a few days ago.”

You couldn’t say what or why, but something inside of you reacted to that. A frisson of fear crawled up your spine. "What?"

"Mhmm, the obituary doesn't say exactly, but it seems like it was sudden."

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!" 

He shrugged again and went back to his paper. Your mom blithely ate her breakfast beside you. You couldn't explain why you were so unnerved by this, but something deep inside of you was screaming that it wasn't right. You took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. You barely even knew her. You needed to get logged into work. Focus on something else.

The workday was long and hard. Your exhaustion only built as the day went on and your mind was all over the place. But you finally made it to the end and triumphantly logged off.

You met Tineka for dinner, just the two of you, at a little place right off Main Street. After you’d gotten settled and your drinks had arrived, she’d looked at you carefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up the other night with David and Robbie there, but how are you doing with everything? Really?”

You sighed. “Uh,” you said, “better than I thought I’d be? I mean, everything feels kind of strange, because I was living this whole life, and I just don’t really have any of it anymore? I mean, I was living in Boston with Andy. We had an apartment, a community. We were gonna get married. And now none of those things are true anymore. None of that is mine. That’s strange. But, maybe not bad. I’m realizing that I was kind of unhappy there. More than kind of. But I couldn’t see it until I was outside of it. And, like, moving back in with my parents, it isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t feel bad right now. If feels OK. If that makes sense.”

Tineka nodded. “I think that makes a lot of sense. And for what it’s worth, Andy was a piece of shit and I’m glad you’re rid of him.” She reached forward, cocktail in hand, to clink your glasses together. All you could do was smile. You really had missed her.

Your seat faced the window, and as you chatted, you watched the sun set over the colorful trees outside. It really was pretty here. This wasn’t a bad place to spend the season. 

As you were finishing your entrees, you frowned when you saw Ransom walk in. He noticed you too, and, waving the hostess away, made a beeline for your table. 

“We just keep running into each other,” he said, once he got to you, that perma-smirk firmly in place. 

"It's a small town," you said, nervously. You couldn't explain why this man triggered your fight-or-flight instincts so terribly. You were being ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything. “Oh, uh, sorry. Ransom, this is my friend Tineka. Tineka, Ransom.” 

Tineka looked between the two of you, open curiosity on her face. “How do you know each other?” she asked.

 “New friends,” Ransom supplied. “We just can’t help bumping into each other.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about where you’d met. That was his business, so you just nodded along.

He stood there for a moment, in a way that was too confident to be awkward, but still had you feeling a little uncomfortable. Tineka, bless her, had the social skills you just couldn’t pull together at that moment. “It’s packed tonight,” she said. “You’re welcome to sit down with us, although we’re probably leaving soon,” she gestured to your nearly empty plates.  

“Thank you,” he said, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He winked at you as he took the empty chair next to you. Something about it, about him, made you have to look away, focusing on your plate.

“So,” Tineka started, and oh no, that was her casual interrogation tone, “are you from around here? This town is small enough that I’m always surprised when I don’t already know someone.”

Ransom chuckled. “Sort of. I used to have family here, but I haven’t been back in ages. Just in town to collect some things and then I’ll probably be on my way again.”

You could feel him looking at you. His attention was always so much.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Tineka said, giving you a sideways glance you knew meant trouble. “We’re only just getting to know you.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I’ve found more here than I expected.” He stretched his arm out and briefly rested it against your chair back. His fingers brushed you between your shoulder blades and you couldn’t help the way you shivered. He dropped his arm back into his lap. When you turned to him, he was looking at Tineka, but you could feel his attention still on you. 

“You said your family’s no longer in the area?” Tineka kept probing.

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “It was no great loss, trust me.” There was a darkness in his eyes when he said that that had you swallowing nervously.

“I guess it’s the season for homecomings,” Tineka said, then pointed at you, “she just moved back too.”

He grinned knowingly at you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she said, pointedly. “Recovering from a shitty ex.”

“Tineka!” you hissed, but all she did was laugh. 

“Well,” he said, working his jaw, and you would swear it almost came out as a growl, “I bet he’ll live to regret that.” You couldn’t explain it, but at that moment, it felt like a threat. Which didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know Andy. He barely knew you. But the most disturbing thing was the little thrill that rushed through you at the thought. 

While you were having your mini-crisis, he stood up abruptly. “You know,” he said, “it really is busy in here. I’m probably better off getting dinner somewhere else. And I’ve intruded on girls’ night enough.” He then looked right at you and said, “I’ll be seeing you.” That, too, felt like a threat.

As he left, Tineka looked at you excitedly. “He’s hot!” she said, too loudly considering he hadn’t actually exited the restaurant yet. You hissed at her, but she batted it away. “And he’s clearly into you. Seems like the perfect opportunity to fuck Andy out of your system.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed and looked to the front to make sure he’d left. “You don’t think there’s something kind of unsettling about him?” 

“What do you mean?”

You paused to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t know, sometimes, just the way he looks at me, I get this chill down my spine.”

She laughed, delightedly. “Yeah, that’s called ‘he wants to fuck you!’ Seriously, this is good. Great, even!”

“I don’t know,” you said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that you just didn’t understand. 

She sobered and looked at you seriously. “Listen, you deserve this. After all that shit Andy put you through – the women. It’s time for you to get yours. I don’t care if it’s Ransom, or Robbie, or whoever, but you deserve this.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s definitely not going to be Robbie.” You couldn’t even imagine that.

“Ok, fine!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Then it should be Ransom!”

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

A little while later, you left the restaurant together. On the sidewalk, Tineka asked, “Did you walk here?” You nodded. “Do you want a ride home?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not far. I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

“Unless this town really changed while I was gone, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I want to walk.”

“Ok,” she said, but she seemed hesitant. 

You rolled your eyes and she backed down. “Hey,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “This was really fun. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said and pulled away, starting to head back to her car. “Think about what I said about Ransom!” she threw over her shoulder.

You laughed and started walking in the opposite direction, back to your parents' house. 

A few blocks later, when you were off the main street, you stopped when you heard a noise behind you–

You were half a block further down now. You looked around, confused. What just happened? How– The pain in your neck was back. It was on the other side now, and worse. You were so tired. A little dizzy. You walked as quickly as you could the rest of the way home.

You dreamt again that night. In this one, you sat in the middle of a large field. The sun shone down on you but you were sobbing uncontrollably. Your tears were made of blood.

You slept through your alarm the next morning, only waking when your mom came in and shook you. You were exhausted still, even though you’d slept a solid nine hours. Maybe you were coming down with something. Even though you had no other symptoms.

You went through your dresser three times until you found your one turtleneck. It seemed important.

Work felt impossible. Your focus was non-existent. You just wanted to lie down. 

Late that afternoon, when Robbie texted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee, you logged out early. You weren’t going to get anything else done anyway. Caffeine sounded helpful.

When you met outside the coffee shop, he asked, “Is coffee still ok? I know it’s getting kind of late in the day. We could do beer instead.”

You shook your head. “No, coffee’s good. I’m trying to cut down on how much I drink.” You stopped. You were? When did you decide that? Why? You shoved down the not-right feeling that was crawling up your throat. It was fine. It was good. Healthy. It was fine.

Robbie raised his eyebrows when you ordered a triple espresso, but didn’t say anything. It helped some, but you still felt sluggish. And you struggled to focus on the conversation. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked after about half an hour.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, trying to shake your head clear. “I’ve just been a little off the past few days. Probably just everything that’s happened catching up with me.”

He nodded. “I heard about all that. I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever need it.”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m fine, really,” you said, “but I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, as you were trying to decide if you’d been there long enough to politely make your excuses and go home, he said, “Oh, do you remember Alex Higgins?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” The name didn’t ring a bell, but you weren’t sure if that was because you didn’t know them or whatever was going on with you.

“He was a few years ahead of us? Friends with my brother?” 

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Well, this won’t mean much to you, then,” he said, “but he died a few days ago.”

Not right not right not right, your gut said. “How… how did he die?” you asked, terrified of the answer without knowing why.

“They don’t know yet. They haven’t been able to find anything wrong with him. They just found him collapsed outside, I guess.”

You white-knuckled it through the rest of your coffee.

Afterward, you lost over half of your walk home. When you arrived, there was another bouquet of almost black roses on your front porch.

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

Over the next week, you kept losing time. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, sometimes even more. Once you started paying attention, you realized it was only after the sun went down. But knowing that didn’t seem to help.

There were more nightmares too. There was the one where you were being chased through the woods by something unseen, under a blood-red moon and the trees came alive to trap you. Or the one where you were back at the Thrombey house and it was on fire. The skies opened up, but instead of rain, the clouds poured down blood. The strangest one had Ransom in it. Blood flowed from his mouth as he choked you with his scarf. They all started to blend together after that. Blood. Pain. Terror. 

Even with the nightmares, you slept like the dead. But that didn’t stop you from waking up exhausted every morning. You called in sick to work multiple days. You stopped seeing Tineka or Robbie. What would have been the point? You couldn’t concentrate on anything. You could barely stay awake. And every time you went for a walk in the evening, to try to get some exercise and clear your head, you lost time. Something was very wrong and you didn’t know what to do.

The one person you did see was Ransom. He often seemed to be out and about at the same time you were. The fear you felt for him was still there, but you couldn’t deny that you were drawn to him, too. When he was near. you could feel the chaos that had taken you over the last week finally quiet down. You still lost time with him, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Nothing seemed to matter as much when you were with him. Even if you still felt the instinctual urge to turn around and run away whenever you saw him.

