#and hashing it out and laughing about it and calling them up to say “hey you wanna watch x with some popcorn like we used to??”

[kindlythevoid]

I think one of my favorite things about cool-spy-action movie franchises is that, like, yeah, they’re kind of crappy on the surface and not a lot of people have interesting motivations other than the main character and the camera is all shaky and the cool shots come off super cheesy and the one liners are quoted because they’re funny, not thought-provoking and it’s all shoot shoot explosion suspense stealth longing looks “five seconds before it goes off!!!1!!1”

But. Like. They also have at least one great actor giving their all and really neat stunts that people actually did (!!!) and the older ones have more physical effects than digital and the newer ones have more complex characters and they give you something to root for or a mystery to solve and there are fun interactions that are sometimes silly for the heck of it because not everything has to be grimdarkseriousgrrr and they’ll parallel something so neatly it’s breathtaking and it’s all nostalgia investment mirroring heartbeats morality “I know we’re fighting/about to die but I need you to know that I love you (romantically/platonically/familial)!!!”

Like. They can be both and they should be both and that is the inherent draw of the Action Movie so that the first time you watch it you can turn off your brain and enjoy the quips and the stunts and the creativity that went into the movie but then you can watch it again and again and again to notice the hints towards the twist and how the villain and the hero have the same motivation that their character (not archetype) changes the ends of and feel the same rush of sweet nostalgia of watching something familiar.

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

NO WAY IN HELL ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

| percy jackson x popstar au

| au masterlist ☽

warnings: swearing and i think thats just about it!

a/n: i return from the actual dead guys. live has been hectic as hell recently so im staying up late so i can get the part out to you!! its like 12am when im posting this so delusion is feeding me here

lia and riley crowd around you as you recount for the millionth time what happened at the rooftop party.

they've been at you all week asking what happened - it definitely didn't help when that stupid gossip account posted about it. so now you face the downfall of trying to be a decent human being.

clearly it worked out oh so well and everything is perfectly fine.

you've been drained all week working out a few details for your upcoming shows, going to the gym every day to stay in shape for said shows, dealing with lia and riley, the pile of emails and work related things you should probably answer but haven't gotten around to yet.

honestly all you want to do is curl up into bed and sleep.

a nap would be really good right now.

instead you're stuck here with lia pestering you about the whole rooftop ordeal.

"oh my gosh, we've been over this, as i said the last time you asked - which by the way was," you check your watch. "thirty minutes ago. i said hello, we stood there awkwardly for about six minutes i asked how his day was he said decent, he asked me how my day was, i said decent, i randomly blurted out that the stars were pretty and then proceeded to complain about the party, then said i was going home. end of goddamn fucking story."

riley just laughs at your frustration and lia grins sheepishly at you.

"im sorry, please let me stay here tonight."

shaking your head you get up off the couch to start making dinner. your phone starts blaring as you do and lia picks it up and launches it across the room. "its stacey." she says as you catch it.

"hey, stacey what's up?" you ask your assistant/ agent. she does a lot of shit for you honestly, its hard to keep up with what she does.

"i just got a call from someone on percy jackson's marketing team-" you drop the onion you were holding. "and they want to schedule a meeting with you sometime this week." the silence is loud.

"why?" you croak out

"they want to discuss the rumours going around." fucking finally you hiss internally.

"okay...."

"okay you'll do it? or okay you want to tell them where to shove their discussions?" stacey asks skeptically, having worked with you long enough to know your tones.

sighing you answer her, "okay i'll do it, but i want riley and lia there with me."

"of course," stacey replies likely jotting this down.

"and for the love of god not in a public space."

you hash out some more details and hang up turning to face to very eager eavesdroppers, "what do you want us for?" lia asks.

letting out another sigh, "guess who's meeting us this week?"

☾. ⋅

percyjackson

liked by underovergrover, chris.rodriguez, lukecastellan, the.annabethchase, lia.mandel, rileywest and 923, 872 others

percyjackson i won both games btw

view all comments

underovergrover only cause you cheated!

percyjackson don't be bitter because i won

underovergrover fucker

user1 these little bits of his life only make him more hot oml

user2 i so wanna know if y/n was there

user3 no cause real??? i wanna know if us percy/n shippers have a chance

user4 im in love with him holy

user5 Y/N'S FRIENDS LIKED THE POST AGAIN AHHHHHH

user6 oml i ship them so hard i need to know if they're dating

☾. ⋅

percy was pissed.

ok that's an understatement. he was- is livid.

he had only agreed to this stupid meeting because he managers had suggested to him it might be good to clear the air. what he wasn't expecting was y/n to agree, let alone agree with a list of fucking demands.

and not only did she come with demands she shows up thirty minutes late with her friends in tow.

what. the. fuck?

once she settles in her agent leans froward and addresses percy's team as if y/n is incapable to do so.

"hello there everyone, how are you all doing today?"

percy's manager reply's out of curtesy before getting right down to business. "ok, i'd like to start by introducing myself, y/n i'm lauren i'm percy's manager and i organised this meeting because of the rumours i'm sure you've heard all about."

y/n nods. "yes i've heard of them."

"good because my team and yours have come up with a few ways to deal with the rumours." she place's a her hands on the table and leans forward when she talks. "the first and most obvious is for both of you to post an announcement that you aren't dating, but are simply friends and or acquaintances." you both nod at that. "the second option is to address the rumours via getting into another relationship - but obviously since you're both single right now its a poor decision." she takes a deep breath and flicks her eyes over to y/n's managers. "and the third and mine and stacey's most favoured one is that you.... fake date."

the silence the follows is deafening.

percy practically leaps out of his chair. "what the hell?"

"no fucking way-" y/n says at the same time.

"you've got to be kidding me," you both say at he same time you eyes shooting up to meet, stacey's and lauren's hidden smiles don't help the situation either.

"obviously if you don't feel comfortable doing that we understand," stacey says calmly.

"but if you are okay with that we can move forward with that plan... if that's what you wish for."

percy glares at y/n as she gathers her stuff and mutters "no way in hell am i doing that," before storming off.

her friends... lia? and... riley? stand up after her hastily making apologies, "we'll go.. get her, i'm so sorry about that."

stacey obviously knowing that y/n isn't coming back starts to gather all her stuff. "so sorry about all that," she looks at me and then lauren. "we'll have an answer by the end of the week."

☾. ⋅

yn.official

liked by underovergrover, lia.mandel, rileywest, lukecastellan, maisiehpeters, gracieabrams and 1, 489, 326 others

yn.official life's been good 😊

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lia.mandel im so excited to for our dinner tmr night!!

user1 mother posted!!!

user2 percy's friends liking this is my roman empire

user3 ikr i need to know if they're dating

user4 ugh seeing y/n happy make me smile

rileywest coffee with you was fun!!

underovergrover new album maybe??

yn.official maybe 🤭

user5 GROVER COMMENTED??? AND Y/N RESPONDED???? THIS IS NOT A DRILL GUYS.

user6 HOLY FUCK!!!!

☾. ⋅

you pace the room, stacey watches you with lia and riley on the couch as the phone dials.

lauren picks up on the third ring. "hello this is lauren smyth speaking."

"hi lauren, its stacey here. i was just ringing about our answer to your offer," she makes one more glance at you before focusing back on the call. "our answer is...."

TAGLIST‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ [if you're name is white it mean i couldn't tag you]

@lauptimist, @itzmeme, @mariaaaaaahhhh, @paankhaleyaar, @maybxlle,

@lara20aral, @cxp1d, @user-3113s-blog, @pleasingregulus,

@avihashearts4lix, @inlovewithmorales, @brokecollegebitch, @user-3113s-blog, @officiallyalbino

@gloryhaddock, @kozumesphone, @moonlightwonderlan, @starxshining, @taintedrosee [if you want to be added just let me know!]

[cinnbar-bun]

Competition (Jabra x Reader x Lucci)

Summary: Jabra and Lucci are always going at it. After Fukurou's embarrassing gossip, the two decide to have you settle the competition...

In their own, unique, wild way, of course.

Rating: NSFW this is smutty smut smut

Notes: Aggressive sex, Zoan form sex, competition, threesome, spitroasting, rimming, and anal. Reader is AMAB but GN. Lucci and Jabra are aggressive, petty assholes but it's consensual. Some degrading language. Surprisingly soft-ish aftercare and cuddles.

Word Count: ~2.3k

Requested. Thank you for requesting, dear! Please enjoy <3

You can read on my AO3 here!

You strolled into Enies Lobby with everyone’s lunch order. You whistled as you greeted some of the other soldiers and office workers within headquarters until you finally reached the small office where your fellow CP9 officers were sitting. 

“Hey guys, brought lunch,” you say, happily placing their usual orders onto the table. Kaku is the first to thank you and get his food. The other members follow, save for two. 

You look around in confusion as you begin to dig into your food. 

“Where’s Lucci? And Jabra?” You ask, wondering why they aren’t here despite them usually being the biggest sticklers for lunch. 

“Oh, you know, probably hashing it out or something. No need to worry,” Kaku shrugs. 

“Although, today they did seem even more annoying than usual,” Kalifa sighed and shook her head. 

You partially agree with Kaku and Kalifa and are about to continue eating when the door slams open and a stern looking Lucci strolls in with an angry Jabra following behind. 

“You’re just jealous! That’s what it is, you stupid cat!” Jabra yells, a wide smirk on his face as if he had just bested Lucci. 

“What are you yapping about, you dog?” Lucci retorts while he swipes his food and sits on a chair. “You sound utterly ridiculous.” 

Jabra howls with laughter. “Of course! That’s what this whoooole thing is about! You’re just jealous!” 

The rest of you look in confusion between the Lucci and Jabra, unsure of what to even think or say. 

“Um, hey, what’s going on-” 

“Can it, giraffe!” Jabra cuts Kaku off. “I’m dealing with him! He just can’t help it that I’m sexier and better than him!” 

“Didn’t your girlfriend leave you for Lucci?” Fukurou mentions, making Jabra stomp his feet and glare at the round man. 

“Shut up, will ya? She didn’t mean anything! And I dumped her! Not the other way around! She was just so heartbroken she felt she had to go to Lucci!” Jabra screamed, his face red with anger. Lucci barely reacted, continuing to eat, which made Jabra point enthusiastically at Lucci. “See? He’s speechless! Cuz he knows I’m the one that’s a better man!” 

“Does that sort of thing really matter…?” Kaku asked, scratching his cheek as he pondered the conversation. “What do you think, (Y/n)?” 

All eyes turn on you and you shrink into your seat as Jabra and Lucci’s eyes bore into you heavily. You awkwardly laugh and try to figure out the best way to diffuse the situation without exposing yourself too much.

“W-well, I think both have their merits and-” 

“But I’m better than that stupid cat!” “It’s obvious I’m far superior to that whining dog.” 

The two men again furrow their brows at each other before returning to you, wanting you to pick a side. 

“I think you two are both great, and anyone would be lucky to-” 

“(Y/n), duh, they both like you!” Fukurou interrupts, and for a second, the tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Jabra is the first to react, walking over to Fukurou and attempting to choke the life out of him. 

“Why I oughta-!” 

“Get out. Everyone. Get out,” Lucci states, his voice not raising an octave, but still showing his immense rage. The rest of CP9 and you pack up your lunches and hurriedly begin to exit before Lucci calls your name. “You. Stay.” 

You feel like a trained housepet now and sit back down, unsure of what’s gonna happen next. But you know for certain that whatever will happen will most likely be another fight. 

“Great job, Mr. Subtle! You totally proved their points!” Jabra hissed. 

“I don’t give a shit about what they think. If they say anything, then they’ll die, simple as that,” Lucci harshly chides. 

You jump in your seat at this conversation- were these two confirming that they did, in fact, like you? The thought is too much to bear as you watch Jabra and Lucci continue to hash it out. 

“Face it, you just know (Y/n) likes me more!” Jabra cackles, and Lucci removes his hat. “We even slept together!” 

For the second time in under five minutes, your heart nearly stops as Lucci’s eyes snap to you, practically seeing red. 

“N-no, we have not and-” you try to save yourself from Jabra’s lies. 

“Come on, (Y/n), why don’t you go admit it? Tell him I’m better, that you like me more!” Jabra exclaims, while Lucci stands up to go toe to toe with Jabra. 

In some sick, twisted way, you’re enjoying how the two are arguing over your attention. You gawk as they hurl more insults to each other, before they both have the same idea to shift into their Zoan forms. Jabra’s wolf form and Lucci’s leopard form tower over you as they smash their heads together and growl. 

“You better-” Jabra begins before he sniffs the air. He starts to practically drool as he licks his lips. “What’s that smell?” 

Lucci follows right after and sniffs for a brief moment. He freezes and his eyes narrow as he looks at you. “It’s them.” 

You glance around in confusion, unsure what they’re talking about. Jabra’s eyes widen in delight as he nods, finally agreeing with his rival on something. 

“You’re right! It is!” “What do you mean?” You ask nervously, sniffing yourself to make sure you don’t smell bad. You don’t smell anything strange or different, so you look back at them in confusion before Lucci steps closer to you, the beastmen leering at you like predators to a meal. 

“Strip.” 

--

It’s a miracle you’re still alive at this rate. Lucci’s thick member is shoved unceremoniously down your throat as his claws yank at your hair. In between bouts of abusing your throat, he runs his nails through your head, as if petting you and rewarding you for sucking him off so well. His hands alternate between that gentle stroking and petting, to the rough tugging when he feels you’re too slow. 

“Good slut,” he hums proudly at how you’re doing. You can hardly breathe as he bucks his hips faster, but the taste of his slick and the pleasure of being dominated by your two colleagues makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jabra growls jealously and has his claws dig into your round ass. 

“Focus on me, damn it! Else I’ll just skip the foreplay and eat you alive!” He threatens. You pathetically moan in response, while Lucci smirks. 

“Sorry, dog, they’re too busy choking on me,” Lucci’s lips curl up deviously. “It must be so sad to be smaller than me.” 

“Smaller?! I’ll have you know that I’m definitely bigger!” Jabra snarls as he crouches down behind you. “You’re just upset you can’t fuck them first!” 

“Screw you,” Lucci growls. 

“Up yours, cat,” Jabra huffs before he licks his lips then dives into your ass. His tongue swirls around your anus, causing you to jolt at the contact. Jabra chuckles, and Lucci smirks at the bewildered expression on your face. Despite Jabra causing you to feel that, Lucci can’t help but enjoy your flustered face. His mind drifts to the fact they both like you in this position- but like hell he would ever admit that out loud. He pushes it aside and continues to have you suck him off. 

Jabra licks your behind with enthusiasm, his claws digging in between your thighs to spread them apart farther for him. You whine and moan around Lucci’s cock, making the assassin grip your hair tightly and throw his head back. He’d never dare let out a sound to show you that he was actually enjoying this, but in your dazed state, you could hardly notice that. 

It isn’t until a while later that Jabra finally stops teasing you and inserts his tongue into your anus. Your legs and arms wobble at the contact, causing Lucci to yank you by your hair so you could get some support. 

“Enjoying it, dear?” Jabra cooed sadistically. You mumble out a ‘mhm’, but Lucci refuses to let Jabra be praised in his vicinity and thrusts farther into your mouth this time to silence you. Jabra glares. “You asshole.” 

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear your voice when they’re busy with me. I want to actually finish.” 

Jabra removes his mouth from your behind and decides to line his member up to your entrance. 

“Oh yeah? They’ll be too busy enjoying this to care about you!” Jabra states as he enters you. The stretch from his large girth is astounding, making you struggle to breathe as Jabra fills you inside. “Oooh, tight~! Practically sucking me in!”