Compounding your troubles, the roses just kept coming. Every few days, another bouquet appeared on your porch. You still had no idea who was sending them. It had occurred to you that maybe it was Andy, trying to fuck with you. As much as you hated him now, that just didn’t seem like him. But you couldn’t think of anyone else who would do it either. You barely even knew anyone in town anymore.

For a reason you couldn’t articulate, you didn’t say anything about any of this to your parents. You couldn’t hide it from them though. They may not have known exactly what was going on, but they knew there was something. You overheard them one night as you came down the stairs to get a glass of water, their low tones coming from the living room.

“She is not okay,” your dad was saying, “and we need to stop acting like she is.”

“She’s been through a lot,” your mom said. “If she wants space–”

“Look at her!” your dad said, trying to keep his voice quiet, but the emotion still came through. “The time for space is over. I think we need to start talking about professional help.”

As quietly as you could, you ran back up the stairs. You weren’t that thirsty.

You spent the next two days in bed. When your mom came in to check on you, you told her you had the flu.

On the third day, you woke up feeling clear-headed for the first time in ages. You were rested. You hadn’t had any nightmares. The fog seemed to have cleared from your brain. When you bounced downstairs and greeted your parents, the relief on their faces made you want to cry. Your work day was the most productive you’d had since you’d arrived at your parents’ house. You finally felt like things were going to be ok.

That night after dinner, you decided to celebrate your good mood with snacks. You got in your car and started driving to the grocery store.

When you parked, you looked up. You weren’t at the grocery store. You were in front of the Thrombey house. You burst into tears. No no no. How had you gotten here? Why was this happening to you? As you were about to put the car in reverse and go back home, the front door opened and Ransom came out. So instead, you got out of the car.

“Trespassing again?” he asked, that smirk always on his lips. Like there was a joke that only he knew about.

   “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know what’s happening!”

He came down off the porch and walked over to you. He gently brushed a tear off your cheek and looked you in the eye. “Poor little rabb–

You were sitting in your car, parked in front of your parents’ house. The sun was coming up. How? The last thing you remembered, it was evening. It’d been hours. So many hours. The entire night. You let out a frustrated, guttural cry. You checked your phone, certain there must be so many panicked calls and texts from your parents, but there was nothing. Looking further, you found a text from yourself to your mom, telling her that you were spending the night with Tineka. Had you? Was that where you’d been? You thought about calling Tineka to check but one of two things would happen. She’d be confused as to why you couldn’t remember that you’d just left her house. Or, she’d tell you that she hadn’t seen you in days. Both options seemed equally awful and impossible to deal with. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and looked up at the front door. In front of it, was an ornate, vintage vase, filled with roses, so deep red they were practically black. No. Absolutely not. You started your car again and pulled back out onto the road in a flurry. This was one mystery you might actually be able to solve and you were going to do it.

The only dedicated floral shop in town didn’t open for another two hours. That was fine. You could wait. You sat in your car as long as you could stand it, and then when you grew too antsy to bear, you got out and paced in front of the storefront.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you were inside the shop, frantically looking through all of the roses.

“Can I help you?” an employee cautiously asked from behind you. 

You spun around. “I’m looking for black roses.”

“Oh, uh, so, roses don’t actually come in true black. The closest is a really dark red that looks almo–”

“Yes, I know that!” You interrupted. “That’s what I’m looking for!”

“Well,” they said, a professional curtness in their tone now, “we don’t carry them. You’d have to do a special order.”

That was actually good news. It’d narrow down possibilities considerably. “Can you tell me who’s been ordering them?”

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

They took a step back. “We haven’t had anyone order them recently.”

You shook your head wildly, desperation taking over. “No, that’s not true! You’ve been delivering them to my house! I just want to know who’s sending them.”

Another employee came out from the back and eyed you carefully.

“Please,” you said, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “You have to tell me who it is. I have to know.”

“We haven’t had any orders like that,” the first employee said firmly.

“No!” you shouted. “Please just tell me. You have to tell me!”

“Ma’am,” the second employee finally spoke up. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

You stopped and looked around yourself. Another customer had come in. They stood by the door and stared at you. Everyone stared at you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The first employee looked deeply uncomfortable, but the second just folded their arms and gave you a hard look.

“You’re sure?” you asked. “You really haven’t had any special orders?” You felt a few tears fall down your cheeks.

“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, we’ll have to call the cops.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You left as quickly as you could, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

Once outside and away from the floral shop, you found a bench and sunk down on it, trying to pull yourself together. What was happening? What was wrong with you? 

You heard someone across the street call your name and you looked up to see Robbie rushing toward you. He dodged a few cars and then stepped up onto the sidewalk. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You started sobbing at that, unable to hold anything in any longer. He sat down on the bench next to you and tentatively put his hand on your back. He said your name again, softly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I think I’m losing my mind,” you choked out. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He was rubbing gentle circles now. “Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help.”

So you did. You told him about losing time and saying things you didn’t understand, being so tired all the time you could barely get out of bed, the nightmares. He listened quietly to everything and when you were done he just nodded for a moment, then said, “First thing, I think, is that you need to see a doctor.”

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

“Listen, I know it’s scary, but I don’t think this is going to go away on its own. This could be a brain tumor or something. You really need to get it checked out.”

“You’re not listening to me,” you growled out, surprised by how upset you were, and how quickly your mood had changed. “I can’t.”

“Ok,” he said, putting his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m listening. Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t!” you said, standing up. You were jittery. You needed to move.

Robbie reached out a hand, and quietly said your name again, clearly trying to calm you down.

You couldn’t stop shaking your head. “I just can’t, okay? I just can’t. I can’t. I’m not allowed!”

You both froze. “What–” Robbie stopped then tried again, shock clear on his face. “What do you mean you’re not allowed?”

You didn’t know, exactly. You just knew it was true. No doctors. Absolutely not. “I have to go,” you said and turned abruptly to race back to where you’d parked your car. Robbie called after you the whole way.

Your phone buzzed at you the whole drive home. Robbie. He wouldn’t stop. It continued all day. He was worried about you, his texts and voicemails told you. What you said had really freaked him out. Was someone hurting you? He just wanted to help. You hid in your bedroom and buried your phone in your laundry hamper. You could still hear it buzzing away, but it made it easier to pretend that you couldn’t. Finally, sometime after dark, it stopped.

It started ringing again in the morning, just as insistent as before. You dug it out of your dirty clothes, ready to tell Robbie to just forget what happened and leave you alone when you saw that it was Tineka, and she was calling for the third time.

When you answered, at first you just heard her crying. “Tineka?” you asked. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Robbie,” she sobbed, and for a moment you thought maybe he’d talked to her, told her who knows what, but then she continued. “Oh god, Robbie. Robbie’s dead.”

A chill whipped through your entire body. “What?” you breathed. Just yesterday– No. Your mind went to all the people you’d heard about since you’d gotten here. The vague reasons, the shrugs given as cause of death. A pattern you’d refused to see until this moment. You had to know if he was part of it. “Tineka, how did he die?”

“Oh god,” she sobbed, “It’s so awful. I can’t– His throat. It was ripped out.”

You felt time stop. Distantly, you could hear Tineka still talking. Going on about animal attacks, coyotes and bobcats, maybe something escaped from a sanctuary or private owner. You couldn’t explain it, you didn’t know why – you obviously didn’t know anything – but you knew deep down in your being that this was because of you. Something was happening.

Without saying anything, you ended the call and left your phone on your bed. You didn’t get dressed, still in the leggings and oversized t-shirt you always slept in. You moved through the house as quickly and quietly as you could, not bothering to stop to look for your parents. The only things you grabbed on your way out were your coat and your car keys. 

As you started driving away, you didn't really have a destination in mind, but once you were about halfway there, you realized that you did in fact know where you were going now. Of course, you did. There was only one place to go. One person to see.

As you pulled up in front of the Thrombey house, it struck you that you’d never seen it in daylight before. The way the sun shone down on it almost made it more eerie. It should not be here, in this daylight world. It was a relic of the night. You shook your head at yourself. Your thoughts had become so strange lately.

You waited in your car. He always heard you and came out, but this time, nothing. You looked to the little driveway at the side. The beamer was there. So where was Ransom? After several minutes of waiting, you got out. You went up to the house, ready to pound on the door until he came out, but stopped at the porch. You could clearly see now how the wood was rotting, the holes that were already there. You couldn’t risk taking a single step onto it. You didn’t know how he came in and out this way.

You looked around, there must be another way in, maybe on the side of the house. As you walked around the corner, you came up short. Lining this side of the house, hidden from the front, was a beautiful, neat row of rose bushes, in such a deep red they were practically black. No. No no no. It couldn’t be. But of course, it was. You were so stupid. So blind. You fell to your knees beside them. It had all started here, at this house. You could clearly see that now, finally. Whatever end came, that would be here too, so you laid down, and you waited. There was nothing else to do.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You were pretty sure you’d dozed in and out. But at some point, the sun had gone down. Once it was fully hidden beneath the horizon, you heard the front door open and footsteps come around the side of the house.

Ransom crouched down next to your head, his hand gently brushing the hair out of your face. “So you know now,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but you still shook your head. “No,” you said. “I don’t know anything. I don’t understand.”

He nodded and stood up. You sat up, almost like there was a string in your chest, connected to his. “You know,” he said, looking up at the house. “Ransom is my middle name. I’ve always gone by it, but when they reported on everything that happened here, they used my first name, so that’s the one everyone remembers.”