Jabra leers at Lucci. “Bet you wish you were here, huh?” 

“Shut up,” Lucci snarls. 

Jabra, despite his large form and sadistic tendencies, pumps himself slightly inside you- as if wanting to spare you from a world of pain. “Easy there, dearie, if you tremble so much and keep being so tight, I might just snap you in half!” 

He chuckles as one large hand reaches around you and grips your member, running his thumb up and down your shaft. 

“Don’t worry, you’re a precious meal I’m going to savor~,” he snickers, before he begins to move his hips. 

The wind is knocked out of your lungs as you feel the two beastmen thrust into you wildly. Lucci’s claws are grasping at your hair to guide your mouth, while Jabra pounds into you and strokes your dick with every thrust. 

The pleasure is too much- too much it almost hurts. Lucci looks down at you with a wild look in his eyes as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t get sloppy now. You do that, I’ll punish you more,” he threatens. His voice breaks into a soft groan as you attempt to place your hands on his hips to leverage yourself better to take him and Jabra. 

Jabra howls with laughter as he picks up the pace, eager to finish soon. 

“You’re getting worked up! I can smell your scent getting stronger,” Jabra teased. 

“Oh? You enjoyed being used like a toy for us?” Lucci interjects. “What a good worker. You know your place beneath us.” 

“Damn right it is!” Jabra agrees. Both of them enjoy how your face heats up and how you tremble from the pleasure. The two shoot a competitive glance at each other before harrumphing and staying silent. They refuse to admit they feel the same in this situation, even so close. 

“Now go on, (Y/n), be a good little whore and finish soon,” Lucci commands. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Jabra adds. “I’ll make sure to clean you up nice and well when you cum.” 

Their dirty ramblings and threats make your heart race as you do your best to bob on Lucci’s cock while moving your hips back to meet Jabra. 

“Ah, shit-,” Jabra cries. “You’re like a bitch in heat!” 

“My bitch in heat,” Lucci corrects. Jabra growls and moves his hips faster. 

“Not for long,” Jabra smirks as he grabs your hips to anchor you down. “You’re gonna take it all.” 

The two men get sloppier with their movements, a sign that they’re approaching their climax. Jabra sends a hand flying to your ass, leaving both men cackling at the noise you made and the way you jumped. Lucci’s hand is shaking as he grips your head. 

“Swallow all of it, or else,” Lucci says as a final warning before his hips stutter. Jabra grips you tighter while making sure to jack you off faster. 

“Go on, we know you want to~,” Jabra coos to you. The pressure in your stomach finally boils over as you finish with a loud, garbled moan. You release into Jabra’s hands as he excitedly licks his fingers coated with your essence clean. “Shit, taste better than anything I know.” 

Lucci stops his frantic pace and decides to slam into your mouth. As if the two are reading each other’s minds, Jabra begins to do the same.

One. Two. Three. 

They both throw their heads back and let out animalistic cries. You choke on Lucci’s heavy amounts of cum while feeling Jabra’s release drip down your legs. Even in your fucked out state, you can’t disobey. You try to swallow every drop, nearly gagging at the salty taste. 

Lucci finally releases your head and you drop to the floor pathetically, filled from both ends. 

Jabra pulls himself out and chuckles. 

“Don’t think we’re done yet, sweetheart. You still gotta choose who’s better,” he sneers, as him and Lucci switch places. 

--

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since the two continued their competition. Even as Jabra throws you over his shoulders, him and Lucci are still arguing as if they didn’t just have marathon sex with you. 

“I think this just goes to show I’m better at sex than you,” Jabra points. 

“Right, you dumb dog. You could hardly last,” Lucci smirks. 

“You two… please… stop…” you mumble, tired beyond belief. The two shut up, not before glancing at each other, as they gruffly walk to your room. Jabra lays you on the bed and they’re about to continue their fight elsewhere when you grip their arms. “Can you both stay? You’re so warm and fuzzy.” 

It’s obvious you’re delirious, so the two men sigh and crawl into the bed with you, not before returning to their Zoan forms. Jabra wraps an arm around your waist while Lucci simply lays beside you and strokes your hair once in a while. 

“Hmph. You lasted a lot longer than I thought,” Jabra comments. 

“Agreed. I’m surprised at your resilience,” Lucci awkwardly adds. It’s probably the best compliment he’ll ever give you, but in this moment, it’s all you need. You snuggle into your sheets besides them and feel yourself slowly drift to sleep between them. 

“They like me more,” Jabra says to get the final word in. 

“Shut up.” 

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

now & forever

cw. olnf week 2024, pre!release, step 2, day 3, pre!relationship, slight angst with a healthy dose of comfort

pairing. qiu lin/hash browns (ft. sparkling leaves)

notes. day 3 of @olnfweek2024. me? writing for qiu lin? i know, check and see if it is hailing in summer i can't believe this is happening either. my good friend @hash-slinging-slasher-trash recently got done with their final exams for their summer semester so this is a treat for them. surprise! (even if i am sure this was obvious considering my questions from yesterday lmao)

“You can roll your neck and stomp your feet but this black girl you sure won’t beat!” Nyla and Serenity chant in audible unison from across campus, moving in accordance to the words. From where they sit, Hash can see Tamarack giggling at the antics. Black Kid Solidarity, Nyla calls it. She finds it where she can. While not a member of that particular duo, Hash’s lips curl into an instinctive smile. The energy is contagious.

Dark raspberry eyes catch blue eyes observing the scene.

“Hi,” Tamarack mouths, her smile small but courteous as she waves.

Hash waves back with a small smile of her own, balancing her tray carefully with one hand. “Hey,” they mouthed back.

Hash remembers Tamarack’s squeals as they climbed atop the tire swing her grandfather set up. The cool autumn wind scratching their cheeks and lifting their laughs and giggles to the heavens.

When was it those times playing in that tire became infrequent? Hash can’t recall; four years is four centuries in teenage years.

Tamarack shuffles to the side on the grass with a hopeful expression, thin eyebrows knit carefully. When did Tamarack start plucking them again? When did I start noticing in the first place? Hash wonders what it says about her that she can’t remember that either when a long time ago it felt like her and Tamarack’s friendship was tighter than gorilla glue. Slowly but surely, that bond had been weathered by the rain.

There were no storms that attacked their friendship. No trials.

Just the passage of time.

Hash sees the spread of trays on the grass, like it’s a picnic. “Sorry,” Hash mouths and Tamarack nods in unsurprised understanding.

Hash and Tamarack were friends; they’re still friends. Standing across a ways from one another during lunch hour, however, the physical distance feels representative of their state of affairs.

Hash, Nyla, Tamarackー The new kids.

Four years ago, it felt like the three of them against the world as fellow newcomers to Acorn Rd. Golden Grove, Oregon.

“You ever stop to think how we’re like a reverse oreo?” Nyla, age 11, noted from where she lazily laid back against the Browns porch step. Summer was the worst season in Golden Grove and not even the chilled watermelon pieces in the bowl split between them could completely fight the heat. “Y’all are the vanilla whites, I’m the chocolate filling.”

Hash choked on their piece, “Nyla, shut up!”

“Hey I’m the one who said it, y’all can laugh,” Nyla stuck out her tongue with a snicker. “Quit smiling if you don’t think it’s funny, Lord Hashington!”

Tamarack’s small hands covered her face, unable to contain her laughter. There hadn’t been an attempt to stop it in the first place. The two of them were always the blunt new kid trio members, saying most anything that came to their mind.

Four years later, the world has split a world with the three of them distinctly in different sects. Friends… but not best friends.

Four years in the past, the kids of the cul-de-sac were a quartet.

Four years in the present, there’s a line. A distinct one.

We’re all still friends, Hash tells themself. Most of us. 

Qiu and Tamarack’s relationship had fallen off compared to the rest. The two of them aside, things aren’t the same anymore and Hash has come to accept that. Tamarack is going to leave one day, tugged down a path by her parents. Qiu sinks more and more into themselves, outsiders unable to penetrate their newfound icy fortress. Nyla’s problems are harder to look into when she keeps them hidden behind bad jokes and laidback nonchalance.

Of their original friend group, everyone has a favorite.

Nyla and Tamarack’s eyes have always been reserved for each other.

Qiu has Hash and Hash has Qiu.

Nyla’s lunch hour is reserved for Tamarack and Hash’s hour has always been reserved for Qiu. Speaking of Qiu, Hash knew they were waiting for them in Mr. Murray’s class. “See you,” they wave one last time before turning towards the building the professor’s class is located in.

Things might have changed with Nyla and Tamarack, simultaneously grand and minute the changes have been, but things have never and will never change with Mx. Qiu Lin.

Hash finds them as they always do, draped over a desk lazily with their brown hair spread across their shoulders haphazardly. “Qiulet,” Hash calls playfully and a brown eye opens unamused. “I’ve finally returned from the battlefield. Looks like you don’t need to come down from your balcony, after all.”

“It was never a balcony in the first place, you weirdo,” Qiu murmurs, leaning back to sit properly in their chair as Hash placed their tray between them.

“Not-so-secret hideout, Juliet’s balcony,” Hash rolls their eyes in mock irritation. “What’s the difference?”

Qiu smirks, resting their chin on their palm, “sounds like plenty to me.”

Hash sits down with their nose in the air pointedly smug, “well it’s a good thing you’re not the one in charge of my allusions.” Qiu’s response is to take one of Hash’s fries. For someone who said they weren’t hungry, that never stops Qiu from suddenly desiring food when someone else provides it. Regardless, there’s little that isn’t shared between them now. Hash feels no reason to make a fuss. “You gonna go to ballet practice for once?”

“That depends, who’s asking?” Qiu raises a brow lazily.

Your mother, technically. Mrs. Lin knew it’d be a pointless endeavor in bringing it up herself, however, so she relied on you, the Qiu Whisperer. “Me,” Hash replies smoothly. “I wanna have a post-lunch show after school. I haven’t seen you practice in a while, so I guess I felt like going. Only if you want though.”

Qiu shrugs, taking another fry thoughtfully before eventually relenting, “I guess.”

That’s as much of a ‘yes’ as one will get in the language of apathetic Qiu Lin.

“Good because I have your leotard in my backpack,” Hash grins giggling when Qiu flicks her forehead lightly. “What? I had to be prepared just in case you said ‘yeah’, otherwise we’d be late!”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so,” Qiu rolls their eyes but Hash can see amusement swimming in them. Sees their lips quirk into a playful smirk and how light and airy their movements are. It’s a shame people like Vianca and Serenity don’t get to see this side of them but you can’t help relishing in how you’re one of the coveted few that do. “You’re not slick.”

Hash bats their eyelashes adoringly, “I know not to what you are referring.”

“Mhmm,” Qiu hums in disbelief but unbothered as they are, they let it go. If they truly hated it, after all, Qiu would have let you know expeditiously. Pretty as a rose Qiu may be, they have their thorns. They never seem to brandish them against Hash, however. Any pushback they have are small pricks, soft. This isn’t anything that has them pressed. “But the next time you decide to beat me into going to ballet practice, I demand compensation.”

“Is my charming personality not enough?” Hash gasps, clutching their chest in imagined pain.

“It is most of the time, but I like to shake things up from time to time,” Qiu chuckles.

Hash isn’t sure if it’s the joy they got them to smile that has them flushed or the comment. Probably both. It’s just them joking around, Hash reminds themself. Just a joke. Nothing serious. “Well what will satisfy you, Mx. Qiu Lin? Your humble servant will provide the goods tomorrow.”

“Mom’s making dumplings tomorrow and is forcing me and Dad to help,” Qiu sighs painfully. Hash’s mouth waters at just the thought of it. Dumplings are a long but rewarding affair in the Lin household. “You’re suffering with me.”

“That isn’t even a punishment,” Hash smirks, moving a stray lock of dirty blonde hair from their vision.

Qiu smirks in return, closing their eyes in satisfaction, “glad to know you’ll be there then.”

i was really trying to keep in mind the hash lore they developed from their playthrough of the ol2 demo and our discord chats fjnfkjsdnf. things get a bit angsty TmT. still homies with tamarack but because tam might be leaving, there's a bit of distance between them and they've gotten real close to qiu because of the insurance their not going anywhere. i wanted to play with that concept with a mixture of the day 3 prompts with crossing our verses together and hash looking back on the memories

[norbezjones]

Inktober & OC-tober: October 2nd, 2024 (Romance The Backrooms)

Hey everyone!

So, this year, I have decided to participate in Inktober’s, well, Inktober event, and OC-tober, the latter specifically with @icannotreadcursive / @thepromptfoundry ‘s prompt list.  Basically, how it works is that I will do a drawing & a story adhering to the prompts.

For the first half of the month, I will be doing these for the characters of my story Romance The Backrooms, a liminal space otome with 5 main love interests.  For the second half of the month, I will be doing them for the characters of my IF Comp game Yancy At The End Of The World!, mainly to promote Yancy!’s Kickstarter, which launches at the beginning of November.

Today’s Prompts: Going out on the town & Discover

Characters: Carla

Other Info: This is Part 2 of what will be a series of stories dealing with Carla trying to come to terms with her grandmother’s death.  Please know that this is primarily what the story is about and treat accordingly.

Part 1: Tumblr link, Pillowfort link

_________

The town was a ten-minute walk away from the cottage.  Even though Carla knew that from her walk in the other day, it was still somewhat surprising to experience it.  One moment, she was isolated and surrounded by woods, and the next, she was back in civilization.

Or at least, if not civilization, a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.  Once she reached it, Carla was able to get data on her phone, and she looked up where food could be found nearby.  In the end, she settled on a diner called “Earl’s Eatery”.

“Hey there!  I haven’t seen you before.  Did you rent the cottage?” was how her waitress greeted her.

“Um, yeah,” Carla replied shyly.

The people who rent the cottage, they’re always creative types, looking for their muse in the woods.” the waitress told her, giving her a menu.  “You searching for your muse too, hun?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Carla said, an awkward laugh escaping her mouth.  She opened the menu, glancing at its contents.

“Ooo, intriguing!” the waitress said with a grin.  “What brings you here, then?”

Not wanting to make the mood awkward by sharing why she was truly at the cottage, Carla simply laughed and said, “It’s a secret, sorry!”

The waitress chuckled.  “I like you, hun.  You got a good spark in you.  Anyway, you want something to drink?”

“Yeah.  And I think I know what I want to eat, too” Carla told her.

And so, Carla soon had a large “Ultra Cheeze X-treme” omelet in front of her (she was pretty curious to try it once she saw it on the menu, and had to discover its flavor for herself), along with a side of hash browns and the smallest slices of buttered toast she had ever seen.  “Enjoy!  Let me know if you need anything,” the waitress said as she placed the plate on the table.  Then, she was gone.

Carla dug into her meal.  No longer distracted, her mind went back to her quest, the real reason she was here: figuring out her grief.

Would that even be possible within the timeframe she had?  Was two weeks enough to process such a terrible loss?  Just thinking about trying to take on that pain made Carla’s heart feel heavy, and she sniffled, wiping a tear from her eye.

I wish Grandma was here; she’d know what to say, Carla thought as she dug into her food.  But she’s not, and she never will be. . .

But what if she was here? her mind insisted.  What would she say?

Carla thought for a minute, chewing her food thoughtfully.  She’d say that even though she’s gone, she lived a good life, and gave what she could to the people she cared about, Carla realized.  And in a way, the things you give to others helps you live on.

Fuck that.  I’d trade that all way just to be with her again, her mind retorted.  Even for a minute.