Of course. “Hugh,” you breathed. “You’re Hugh Drysdale.” You were as sure of it as you’d ever been of anything. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. He nodded, pleased. “How?” you asked. Hugh had been roughly your age when the fire had happened and he’d disappeared. Almost 50 years ago. The man standing in front of you didn’t look a day over 35.

He crouched down again, so that he was level with you, so that you could clearly see his face in the moonlight. So that you had a perfect view of the fangs that dropped down.

You gasped, wanting to scoot away on your hands, but you stayed pinned in your spot. “No, that’s not– You can’t–” You took a deep breath and gave yourself the courage to say the word. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He threw his head back and laughed. It was wild and loud and cruel. “Come on now,” he said, “I know you aren’t that stupid, sweetheart.”

As you tried to process this, you realized it didn’t actually matter how any of this could be real. There was only one question you actually needed an answer to. “Why did you do this to me?” 

He grinned at you, mean as ever. “Because you came right to me, little rabbit. How could I resist an offering like that?” Tears started to run down your face, and he cooed at you, collecting a few with his finger. “I’ll admit, at first, I’d just planned to drain you, leave your body beside the grocery store for some teenage employee to find the next day.” He smiled at the thought. “But that first taste. You have no idea how good you taste, baby. It couldn’t just be a one-and-done. It was as easy as anything to put you under a little thrall. Compel you to forget when I fed on you, make sure you didn’t let anyone else know. The plan was to snack on you while I was here, and once I had everything I needed, I’d bring you with me, keep you as a little pet blood bag until I was bored and done with you. And torturing you was so fun. It made having to be here so much more bearable. But as I broke you down, brought you to your weakest, it made me realize that I’m desperate to see you at your strongest. See you surging with power.”

There was something in his words, in his eyes, that filled you with panic. But also something else. Want, you were terrified to admit. “What does that mean?” you whispered.

“It means you’re mine, baby, and I’m going to keep you. Claim you. Forever.”

It was the last word you fixated on. That was the word that meant everything. That really said what he meant. You took a deep breath, trying to get the crying under control. “And if I let you do that, this will all stop? I’ll be ok again?”

He chuckled. “Sure, honey. If you ‘let’ me do it, it’ll all stop. You’ll get your mind back. The thrall will lift.”

“And if I don’t?”

He tilted his head to the side. “If you don’t, you’ll still be mine. I’ll just make it hurt. Your friend Tineka sure has a pretty neck. Maybe I’ll rip it out, just like I did to your other little friend. Or your parents. Blood is kind of like wine, you know, gets better with age.”

“No, no, please,” you begged.

“Then give yourself to me, right now.” He leaned forward into your space and you fought the dual urges to pull away and to close the distance completely.

You took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. Your torment would stop. Things would be better. Your family would be safe. “Okay,” you whispered, “please. Please, Ransom.”

Without further ado, he pulled you into a bruising kiss, both hands tightly gripping your face, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He gave you no choice but to sink into it, his fangs still dropped, occasionally nipping into your lips. When he pulled away, you were left gasping for breath. 

You had no time to recover before he was pushing back on your shoulders and then slipping his hands under your knees to tip you onto your back. You held yourself up, as much as you could, on your forearms, unable to look away from him. Mesmerized by him, as always. He pulled on your leggings until they ripped in two and tossed them away. He crawled between your knees and then did the same to your panties. You cried out at the sting of the elastic breaking. He smoothed a hand over you, fingers moving through the thatch of soft curls, and growled “Just perfect.” Then he lowered his face to your cunt and slowly dragged his tongue along the length of it. You finally gave in and let your upper body fall back, tossing your head to the side, your hands grasping for purchase in the dry grass beneath you, as he worked you over with his mouth. Little mewls escaped you, beyond your control. You wanted to deny how good it felt; he was a literal monster. He had killed countless people. His own family, in this exact spot where he now defiled you. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth on you, the rising heat in your core, the grass under your hands, the twigs poking into your back. The one thing outside of this exact moment that your brain briefly flashed to was Andy. How he had never felt like this. Never given you this. In his own way, he too, had wanted to drain you dry and then he’d left you with nothing to show for it. His promise of forever had turned out to be empty. With Ransom, you knew that word meant something different. Meant something more. Something real.

Your mewls had turned into soft little chants of “Please,” and “Ransom,” over and over. As you reached your peak and were just about to go over it, he removed his mouth from you. You cried out in frustration and lifted your head just in time to see him turn his and sink his teeth into your thigh. You screamed at the pain. The way it mingled with the intense pleasure you were already experiencing, along with the constant fear you’d been in for the past weeks had you hurtling over the edge. You came harder than you ever had before, your body spasming through it, tears rushing down your face, wetness pooling between your legs. Ransom drank from you all through your orgasm and the aftershocks. As you were finally coming down, he released your thigh, quickly licking up the blood that had dripped down your leg. He reached up to your face and grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact as he viciously bit into his own wrist. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, grasping it firmly, and then pushed his bloody wrist into your mouth. You flailed, instinctively trying to get away, but his hard grip wouldn’t let you move. You choked as his blood filled your mouth. Your eyes were wide, hands wildly trying to release his hold on you.

“Just drink,” his voice filled your consciousness. “Drink. Take it all, sweetheart.” At some point, your body gave in, no longer struggling, trying to dislodge him. You took what he gave you and swallowed. “Good girl,” he cooed as you continued to drink. “Good girl.” You grasped his wrist, latching on with your mouth, suddenly desperate for more. Blackness was gathering at the edges of your vision. It started gradually and then quickly overtook you. The last thing you heard before you slipped into the darkness was Ransom’s chuckle.

You gasped for breath as you rocketed up to a sitting position. You could hear everything. The birds on the roof of the house. The wind moving in the trees. The ants in the ground beneath you. You could feel everything. The hair on your arms, standing straight up. The grass growing in the ground. The electricity in the air. The one thing you couldn’t feel was your blood flowing through your veins. It was still. You knew it was. But something was pumping through you. Power. You gasped again to feel it. You could do anything now. You were sure of it. You’d been so weak before. But now. Now nothing could beat you. With that power was also the most intense hunger you’d ever felt. You needed something, right now. You needed everything. You needed to feed, you needed to fuck, you needed to drink.

A familiar chuckle interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Ransom standing above you. That mean smirk that was always on his face. “Oh little rabbit,” he said, “we are going to have so much fun.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, there's a follow-up! 💜

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

[burquillos]

diluven misses you and so to do i miss it 😔

Will you accept this drabble I have in my notes:

"Don't you like the bard?"

"Whether I like the bard or not hardly accounts for whether I should pursue him or not."

"Actually, I think liking the bard is all the reason you need to pursue him."

Diluc let's out a tired sigh. He doesn't want to have to explain Venti's kind of secret alter ego to Kaeya of all people. He's exhausted. He wants to go home.

But things have been going well with Kaeya lately and he was happy when they started opening up to each other again on this particular night. Well, up until Kaeya opened up the conversation about his love life. Kaeya had always pestered him about it, even as a kid. Both him and his father, ever the romantics.

Though annoyed, he appreciates the sentiment because he knows it comes from a place of genuine concern. Keaya wants reassurance that he will be fine and that someone will take care of him and love him even when him and his father aren't there. Knowing Kaeya, not wanting him to be alone is deeply valuable. However...

"It's complicated" Diluc scowls.

Kaeya leans on his forearm on the counter. He looks at Diluc, unamused.

"You like him. You obviously want to be with him. And from the looks of it he likes you back. What's so complicated about that?"

Diluc doesn't respond but he can feel a slight tingling on his fingertips and his cheeks as he stands there tense and frozen.

Kaeya closes his eyes in contemplation, "Ah..I see."

"What?"

"Master Ragnvindr of the Dawn Winery must not be seen engaging in romantic affairs with a mere commoner. How tragic-"

"No."

It was out before he knew it. Said too fast and too defensively to be considered casual. Like letting a part of himself accidentally slip from his tight grasp.

Kaeya couldn't have been more wrong. Venti is far from a mere commoner. His identity as Barbatos is... holy and powerful. The kind of being who can move mountains, literally and figuratively. His whole life he tried to be worthy of only two people and that included his late father and Barbatos.

But even that pales in comparison to Venti himself; kind and compassionate, cunning when he needs to be, he brings joy and laughter to the people of Mondsatdt with his songs. He listens to his people and guides them into action, never hesitating to reach out to others, even a person like him who has built walls around himself.

Venti has a way of seeing through him but has never once used it against him. He keeps the hidden, little pieces of Diluc tucked away and keeps it safe.

He wants to believe that there is something special about that. That that kind of treatment is something Venti gives to him and him alone.

But he knows Venti's love is grand and extends far and wide over Mondsatdt and its citizens. He knows he's nothing more but a speck among countless others that recieve that kind of godly love from him.

As a protector of Mondsatdt, he cannot afford to be selfish with Venti's love, not when Mondstadt needs it more than him. He is quite well off in terms of status and wealth after all. Honestly, Diluc is quite content to love from afar.

In the end, all he could mutter was a soft "He's too good for me..."

Kaeya barks out a laugh, slamming his hand on the table and leaning back. "VENTI!?" he wipes a tear from his eye "You're saying this about Venti?! The drunkard?? The guy who regularly schemes his way for some apples and booze??"

"You know what I mean."

"No. I don't"

"Well I'm not tired enough to have this conversation."

"Fair enough."

Kaeya leaves a few coins on the counter then stands up to leave. Before he could exit the door, he turns back to Diluc. "For the record, he said the same thing about you being too good for him." Finally, he leaves.