Carla held in her tears and finished her food.  She paid the check, left a hefty tip, and left the diner.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Ive got this image of Roy kissing Jamie on the head and idk if my brain wants it to be shippy or big brother, little brother kinds way, but in whatever case I Need That

Hey, nonny, do you have spyware installed in my brain? I’ve literally been thinking about this exact scenario for the past few days, trying to hash out what it might look like and what precedes it and what sort of kiss it is.

I have severaly vague ideas that are none of them fully realized and all of them more fluffy wish-fulfillment than anything else. Thought I might get around to ficcing one of them properly one day, but that’s unlikely to ever happen, so have three roughly sketched snapshots of head kisses from my fevered imagination: 

I. Hurt/Comfort

Eventually there comes a day when Jamie snaps and channels the Jamie of yore and just goes for everbody’s throats with bared teeeth. Roy misses the dust-up but arrives for the aftermath with the entire team and Ted looking a little shell-shocked.

“What the fuck happened here?” Roy demands. Ted explains, and hastens to add that clearly something must be wrong for Jamie to behave like that and could Roy please go check on him?

Roy finds Jamie in the storage room and the moment he enters Jamie whirls on him, terrible smirk plastered over his face. 

“Oh, what a fucking surprise, Timid Ted sent Roy Kent to do his shouting for him, that’s a real—“ 

Roy ignores the drawling venom (and ignores the way it makes his stomach drop and twist with the memories of oh so many other confrontations between the two of them, back when they truly did loathe one another). He stops in the middle of the room and fixes Jamie with a carefully neutral look. 

“Jamie,” he asks, very calmly, “do you need a fucking hug?” 

For a moment, nothing. Then Jamie laughs, and it’s an ugly thing filled with scorn and jagged edges. “Oh, you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you, big man Roy Kent, riding in on your white horse, going to— ”

And still Roy doesn’t raise to the bait. He takes a step closer. No aggression to the move, just determination: the unmoveable object to Jamie’s irresistable force. “No. Jamie, do you need a fucking hug?” 

So close, he’s standing. So steady, his voice. In the face of that resolute peace Jamie’s rage can’t help but dwindle and wither. He closes his eyes. Jerks his head once for yes. 

And Roy wraps his arms around him and holds him, and holds him, and holds him until the tension starts to bleed out of Jamie’s body and he rests his head on Roy’s shoulder. They stay like that for a little longer, but then Roy gently moves his hand to Jamie’s shoulders, pushing him back slightly so that he can look at him. “Feeling better?” 

“Yeah.” And, with a quick glance to Roy’s face, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not really me you need to apologize to.” 

“No, yeah, I know. I will.” 

Roy looks at him for another moment, just looks. Sighs, maybe; eventually gives a little nod.

“Good lad,” he says, briefly pulling Jamie in again to place a kiss on his forehead, before putting a hand on his back to guide him back out into the world. “Don’t fucking let your father make you think any different.”

If Will is huddling in the corner for this one? Your call, gentle reader.

II. Affection

Say that Roy and Keeley are in Jamie’s childhood bedroom because they want to check on him. I’m thinking that Something Has Happened that concerns Jamie – probably something to do with his dad at the next Man City match – but the immediate situation has resolved itself and Roy and Keeley are just getting back together and had this whole fancy dinner planned and Jamie said he was fine so they head out for their big date.

And it’s lovely, really it is, only they’re both preoccupied throughout the meal and eventually one of the just blurts sorry, I’m really excited to be here with you but I can’t stop thinking about Jamie – yeah, me too – we should go check on him – and so they’re off to his mum, and maybe Jamie’s out buying milk and for some reason his mum has Keeley and Roy wait in Jamie’s old bedroom and when Jamie finally does show up he is understandably surprised to see them.

“I though you went on a date,” he says, closing the door behind him.

And they explain that they were, they are, but they were worried about him and just wanted to make sure he’s okay. 

Jamie is okay. Scored two goals against City, and wasn’t nearly as bothered by his dad’s antics as he’d thought he be, he’s just dandy.

Having eventually convinced them of that, he pauses and cocks his head. Does that quizzical little face with his lips pursed. “It’s a bit weird, you two coming to check on me in the middle of your date, innit?”

Keeley shakes her head. “Jamie, it’s not weird. We care about you.”

Jamie raises his eyebrows at this, throwing a teasing look Roy’s way. “Yeah? You care about me, Roy?”

And Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head, scoffing the way only Jamie can make him scoff, because of course Jamie would fucking ask. 

“Come here, you fucking twat,” he says and Jamie grins at that as he crosses the floor because Roy is smiling through the bark, and Roy still has one hand in Keeley’s but his free arm he slings around Jamie’s shoulders to give him a tight hug while pressing a firm kiss to the top of Jamie’s blonde hair. “’Course I fucking care.”

(This one’s not unsimiliar to another [shippy] scenario I sketched recently. I tend to ponder all sorts of minor variations of the same theme, though usually I settle for just one to inflict upon the rest of the world.)

III. And a Shippy One to See Us Off

The boys are celebrating something – not winning a game, I don’t think, because they’re not on the pitch, they’re somewhere off alone. In the locker room after everyone’s left, maybe, or out during an early-mornings training session? Doesn’t really matter. They’re alone.

Jamie’s phone goes off, he picks it up, listens for a bit, nods and yeahs and goes “thanks, man, that’s fucking great” and when he puts his phone away he doesn’t say anything at all at first. Looks a bit dazed, and after a minute of that (well, more like a second, ‘cause Roy Kent is not a patient man) Roy demands to know the fuck’s going on.

“I’ve been called up for England,” Jamie says, and he sounds dazed too, like he can’t quite believe it. Sneaks a glance at Roy, as if checking is this real, is this happening?

For a moment, Roy says nothing. Then he says “fuck”, and then they’re both screaming and jumping up and down and holding each other and somewhere in all that Roy just pulls Jamie close and smacks a kiss on the top of his head.

It’s completely unthinking, but it immediately gives them both pause – and it takes them by surprise how it actually makes them go still. If you’d asked them before, neither would have thought a silly little peck on the head would be anything to take notice off; they’re footballers, yeah? They’re tactile. But still they go, and they glance at each other and both of them find their eyes drawn to the other’s lips.

“Oh,” Roy says. Bless his heart, would you believe he’s just figuring it out? But to be fair, so’s Jamie.

A moment, teethering, each of them holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next.

Roy swallows. Jamie tilts his head to the side and slowly, slowly – giving Roy all the time in the world to punch him or run off or go back to jumping up and down like nothing’s happened – he reaches out to put a hand on Roy’s neck.

Roy doesn’t punch Jamie. Roy doesn’t run off. Roy doesn’t go back to jumping up and down. He leans in, ever so slightly, lips parting.

“Yeah?” Jamie asks, just to be sure.

Roys nods, once, sharply. “Yeah.”

Jamie kisses him.

---

Yeah, nonny, I need that. You need that. Everybody needs that! I mean, Jamie and Roy certainly fucking does.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever | Tagged by @josephseedismyfather and @jillvalentinesday

This week we're taking a look at John and Sabrina's first date in their AU and Oliver crashing it in style.

John stared at the neon sign spelling "Rue's" before he passed through the door of the small diner Sabrina had suggested they meet at a couple of minutes prior. With its 50s themed interior, the place was close to her precinct and as far as possible from the usual spots he ended up eating at. To think of it… he couldn't even the remember the last time he had been in a diner. If ever. Who cares if I feel out of my element? He refused to dwell on the uncertainty as his eyes scanned the restaurant, quickly skipping over the patrons that sat at the long sit-down counter and moving to the dark brown booths on the far right. John couldn't stop a smile from emerging the moment his gaze came to rest on her, and she raised her hand in a wave. His feet moved on their own as excitement at finally seeing her in person climbed up his spine. "Sabrina.", he uttered out in a greeting when he reached her. "Hey, yourself." His heart did another concerning flip at the grin she paired the words with. I'm going for a check-up once I'm back in Atlanta.

He slipped off his coat, smoothing down his navy colored suit jacket before he took the seat across from her. "I haven't ordered yet, naturally.", she pushed a menu over to him, "I kind of know the menu by heart, so if you have any questions about what's good, shoot." "Thank you.", he flipped it open, slowly scanning over each page when he felt her fingers run over his forehead. "What happened?", concern seeping into her tone while her touch heated his skin, making him wonder how it would feel all over his body. If she would think the same about his. His eyes shot up to hers for a second, trying to figure out what had prompted her to invade his personal space for once. "Did the bat do it?", his visible confusion making her add, "The scratch, I mean." Her hand retreated and he brought up his own up to the spot she had pointed out, feeling nothing beneath his fingertips, the dull pain long gone. "No, no.", he shook his head, "It didn't touch me. Thanks to you." She beamed at that, most likely thinking back to the embarrassing situation, "Then who scratched you, Mr. Duncan? Any other women I should know about?" His lips formed a smirk at her words, "If you count an angry bride throwing her bouquet at me after she mistaked me for her runaway groom…" "A bride you say?", she quirked an eyebrow, "Portland strikes again." "Yes." "So…", she pulled his thoughts away from leaning over the table and kissing her, "See anything you like, yet." Fuck. You have no idea.

He kept his face passive despite how his pants were feeling tighter by the minute, "What would you recommend?" "You don't strike me as a burger guy…", Sabrina paused, "How about the heddar-topped barbecue meat loaf? It has vegetables and potatoes on the side." He nodded, encouraging her to continue as he closed the menu, "For me… I was thinking stuffed hash browns with sour cream. Oh, and their chocolate pie is to die for. One piece of it afterwards, for sure." "Sounds good.", he leaned back against the booth, wondering if he was sticking out like a sore thumb when a waitress made her way to them at Sabrina's signal. "Hey, Sal. We're ready to order." "Neat.", the woman with a name tag "Sally" pulled a pad from her apron before sending a strange look towards him, "I almost mistook him for Les, Rina. I was gonna ask if he had been called to court or something." The remark made Sabrina laugh, "No, he's staying behind today." "Gotcha." She quickly recited their order to Sally, adding a water for him and, much to John's suprise, a milkshake for her, and soon enough they were back on their own.

Oliver observed Sabrina and John from his seat at the far end of the counter at Rue's, successfully blending in with the lunch crowd around him as his frown deepened at the sight he was witnessing. It's like I'm an extra in a rom-com, goddamn it.Her occasional laughter carrying over every so often made him feel glad he hadn't dragged Leslie with him, knowing the sight would break his heart. The two meeting in one of the usual dining spots their team frequented for meals would have added even more salt to the wound, especially since she and Leslie had no doubt found themselves in that very booth before, only under different circumstances. He hadn't placed an order yet, waiting for his opening, for the perfect moment to unleash chaos on the unsuspecting fucker, take on the role of chaperone. The second John leaned in over the table, thumb running over her lips in a move that should have been criminal with its predictability, he sprang into action. I should arrest you for that alone and stop you from embarrassing yourself further. Long strides ate up the distance between the three of them, and whatever the schmuck was saying had Sabrina so enamored she didn't even notice McKenzie approaching their table. "What a small world.", he remarked as he slipped into the booth John was occupying, half-sitting onto his expensive looking coat. The things I do for you, Parish. Still, not the worst stake-out I've been at.

His words broke whatever spell had fallen over the two, making them separate. "Ollie.", Sabrina breathed out in surprise as he felt daggers being stared into him from his right, "What are you-" Good, stare, fucker. Game on. See how much long you keep your cool for. "Grabbing lunch, what else?", he said and sent her one of his devilish grins before he raised his hand to call Sally over. A sigh left her lips, "Oliver." "What?", he was certain the innocent expression he gave her wasn't exactly fooling her, but he didn't care, "You're not going to make introductions, Rina?" Sabrina huffed but as usual, her annoyance melted away too quick, always having a soft spot for him despite his misdemeanors, "You two kind of already met." "Still, my ma raised me better.", Oliver turned slightly, offering his hand to the man next to him, "Oliver McKenzie." He didn't back down from the greeting he was forcing upon her date, and after a few beats John accepted his handshake, a mask of friendliness slipping over his scowl, "John Duncan." "Ollie…", Sabrina started, chewing on her lip as he leaned back into his seat and Sally appeared by his side. "McKenzie, the usual?" "Yes, thank you, love.", her cheeks flushed at the wink he paired the pet name with.

He wasted a second to stare at Sally's retreating form before turning forward again, reminding himself he had more important matters to take care of, "You were saying, Rina…" "Are you really going to eat here? We're-" "On a date.", John finished her sentence, and the irritation peeking through in his voice made Oliver smile brighter. He exhaled dramatically, "You're really going to make poor old Ollie eat alone? I've been eating at my desk for days, Rina. You won't even notice I'm here, promise." "I..", her gaze darted between him and John before she nodded quickly. Oliver clapped his hands together, "Then it's settled. I've always wanted to do a three-way." The fucker beside him chose that exact moment to lift his glass to his lips, water going down the wrong pipe at the statement. "You okay there, bud? Worry not, I've been to a CPR course.", Oliver asked and patted his back for good measure, ignoring Sabrina's stare that was full of warning while her date tried his best to mask his coughs.

"And that's how I got this scar.", the detective next to John shifted in his seat before scratching at his beard, finishing yet another story after spending almost half an hour reigning over the conversation. But who's keeping track? Oh, yes, I am. Underneath the table, John's leg was bouncing in a rhythm that paired with the occasional smiles, Sabrina would aim his way were the only thing keeping his temper in check. "Mind if I steal one of your potato wedges, bud?", Oliver asked, and before he even got permission, he reached over his hand and swooped up one of the last pieces of potato left on his plate. After annihilating his own meal the detective had moved onto desert, staking his claim on the last piece of the infamous chocolate pie the lunch rush had spared, then had proceeded to switch to casually stealing whatever food John was yet to finish. He could help but imagine driving his fork into his hand before it had time to retreat, giving him another scar to gush about to strangers. Instead, John forced a smile, hoping his composure wasn't crumbling as he gripped the utensil between his fingers. "John?", Sabrina had an amused look in her hazel eyes, "Look at you daydreaming." "Pay attention, Johnny.", Oliver leaned in to whisper in a way only he would hear, "Don't be getting too cocky after "last night". I doubt it was that magical to excuse disrespecting her." His words left little doubt he had read the card sent with the roses, and had gotten the wrong impression from the message within. The only thing he got as a response from John was a stoic expression, as he refused to entertain his childish games and allow him to destroy whatever good impression Sabrina had formed about him.

A miniscule part of him argued that the man currently sitting on his coat was worried about his friend and testing him, set on making sure he was good enough to date her. A test. Inevitable hazing. For the second time this week. Go figure. Sabrina seemed completely unaware of the words whispered quietly, "You sure you don't want anything else they have as dessert options, John?" "What would you-" "It might be time to head back, Rina.", Oliver cut him off. Her brows furrowed as she checked her watch, an apologetic look taking over her features, "Shoot, time flies. Raincheck on dessert?" At his nod, she quickly pulled out her wallet and on instinct, John's hand shot out and covered hers before she could open it, "I'm paying." "John…" "I insist, Detective." Beside him, Oliver snorted, but John ignored his strange reaction as he tugged at his coat until it was free from being used as a designer seat cover by the man. His hand reached into its right pocket to fish out his wallet and … came up empty. No. Absolutely not. He checked the other pockets, refusing to accept the fact that somewhere between the hotel and diner, it must have gotten stolen. Robbed, again. "I-,", he blinked, hand fisting the woolen garment as he took a deep breath. "John?", she searched his face, trying to figure out what had suddenly gone wrong. "I can't find my wallet." "Did you forget it at the hotel, maybe?" He shook his head while Oliver just leaned forward and for once, remained silent, "No, I'm sure I had it with me…" He had paid for the flowers, then for his breakfast at the café…it had been on his person the whole time. "I'm so sorry.", Sabrina muttered at the same time as her fellow detective produced his wallet on the table. "Ollie.", she sighed at the realization he'd had it all along. "Larceny, Detective McKenzie, really?", John bit out as he grabbed his wallet. An arrogant smirk took over his face, "I was just messing with you, Mr. Duncan. No need to go into attorney mode on me. Especially on your date." "My credit card is missing." "You mean this one?", Oliver raised his hand in front of his face, and one second, his fingers were empty, then, the next, they were holding John's card. "Oliver likes illusion.", Sabrina explained as she finished her milkshake, the same one whose foam had left traces on her bottom lip and kept teasing him before detective McKenzie had crashed their date. He had gotten so close to kissing her, wondering if she'd taste even sweeter. John covertly readjusted his dress pants, suspecting Oliver wouldn't be above making a blatant comment about any type of situation happening below his belt. "So he steals my wallet? Wouldn't exactly hold up in court as excuse." The detective rolled his eyes, then turned to face him with a serious expression, that made him wonder if he would get an apology. "Theft,", Oliver began as he raised a finger, "physical removal of an object that is capable of being stolen without the consent of the owner and with the intention of depriving the owner of it permanently." The last part carried the most emphasis and was accompanied by a satisfied leer. John just stared him down before another jab was made, "But then again, you probably know that, seeing how you had your luggage stolen and all that. I would hope." "I'm very well aware of the definition.", he gritted out, making the man's grin widen. Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, "Good, good. It would be a shame if Rina was being wooed by an impostor.", his voice lowered at the same time Sabrina called out his name, "Because I assure you, buddy, we won't take kindly to that sort of thing." "Ollie.", she repeated, her patience unwavering despite how many lines he was crossing. Her words prompted him to pat John's upper arm playfully as he released a heartfelt chuckle, "I'm just pulling his leg, Rina. A free practice run. How is he going to handle meeting everyone else, if he can't deal with some innocent jokes from little me?"

After paying the bill, they left the diner with Oliver putting himself between John and Sabrina, even taking it as far as to throw his arm over her shoulders. If she minded the gesture meant to keep them apart, she didn't let that show, continuing to chat happily as they walked back towards the precinct. The whole time John had to step around other people on the sidewalk, feeling left out despite her attempts to include him in the conversation. Third wheel… that's a first. He was used to getting women's undivided attention when he would take them out on dates, to a point they would hang onto his every word. By the end of the date, he would spot the same look in each of their gazes. Hunger. Determination. "Take me home.", they'd whisper, oftentimes rubbing their high heel along his calf, further cementing their intentions. It had gotten so easy. Predictable. Mundane. An itch he would scratch then move on. Go through the motions every once in a while when the urges would grow too restless to tolerate. As much as he hated the fact Oliver had invited himself to their date and brought chaos with him, the lunch in turn had been the most eventful he'd attended in years. And he'd managed to keep his temper in check despite the detective's persistent attempts to make him slip up. He didn't doubt if he was to meet the rest of Sabrina's team, the encounter would turn into a impromptu interrogation as they'd try to determine if he was the right fit for her. John had no plans on letting it all go that far. A date. Maybe another after it. Sleeping with her… as much as he wanted to cross that line completely… was inadvisable. Then he'd be flying back home. Only to see her again once Mooney's trial would begin.

"Go, Ollie, I will be right up.", Sabrina thankfully waved Oliver off as the three came to a stop in front of the main entrance of the station. "Nice seeing you.", the man reached out his hand to John, squeezing his palm in a warning while giving him a friendly smile. He didn't let any of that get to him, having faced tougher opponents, dealt with more convoluted tricks than whatever Oliver had up his sleeve, literally and figuratively. The second the door shut behind him, John turned back to Sabrina, taking hold of her hand. "We're having a redo of our date as soon as possible.", he said as he gazed into her eyes. "Why? I thought it was lovely…" "You see, when I asked to take you out, I meant just you, not letting someone wanting a 'three-way' to tag along, too." She let out a giggle, "I will have you know Oliver is very sought after. Quite the ladies man. He's not your type?" His thumb rubbed circles into the center of her palm, and he swore he could see her pupils dilate while her lips parted, "I don't care about his golden bachelor status, Detective. I don't like sharing." Every fiber of his being screamed at him to pull her in and clash his mouth to hers, not caring they were standing on the sidewalk about to give passersby a show. "John.", his name was barely audible as his lips lowered, inches from hers, his heart rate picking up again to a point it felt like the organ wanted to escape his chest. She took a step back suddenly, his hand holding hers becoming the only thing stopping her from stumbling backward when her boot went over the curb. John tugged her towards him to stop her momentum, and she braced a hand against his lapel as she released a surprised laugh. "Don't tell me my bad luck is creeping onto you, Sabrina." "It's not. I hope." He nodded, feeling like he was under a spell, unable to move his gaze away from hers. "I need to go, John.", she muttered, smoothing down his coat, "Thank you for lunch. And for paying for Ollie's food… I could have taken care of it." "Nonsense.", his free hand tucked her hair behind her ear before it cupped her cheek, "Let the man live his three-way dream." She smiled at that before his head dipped again, his approach halting when she whispered his name. "I really don't want you to kiss me right now." Another first. "Why?" "Because I need to stay focused… and I have a feeling I won't be able to if you do." "Yeah?" "Certainly." It was his turn to step back, letting his hand drop from her face. Pride took over his system at the admission, at the proof she was feeling it too. The tension between them that had materialized from the moment they had met and kept him awake at night, and his dreams filled visions of her. "A redo, Sabrina. Just the two of us. I want it to be just right.", he squeezed her hand. "Okay." "We can talk later, iron out the details. I won't keep you." She nodded, yet made no move to leave. "I meant to ask… did you like the flowers?" "Flowers?", visible confusion was written all over her features. In ways he shared it, because from Oliver's hushed remarks, it sounded like he had seen the bouquet, read John's note for her. "I guess I might be ruining a surprise then." She nudged his shoulder, "So this is when you got the scratch." "Yeah." "Now I feel bad." "Don't be. You didn't throw the bouquet. Though, you could technically find the bride for me so I can press charges." "Quite the eventful work trip, Mr. Duncan.", she quipped as she finally moved around him. He reached for her hand again, bringing it to his lips, and kissed the top of it. An old-fashioned gesture. Yet another first. After the slightly disastrous lunch date, he craved any type of physical contact he could get while still respecting her request. "Goodbye, Detective." "Stay out of trouble for me.", Sabrina called out as she hurried inside the precinct. He hadn't missed the way she reacted, how her breath had hitched when his lips had made contact with her skin.

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @poisonedtruth @theelderhazelnut @madparadoxum @cassietrn @corvosattano @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @direwombat @strangefable @dumbassdep @euryalex @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @fangsandroses @wrathfulrook and anyone that would like to share something <3

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Ooh I’m torn but 1 simply because I was rewatching Rocky and the thought of Jane the boxer sounds too good to pass up

Boxer AU with a twist! I know nothing about boxing except that it is fun to watch! I am shaming my army boxer grandfather right now, but here we go.

“Listen to me,” Barry Frost starts the conversation like a father, cutting the engine of his Buick and turning to Maura with a large hand to her shoulder. It’s a scorcher outside, and turning off the car means turning off the air conditioning, which Maura regrets almost as much as the kind look in his brown eyes. The worried look. “I know the elbow’s set you back, and we’re graspin’ at straws here.” 

“So you’ve brought me to the one gym in Boston to which I’ve vowed never to return? By tricking me into it? You can’t just tell me we’re going to Hannah Grisham’s office. She’s one of the best physical therapists on the eastern seaboard, Barry. You don’t dangle a carrot like that in front of a fellow doctor. Especially when its a lie.”

“I’m sorry, but desperate times, Maura. The scans are clear - the inflammation is pretty much gone, the pain is…”

“Psychosomatic,” Maura admits, possibly for the first time. She leans said elbow on the windowsill and lets her gaze drift to the bright blue sky above them. She thinks of the missed punch that hyperextended the elbow, which handed her her first loss. 

She got hurt and she lost the fight.

The line from point A, failure, to point B, the mental block preventing her from getting back in the ring, seems clear now. Repetitive hyperextension trauma has been with her since she’d abandoned her medical practice to fight full time. Perhaps it makes sense that such a banal boxer’s reality would be the thing to undo her. 

“I was gonna say elusive, hard to pin down, but yeah,” Frost says quietly. He rubs his chest, hand in a circle against the ribbed tank under his cream-colored guayabera, an unconscious thinking habit he’s had since Maura’s known him. “It sure as hell is eluding me.”

“But you’re my trainer. Why do I have to be… here?” Maura succumbs to a wave of petulance. She knows why she’s here. She just hates that here is the best place to get her… what does Barry call it? Mojo? To get her mojo back.

“Because I’m stumped, Doctor Isles,” he confesses. “I’m stumped and maybe a fresh pair of eyes’ll help us get you back into fighting shape.”

“Jane’s eyes are not fresh,” Maura, now drowning in waves of childish defiance, breathes. That’s all she can do, because she’s not sure she wants to be an adult about this. She’s not sure she wants to be friendly, even if… christ. Even if Jane might be the best thing for her at the moment. “Jane’s eyes are the opposite of fresh.”

“Might as well be, for how long you’ve iced each other out,” Barry grumbles. “I got you a session. She agreed to clear the gym for you. I’ll even circle the block, or go get a drink or somethin’, so you two can hash it out in private. But this is a big ask of her, after all the shit you two went through. I owe her big. I’d at least like to get something out of it.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me before asking for this favor?” Maura counters.

Barry laughs. “I knew you woulda said ‘hell no.’ C’mon. Let’s get this over with.” He steps out of the car with one last smack to her shoulder, and she shakes her head. He’s right. She would have definitely said hell no. But the only thing she wants less than seeing Jane again is losing her career.

So she steps out into the oppressive July sun and approaches the storefront of North End Boxing with trepidation.

“Hey Jane!” Barry shouts into the gym space, leading Maura in. 

Maura adjusts her duffel higher on her shoulder, taking in her surroundings. The ring sits in the middle of the floor plan, Jane’s crown jewel- some things never change. There is some updated strength training equipment in the back, and the bags to the left side boast some replacements. The treadmills and rowing machines mock her from her right, conjuring up times Jane punished her with cardio before sparring. “I shouldn’t be here,” Maura whispers to Barry.

“The hell you don’t,” Barry counters. “You used to run this place.”

“The Rizzolis have always run this place,” Maura says. She nods to the giant banner of Frankie Rizzoli, Junior holding up a championship belt with a shiner and an exhausted smile on his face. Action posters of Jane in title matches, just as victorious, twice as vicious, hang on the back wall on either side of a trophy case. That trophy case also contains a framed, signed picture of their father delivering the knockout blow to an opponent already halfway to his knees.

Jane herself comes from around the corner where the private owners’ area. “Been a long time, Frost,” she says. Her face is still handsome. Even more so when she smirks at him and shows her perfect teeth. She’s got her usual training look on: black Nike sports bra, black running shorts with compression leggings sewn in. There is one glaring difference: she wears white training Nikes, instead of her high ankle boxing shoes. The stretch of Jane’s crew socks over her too-thin legs, halfway to her calves, has always captivated Maura, but this time it’s out of place. 

Jane catches her staring. “You’re boxin’ today, not me,” she says, reading Maura’s mind. She holds one foot out to put her shoe on display. 

“No one’s boxing, not yet,” Maura refuses to smile. Jane’s effervescence hasn’t faltered, and it shines despite the darkness of her features. 

“Maura-” Frost tries.

“No no, she’s right. You got her in the door, but she’s gotta wanna be here if this little plan is gonna work,” Jane crosses her arms. Maura detests the challenge leveled at her in Jane’s brown eyes, though her belly flips when she glowers right back. Barry stands to the side of them with a hesitant little half-grin, like he doesn’t quite know what to offer to the conversation. 

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “She’s not wrong, Maura. Work the pain out on her. Punish her,” he motions toward Jane.

“That’s not the temptation you think it is, Barry,” Maura tells him. 

“Yeah, she already did all that,” Jane teases. “A year ago.”

That sours Maura’s mood again. “You know what? Maybe a little sparring would do me some good,” she responds. She gets close, fingers still tight against the strap of her bag, and even though she has to look up at Jane, it’s still one of defiance. 

“Frost? Get out,” barks Jane. 

“Jane, I drove Maura here. She’s-”

“You can go,” sighs Maura. She walks over to the ring and sets her bag down, rolling her neck. It’s the first stretch that signals the beginning of an entire routine and Barry looks excited enough to wet himself. 

“You got it. There’s a salami sandwich over at Graziano’s that’s callin’ my name. You just text me when you need me to come get you, a’right?” He says with his hand already on the front door, whole demeanor altered. “Have a good workout.”

He leaves the two women alone, and they’ve already begun to pace around each other in routine. Maura ties her honey hair up in a pony tail, unzips her windbreaker meant more to guard her fair skin from the sun than to keep her warm. When she straightens up, Jane already holds a jump rope in her hand, outstretched towards Maura.

Maura narrows her gaze again. “Where’s the other one?”

“This is your workout, not mine,” Jane says. “I already got cardio in. At five. This mornin’. Like I always do - I didn’t think you’d forget.”

Maura breaks the icy exterior for just a moment of whining. She might even stamp her foot. She hates the rope. “I didn’t forget, but you know how I feel about jumping rope and so you should have saved yours to do with me in miserable solidarity.”

Jane guffaws, her belly laugh deep and booming. Maura rubs her lips together so she doesn’t join in. “I can’t argue with that except that Frost didn’t call me until like nine.”

“Meaning Frankie had already worked you out and served you your breakfast of raw eggs,” Maura gags for show.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Jane tells her with a tinge of red on her cheeks. “Now stop stallin.” 

Maura snatches the rope with disdain and drops it on the floor while she runs through her stretches. She sits and pulls one foot against the opposite thigh, leaning forward to get a nice, strong tug in her calves. She runs through it for both legs, and then stands to do some hip rotations, and Jane watches quietly. “What?” Maura asks to break the silence.

“Legs feel good?” Jane answers, sort of. She leans one elbow on the closest ring post and stares at the legs in question. 

Probably Jane’s favorite part of her, if Maura had to guess. Jane had always praised Maura’s footwork, but with the way Jane looks at her legs now, in skin tight yoga leggings, she’s not thinking about footwork. She’s thinking about they feel wrapped around her waist, the only clothes on either athlete the layer of sweat built up from a workout between the sheets.

And now, Maura’s thinking about it. She starts with the rope just to send all that noxious sexual energy somewhere. “Legs feel fine,” she says as she starts slow, reacquainting herself with the whistle of the rope, with the jumpstart of her heart when her feet start to dance.

There is art in the torture, she’ll concede. 

“Legs’ve always been fine, legs’ve never been the problem.” Maura likes how the rope makes her normally verbose speech choppy and efficient. She likes how it makes her sound like Jane. 

“It’s the elbow,” Jane says that part for her. “I’ve dealt with it before. The dead arm is fuckin’ demoralizin’.” She talks while she backs away from Maura, and goes to the lockers toward the back of the gym. She pulls out a pair of white pads and slams the locker shut. “You bring your own gloves?”

“Of course,” Maura calls out, and the volume of it burns her lungs. Jane is annoying for having made her do it. 