Diluc is left staring at the door. He can't quite believe that statement. He's not looking down on himself or anything, he knows he's quite sought after, he even uses that as an advantage when negotiating sometimes.

It's just that, compared to Venti who shines brightly and whose smile literally lights up the room, he feels like such a downer in comparison.

Once upon a time in his life, he might've had the same smile too, but he's changed since then. He's not the golden child with a loving family running around Mondstadt fulfilling his dreams anymore. His fire has long ceased to be kind and burns with rage and vindication instead. He feels as if he can't have that smile back. That if Venti stands next to him and gives him a little grin he can't smile back with the warmth and kindness he deserves. That all Venti would see is a broken man.

He feels too bare with Venti and that is something he cherishes deeply and also something he dreads.

[lightningonatether]

Why c!endersmile were actually friends

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: my crazy thesis on two bad bitches with not a single moment of screentime fueled purely by my own insanity

ALTERNATIVELY alternatively titled: to all loreheads please be nice i dont usually lorepost. feel free to engage though

So my return is courtesy of litchi, who mentioned c!endersmile like once a month ago, and got me thinking about them so hard I couldn't just walk away.

Namely, litchi reminded me of a few theories I have concerning c!endersmiles relationship, that I developed back when i was watching the SMP live. This might make my recollection of some events a little fuzzy, but everything should be canon compliant cause I was thinking about all this as I watched.

I was already watching ranboo pretty regularly at the point the prison arc started, I cant resist a really weird guy with horrible debilitating anxiety. I already thought the whole hearing dreams voice in his head was really interesting, but as the prison arc evolved it became clear that ranboos relationship with dream wasnt just some hallucination inside ranboos head and actually had some substance.

My theory really started to develop into what it is now with the explosions on the prison roof which led to the lockdown and tommys death; these were confirmed to be set by ranboo in his enderwalk state. He was one of the only people online at the time, ranboo found tnt in his inventory afterwards, and I think dream also told sam he knew ranboo did it at some point, although I can't find the exact stream.

At that point it was obvious that enderwalking ranboo held a different set of beliefs, alliances, and likely more memories than the "awake" ranboo we saw most of the time on streams, and was acting against amnesiac ranboos wishes. The explosions above the prison along with the reveal that ranboo had been regularly visiting dream in prison confirmed that dream and ender!ranboo were some sort of allies.

At the time, my assumption was that ranboo had simply made an attempted prison break. It wouldnt be a stretch to assume, if ranboo had visited regularly, that he would have noticed the poor conditions and tried to break his ally out. However, after the confirmation of the staged finale, and a better look at cdreams motivations(wanting to provide protection for punz, separating himself very publicly from his only known ally to keep them safe) the idea that enderwalk ranboo, an ally of dreams, would go against dreams explicit wishes to stay locked in that prison began making less sense.

It would only make sense if either:

enderwalk never knew about the plan or

enderwalk knew about the plan but went against it anyway

1 is a very tempting explanation. c!dream rarely lets anyone close. even punz, who knew the plan intimately, wasn't aware of dreams true motivations to bring the server back to a peaceful time before conflict. but..... it didnt sit right with me.

Two reasons for this: I know some people may have stopped watching/never watched ranboo lore, but towards the end of the prison arc, ranboo began seeing flashes of "lessons" appear on screen. These lessons all had that utilitarian and paranoid feel a lot of dreams actions/reasoning have, like "dont trust anybody"(paraphrasing, thats just what i remember the core of that message being) or "never hesitate to gain a favor from someone, you can use it to get something from them later". anyone remember technos favor to dream? It was heavily implied these lessons were meant to be from dream, directed at c!enderwalk. This would mean the two spent a significant amount of time together. not only that, dream was sharing his *life philosophy* with ender!ranboo. thats not just something dream would share with anyone, and implies a close allyship at the least. its almost like he was teaching a pupil. yeah, sure, some of his lessons were a little fucked up and weird in that dream sort of way, but he was looking out for the kid. and it seems that enderwalk wasnt hesitant to act on those lessons either. he promised to keep a shulker safe for foolish, gaining a favor, and didnt sign a single one of those prison visitation waivers, on top of sam discovering they were corrupted into enderian when he checked LMAO.

This alone would be enough to persuade me enderwalk HAD to have been let in on the plan, at least so he wouldnt cause any problems (such as trying to get his ally out of prison).

but the other reason is... ranboos stated philosophy against conflict. he doesnt like sides, he wishes they wouldn't exist. I remember watching a stream and nearly jumping out of my seat when he told chat he just wished the server could just be one big happy family! because that is nearly word for word what a bunch of loreheads were saying about dreams motivations at the time(and now obviously lmao). if we keep in mind their contact for those "lessons", ranboos visits to dream in prison, AND the fact that dreams and ranboos motivations coincide on a level even Above dream and punzs(punz seemed to have been unaware of and also not particularly motivated by dreams wish for peace) i cant really imagine dream not letting this guy in on the plan.

which leaves us with 2) ranboo tried to break dream out against dreams wishes.

Maybe ranboo was just an ally and chickened out after he saw dreams mistreatment in prison and went against the plan, but... dream missed him after sam barred him from visiting. he asked sapnap to deliver a note to ranboo(just a smiley face, likely with the hopes of triggering an enderwalk) despite fearing for his ally punz enough to lock himself in prison. it feels reminicent to how dream sounds when he comments on george not visiting him once. like he missed a friend despite trying so hard to separate himself from the ones he'd had.

Maybe ranboo tried to break in because he saw a friend being mistreated, and couldn't leave the plan stand.

And that kind of makes sense doesn't it? that dream, someone whos paranoid about how peoples connection to him puts them in danger, would choose an amnesiac who spends most of their time terrified of dream, and wouldnt remember any of his plans or their friendship to use against either of them in the first place?

[yuurivoice]

Saw a goofball post about ASMR Roleplay, romantic plots, narratives, etc. and so on.

Let me share some of my philosophy with you as someone in this game for 7 years, 150k subs on YouTube, and who turned this into a lucrative business for himself. I say all that not to flex, but to assure you that maybe I know a little bit about what I'm talking about.

Audio Roleplays, ASMR Roleplay, etc and so forth is not some sort of rigid, strict thing. If you believe that content in this niche has to adhere to strict rules, structure, and expectations, you've already entered into this with strange expectations because there is such a vast array of ways you can go about presenting this content.

Some of it is slice of life moments in time with an assumed relationships between character and listener. Before narrative audios started to pick up steam, or rather, a handful of folks (myself included) developed followings centered on original characters and stories, the vast majority of creators in this space were just doing snippets of experiences. And, in case you were unaware, that approach is wildly successful. Boyfriend Experiences, audio smut, etc. has a much wider appeal at this time because a listener can drop right in and enjoy it.

If you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that every audio has to adhere to strict narrative rules, be defined by conflict, or things happening beyond whatever the vibe calls for, you're willfully putting yourself and the niche in a box. Which is fine, but seeing people piss and moan about it is strange.

My approach has been to blend narrative series along with one-shots. One-shots serve as super self indulgent audios that aren't tied to the narrative and allow listeners to engage with some of their favorite characters they fell in love with in the narrative without furthering the plot.

Sometimes I play the game, explore tropes and clichés that are popular for the sake of taking a crack at it. Because it brings in new listeners who then become fans of my narrative work and creates genuine supporters of my passion projects.

And ya know? It fucking works. It works really well. I can drop a very straightforward, stripped down comfort audio with Alphonse like I did today and move listeners to tears. And then we can continue on with BitterSweet when I'm good and ready. It keeps the channel running, keeps the audience engaged, and keeps me working.

The bigger point here is that creators should be able to approach their work as they see fit, without concerns about goofballs with strange expectations and standards dictating to them what is and is not valid. You wanna know what's valid? Creating shit that you like, that the people who support you like. However you achieve that is all good in my book.

Having some goofy ass superiority complex about how people play pretend with pretty voices is strange behavior. I'm proud that my community has never flung that kind of nonsense around, and I'm speaking on it to affirm that kind of stance for the folks who rock with me.

If you're a listener who has recently stumbled into this niche, I implore you to explore, listen to others, find what you like and enjoy it because you enjoy it. There are countless people making audio content these days and there's no wrong way to do it, never has been. There's something for everyone, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, be wary.

I'm not about negative nonsense, not about tribalism or putting down one person over another. Lift up your faves and share why you appreciate them and their style. But petulant bickering and shitting on others because of something as trivial as audio content? Nahhhh. If I catch anyone spouting nonsense like that in my name, I try and snuff it out as fast as possible because that's not how my shit is built.

If you are someone who fucks with me and my work but has had some opinions like that, I implore you to chill because none of this has ever been that serious. I want people to enjoy what they want to enjoy because for the love of fuck, life is too short to try and grandstand over this silly little niche. Or please get all the way away from me and my people.

Deuces. ✌️

[sitp-recs]

i bet you've seen this one plenty of times before, but:

can you rec some drarry fics where jealousy is an important motif? it can be infidelity if they're an established couple, or just getting with someone else while the two of them are dancing around one another. would be great to see recs both where harry is jealous and where draco is jealous. i prefer a happy ending, but i'll be grateful either way.

since i'm here let me also say i admire what you do, your incredible ability to recall and sort through so many stories. this fandom is lucky to have you! <3

Hello friend! Thank you for the kind words, I really appreciate it ❤️ here are some fics centered on jealousy. I did a few other lists for this trope over the years, you can find them here, here and here.