“Well leave ‘em in your bag. You’re usin’ some of mine,” Jane says, and she grabs those from another cubby area.

“I like my gloves,” Maura huffs. “I want my gloves.”

“Too damn bad. They’re all wrapped up in your psychobabble bullshit right now,” Jane argues. She drops the gloves on the side of the ring and adjusts the pads until they’ll fit just right. 

Maura wants to snark back but she catches sight of Jane’s hands. Those capable, deadly hands, with a scar in the middle of each one. They didn’t talk about the obsessed fan, about Hoyt, before they got together, when Frank Senior was training both Jane and Maura. They didn’t talk about him after, either, when they dominated their respective classes. They didn’t even talk about him following the blow to the head that ended Jane’s career, when they said awful things to each other and devolved into an ugly type of resentment.

And now, they haven’t talked at all since Jane drank herself into a stupor and climbed drunk into a car with her brother. They haven’t talked since Maura walked out with statistics about concussions and alcohol on her lips, love mysteriously absent. A year ago. “Psychosomatic,” Maura corrects weakly, her own voice quiet in the face of the flood of memory washing over her. 

Soon enough, Jane’s scarred hands disappear in to the curved focus pads. “You got two more minutes,” says Jane, busy again with preparation.

“We’re doing padwork already?” Maura asks.

“Yeah,” Jane says. She thumps the pads together and rolls her own neck. “You get all mixed up when you’re punchin’, accordin’ to Frost. So, while I would normally send you straight to the weight rack, punchin’ is the only way we’re gonna break you outta this.”

Maura is pleased with the words coming out of Jane’s mouth for the first time today. “Ok then,” she says. She wants nothing more than to throw fists at her ex. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

“Didn’t think so,” Jane says. She grins to let Maura know she’s seen the saucy glint in Maura’s eyes. “Ok, enough of that. Get some water and let’s go.”

Maura, thankful for the reprieve, drops the rope and throws her head back. She puts her hands on her hips, sweat already dripping from her neck to her chest, already staining the front and back of her gray tank. After she squeezes water into her mouth from her bottle, she realizes Jane is studying. She licks her lips just to be a tease.

Whether consciously or not, Jane bites her own lip. 

“You know I’ve never been fond of Everlast,” Maura grumbles like she can’t be pleased when she grabs the gloves waiting for her.

“How can you be a boxer and not like Everlast? You have never made sense, Princess,” Jane tells her, holding up the pads.

“It’s the limited weight-”

“Aht! Save it,” Jane interrupts. “I don’t wanna argue before you even get started. Now c’mon. Show me what you got.”

Maura takes a deep, eyes-closed kind of breath to clear her mind. Instead, she smells Jane, lavender perfume and gym equipment. Her mind races. 

“Quit overthinkin’ it,” Jane goads. “Hit me.”

Maura throws her first punch. She barely registers that she does it, but the pad sings and Jane whistles. “You asked,” Maura says.

“And you delivered,” Jane replies. She takes Maura’s slow combos with some grace. “But stop pussyfootin’ around. It’s me. You know I can take it.”

“I don’t want to reinjure myself, Jane,” Maura chides, and continues her methodical warmup.

“Bullshit. Timid and tender is what got you here. Time to get a little messy. A little mean,” Jane blocks, finding the rhythm of Maura’s work quickly. 

“That’s your style,” Maura responds. 

“So? Try it on,” Jane says. Each hit on the pad, Jane catching them dead center, reminds Maura how lucky she is she never had to fight Jane. It’d be the hardest fight of her life. Jane knows it, too, which makes her insufferable. “Won’t kill ya.”

“It just might,” Maura quips, but she adds a little more power. Imagines being Jane, controlling Jane’s arms, what that would feel like. The dissociation lessens the tingle in her elbow and she slips into a 1, 2, 3 combo. Huh. “Faster,” she demands.

“Been awhile since you said that to me,” Jane chuckles, winking when Maura glances up at her. 

Maura speeds up, glancing a blow on Jane’s forearm as a warning shot, but she smirks. “And it’ll be a lot longer yet,” she says, “especially in that context.”

“But not never again, huh?” Jane gives her that pretty boy smile that she knows is Maura’s weakness. Well, one of them. Another is when she talks shop. “Remind me to work in some dumbbell shadowboxing next time. Get your speed back up.”

“Am I telegraphing the hook?” Maura asks.

“Little bit,” Jane answers. “But maybe I’m just good at reading your body.”

That pesters Maura. The innuendo is unprovoked, more pointed. “Watch yourself,” she growls. She punches harder.

“I’ve been takin’ care of myself in the time you’ve been away. After you bailed,” Jane says. “You ever need to blow off some steam, you know, the old fashioned way, I’m around.” Maura lands a vicious jab from which Jane should recoil, given its force. Jane doesn’t. She leans instead, steps forward. “That was never the problem between us, huh?”

“You didn’t hear me say ‘watch it?’”

Jane continues. “Not a drop to drink in a year. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you,” she leads. “Who could?”

“You’d need… a lot more than sobriety,” Maura cuts. 

Jane doesn’t seem to mind. “I thought about you so much, I watched your last fight. Gotta tell ya, you stank it up. No guts in that performance.” Maura’s pulse pounds in her temple, her body so worked up that she didn’t realize how fast she’s been fighting. Jane’s faster, though. “No speed, either,” Jane says, and she proves it by smacking Maura in the face with one of the pads. 

Maura’s right hand thunders in from the side, already in motion before Jane could even finish the taunt. Glove connects with Jane’s cheek, and another blow explodes against her ribs just before Maura lands the next face punch that flattens Jane on her back. 

“Jane!” Maura calls out when the anger dissipates with the sickening thwack of Jane’s body on the hard floor. She tosses her gloves off and straddles Jane’s torso, stabilizing Jane’s head between her hands.

Jane smirks, however, gaze alight and alert. “For someone who was so worried about my concussion, you sure got no qualms about a blow to the head.”

“You provoked-! You provoked me on purpose,” Maura realizes mid-utterance. “From the gloves to the comment about the guts.” She stills holds Jane’s face, and of their own accord, her thumbs stroke the crow’s feet just starting to come in around Jane’s eyes. 

“Any pain?” Jane presses, cocky as ever.

Maura blinks, and then gasps. “No. None.”

“Hatin’ me’s a good look on you,” Jane tells her, nodding to Maura’s figure. “It’s pretty good for your fightin’, too, apparently.”

“Do you think you can get me to feel like this all the time?” Maura asks, serious.

“Pissed off? Murderous? I think we’ve established I’m pretty good at that,” says Jane. 

“No. Well, maybe. Pain-free,” Maura pleads.

“No guarantees,” Jane replies. She puts a hand on Maura’s thigh and pats softly. Maura lets her. “But if you wanna try it, wanna try fightin’ pissed, this is the gym for you.”

Maura chuckles and is shocked to find that it’s wet, that she’s crying. “I’ll say.”

“Missed you, kid,” Jane tells her. Her voice trembles with its own wave of emotion, but her eyes stay dry. Maura’s thumb trails to Jane’s lower lip, and rubs the plumpest part of it.

“Is this going to work? Are we going to kill each other? Are you going to resent me for doing what you can’t?” Maura asks, one after the other. 

“Don’t tell anyone that works here,” Jane begins with a theatrical whisper, “but takin’ care of myself might include seein’ a shrink. From time to time. And I think that trainin’ you would be the honor of my life.” Jane finishes. Maura hiccups with new tears. And the broadest smile she’s sported in weeks. “So I’ll do it for free - on one condition.”

“For free, hmm?” Maura asks, buys herself some time to wipe her face, “what’s the condition?”

“You go on a date with me,” Jane says with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Maura, assured of Jane’s well-being, smacks her shoulder. 

“One date. C’mon,” Jane pleads. “Anywhere you wanna go.”

Maura sighs. “Just one? After that I don’t have to go on any more?”

“Well, after one you’re gonna wanna go on a lot more, but sure, I’ll keep my word. One date,” Jane answers.

“Then we go to Maison de la Mer,” Maura asserts. Jane glowers. “And you eat what I order for you, and then we never speak of it ever again.”

“Really? The fancy French place with the plate of oysters that costs a rent payment?” Jane gripes, but then she props herself up on her elbows. “Y’know what? Deal. Now let’s seal it with a kiss.”

Maura scoffs and pushes her back down before getting up. “You’re intolerable.”

“Whatever. Still pickin’ you up at seven tomorrow,” Jane sits up while Maura throws her things in her bag.

“It takes weeks to get a reservation,” says Maura as she zips and tosses it on her shoulder.

“I know a guy who knows a guy. Who would love a Frankie Rizzoli, Junior autograph. You don’t think I called that in as soon as I knew you were comin’?” Jane retorts.

Maura’s jaw drops for a split second, and then she throws the towel she’d just used to wipe her face at Jane’s. “In. tolerable,” she repeats.

“And I better see your ass here at four thirty tomorrow morning!” Jane yells, and Maura chuckles quietly now that she knows her face can’t be seen. She pushes out into the rippling heat without another word, and pulls her phone out to call Barry. She can’t believe she’s looking forward to getting her ass kicked in the morning. By Jane fucking Rizzoli.

[antisolararc]

82 for Ivrel?

82. Can You Hear Me?

TW: mention of drugs/addiction, very minor self-harm?

---

Ivrel claps her hands together in a prayer formation, shoulders square and brows furrowed in concentration.

Hey. Are you real? She tries to think as loudly as possible.

As expected, nothing happens.

She rips her hands apart and stares down at her palms with contempt. What a stupid idea. Praying to god had never done her any good. Why would that woman be any better? In the end, both of them must despise her.

After all, the woman said she was- Thought she was- No, it couldn’t be! Ivrel wouldn’t accept it, she wouldn’t be able to take it, if that was the cause of her suffering after all. It was just nonsense from someone who must be even more spiteful and miserable than her.

And then that bitch still had the audacity to ask her for a favor!

...A favor she’d fulfill at the same, but not for her, never for her. It would be for her friends, because they’ve accepted her, they might even like her, even if she doesn’t really understand why. The trajectory was set well before she saw that godforsaken vision. Shame it muddled everything up.

But the important part is that she chose it herself. Good or bad, her own decisions led her here. She’d reap, and then she'd sow. That was easy. That she could accept.

“I ain’t who you think I am,” Ivrel growls under her breath, shoving her hand into her pocket and fishing out a dented tin case and a rest stop lighter. The blunt is crumpled and half-used already. She jams it in-between her teeth and pulls in a deep breath, hissing on the exhale.

Why is she so fucking mad, anyways?

It wasn’t real, after all, just some contrived scenario conjured up by her drug-addled mind. As what, like, a reflection of her self-loathing? A grand new insight into her crisis of faith? She knows damn well how miserable she is already, no need for convoluted symbology. She puts her fingers to her temples and screws her eyes shut, nose wrinkling.

Fuck off.

She doesn’t want the woman to be real, but, at the same time, she hopes someone hears it.

Ivrel crosses her arms over her chest. Her claws are digging deep into her arms, but she doesn’t feel it at all anymore. It’s nothing, not after she’s been ripped to shreds over and over again. Who cares.

It’s all bullshit. She can’t stop thinking about it. It’s driving her crazy.

It nags at her, the lingering thought that she has to try it again, has to see it again, that she’ll get all the answers if she just has one more go at it.

That’s not feasible, though, and it’s a damn good thing that it’s not. Getting hooked on the holy hash, the spiritual spice, whatever you want to call it… That’s the last thing she needs. The shit is worth its weight in gold, and it's not even fun! For a split second, right as consciousness washed back over her, it’d felt like she’d been crushed by the weight of the whole world.

Besides, just once was humiliating enough already. The way they’d all looked at her. What was she supposed to say?

Well, s’pose I just couldn’t help myself!

What a goddamn shame.

“I was really askin’ for it, huh?” Ivrel says aloud, staring at the wall. A laugh bubbles up from her throat, and her mouth curves into a smile. “Think my next life’ll be any better?”

Of course, her inquiry is met only with silence.

[tillinghastcorporatemedia]

The Radio Hosts Have an Adventure

“Hey can you stop the es-cart for a second?” Tamara yells, hoping someone will hold the door. However over the din of the station no one in the cart heard her. “Well shit I’m late, Mia is gonna be pissed.” In this moment Tamara could make a decision. The next es-cart didn’t arrive for her sector for another 30 minutes. She could either go get food or she could try and run a few stops down to see if there was any connecting carts. With no bunqah in her system it would seem to be time for a stop to the food court. Through the bustle of the line Tamara grabbed a few servings of lurgane egg, a medium sized cup of bunqah, and a bit of grain, then made her way to a chair to hurriedly down what she could, followed by a few frantic pulls of hash-stick even though the hallways to the cart entrances had started to crack down on people smoking synth hash. Tamara snubs the stick as soon as it sounds like a new cart is sliding down the tracks and rushes back to her gate in just enough time to hurry into the crowded cart. The es-cart ride down to the Plaza district was a bit longer than normal, which partially explains the weird timing of the carts arrival and departures but Tamara wasn’t fully convinced that it wasn't her fault for taking a bit longer than normal this morning. “Dammit Tamara, you’re fucking late again.” “I know Mia I missed the damn es-cart, cut me a bit of slack.” Mia slightly fumes, breathes, and readjusts in her chair. “Anything happen on the morning show?” Tamara speaks after a few minutes, trying to cut a bit of the tension in the room. “Other than the occasional oddball that calls in, no nothing really happened. Same Shit, Different Day, Repetitive Format.” Mia slightly relaxes. “Oh Hey, have you talked to Morley recently?” Tamara turns to face Mia, “No, what’s up?” “Apparently a member of Marius’ family moved to town recently.”

“Oh that’s really cool, we should invite them out for drinks or something.” Mia grabs her comm-screen to text Marius and see if they can go out. A few minutes of radio work later, Mia gets a response from Marius saying he’s down for this weekend, he’ll have to ask Faison about it though. “That’s pretty sweet, glad she finally moved out here. Vorot7B isn’t nearly as nice as Palikata.”

“Oh Shush Mia, its not that big of a deal. It’s not like both cities were designed to be similar but slightly different. You’re just hating on it.” Mia stares down at one of the mixers. “Sorry I’m just a bit riled up this morning. Just been stressed.” Tamara walks over and hugs Mia gently. “It’s okay, we all have our stressful days. Lets just get through the shift and we can out for drinks tonight. That sound okay to you?” “Yeah I think I could manage that.”

After another shift is completed, the pair make their way back from the plaza district, and exit close to the bar down the street from Mia’s place. While Tamara finds them seats, Mia grabs two glasses of manna-ferment, and sits down next to Tamara, who seemed to find a seat next to a group of strangers and has now started up a fevered discussion.