Jealous Harry:

Hourglass Heart by @bixgirl1 (E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

Utterly Yours by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 6.5k)

Draco gets back at Harry for his late nights as an Auror by flirting with the new Arithmancy professor. Harry's not usually the jealous type, but he has his moments.

Intention by @the-sinking-ship (E, 7k)

Harry really ought to listen to whatever Ron is saying, but it becomes impossible to focus when a familiar figure across the pub curls his fingers around another man’s tie. And when that man leans in with a wolfish smile, Harry sees red, and all he can think is mine.

on the divine agony of longing by @flimsi (E, 25k)

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment. In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (E, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 84k)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

Jealous Draco:

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (E, 6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

Don't Stop It Before It Begins by mischieviolet (E, 19k)

“I don’t understand how this is of any concern to you, Malfoy,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco blinked at the use of his last name, something that Harry only used with him in jest these days. “I’m merely spending time with my Auror partner, who is from another country, and has no one here. I would do the same if it were you.” “It’s not me though, is it?” Draco all but shouted, unable to stop himself.

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case by oceaxe (E, 24k)

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It's just professional jealousy that's making him feel so upset. Obviously. He's engaged to be married to Astoria, after all.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by @dictacontrion (E, 31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed.

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 5

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend reader

Plot: There's nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it's too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

read previous part

(1998)

Noel who is sitting next to Nicole leans back in his chair and annoyingly crosses his arms in front of his chest. Usually, he loved the Brits, truly. It’s his favorite award show of the year (even if he’d never admit that to anyone). Nonetheless, this year even though he tries his absolute best to have a good time and enjoy himself he just couldn't do it. No matter how much alcohol he drinks.

His eyes wander the table. His brother Liam is filling his girlfriend’s champagne glass to the brim and giggles like a schoolboy when some of it spills on the white tablecloth. The blonde in his arm scolds him, but cannot conceal the smile that materializes on her red-painted lips. He sees how Nicole yawns, before her hand moves to gently caress his shoulder. Something is missing. And he just can’t put his finger on it.

He wants to say something to her when he catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A familiar silhouette. Pursued by a feeling in his chest that he used to be able to put a word on. Noel turns his head and sees you.

Three tables behind their own is Blur’s. You are sitting next to Damon, wearing a gorgeous silver satin dress. Considering, how all the other people at the table are wearing somewhat more informal clothing you look like something straight out of a magazine.

His blue eyes travel down to your hand that’s intertwined with Damon’s, and when he notices a (huge fucking) diamond on your ring finger he swallows thickly. He thought you loathed wearing jewelry. His head quickly turns back to his table.

„Are you okay?“, Nicole asks, her tone concerned before his gaze drifts through the room. When it stops on you she lets out an understanding sigh:” It was all over Daily Mail.”

“What?”

“Their engagement.”, she explains, bringing the glass up to her lips:” Damon gave an interview on how she’s the love of his life or whatever. Expensive fucking ring too. I always guessed Blur didn’t sell that much, but well…”

Noel stares at his drink. He wonders if he’ll be invited to the wedding, but then again you didn’t phone him to tell him about the engagement in the first place. He wanted to be angry- at Damon, angrier than he had already been. Yet if he was being ethical about it he couldn’t be. If someone was to vilify for this whole fiasco it has to be him. He had shoved you away. Nicole wasn’t his best friend, fuck this.

“Are you having a good time?”, a voice from next to him asks and Noel simply nods. In reality, all he wanted to do was cry. Something was missing, and that something was you.

[arcanahangedman]

it fascinates me how the only hate i see for jundori is entirely projection and bad faith interpretation

chidori can be her own three-dimensional character, a homeless orphan abducted by evil corporate overlords for human experimentation, who grows up too fast and has to learn to fend for herself alongside other victims of this abuse, whose love of art and nature contrasts with her apathy to life and suicidal ideation

While. also. being a child who never got the chance for wider socialisation, bewildered by this weird guy’s interest in her art and his insistence on keeping an eye on her (bc she literally fucking c*ts herself in public and is then hospitalised) but his sheer compassion grows on her. someone called their relationship stockholm syndrome and ooooh my goooood Do u even know what that means.

junpei is a 17 year old kid. as a member of sees, he (like the rest of the group) has no idea what’s going on with the kirijo group or their operations, nor does he hold any power over their choice to hospitalise chidori. also she is there bc SHE LITERALLY SELF H*RMS LIKE ARE U DUMB

to act as if junpei is some sort of scheming villain that supports and is responsible for chidori being held hostage instead of being a scared kid, apart of an organisation he is kept entirely in the dark about, concerned about the safety of this other person his age who goes around assassinating ppl and c*tting herself…genuinely u could not think of a more disingenous interpretation of his character if u tried

i saw someone say that chidori is portrayed by fandom as junpei’s “no-panties mommy housewife” (almost that exact wording) and it’s like. What Are You Talking About No She Isn’t. She Is 16 Why The Fuck Would You Even Suggest That Or Word It That Way You Freak

it’s extremely bizarre to write off a ship bc u choose to engage with the cishet male incel side of the persona fanbase and view it through their perspective. like what does that have to do with their actual depiction in the game or ur average tumblr jundori enjoyer.

if u have issues with the power imbalance between the two of them, sure, it’s understandable. junpei is not the one being held against his will and chidori repeatedly protests staying in the hospital (i must stress that i, for one, do not think it wise to leave a minor who consistently self-h*rms without supervision :p) but the presence of a power imbalance does not automatically equal an abusive misuse of that imbalance

last note: ppl like to bring up junpei’s weirdo behaviour towards the other female cast members. i’m not going to treat this as insignificant but it’s also not particularly relevant unless ur arguing that junpei is seeking to control, perv on, or abuse chidori. Which he isn’t lol like he literally just wants to talk to her, stop her from c*tting herself, and show her that she can have a life outside of living on the streets and assassinating ppl with her merry band of men. the worst u could call him is naive (again. he’s 17.) but yeah he’s soooo controlling and abusive, guys !!

i’m not over here saying everyone has to like or support jundori, or either character. everyone has their preferences and idgaf about urs. but it would be sooooo great if we didn’t act as if one of these two children, both mistreated and left in the dark by evil corporate overlords, is actually a subservient overlord pawn who manipulates chidori so he can ?? keep her company when she’s alone and ask her about her feelings ????

anyway this isn’t supposed to be some epic final anti-jundori takedown so if u wanna discuss further, dm me. i don’t want no smoke just bc i think u ppl are genuinely weird 🩷

conclusion: i’m thinking about how that one persona ships poll had a 90% positive response to jundori so like Boom jundori sweep

[marvelslut16]

Plus One

Prompt number: 11 "Well that worked out great

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Robin Buckley x reader (modern au)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Swearing probably. Homophobia. Hints of internalized homophobia. My bad writing. A rushed ending, I fear.

A/N: heh like pretty much everything I write this is loosely based off an experience I had. I came out to my cousin when I was 14 and was dating my ex girlfriend. She repeatedly asked me if I was sure I wanted to be with a girl and told me that I was just confused. She got engaged right before I started working on this, so it was cathartic to write, and it's been sitting in my wip's ever since so I figured I would finish it.

The invitation you received in the mail came as a surprise to you, and you’ve been livid in the moments since opening it. Your cousin Leslie, who is a few years older than you, is getting married, and you’d be happier for her if she wasn’t marrying her long time friend Adriana. Rereading the invitation for what feels like the one hundredth time, you’re hit with a painful flashback to highschool when you actually trusted Leslie. Trusted her so much that you came out to her. 

“Les, can I tell you something?” you fiddle with the strap of your purse as you await her response.  

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” her eyes widen and flick down to your stomach. 

“No, but now I’m getting rid of this shirt,” you sigh, flicking the hem of your brand new top. “It’s nothing like that, I just want to talk to someone about my crush. I’m too nervous to tell Robin or Steve about it, I’m not sure if they’ll support it.”

“Well who is he then?” Leslie perks up, excited that you’re actually getting out there. 

“She,” you whisper. You trust your cousin Leslie more than pretty much anyone else in your life, you’ve always felt comfortable opening up to her, the only person in your family you trust enough. “She’s drop dead gorgeous, she’s a little weird, and she-”

“It’s a girl?’ Leslie cuts you off, and that’s when you notice her expression. It’s somewhere between confusion and...disgust? “I thought you used to like Steve.”

“Yeah, in like third grade,” you laugh awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to rewind time to before you ever started this conversation. “Every girl did, and I only said I liked him to fit in.”

“(Y/N/N), let’s not be rash, you don’t really like this girl,” she puts her hand up to stop you when you open your mouth to defend yourself and your feelings. “I know you (Y/N), you love guys, you’re just confused.”

No matter how hard you tried to convince Leslie that night that you’re interested in girls, she wouldn’t accept it. From that day on you no longer trusted her, nor did you voluntarily talk to her nor her boyfriend of over five years, and he was practically your cousin at that point too. But what you do do, is push down your feelings for girls for years, and you date Eddie up until graduation even though you don’t have any interest in him, just to be normal.

“What’s wrong honey?” Robin’s voice drips of concern when she notices that you’re near tears staring down at a letter. All the hurt and anger you felt for and from Leslie for years comes rushing to the surface in the form of tears. 

You don’t know how to respond, your brain can’t seem to formulate any words at the moment, so you thrust the invitation into Robin’s hand. The confusion is so clearly written on her face, she can’t figure out why a simple wedding invitation can bring you, someone who hasn’t really shown vulnerable emotions in years, close to tears. 