“So what you are telling me is that you think Kvox is going to beat Xantoni, despite the like fact that Kvox is like half the size.” Tamara's love for that damn show is so fervent it’s kinda funny sometimes, at least in Mia’s eyes. “Kvox has done it before and he’ll do it again for sure. His dethroning was only temporary, and he’ll rise back up soon.” Comes the reply from the person almost directly across from Tamara. Their hair a light lavender color, Mia can see the antennae that all Or’otl have dancing across the top of their head. “That’s P’iquloth.” says the person sitting near where Mia took her seat. Mia looks over and sees Irina, her face slightly flushed and with a look of disappointment. “You can’t take them anywhere can you?” Irina laughs, “Irina, and what is your name?” “Mia.” “Oh that’s a beautiful name.” Mia blushes, not expecting the brusque tone of Irina’s voice. “I’m sad to say I kinda agree, P’iquloth is a very big fan, and while sometimes it’s fine, she often can get a bit heated when she drinks.” Mia nods, taking a sip and passing Tamara her glass. “Are you and P’iquloth close?” Mia asks, trying to find out more about the pair, one half who is still arguing inane details about which matches Xantoni won on technicalities. “So where are you from Irina? your accent sounds a bit different from everyone here.” “Oh my parents were from Vorot7B, but underwent pilgrimage back to UQOR, and I grew up there.” Mia nods, knowing that the entire speech pattern there is completely different. After sipping her drink, she asks “So does that mean you also have access to the color spill? You look Romulan but if there was pilgrimage doesn’t that mean you can access the color regions from TELOHI?” Irina laughs. “Someone has done their homework, that’s cute.” Mia blushes. “Sadly I cannot display but I do have the ultraviolet receptors so I can see it and read it.” Irina takes a sip of her drink and lights a hash-stick. “What about you Mia? I am guessing you are from a branched web?” Irina takes another sip of her drink. “Yeah both me and Tamara were born here. Tamara lived in Vorot7B for a bit but I’ve stayed here in Palikata forever.” Mia takes a drink as Irina takes a drag. “I do apologize if this is a bit personal, but are currently entangled with anyone?” Mia damn near spits her drink out and blushes, taking a second before stammering out, “Not at the current moment no.” “Would you like to send me your comm info then? I would be happy to go out with you.” Mia hands over her comm-screen while heavily blushing. “I appreciate that. Sadly it looks like I have to go wrangle my esteemed friend as they seem to still be arguing with Tamara.” Irina smiles and walks over to P’iquloth, making a slight gesture and whisper before P’iquloth staggers out of their seat. “I hope you know I’m not forgetting our bet.”

Tamara calls out to P’iquloth before sitting next to Mia, who is still blushing a bit. “they seem nice” slides out of Tamara's mouth, but Mia is still quite speechless. The pair slowly round up their belongings and begin the march back to Tamara's domicile. Mia, beaming at the thought of a date, still does not say anything to Tamara, deciding to bring it up in the morning after she’s slept on it for a bit. Tamara makes her way to bed, unsure about Mia’s silence after an abnormally chatty night, sure after some sleep they’ll both be fine in the morning.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 556, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1016

“Hey MC, how are things over on your end?”

“Well, hey ho to you too, Danny boy!” I greeted my older brother as I was making lunch for everyone- grilled cheese and pepperoni sandwiches, seasoned French fries and sliced fruit. “Whadup?”

“I have some extra tickets for the Giants vs. Chiefs game coming up next month!” he told me. “And since I knew that Peter is a massive football fan, I thought that I would offer them to you and the family!”

“Hang on, I’ll ask him!” I set my cell phone up against my collarbone as I went over to the back door. I stepped out into the backyard and automatically grinned at the sight of the kids frolicking around in the freshly fallen leaves. “My love!”

“Sweetheart?” he called out, standing and lumbering my way with the triplets cradled in his arms.

“Daniel’s on the line,” I told him, practically breaking out into purr when he reached out to cup at my face.

“Daniel…” He blinked owlishly, clearly trying to think of who I was referring to. “Daniel who?”

“Daniel Bradley, my big brother, the NFL quarterback for the Kansas City Chiefs,” I deadpanned before turning back to my laughing brother. “I’m guessing you heard that just now?”

“Hey Peter! How do you feel about attending a Giants vs. Chiefs football game next month on the 31st?” chortled Daniel and I could only picture him eating a bowl of cereal, which had always been his favorite food source. “It will be at the MetLife and there will also be a trunk or treat event for the kids of the team after the game out on the field!”

“Sounds like fun!” he said, motioning for my cell phone, which I handed over with a hum, accepting the three tiny babies from him and watching as he padded away to his office to hash out a plan of action with my older brother.

“Hey kids, what will you be for Halloween?” I called out as I wandered out into the backyard and dropped into a chair.

“I really want to be Rapunzel!” Elizabeth giggled, cackling as she threw fistfuls of leaves up into the air for Mittens to leap at. “Mittens, you are a silly kitty!”

MEOW the motherly cat shrieked with kitty joy as she rolled over onto her back and began to roll in the crunchy leaves, acting more like a dog than a cat. Primrose crept up to her not a skunk mother, jumping onto her with an excited chitter.

“Katie wants to be Raya and Baby Tommy wants to be Snow White,” Elizabeth was saying. “Katie and I have already sketched out a plan and she made patterns- we plan on going to Mood fabric store next week to look at fabric!”

“Also, I want to looks for Raya’s conical hat in little China!” Katie chimed in from where she and Baby Tommy both had been raking up leaves for an epic jump.

“Ah, sounds like you both got everything under control!” I hummed, cooing down at Baby Teddy as he sneezed.

“Bless you, Baby Teddy!” Peter said as he bounded out into the late September air. He puffed his chest out as he tossed his head back to inhale a sharp breath of crisp autumn air.

“My love, did you get everything squared away with Daniel?” I asked, noting that he had gone upstairs for Baby Eve, who was battling a case of the sniffles.

“I sure did, sweetheart,” he told me with a smile. “Also, James and Aaron had made plans to go to a haunt over in the next county over, so I told them that they can drop off little girl and that she’ll come with us. Oh and also Adam and Anna will be in New Jersey for an event with the Navy, so he’ll also be dropping off the twins for a few days.”

“My love, I hate to say it, but it does sound like you have a massive case of the baby fever,” I accused him with. “And also, you’re just lucky that I really love having a full house also.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I should’ve cleared it with you first,” he acknowledged his rush of excitement of having his family under his roof. “But as I said time and time again, there’s always room for more love in the Ratajczyk house.”

“You’re forgiven, my love,” I tutted at him, immediately thinking of everything that needed to be done- the twins’ Jack and Jill bedrooms would need to be aired out and have their beds dressed with fresh linins, little girl’s big girl room would need to be swept and vacuumed…

“You’re forgiven, my love. Just as long as you help me prep the house for our guests.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[stoptellinglieslois]

Principal of pleasure part 52

Jon is hanging out with Clark and Dick. Telling stories and keeping them company.

Superman x Nightwing pairing

Clark

As I rubbed medicated balm on Dicks chest and back I heard Jon stomach grumbling.

I looked at him not liking that sound. "Hey did your mother make you anything to eat this morning." I asked him. Getting up off the bed hoping Lois is giving him basic needs.

He didn't say anything just looked at me it was like he was brain storming I hope he isn't trying to lie and make up a story for me.

Dick clumsily put his t-shirt back and laid back down on the old bed. "Well Jon did you eat." Dick asked him his breathing heavy and congestive.

"No Mom is hung over." I died inside of me like a withering dying feeling that was once alive now is dead and lost his real hope on just only a few hopes left in me and I had hope for many.

"Ok I will make you something to eat then." I got up my inner turmoil and my true reality about this situation was coming to a head, I had control over this I could rain this in for my son.

Lois was losing control right now I wish I could have hope for her but I damaged her too much, And I can't act like a saint when all I've been towards her is a sinner.

I could never fix what I did to her and for that I'm paying and Jon paying it and so is Lois.

"How does eggs and toast bacon the whole works sound to you."

"Very good but stop talking cause you'll make it worse."

I laugh and started breakfast for him and I think for me as well I was starting to get hungry.

"Tell me your Mom is she ok right now Jon." Dick asked him rubbing Jon's back they always had a good bond, It looks like whatever is going on at home will push them more towards each other then apart from each other.

"Mom is doing bad Dick she's not doing well at all. She told me she took a leave of absence at work so she is home but all she does is drink." Jon said I cracked eggs into the frying pan and threw some bacon hash brown some parsley pepper and some salt.

The fire burned just as hot as my emotions.

"I tried talking to her but she cries a lot so I stopped talking to her. I sometimes sit with her I hug her and kiss her." Jon says as he lets Dick rub his back probably the only real and authentic human touch he had in weeks.

"How much dos she drink Jon."

"Mornings if I catch her sometimes she does think I see her almost every night now."

I put the bread in the old toaster and listened as my son talked about Lois anguish unravel in front of me.

"So when I told her if I could come over she said yes but she was crying a lot." Jon said watching me cook by the small stove.

The storm raged on as we stayed captive here it was a sense of warmness I felt for Jon being around me and Dick it was nice and I wanted this to last forever.

But I knew I would bring him back home but that does not mean he can't stay with us for a while, I could fly him to school and back here I could be more hands on because Lois is on hiatus she is showing me she's fallen and that's fine I could step in.

But I would wait I want to prob Jon more about Lois this seems more serious then whatever I've originally thought.

"Can I say something to you Dick echinacea works for cold and flu it's a bit messy but it works Mom always gives it to me when I am sick." Jon said watching him cough.

"You know what Jon can you watch the stove I will go out and get some." I told them this is giving me an idea to check up on Lois.

I grabbed the keys by the key hold. "Just look after Dick for me and breakfast." I was already out the door.

"I will." Jon called after this was my chance to go to her at the house the rain beat down on me heavy and angry for showing myself outside as if insulted for my presence.

The storm angered as I rose and flew up into the sky towards Smallville.

End of part 52 next is part 53

Thank you for reading

[justreckin]

Oh man, Una coming around to being grandma happens gradually. Chris met the kids, saw how Eve was around them, understood immediately what that meant and acted accordingly. On the other hand, Una has raised two children and once took Chris to task for calling Eve their youngest because they aren't actually La'an's parents. (Chris very wisely has not said this again, but is always on the lookout to get this ridiculousness hashed out)

Which is just the very long way to say that Una didn't realize she was starting to get protective of the kids. It was things like Ezekiel casually announcing he's off to steal a diamond and Una telling him "absolutely not, you almost got caught last time, you're not leaving until you can prove your plan is good enough." Jake goes to leave for a dig he's been planning for a while, and Una ends up running through his packing checklist then still handing him an extra bag of medical supplies and snacks. Cassie comes into the lab one day and Una straight up refuses to let her participate on the grounds that this experiment is likely to explode when Cassie tries to point out she's participated in similar experiments before she's told she can either sit and take notes or leave.

The kids brush it off at first, but it just keeps getting worse and worse. Eve is no help (hey, they laughed at her, she's gonna enjoy this). When they go to Chris his advice is "call her grandma." It takes some convincing before they believe he's serious but even then they're all reluctant to try it. Until one day Ezekiel finally goes "yes grandma" in that tone and she just freezes, eventually asks if he's got everything and sends him off with a "come home safe." So the other kids try it and it works. Una's still overprotective, but she's toned it down. So the kids all go running to Chris for an explanation which is basically that Una isn't great at feelings but excels at understanding roles, so it helps her to understand what role she's supposed to be filling.

When La'an shows up next and casually drops that she's off doing something dangerous the kids all get to watch Una be super weird about the whole thing and Chris just goes "see what I mean?" Eve's over there massaging her temples like "yeah, this is still a mess." Chris now has allies on the make Una and La'an get their shit together mission.

And, on a completely unrelated note, Chris absolutely hosts magical dinners from time to time. They're a delight to the whole community and it's well known that if you bring him an interesting ingredient and/or a recipe you'll be in for a treat.

Una would be the Librarian, Chris the Guardian.

[aristrocrat]

Upside Down Feelings III

Chapter 4: The Sauna Test

summary: I’M NOT EVEN GONNA BOTHER WITH A SUMMARY BC I’M TOO BUSY SCREAMING RN

word count: IDK BUT ITS KINDA LONG

“-That keycard opens the door,” Dustin continued explaining to the three sleepy teenagers sitting in front of him. You lazily plopped your head on your palm as Steve played with his sailor hat and Robin clicked away at the ice cream scooper. The sleepiness didn’t stop you from listening intently. “But unfortunately the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun. Whatever’s in this room, whatever’s in those boxes, they really don’t want anybody finding it.”

“But there’s gotta be a way in,” You shook your head in thought. Steve blew into his hat, putting it down as he leaned forward in a serious manner.

“I can just take him out,” He said.

“Take who out?” You raised your brows.

“The Russian guard.”

You snorted.

“What? I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It’s easy.”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?” You deadpanned.

“Yes, Y/N, I did. And that’s why I would be sneaking,” He rolled his eyes as if you were the one misunderstanding the situation. You felt the familiar feeling of anger bubble in your chest at his tone.

“Well, riddle me this, Einstein: what gives you the idea that you can win a fight against a trained soldier when you couldn’t even take Jonathan down?” You leaned forward with a smirk, leaving only mere inches between your faces.

“That was one time,” He scoffed.

“Twice. Billy beat the living shit out of you in November,” You corrected.

“That? That doesn’t count-“

“Oh, that doesn’t count?” You chuckled. He narrowed his eyes at your arrogance. “And pray tell, why doesn’t it count, Steve?”

“Because, Y/N-“

“Here they go again,” Dustin muttered. Robin rolled her eyes before her face dropped in thought.

“No, no, no! If I remember correctly, and I do-“ You continued.

“That’s debatable! You slammed your head pretty hard-“ Steve interrupted.

“What are you thinking?” Dustin asked the freckled girl gone silent, allowing you and Steve to hash it out as he listened to her response.

“If we want to find a safe way into that room, we’ll need a map,” Robin responded, watching as you and Steve continued with your daily argument. “They’ll be at it for a while. Wanna come with?”

“Where to?” Dustin perked up.

“County Recorder’s Office. Grab the money from the tip jar. I’ll meet you outside,” She stood up and walked toward your purse, digging around for your keys. Dustin nodded, taking off.

“Woah, hey, what are you doing?” You turned around, hearing the familiar jingle from your keys.

“I’m borrowing the Bronco. We’ll be back in jiffy,” She was already walking out of the door. You both followed after her.

“You don’t even have your license!”

“It’s just around the corner! Live a little!” She smirked.

“Hey, dipshit! Where are you going with our tips?” Steve called after Dustin.

“We need it! Trust us! We’ll be back!”

And just like that, the two disappeared into the crowd of people outside of the parlor.

“That sounds like a bad idea,” Steve muttered. “You should probably go with them.”

“Why me?” You frowned. “You go with them.”

“Oh, my God! Would it kill you to agree with me for once in your life?” He sighed, walking into the back again. “You are so unreasonable sometimes.”

“Says the man that wants to take down an armed guard by sneaking up to him,” You rolled your eyes, following close behind and leaning on the counter as you watched him pace.

“We’ve taken down far scarier things than armed guards, Y/N,” He lowered his voice, taking a step closer to you to continue. “Surely, we could-“

“We?” You laughed. “Oh, no. No, no, no-“

“Just hear me out,” Another step.

“No, you hear me out, Harrington,” You drove your pointer finger into his chest, tired of hearing his naive plan. He looked down at you with wide eyes. “You think everything is so simple! You know why we took down those things?”

“Strategy and tactic!” He shouted.

“No, Steve! Luck. Sheer luck. We were only mere seconds away from meeting a different fate!” You shouted back. “Had we not had El in our corner- Had she not shown up when she did, we would’ve been dead. Hell, we should be dead. But we aren’t.”

“Well, we will be dead eventually if we let those fucking Russians go on with whatever they’re doing!”

“No. It’s too dangerous,” You shook your head.

“Then let me do it alone-“

“And let you die?! Do you have any idea what that would do to me?!”

Silence. Ear piercing silence ensued as those final words processed in his mind.

“I..” You took a deep breath, realizing exactly what just spilled out of your mouth. His eyes danced across your face in a way they haven’t since that night you’d shared a dance at the Winter Ball. “I meant Dustin. Do you have any idea what that.. would do to Dustin..”