“Your cousin, right?” Robin met her once years ago at a birthday party you had, back when you were young and you thought it was normal to want to marry your female best friend one day. “Do you not like her girlfriend or something?” 

“Yeah, I don’t like that she’s a girl,” your brain is going a mile a minute, and the look of hurt that crosses Robin’s face is proof that your mouth is working faster than your brain. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

“Yeah,” the brunette crosses her arms and takes a step back. “It came out homophobic.”

“She’s the reason I’m still in the closet,” you blurt out while tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “And now she’s marrying her best friend like it’s nothing, that what she said to me was nothing.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“I’m a lesbian, Robin, the only other person I’ve told was Leslie. She belittled me, she acted like I didn’t know what I was feeling, she made me feel like something was wrong with me. She spent hours telling me I was confused, and that I was really into boys. She pushed me back into the closet. She’s the reason I ever dated Eddie!”

“You like girls?” Robin asks again like she’s short circuiting at the information. 

“Yes! I don’t see why this is such a big deal to you, you’re the one that went out with two different women this month,” your angry tears are really starting to bubble up and you’re scared that you’re going to start sobbing if Robin doesn’t just drop it. 

“It’s just a lot to process,” she defends herself. She’s probably right, it probably is a lot for her to handle, finding out that her best friend is a lesbian just like her, when you had endless opportunities to tell her knowing that she would support you. “I can’t believe you never told me.”

“I’m going to my room,” you huff, spinning on your heels and stomping down the hall towards the bedrooms. Robin tries to catch your arm and keep you in place, but you dodge her hand at the last second and book it to your room. 

Flopping face first on your bed the tears start streaming down your face, you’re confused and that just upsets you more. Obviously, you want to be happy for your cousin and support her in her relationship; but at the same time you’re angry that the entire time she belittled you and made you feel worthless, she liked women too. 

“Honey,” Robin pops her head in your room a few minutes later. “Please talk to me.” She lays down on your bed next to you. 

“And say what?” you turn your head to peek out at her. 

“Let’s start with something simple, when did you know?” She rubs your back soothingly, trying to calm your tears. 

“When I was a kid; I went to a wedding when I was around ten and I started to imagine my wedding one day, and in this fantasy I was marrying a woman.”

“Why did you decide to tell your cousin?” Robin continues her line of questioning. 

“Because I trusted her then,” you shift onto your side and hide your face in Robin’s shoulder. “And I was pretty much in love with someone back then and I wanted to talk about it and I had no one to talk to, because you were still in the closet then and I was scared that you would judge me, or be disgusted by me, or hate me. I just wanted to get it all off my chest and ask for advice, but all I got was judgment from my cousin that was supposed to love me. We were close back then, and she ruined it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Robin wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you close when you start to pull away at the question. 

“Because I was scared, I didn’t know how to let someone in like I tried with Leslie. She was so disgusted that I felt disgusted with who I am. But, God, Robin, I’ve been keeping it in for so long. It hurt so much.”

“Oh honey,” she runs her hand over your hair, and you lay in her arms crying for what feels like hours. 

“Your invitation says you get a plus one,” Robin breaks the silence an hour and a half later. You lift your head from its place on her chest to make squinty confused eye contact. 

“Yeeeessss?” you’re trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

“I’ll go as your plus one,” she says like it’s the most obvious answer. “We can pretend that we’re dating and happy and stick it to her. Once she sees you happily with a woman I think you’ll probably feel better and be able to get over how she made you feel. You’ll be able to be authentically you once you do this.”

“You might be right,” you cuddle into Robin’s side again, clinging onto her. You may not be fake dating her yet, but you’ll enjoy any close proximity that you can until the wedding is over.

The next few months come and go with you and Robin coming up with things to say and little touches that you can do at the wedding to get Leslie to notice that you’re more than just friends. And you’ll admit to yourself, and only yourself, that you like all of the practicing of the touches. 

“Is that Robin?” Leslie asks at her reception, shocked that the little lanky brunette that followed you around when you were a kid is all grown up.

“Yeah it is,” you smile at Robin, casually entwining your fingers with hers. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your brain knows this was part of the plan, but your heart isn’t on the same page. 

“You guys are together?” Leslie asks slowly, like it’s the hardest thing for her to fathom. 

“We are,” Robin speaks up, lifting your entwined hands to her lips and delicately places a kiss on yours. Gone is the anxious timid girl, and in her place is this confident woman who's smirking at you. 

“Sharing an apartment made us realize that there was more here than just our friendship.” you give Robin a sly once over, once again appreciating how she looks in her pantsuit. 

You can see Leslie’s face twist, you aren’t close enough to her anymore to understand what the look means. But you do know that it doesn’t seem positive. Luckily, you’re saved by Leslie’s new wife calling her over to see her new in-laws.

Four hours and just as many drinks later, you're going back up to the bar to grab your fifth when Leslie corners you.

“Why are you with Robin?” Leslie asks, pulling you into a literal corner. 

“Why not?” you glare back at her, not understanding why she keeps this fucking going. 

“Why are you dating a woman?” she asks again, ironically sounding more and more homophobic with every interaction, at her own lesbian wedding.

“Why am I dating a woman? Because I’m a lesbian. Why am I with Robin? Because I’ve been in love with her since we were kids, Leslie!” You whisper shout, not wanting to draw attention from your family. “I tried telling you that years ago, and you shamed me. This is your wedding, you’re supposed to be celebrating your love, not trying to argue with me about my sexuality again.”

“Are you okay?” Robin asks, coming up next to you and wrapping her arm around your waist, glaring at Leslie.  

“We’re fine,” you turn in her hold, and wrap your arms around her neck. “I was just about to come find you and see if you wanted to dance.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” with one last glare at Leslie, Robin yanks you to the center of the busy dance floor. 

You’re holding each other close and swaying to the music, it feels like a dream. If only you had just become Mrs. Buckley, then it would be just like the dream you had when you were ten. 

“So you’ve been in love with me for years?” she finally whispers, you had hoped that she hadn’t heard that. 

“Maybe,” you whisper, not daring to pull away from her and look at her face. So long as you don’t look at her, you can imagine that she’s happy about this revelation. 

“Well I hope you have been, and still are, because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” This time you do pull away, you want to see the sincerity on her face, want to know in your heart and soul that she really means it. “Living with you has been torture! You’re always running around in those oversized tees and those skimpy little shorts that are practically just underwear. It’s been next to impossible not to do anything.”  

“Maybe I wanted you to take notice and do something,” You giggle. 

And do something she does, she pulls you in for a heated kiss. Your teeth clack with how fast she pulls you in, but you can’t be bothered to care. In fact, you realize it’s a perfect first kiss, so much pent up emotion and feelings that you can’t be apart for one second longer. Pain and consequences be damned, you’ve finally got your girl. 

“Well, that worked out great, I should have fake dated you sooner,” a breathless Robin mutters, and you can’t help but giggle at her reaction to your first kiss. She starts laughing too, and you can’t wait anymore and pull her into another kiss. 

[elizabethemerald]

Gala Daze DPxDC

AO3

“What a great idea Vladdie!” 

“I don’t know Jack…” 

“Oh I assure you, my dear Maddie that Daniel will be perfectly safe with me. I won’t let him out of my sight for a moment.” 

“Come on Maddie, it would be a perfect opportunity for our Danno to bump elbows with some rich bigwigs!” 

“Well maybe he can talk to them about getting some funding for ghost extermination. Very well Vlad. You can take Danny to Gotham.”

Danny was disassociating. While not entirely a new state of being, a dissociative episode had never lasted this long for him. He had been fully checked out from his body ever since the flight from Amity Park to Gotham. He had been thinking about turning intangible and just letting the plane fly through him so he could go home, when Vlad had leaned over to him to whisper in his ear. Vlad said if Danny stepped even one toe out of line, or did anything to embarrass him, Vlad would overshadow as many people as it took to ensure that Jazz was turned down by every college she applied to. He would ruin her entire future if Danny did even one thing wrong. 

Danny had started disassociating after that. 

His parents had done a lot to hurt him and Jazz. Usually the harm the elder Fentons did to their children was either accidental or unknowing. Like when Jazz was sick for days after the Thanksgiving dinner where Dad tried to fry the turkey in ectoplasm or like when they shot Danny when he was out as Phantom. 

However this time there was no excuse for them hurting their kids. If they ever listened to their children they would know that Danny hated Vlad and Jazz didn’t trust him. The kids had said over and over again for years that they didn’t like Vlad, but no! Uncle Vladdie could do no wrong! Danny and Jazz were just making things up for attention. 

Ancients, Danny hoped that he could keep his nose clean for the trip, he didn’t want to be responsible for Jazz having to give up her dreams of getting into an Ivy League school. He had lost huge swaths of time. He barely remembered leaving the airport and the next time he was cognizant they were heading to the gala in the tailored suits Vlad had ordered. 

Fortunately Vlad loved nothing more than the sound of his own voice, not even Danny or his mom. So he was more than happy to talk to the people around them about Danny and any time someone asked Danny a question he would be the one to answer instead. Vlad kept his hand either on Danny’s shoulder or on the back of his neck at all times so he couldn’t even slip away. 

Now he was talking to some rich fruitloop who kept trying to engage Danny in conversation. Brucie? Wait? Bruce Wayne? Yeah the guy was rich but why would Vlad go out of his way to introduce Danny to this airhead? 