The ends of his lips curled up ever so slightly with amusement as he placed his hands on either side of you, resting his weight on the counter behind you. His smug smile not even a foot away from your own lips. “You’re a shit liar, you know that?”

“I’m not.. I’m not lying,” You breathed, cursing yourself for stuttering. But you couldn’t help to feel nervous with those half-lidded eyes staring deeply into your own. He didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. It was written plainly on his face.

He wanted you.

“Then look me in my eyes and tell me you didn’t mean what you said,” He tested the waters by getting closer. He licked his lips, making you realize they were only six inches away from your own.

“I didn’t mean it,” You said without hesitation. It didn’t matter how firmly you said it, it was your own eyes that you away this time as flickered down to those soft lips. You couldn’t resist to take a glimpse. You tried to hide it. But it was clear as day.

You wanted him, too.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slowly. His brown eyes danced around your face, taking you in with enough focus to memorize every feature.

He lifted his left hand, setting it on your jaw as his thumb brushed against your lower lip before dragging it down to your chin.

“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” He whispered, inching closer until his nose tickled your own.

“A really bad idea,” You agreed softly, feeling his mouth graze ever so gently against your own. Your eyes shut as you breathed each other in for a moment before he gave you a small nod and forced himself to take a step back stepped back.

You both blinked, taking in what almost just happened. He cleared his throat as you shifted uncomfortably at the tension. Another deafening silence shot through your chest, greeting the violent butterflies that fluttered away beneath the surface.

“I, uh..” He scratched at the back of his neck, searching for something- anything to say. “I should get back up there.”

You only nodded, watching as he took long strides to the door and disappeared behind it. You turned around, letting out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as you leaned against the counter; your palms on the cold metal was your only source of stability. You allowed yourself to let out a few deep breaths, brushing your lips with your fingers and remembering the way his warm breath danced on them only a few moments before.

The door burst open, making you jump as you looked up to see Steve making a beeline towards you. “Fuck it.”

You didn’t know who kissed the other first, but before you knew it, his lips collided onto your own, hands pressed firmly against your waist and cheek as your own clawed at his shirt, pulling him in even closer. Your fingers found his hair and gently pulled at the brunette locks, earning a groan that rumbled into your core.

He backed you into the same counter you were just leaning on, helping you onto it as you jumped. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him into you.

He kissed you with fervor. You kissed him back just as hungrily. It was as if all of the tension that had built up in the previous months exploded into this.

He chuckled against your lips.

“You have no idea.. how long I’ve been.. wanting to do this,” He mumbled between kisses before pulling away. “You’re way better at this than I remember.”

“You are, too,” You smiled, following his lips. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

He hummed in response into the kiss, allowing his mouth to fall back into the same, hungry rhythm from the moment before.

Your hands played with the hem of his work shirt before your cold fingers left a trail of goosebumps on the tops of his hips, refusing to trail up until he did the same.

You have no idea how long you’d been making out for or how many times you’d both ignored the front bell ring. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar boyish giggle followed by the words “Turns out kissing is actually better without teeth!” that you both jumped away from one another, hastily adjusting your uniforms and finger combing through your hair just in time to look semi-presentable for your best friend and brother.

“Check this out,” Dustin grinned, pointing at the map Robin was now unfolding into the table. Both of them were too preoccupied looking at the map to catch your flushed faces and swollen lips.

“Starcourt Mall,” Robin smiled proudly. “The complete blueprints.”

“So, this is us, Scoops,” Dustin dragged his finger around the map. “And this is where we want to get.”

“I mean,” Steve cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool. He looked over at you to see that your wide eyes looked intently at the map presented to you. You were avoiding his gaze. “I, uh.. I don’t really see a way in.”

“There’s not,” Robin peeled off the top layer of papers. “If you’re talking exclusively about doors.”

“Air ducts..” You muttered, feeling your heart pound away nervously, but thankful for a topic you could throw yourself into. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

“I know,” She shrugged, walking to the wall on the opposite side of the room to grab a marker. “Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room. And these air ducts lead all the way..” She began to draw. “Here.”

The Russians’ secret room.

“I’ll grab the ladder.”

———

“Flashlight,” Steve ordered with the screwdriver in his mouth. “Y/N?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry,” You blinked, realizing you’d been staring blankly at his thighs. You handed him the flashlight.

“Thank you,” He chuckled, exchanging the wet screwdriver for the light before looking into the air vent. “Yeah, I don’t know, Dustin. I don’t know if you can fit in here. It’s, like… super tight.”

Did he have to say it like that?

“He’ll fit,” You patted your brother’s back. “You wanted to be an American hero, right? Well, here’s your chance, Mr. No-Collarbones.”

Dustin took the flashlight from Steve and climbed up the ladder.

“Uh, excuse me?” Robin asked as Steve climbed down.

“He’s got some disease. Chry, uh.. Chrydo, um.. something,” Steve looked at you for help.

“Cleidocranial Dysplasia,” You grunted as you tried to push your brother into the vent.

“Right. Cleidocran.. I don’t know. He’s missing bones and stuff. He can bend like gumbo.”

“You mean Gumby?” Robin offered

“I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He quickly turned to you at the sound of your voice calling his name.

“A little help?”

“Oh, right, yeah.”

You both grabbed his feet again.

“Not my feet, dumbasses. Push my ass.”

“I’m out,” You dropped his foot. “I’m not touching your ass.”

“TOUCH MY BUTT! I DONT CARE!”

“I DO!” You shouted back. “I’ve washed your laundry, Dustin. I’ve seen those occasional skid marks-“

“Y/N! SHUT UP!”

“All I’m saying is that wet wipes go a long way-“

“FUCK OFF, Y/N!! STEVE?! PUSH MY ASS!”

“Well, I don’t wanna push your ass if there are skid marks-“

“I DON’T HAVE SKID MARKS! PUSH MY ASS OR I’M TELLING YOU-KNOW-WHO ABOUT YOUR LITTLE CRUSH-“

“OKAY, I’M PUSHING! .. Jesus..”

Robin looked over at you slowly, annoyed at the sight in front of her. You stared with wide eyes at the boy in front of you, following every order your brother gave him and using his entire body to try to push the boy in.

“Oh, my god,” She smiled. “You enjoying the view over there?”

You tilted your head at Steve readjusting his feet on the ladder, subtle muscles rippling through his calves and thighs. “Oddly enough? Kinda.”

“Come on! Harder! Push harder!” Dustin shouted.

“I am!!” Steve grunted.

“You’re playing with my legs!”

“I’m not playing! I have terrible footing-“

“COME ON!”

“I’m gonna just shove you! Ready?!”

“SHOVE ME?!” Dustin screamed.

“Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck! Ahoy?!” An annoying voice shouted from behind you.

You and Robin turned around, a smile creeping on both of your faces as you watched the small girl continuously ring the bell on the counter.

“Get over here and serve me some samples!”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” You looked at your best friend.

“Hey, kid!” Robin shouted. “How would you like a chance to earn free ice cream?”

———

“Erica, do you copy?” You’d all taken your positions on the top of the roof looking down at the Russian’s secret door.

“Mm-hmm. I copy,” The walkie in Robin’s hand responded. “You nerds in position or what?”

“Yeah, we’re in position,” You responded. “It’s all quiet here, so you’ve got the green light.”

“Green light, roger that. Commence Operation Child Endangerment.”

“Can we maybe not call it that?” You felt Steve lean up against you, scoffing at the girl’s words.

“See you on the other side, nerds.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Dustin muttered.

“What?” You and Steve both blinked, wondering if the duo had caught you earlier.

“… Bringing a child into our schemes,” He said slowly.

“You are a child, dingus,” Robin frowned. “But yeah, not the best plan we’ve had.”

“Hey! It was my plan,” You laughed.

“Explains why it’s such a bad one,” Steve teased, leaning further into you. “Then again, some bad ideas only seem bad until you do them. Then they turn out to be really good ideas. Like, really good ideas.”

You smiled softly up at him, feeling those same molten hot butterflies that have haunted your chest for the past few month. You’d barely been allowed to let the words register before your brother snorted.

“How profound, Steve,” Dustin muttered sarcastically before handing you his binoculars. “Truly beautiful. Have you ever looked into writing poems? You’d really give Edgar Allen Poe a run for his money.”

You let out a genuine chuckle before handing off the walkie and looking at the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve let out a scoff. “You have one toothless kiss and all of the sudden you’re a dick? Not cool, man.”

The boys continued with their annoyed conversation, only interrupted by the occasionally check in on Project Child Endangerment.

“All I’m saying is that you need to get your ego in check,” Steve continued.

“Oh, my ego needs to be checked?” Dustin snorted before the walkie went off.

“I’m in.”

———

“Hand me the box cutter,” Steve held out his hand before you gently placed it in his hand. He whipped out the knife before skillfully sliding it down the taped entrances of the cart board box, only to reveal a metal container within it.

He looked up briefly before he turned the notch at the top and lifted the lid. Four other knobs decorated the top of the box, smoke leaking out of the circular cracks.

“That’s definitely not Chinese food,” Steve muttered, setting down the titanium lid. “Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.”

“No,” You and Dustin both shook your heads.

“Just step back, okay?” Steve gently pushed at Dustin’s chest.

“No,” He protested. You simply stood your ground.

“Step back, Henderson. Seriously,” He looked up at both of you.

“No! No!” Dustin shouted. “If you die, I die.”

He stared blankly at the boy before looking up at you. “What’s your excuse?”

“What? You think you’re the only one around here who wants to be an American hero?” You smirked, earning a chuckle. You pressed into him, moving him aside as you twisted the knob and pulled it out of the metal box yourself. Compressed air wheezed out as you pulled out a container filled with neon green liquid.

He knew he shouldn’t be shocked at your bravery at this point, already having seen you put your own life in danger without so much as a second thought various times, but he couldn’t help but look at you in awe as you examined the liquid.

This was same the girl who only closed her eyes, preparing for death as a Demogorgon hovered above her.

The same girl who wandered out of the bus to lure in the Demo-Dogs, and later fight them off alongside Steve.

The same one that led the group straight into the heart of those monsters’ layer in hopes of sparing the lives of the town, not even hesitating to lift all of the kids out of the dangerous tunnels before you even thought about getting out yourself.

“What the hell is this?” You whispered, deep in thought.

Both of your thoughts were interrupted by the floor under you rumbling.

“Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin looked up.

“Booby traps..” Erica whispered.

The ground shook once more, erupting through the silence with a mechanical whirring.

“You know what? Let’s just grab that and go,” Robin took the container from your hands. Dustin ran over to the same buttons Erica had used to open the door.

“Which one do I press, Erica?” He called anxiously.

“Just press the damn button, nerd.”

“Which one? I’m pressing the button, okay? I-“

“Press ‘Open Door’!”

“I’m pressing ‘Open Door’!”

“Just open the- Press the other button!” Steve shouted, pushing him out of the way.

“Wait! Wait! I don’t think-“ You began. “Stop! It’s gotta be like a password or something!”

“Out of the way so she can push the button!” Robin tried to speak over the shouting. All five of you began shouting, offering suggestions and trying to make your way to the buttons before the door clanged firmly shut.

You all froze before the lights went out and the room began moving violently, sending your stomachs into your throats with a familiar falling sensation. Screams erupted through all of you before you felt Steve wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him, stabilizing you both with his other arm.

“Look!” You shouted, pointing at the top of the room. He followed your gaze to see that the open space revealed that the falling feeling you’d all felt wasn’t feigned, the room was in fact moving downwards.

“Oh, shit.”

Chapter 5 ->

———

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a/n: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD IT FINALLY HAPPENED!! ITS ABOUT TIME THESE TWO IDIOTS SHARED A FUCKING KISS 😭😭 THIS SLOW ASS BURN HAS BEEN KILLING MEEEEE

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[blushingbucky]

you are in love, true love | b.b.

alternatively titled - bucky barnes falling in love with his best friend.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: bucky never imagined he would find the love of his life in his roommate.

warnings: roommates!au, unedited writings, heavy dialogue, she/her pronouns, mentions of food, a possibly ooc bucky, slightly obscure pop culture and music references (iykyk)

author’s note: the combination of my listening to 1989 in hopes of its re-recording and the need to write something other than angst resulted in this little series of blurbs. I haven’t written for Bucky in a while, so hopefully this is all still in character ? anyways. this fic is actually really personal — it references my favourite movies, the songs I listen to, things I would actually say in real life. please keep that in mind before you share your thoughts in the comments and reblogs <3

Your hands fiddle with the top button of your coat, twisting it back and forth. Was it too much?

You turn side to side, staring into your too-small mirror. The white blouse and black dress pants caressed your figure perfectly, and those black heels didn’t pinch your toes. A well-chosen, respectable, elegant outfit for a job interview. You just couldn’t make up your mind on that damn blue coat.

“Buck?” You call out, and a moment later he’s opened the door of your bedroom. “Do you like the coat?”

He hummed, eyes darting from the coat to the mirror, and back again. “That depends. You going for a Paddington bear look?”

“Buck,” you hiss, turning around to swat his arm. His laugh is loud as he steps aside, dodging your attack. Even with your stress, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his laugh.

“Sorry, sorry! What about Rick Blaine?” Bucky arches his eyebrows with a grin, and you laugh at the reference.

“Interesting references. Do I have Sam to thank?”

“Hey, someone had to show me the classics.”

Your laugh fades as you stare down at the coat again. “So, no coat?”

“No coat,” Bucky takes your hands in his, flesh hand warm, metal fingers cool. “You look stunning.”

. . .

The hour of midnight is quiet, the road almost completely deserted, headlights lighting up the dark. Your head rests against your propped arm, staring at Bucky’s hand as it shifts the gears. Adele’s cover of ‘Make You Feel My Love’ plays from your Bluetooth, as he drives you home.

“I’m happy for them,” you murmur in the dark. Steve and Nat’s housewarming was a small affair, but the excitement left you drained. Their apartment was slightly larger than yours, with space in the living room for Steve’s drawings and close proximity to a gym.

Bucky turns his gaze from the road to your exhausted figure, nodding in agreement. “Me too.”

The comfortable silence is broken a few minutes later, when he murmurs, “Look up.”

Your hand brushes his grip on the gear stick as you shift, eyes focused on the road.

Instead of turning right into one of the many streets leading to your apartment, Bucky continues down the freeway. You open your mouth in confusion, with understanding taking its place as the golden arches of McDonald’s come into view.

“Figured you might want some hash browns, maybe a coffee?” His voice is tentative, and you wonder why he remembered such an insignificant detail about your midnight cravings.

If you weren’t careful, you just might fall in love with this man. Your reply is soft, almost lost to the night as Little Mix’s ‘Change Your Life’ starts. “I’d like that.”

. . .

The knock to your bedroom door is soft, but it reverberates through your already-throbbing head.

You groan, “Go away, Buck,” and turn onto your other side in the hope of falling back to sleep. But your thin curtains don’t keep out the morning light, the lump in the mattress presses into your ribs, and the door opens anyway.

“Made you breakfast.” Bucky’s voice is rough, indicating he himself didn’t wake up too long ago.

The harsh smell of burnt toast offset by sweet coffee floods your senses, forcing you to sit up and acknowledge his presence. “You call burnt toast breakfast?”

“That toaster is going to be the death of me… that is, not if you kill me first.”

Your glare softens as you reconsider — he made you breakfast. In bed. Unprompted. The least you can do is try to choke down the meal. Bucky wrote a smiley face with the butter, and the coffee’s in your favourite mug. Being sick had its perks.

“My ma would make us a special breakfast when we were sick, and I just thought it would be nice.” Bucky’s eyes won’t meet yours, and your heart softens with the mention of his family.