“Well, yes, my son Damian does have many interests, but I can’t say that any of them have to do with NASA's latest satellite.” Mr. Wayne was saying in response to something Vlad had said. Ah. That made sense. Vlad wanted to brag, shove his superiority into Mr. Wayne’s face. Brucie turned to address Danny. “Tell me Daniel, what do you know about NASA's deep space satellite?”

“Uh, I prefer Danny actually, Mr. Wayne.” Danny said. Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows rose marginally considering those were his first words during this conversation. “And I-”

“Yes, Daniel really is attached to that childish nickname, isn’t he?” Vlad spoke up again. “Really Brucie, you would think children would grow up at some point. We should discuss this more over a game of golf next week…”

Danny let Vlad’s words wash over him again. The worst thing about Vlad was he really knew how to push Danny’s buttons. Of course he would bring up the new satellite only to show off to his rich rival, then not even let Danny talk about it. And then insulting him for his name! Prick!

He tried to avoid looking at Brucie’s concerned face. Obviously he was a socialite and knew all about the proper behavior for galas, and Vlad probably wasn’t meeting those social rules. There was a small part of Danny’s chaos-gremlin brain that wanted to say something seemingly innocuous but super sus if you thought about it. Nothing would make Danny happier than getting Vlad investigated for something stupid like tax fraud, but he couldn’t risk Jazz’s career just for spite. Or gremlin urges. 

Vlad moved his hand from Danny’s shoulder down to his lower back. Danny did everything he could to keep the snarl he wanted to make at that action from coming out. He still couldn’t help the full body shudder that shook his frame for a fraction of a second. Vlad shot him a look filled with malice and promised pain so Danny reigned himself back in and put his attention firmly on the floor in front of him. 

Danny clenched his fists, driving his nails into his own palms. He was sure he was bleeding, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t do anything. He hated feeling powerless. You would think that after the portal accident and him gaining actual real powers the feeling would be far more rare, except it happens far too often and he hated it. His hands were shaking with rage and suppressed desire to punch Vlad right in his smug, manipulative, fruit-loop face. 

He chanced a glance up just in time to see a girl melt out of the shadows near the wall. If he didn’t know better he would say she was a ghost with how easily she was able to appear. But she definitely wasn’t a ghost. Perhaps a touch liminal, but not a ghost. And she was watching him. 

Danny tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her and she tilted her head to match. Her eyes flicked to the two adults for only a fraction of a second to confirm they were still engaged in whatever conversation they were having, then her hand came up and she signed for letters in what Danny recognized as ASL. 

“R U O K.” 

She merely looked the question at him. He risked a peak at Vlad, but he was focused on trying to strong arm Brucie into meeting for a golf match and some private drinks. Other than his thumb rubbing circles into the small of Danny’s back he wasn’t paying any attention to him. Danny looked back at the girl who was watching him intently. He gave the smallest shake of his head he could, hoping that Vlad wouldn’t notice. The girl nodded and slipped effortlessly back into the shadows, all but disappearing from view. 

Several more minutes went by of mindless conversation with Mr. Wayne seemingly had given up on trying to get Danny to answer questions. He let his mind drift again to his beloved stars as he began naming the stars in biggest constellations visible in the night sky. 

For a while Danny thought that nothing would come of the mystery girl who had checked on him, until a crash echoed across the hall from the entrance of the gala hall. Vlad finally released Danny’s shoulder to whirl to face the noise. Then to his surprise, Mr. Wayne turned as well to put himself in between Danny and the crash, effectively hiding him from Vlad. At first he thought that was just serial adopter Brucie Wayne’s first gut instinct in a crisis, putting his body between a threat and the nearest black haired kid. 

However, immediately after Mr. Wayne stepped in front of him, two kids appeared out of the crowd, grabbed Danny’s shoulders and started to drag him away. He recognized the asian girl who had signed to him, and the other was, even more surprisingly, Damian Freaking Wayne! That meant that the other girl must be Cassandra Wayne! Sam had made sure Danny knew all the Waynes before the topic of the gala had even come up. Apparently the Waynes were the only people who made the events her parents dragged her to worth it. 

Damian and Cassandra maneuvered through the crowd so effortlessly Danny had to take a moment to check if they were using intangibility. The trio weaved through as the noise behind them got even louder until they pulled him into a back room of the hall where a very tired looking Timothy Drake-Wayne was already there on his laptop. He looked up at Danny in confusion for a second before returning his attention to the computer in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, that noise was just the chandelier in the entrance hall falling. Apparently it couldn’t take Dick’s weight.” Timothy, actual real CEO of Wayne enterprises said. Tucker would be losing his mind right now. 

Cassandra settled Danny into a chair while Damian marched up to Timothy. Danny could finally take a moment to look properly at the Waynes. All three of them wore elegant, likely name brand suits. Timothy was wearing a plain white shirt under his suit jacket while Cassandra and Damian wore black on black suits, though Damian’s did have some green highlights at the lapels and pockets. Timothy looked like his eye bags had eye bags, which Danny could relate to. 

“Father ordered you not to work for the night of the Gala.” Damian snapped. When Timothy didn’t dignify that with a response the youngest Wayne turned back to face Danny. “Vladimir Masters escorted you to the gala tonight.” 

Danny couldn’t help but snort. 

“What a polite way of phrasing that.” He said with a dark chuckle. 

“Would it be more accurate to call you his hostage?” Timothy asked from his chair, where he was still focusing on his computer screen and whatever it was he was working on. 

That brought Danny up short. He tried to stutter out a denial, but Damian quickly spoke over him. 

“Has he hurt you? Threatened you or someone you care about?” Damian demanded. 

“N-no!  He would never lay a finger on me!” Danny was quick to say, trying to project as much confidence as possible. Cassandra moved her flat hand in line across her face. Damian glanced at her and his eyes narrowed at Danny. 

“You don’t have to lie to protect him. We can protect you, our family has resources.” 

Danny shook his head over and over again. 

“I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it.” He had to repeat himself, the phrase trapping themselves in his mind as he kept saying it over and over again. 

If he told them what Vlad had done to him, Vlad would ruin Jazz’s entire life. He already regularly tried to kill his father, but there was no telling what he would do to Jazz. Danny couldn’t tell them about being thrown into walls during his fights with Plasimus, or the clones Danny had watched melt in his arms under Vlad’s uncaring eye. He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

While he was panicking, Damian had withdrawn, visibly uncertain about how best to approach him. Cassandra and Timothy had come closer, Cassandra had her hand on his shoulder providing a calm, steadying presence. Timothy had closed his laptop and scooted forward his attention now fully on Danny. He made some motion to the others that seemed to symbolize that he was going to be taking point. 

“You’re not from Gotham originally, is that right?” When Danny nodded he continued. “We have some heroes here in Gotham. Believe it or not, we Waynes get kidnapped a lot, get rescued a lot. We know some of the Bats, they could help you.” 

Danny was already shaking his head again. 

“No, no no! That’s even worse. The worst thing that can happen if you Waynes help me is Brucie gives Vlad WE for pennies on the dollar and Vlad gets even richer. But if you get Batman involved, then he could have a man inside the JL. He could turn them against the people, use them as a tool to take over whatever he wants. He could overthrow the Ghost King…”

Now Danny was really panicking. He had muttered the last bit, terror carving its way through him. It would be like the absolute worst of the fight with Pariah Dark and Dan all over again. Danny would have to fight, and maybe kill the Justice League to stop him. If he won, he would have to eradicate Earth’s heroes, and if he lost Vlad would become King of the Infinite Realms. 

“You are talking about mind control.” Damian said, his eyes wide.

“No! Not mind control. Overshadowing. Humans call it possession.” Danny was rambling now. Desperately trying to convince these silly rich people not to get involved. Danny was a lost cause, he couldn’t be helped. All he could do was keep his head down long enough for Jazz to get into her college of choice. The Waynes glanced at each other nervously for a moment and Damian pulled his phone from his pocket. 

“I think I need to make a call.” 

Danny snapped his head up, his attention on the far wall as his breath came out in a foggy puff, like he had just walked into a freezer. He didn't know it but his eyes were blazing green at that moment. 

“It’s too late now.” 

The Waynes all step back or slouch against their chairs. Only a second later the door to their room snaps open, Vlad furious, his once spotless suit now covered in red wine and assorted finger foods. His eyes burned red with rage as he locked onto Danny. Timothy immediately stood to his feet. 

“Ah, Mr. Masters.” Vlad pulled himself back from his rage with difficulty to acknowledge the young CEO. “We were just coming out to look for you. Your ward was grabbed by our security team. Small case of mistaken identity. It's standard procedure during these sorts of events to get my brothers and sister to safety in the event of another terrorist attack. Or worse a Joker attack. Thankfully it seems everything is under control. You may take your charge now.” 

Timothy brushed past Vlad without another comment. Damian glared at him, but he glared at everyone, while Cassandra just stared at Vlad, unblinking, like some kind of demonic cat. Her complete lack of reaction obviously weirded Vlad out even more than Damian’s aggression. 

“Oh I’ll do that.” He grabbed Danny’s arm hard enough to bruise. “Come Daniel. We’re leaving.” 

Danny turned away from the Waynes as he was dragged out the door. He didn’t want to face their pity. At least he did a good enough job convincing them that they can’t help him. Now he just had to last long enough to get back home again. He let himself checkout, ignoring Vlad’s crushing grip on his arm as he dragged from the gala and back to the hotel. 

When Danny next checked in with his body it was to Vlad screaming in his face and burning pain in his body. In Vlad’s furious race out of the Gala after his humiliation he had pulled Danny’s arm out of his socket. And to emphasize his points Vlad would hit him with ecto fire, each hit destroying more of his once nice suit and leaving burns on his body. 

“You think you can just toy with me in front of these richest elite? I will make your life hell! I will make your sister’s life hell! She’ll be lucky to make a living on the street corners of a shit hole like this!” He gestured out to the window, which Danny belatedly realized was open. “I just don’t understand why you make me do this to you, Daniel. Little Badger, you are forcing my hand and I-”

He shrieked as a batarang whipped from the open window. The lights in the hotel room flickered for a second and Batman, Robin and Orphan were standing in the room when the lights returned. Vlad turned to them, furious that they would interrupt. 

“Vladimir Masters. We have some questions for you.” Batman growled. 

“No! I think you’ll find Batman, that I have some questions for you!” Vlad’s eyes flared red. Danny tried to stop him but he was backhanded away

Vlad floated into the air as his ghost transformation rolled over his body. He reached out to grab Batman but before he could several things happened at once. First and most shockingly, Robin drew a katana and cut off Plasmius’ hand at the wrist. Then several voices shouted out at once.

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

“Dnib siht tirips ot sti ydob!” 

“Puer iste spiritus maxime!”

Chains of gold, purple and blazing fire wrapped around Plasmius again and again. The chains dragged him down to the ground even as he snarled and swore at them. A man in a trench coat, a woman in a long black cloak and an actual stage magician appeared in the room, magic sparking at their fingertips. Cassandra had bypassed the battle completely to come to Danny's side, though she did still have her weapons in her hands. Batman turned to address him, ignoring Vlad’s continued vitriol in the middle of the arcane trap. 

“You’re safe now Danny. You don’t have to worry about him hurting you ever again. This I swear.” Batman said, his voice just as serious as it ever was, and for the first time in his life, Danny felt like he could actually believe it when someone told him he was safe. He collapsed to his knees, shuddering sobs shaking his body. He was safe, Jazz was safe from Vlad’s machinations. Maybe this nightmare could finally be over. 

[katerinaaqu]

👉👈 saw the posts about the ages in the odyssey/iliad

And was wondering do we know how much time (roughly) passed between the suitors of helen made the oath and the start of the trojan war?

Aka how old was Odysseus when he suggested the idea with the Oath and got at the very least engaged with Penelope

Hello Hello! Thank you so much for the question and I am sorry if it is long!

As you know I estimated Odysseus's age in my analysis to be around his mid-30s at the beginning of the war, mid to final 40s at the events of the Iliad till the end of the war and in his mid to final 50s when he returns home to Ithaca. That being said he is one of the oldest kings around probably (although the others of the same age group are most likely close enough)

Time line is not cut clean of course given the many different sources that exist. Apollodorous has a very extended timeline. I believe he got inspired by local traditions but also the phrase that Helen uses at Iliad that she has been "20 years there" which most likely is a euphemism to say "I've been here too long". He has a very extensive timeline that makes the heroes have two gatherings that are a decade apart but I think that is way too outstretched of a timeline so I go with the more simple one at least as far as Homer is concerned with one gathering at Aulis (or even if there was anoter gathering not it being like 10 years apart, that makes the timeline too extensive). I believe there is a general agreement though in the sources that roughly a decade passes from the Oath of Tyndareus till Paris's arrival to Sparta and Helen going with him to Troy. There are some sources that say they spent around a year roaming about in a sort of honeymoon where they consumate their marriage. So I should say around a decade passes from the Oath of Tyndareus till the moment the war breaks out. Maybe with one or two years of difference for the preparation.

Now that second part is interesting. There isn't much to suggest on the maritable ages of the Mycenaean times but during classical Athens the ideal age for marriage for men was considered 30 and for women around 16. I am using this as a guideline but I believe that the ages of mid-20s was a reasonable age for someone at the bronze age to consider marriage. By some accounts Odysseus wasn't even entirely bothered to bring gifts to Helen because he wasn't convinced he had chances with her. That being said that must have been beyond his appearance or his wealth. My estimation would be his age too if let's say he had to compete against Menelaus or Aias/Ajax who were both quite younger than what he was (particularly Ajax)

My estimation is that he was in his mid-final 20s (somewhere between 26 and 28 or 29). Penelope, by my logic, should have been at least a decade younger in order for her 20 years later to still be considered for marriage and having children so obviously she wasn't his age otherwise she would be in her 50s in the Odyssey and even by modern day standards women are not particularly fertile if at all in their 50s. So my estimation is that she must be tops in her mid-40s in the Odyssey making her anywhere between the ages of 16 to 19 when she meets Odysseus. That is even further backed up by the fact that Agamemnon says that he left Penelope a "young bride' (νύμφην και νέην) which is translated both as "newlyweds" or "young wife" implying that Penelope was considered a young woman when she married.

Now I am not sure how much we can assume on engagements in Bronze Age unless it was two kids from families promised to each other. In fact sources like Pausanias speak on how Icarius tries to stop Penelope and Odysseus returning to Ithaca because he wanted Odysseus to remain to Laconia. Odysseus gives Penelope the choice to continue their marriage or stay with her father, implying they were already married by that time he traveled to Sparta.

So yup I believe he was in his mid or final 20s so that around 10 years later he is forced to join the Trojan War in his 30s, finishes by his 40s and finally returns home in his 50s I hope this helps or makes sense to you ^_^

[hottiehiei]

- Slow burn romance with Hiei PART TWO

After months of mutual attraction, Hiei will ultimately confess— out of anger.

gender neutral. sfw. fluff. angst. (also, cliff hanger bc i literally blanked)

PART 1 is not required for this, but I highly recommend reading for more fluff ! <3

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𓆩⟡𓆪 After Hiei finally realizes he is utterly smitten, he finds himself stuck in a weird predicament. He's kind of like, "Okay, what now?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 At times, he often wonders why you aren’t intimidated by his cold demeanor. What did you see in him that others didn’t? Or rather, what did he see in you that made him so attached? Trying to put all the pieces together only made him think of you more, and he can’t seem to come up with any sensible answers. It was an insufferable cycle.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Most people would give up and accept their fate. Not Hiei. He won’t welcome these feelings with open arms. No, he’d rather fight and conquer!

𓆩⟡𓆪 But….every time you greet him with a smile or wave him goodbye, he feels content. Such an ordinary interaction would make his sour mood disappear. It didn’t matter if he remained silent in response. You were persistent, unmoved by his rudeness. Were you able to tell that he actually liked the attention? He hoped not.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei naturally gravitates towards you, oddly feeling the need to stay close. His Jagan Eye can easily keep track of your whereabouts, but he prefers close proximity. He basks in the feeling of your body heat. Dare he say it was therapeutic. With little effort, he is in tune with every part of you.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Whenever you’re engaged in conversation, he picks up little details of your daily life (another perk of staying close by). Don’t be too flattered, though. He’s still searching for something that’ll make him dislike you, even if he fails every time.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei is a wild card. Just as you begin to think he feels nothing for you, he does something unexpected. One night, you accidentally found yourself separated from the group while on a mission. It was rather chilly, and you were shivering from the harsh winds. Hiei randomly showed up beside you, tossing his cloak over your head. “I can hear your teeth chattering from miles away. Don’t you humans know how to check the weather?”

𓆩⟡𓆪 No matter how unconcerned he appears to be, Hiei is always watching out for you. With his fast reflexes, he prevents you from losing your balance before you can even stumble over your feet or bump into something. He usually grabs your forearm or sleeve to stabilize you. The physical contact sends sparks between you two, but neither of you comment on it. His hand feels strangely warm after touching you. He can’t even bring himself to tease or scold you for nearly falling.

𓆩⟡𓆪 As mentioned, Hiei can be unpredictable. The romantic pinning is stronger than ever, but he’s still annoyed by it. For someone who has never experienced love before, he is taking it pretty hard. His feelings have festered to the point of frustration, and he feels vulnerable.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Hiei is so fed up with the back and forth that he ultimately decides to ignore you for good. Out of nowhere, he started acting like you didn’t exist. He put zero effort into holding a conversation, and sometimes, he was just plain rude, telling you to go away or walking right past you.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Kurama notices the awkward tension and tries to bring it up, but Hiei dismisses his concerns immediately. He figured that if he kept his distance, he would eventually forget about you. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. Acknowledging his feelings would make them real, and that’s the last thing he wanted.

𓆩⟡𓆪 While Hiei did all of this to protect himself, you’re left hurt by the abrupt change. He treats most people rudely, but you thought he at least tolerated you to some extent. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to spare you a passing glance. You decided to confront him one day when you two were conveniently left alone (thank Kurama)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Initially, he was hostile, glaring at your figure. “If you truly believe there’s something between us, you’re sadly mistaken.” His words cut deep. He never spoke to you so harshly, but he sounded completely serious.

𓆩⟡𓆪 When you mentioned how much pain he caused you, it surprised him. He assumed he loved you far more than you could ever love him. But as you continued to vent, voice cracking and tears spilling, Hiei was incredibly confused. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you. He simply wanted to detach himself from you and return to his normal ways.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Witnessing your break down caused him to snap. He couldn't hold back his emotions any longer, and everything came out at once.

“You think I wanted to fall for you, a foolish human who can’t even tell when someone cares for them?”

“Your face is constantly invading my thoughts. I can’t even focus on anything else, but you’re the one crying? Ridiculous.”

“Just being away from you torments me. You couldn’t possibly understand. I’m doing this for my own sake.”

“Stop looking at me like that…”

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extra:

Even after this intense confession, Hiei still avoids you like the plague.