“It is nice.” You push up the sleeves of his shirt you’d been using as pyjamas, and take a sip of the coffee. “Thank you.”

. . .

“Doll, what are you doing?”

You look up from hanging the bed sheet over a stack of chairs, accidentally loosening your grip on the corner and dropping the damn thing on the floor. “Trying to build a pillow fort, which would be a lot easier if you hadn’t just made me drop that sheet.”

“Ah. What movie?” Bucky nods in understanding, mind already trying to calculate what memory resurfaced for you to have deemed tonight a pillow fort night. He drinks in the sight of you, desperate for details in more ways than one — hair tied back, pyjamas, with the fluffiest socks you own pulled over your feet.

It’s this you, right here, the you that’s reserved just for him. The you who sings in the shower and writes reports at 3 am and steals the last cup of coffee. This was the first side of you he fell in love with, the rest falling into place like dominos. His unfiltered, bright-eyed, messy-haired best friend who builds pillow forts when she misses her family.

The sheet falls into place, and you step down to admire your handiwork. “Do you need to ask?”

Bucky unravels the fairy lights from their place on the kitchen table, giving you a soft smile. “Tangled it is.”

*

“I think you’re my best friend,” Bucky blurts out in the third run of Tangled, lips loose from exhaustion and brain slightly fuzzy from the Asgardian wine.

Your giggles end with an abrupt, “What?”

“Well, yeah, I mean… Steve and I… he’s my brother. And Sam is Sam, and Becca was Becca, and… I don’t know. Every time I turn around, you’re there, watching my six.” He sighs, turning onto his side to face you. “And besides, isn’t the job description of a best friend forcing the other to watch their favourite movie on repeat?”

You flick his nose, but he catches your fingers with his own, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His mouth is soft, barely brushing your skin, but your body betrays you, shivering despite the warm air.

With fairy lights twinkling above you, stomach full from one too many glasses of wine and Bucky’s hand in yours, you fall asleep to ‘I See the Light’.

. . .

The kitchen light is low, but you don’t need a spotlight to dance. You’re exhausted and a little tipsy, and frankly not exactly sure how you got here. All you know is Bucky’s arms feel like home, and you’re so damn grateful you answered his ad for a roommate.

He’s humming a simple melody, so faint your ears can barely catch it and your brain can comprehend it, but you don’t need music to dance. His voice is low, deep, smoothing the rough edges of his monotone, rising and falling as his tune builds. With a lift of his hand, Bucky guides you in a gentle twirl, before you fall back into his arms.

You tuck your head beneath his chin, against his chest, and feel the huff of his breath against your hair. Softly swaying back and forth, back and forth. You could stay in his embrace forever. Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head as his humming fades, until the two of you are silently swaying in the dark.

. . .

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store are harsh against his eyes, yellow sale labels too bright, and he can hear your teasing voice. “This is why I do the shopping, Barnes. Can’t trust you to find the plums from the pears.”

He finds the plums easily enough, thank you very much, and places them into the plastic bag with care. Two cartons of milk, a packet of spaghetti and a carton of your favourite cookie dough ice cream later, Bucky’s order is being checked out by a worker.

Bucky pulls out his wallet with his flesh hand, grabbing out a 20-dollar bill to pay for his items. Before he closes the leather, his eyes catch on the picture of you he’d kept. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in a laugh, his metal arm holding you up.

“Got yourself a girl there, hey?” The worker jokes, and Bucky smiles as he slides the wallet back into his pocket.

“My best friend, actually.”

“Guess she’s lucky to have you.” Barry, the name tag reads, hands him his items and receipt.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips as Bucky answers, “I’m lucky to have found her.”

. . .

You can hear it in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

[mysticstrawberryphantom]

Nightmarish Infatuation pt. 2

A/N: This chapter is for exposition, explaining, etc. The chapters that follow will be a romantic psychological thriller. I wouldn’t call it love tho lol

Warnings: Mentions of filicide, a childish joke.

Part 1

Activity time from 2pm to 4:30pm was your favorite two hours and a half of the day at the asylum. You got to interact with all the mildly or barely sick patients and be with them during their finals weeks at Arkham. Well not all of them in the low security wing left. Very few were lifelong patients, people who other institutions refused to house. You hated how they discriminated against those who were a little more work than the average dementia or schizophrenic patient. 

Take the old lady you had just 'danced' with a few minutes ago. The moment she met you, she mistook you for a prince- the most charming of them all. You laughed when she proclaimed it, you weren't the most feminine woman out there, but you also weren't the most masculine. This lady had her episodes, but for the most part was harmless, just sick. 

Now, when it came to the mafiosos admitted here, then you could understand why no one wanted to take them. Surprisingly though, you got along with them pretty well. At first you were confused at their attentiveness towards your person from day one since there were a few more better looking nurses around. In all fairness, most of their personalities weren't of the kind variety and they could be very self centered. Not that you weren't attractive in a sense, but you weren't to die for per se. Just your average pretty. 

Almost generic. 

Yet, the inmates took a liking to you quickly before you had even spoken to them. 

Now, it seemed like you all were good pals in the most professional sense possible. You were kind to them, but you always tried to never over step boundaries- and you hadn't. According to the Warden, everything you did was "permissible" despite other nurses reprimanding and reporting you. 

One could say you were like the asylum's mom or big sister. 

-"If you go to sleep with wet hair, you have a higher chance of getting sick, and that's a fact." You sincerely reprimanded the inmate for the brash behavior he was proudly teasing you about. -"You should stop showering right before bed." 

He chuckled at you, amused that you even cared. 

-"I believe you need to check your facts on the matter." A man's voice mocked from behind. 

It was Dr Crane, but you still hadn't memorized his voice yet due to the lack of interaction.

-"Fact check these nuts, lol." You absentmindedly retorted without looking, thinking it was an inmate teasing you. 

Snorts and restrained chuckles from the mafiosos were barely heard underneath Crane's seething response. They didn't want him to hear, or there would be consequences.

-"Excuse me??"

-"I said fact check these-'' You turned with a smug smile that soon retracted into your mouth, lips both being bitten internally. -''DR. CRANE." You exclaimed. 

Is she finally scared? Scared of the consequences? The sadist happily asked himself until he saw her smile. 

Giggling, you apologized. -"I thought you were a patient, I'm really sorry for using that language with you, Doctor." 

Aghast, Jonathan smoothed out his suit, mostly disappointed her reaction had been so nonchalant. Warden Sharp must truly be so fond of the girl that she didn't have to worry about her behavior towards her supervisors.

-"Sorry." You said while getting up from your seat. -"What can I do for you?" Realizing he must have business with you. 

Clearing his throat before speaking, he muttered. -"I wanted to congratulate you on being accepted into the psychiatric program at GU."

Smiling politely, you thanked him and expressed gratitude for his help, letting him know you couldn’t have done it without him. 

-"Well, I am only mentoring you. The series of interviews they had with you is all to your credit.” 

-”Interviews?” Your face drained. 

-”Y-yes, there are normally three.” 

-”I only had one…” You looked down at the ground, upset. Dr Crane could tell that you were the type of person that liked to get by through your own merits, instead of connections and handouts. 

-”You must’ve blown them away.” He offered with a plastered smile.

-”Hmmmm, uhm… are you coming to the faculty dinner tonight?” You changed the subject, embarrassed and annoyed at this world’s bureaucracy.

 At first the Doctor wanted to say no, instinctively he would’ve declined, but since tonight’s dinner was about her in celebration and introduction to the other psychiatrists. It would be interesting to observe her. 

-”I am.” His faint smile continued. 

A relief washed through your expression, an odd response to an almost stranger RSVPing an event where other strangers would attend. But something within him leapt seeing you react positively to knowing he would be there tonight. 

-”Great! I’m excited, I’ve never been to a Japanese Steakhouse.” Your eyes sparkled. 

-”Oh.” Jonathan said, confused why she was telling him that. -”Most people like it.” He responded flatly. 

-”I like most food, especially when it’s free.” You chuckled. 

Blinking twice, Jonathan began to understand why you had such a hold on many of the patients and workers here. 

-”Anyways, thank you for congratulating me, I have to get back to work.” Both of your thumbs pointed at the patients behind you. -” But, uhm, I’ll see you this evening!” You interrupted his thoughts with a friendly smile, the type one gives when wanting to make a good impression. 

-”Sure, see you Miss L/N.” 

__________________________

-”Doctor Crane!” You happily called out as the restaurant staff shuffled the Asylum doctors into the big room made for parties or other get togethers, two long tables waiting for about 10 people so sit at them. 

-"Miss L/N." His voice offered in response with serenity. 

-"H-how are you doing?" 

You seemed a bit frazzled, perhaps from all the stimulation from a new environment and new people you wanted to impress to gain a spot in the Asylum's unseen social hierarchy. 

-"I'm doing well, how about yourself? Hungry?"

-"Absolutely! Do you mind if we sit together?" You asked while moving in sync with the company that were being ushered towards picking a seat, obviously trying to avoid someone. 

Jonathan nodded, and pulled a chair out for you before sitting down himself . You two sat towards the middle end of the long table, the Warden choosing to sit directly in front of you with Dr Young to his side. Seconds later, Dr Quinzel sat to your right and in front of her Dr Hugo Strange. You felt intimidated in an instant. The smartest and most prolific of all staff sat by your side, perhaps because you had chosen to be with Dr Crane, one of their caliber. 

-”How has the start of the semester treated you, Ms L/N?” Doctor Young asked with a friendly smile after everyone had received their food. 

-”Well!” You began, grinning. -”Though it’s throwing me for a loop because it’s nothing like when I went for my bachelor’s.”

-”What was your undergrad in?” 

-”Zoology with a minor in conservation ecology.” 

-”Oh.” Penelope Young began. -”What brought you into the field of psychology?” 

-”A personal incident in my life … uhm, made me realize that as much as I love nature, I needed to use my talents to help people.” 

-”Your ta-” 

-”Do you think people are ruining nature and they all need to be gone?” Dr Quinzel interrupted loudly. 

You grimaced at the question and shook your head. -”No. Well, I do think people, empresarios to be exact, are ruining nature. But getting rid of apex predators completely is an incredibly stupid solution that is proven to not work. Have you heard of the wolves of yellowstone study?”

-”Yes, they reintroduced wolves and the park practically reincarnated into its former state. The wolves control the deer population, so plants can grow as normal, thus affecting all insects, water supply, small mammals, etc.” Jonathan answered while dipping one of his rushi roll pieces into soy sauce. 

For a split second you thought he looked incredibly attractive. 

How he answered something you were passionate about so nonchalantly made you heart feel a certain way, but only for a few seconds, Dr Quinzel’s roaring laughter derailed your train of thoughts.

-”I think you should see Poison Ivy, you would-

-”Pamela Isley.” Warden Sharp interrupted harshly. -”We do not use their aliases, Dr. Quinzel.”

Scoffing she ignored him. -”I think you could at least make her feel like you understand her. Maybe that would help her recover.” 

-”Speaking of which, when are you going to let her start seeing patients with you? Or alone? She does seem pretty capable and trained.” Dr Hugo Strange added to the conversation for the first time. 

-”Soon, I just need to train and check her psyche.” Was all Jonathan offered as he continued to eat, not making eye contact. 

-”You have the most charming Doctor as your mentor, Y/N.” Harleen Quinzel mocked. 

-”He’s very kind and devoted to his craft. I’m honored to have him help me out.” You concurred, making it seem like you were oblivious to the jab. 

In response everyone near earshot laughed, except Jonathan Crane. Instead he was confused looking at you, who flashed an exceptionally energetic smile at him. Eyebrows furled, he pushed his up glasses. 

You kept the smile. 

He finally smiled back. 

You nodded in satisfaction and began eating again, this time letting your thoughts run free while the others engaged in conversation , deciding not be a part of. They were talking shop after all, their research and other things that didn’t need your involved input. 

As you thought to yourself, you remembered your past. Small slivers of it. Just the painful parts, like your mother and brother’s funeral, the press and its awful headlines calling your mother a crazed killer. 

The empty shell of a father you had to look after you after the whole incident. 

Your guilt.

 If only you had hugged your family goodbye that morning you would have known. If you hadn’t been so selfish and more patient with their mental illnesses. 

You could have known. Your talent, a sort of touch telepathy mixed with clairvoyance, would’ve known. 

Once you touched someone, and you opened your heart and mind- you became vulnerable, you could tell exactly what they were thinking. Not only that, you could gauge how they would feel if a certain event occurred in the near future. You could formulate their behavioral patterns in your head, understand why or what they would do something and from there have a good guess as to what they’d do in hypothetical events. 

That is why you were so good with patients. You knew exactly what they needed after a few moments of simply touching them. 

-”Miss L/N?” Crane called out while placing a hand on your shoulder momentarily to bring you back to reality. -”What are you thinking so intently about?” 

Your head snapped towards him and your eyes met his in confusion. 

-”Just reminiscing, I’m sorry, was anyone talking to me?”

-”No, but I noticed you had become quiet and imobile for a while, so I thought I’d check in.” He voiced truthfully. 

A light blush danced on your cheeks as the Doctor’s icy blue eyes stared into yours, searching into your soul. You then saw those same eyes begin to close a little as his face offered a smile in your direction right before he turned to continue eating. 

Interest. 

When Dr Crane touched your shoulder that’s what you felt. Genuine mental attraction towards your person. 

You were flattered. How did this aloof genius even have time to think about a random nurse like yourself.

On the other hand Dr Crane was actually feeling annoyed during the whole dinner. No matter what he said, your reactions were similar, smiles. 

You acted practically the same around prestigious doctors, except you spoke a little more formal and tried your best to be polite. 

What? Did you hold all people to around the same value? 

That’s stupid. 

You obviously favored those who made you feel comfortable, not a shocker. 

What was the real shock is that the rest of the evening you seemed to gravitate towards his sour presence. He knew perfectly that he wasn’t being the most pleasant person, but you kept coming to his side and talking to him, smiling. 

And he couldn’t help but smile back. 

Perhaps you liked difficult people. Maybe that’s why you worked at the asylum. Others were boring? 

That didn’t seem to be true though, or you’d gravitate the most towards Dr Quinzel and Strange. They made you uncomfortable, but why didn’t the Master of Fear do the same? 

-”Goodnight Dr Crane.” You wished the tall man with a sweet smile. 

-”Goodnight.” He began absentmindedly. -”Are you walking home?” His tone of voice on the befuddled side. 

-”I live a couple blocks away, would be a waste to call a taxi.” 

-”In Gotham?” His right eyebrow raised. 

-”We’re not in the Narrows.” You chuckled. -”Plus, I’ll be fine. I’ve done it multiple times.”

-”Brave.” He muttered. 

-”No, no.” You chuckled again. -”Stubborn. Plus, it’s just people, people aren’t scary.” 

This time Jonathan choked on his saliva momentarily and then cleared his throat, incredibly intrigued. 

-”Sorry, that was insensitive to our patients and their victims at Arkham.” You offered sheepishly. 

-”Everyone has different fears…” Crane adjusted his glasses. -”Mind if I walk you home?” He asked with the intent of seeing your so called bravery in the dark of the night. 

You blushed. 

-”Sure.” 

-”Perfect. Let me help you with your coat.”

A perfect gentlemen and an innocent girl simply flirting at the end of a nice dinner.

That’s what the other doctors saw. 

Good for Jonathan, he finally is interested in something other than his work, some thought. All he needed was a nice girl to open up, others muttered. 

What they didn’t see was a predator corralling his prey.

tags:  @kaitebugg03