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bosbas · 7 months ago

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Chapter 9: I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, colin being incredibly down bad it's insane, Penelope DOES NOT have feelings for colin in this, the bridgertons being tapped in as fuck

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: this one wrote itself basically. so enjoy! happy weekend and a big smooch

June 6, 1816 – It seems that one Mr. Nigel Berbrooke has returned after an extended unexplained absence. He was spotted at the gentleman's club last night, though only for a very short time. This author heard that Mr. Berbrooke was asked to leave only an hour into his appearance due to a particularly aggressive threat he made toward Simon Basset. It’s safe to say that he has been uninvited from the Duke’s ball this evening, and perhaps from the rest of the social season’s events as well, depending on how lenient the Duke and Duchess of Hastings decide to be.

However, information regarding his whereabouts for the past month is scarce, and this author lacks any reputable sources about what the man has been up to while away from London. But rest assured, dear readers, that any information I receive will be relayed through this very column.

Colin looked nervously at his reflection for what seemed like the hundredth time, adjusting his cravat ever so slightly. He sighed in frustration, accepting the fact that his appearance wouldn’t look quite right no matter what he did.

Tonight was Daphne’s ball, and he knew for a fact that you would be in attendance. As much as he was trying to convince himself that this ball was no different, he knew it wasn’t going to be the same. Not after his talk with Anthony. There were some concerningly similar aspects between Kate and Anthony and his friendship– could he even call it a friendship? –with you, and Colin was not too hard-headed to be able to admit that.

But he didn’t want to scare you off. As much as he liked you, he knew you were skittish after everything that happened with Lord Barlow. Besides, Colin didn’t even know if you liked him, too, or if you considered all of this as just an attempt to make you look desirable to other candidates.

Frankly, Colin wasn’t even sure he could convince you to ever marry him. Maybe just being friends, or whatever it was the two of you had now, would suffice. Truthfully, he would take anything.

Tonight, he just wanted a dance. And perhaps a chat, too.

Based on the past few times Colin had spoken with you, he had concluded that you might be his favorite person in the ton to talk to. The mere thought of speaking with you tonight stirred excitement in his stomach. Every time you engaged in conversation, he found himself utterly captivated, forgetting everything else around him. What's more, you seemed genuinely interested in his what he had to say, a rarity among the ton. For the first time, he felt truly understood, and he hoped desperately that you reciprocated his sentiment.

“You look fine,” assured Eloise. “Now can we please go? We’ll never hear the end of it from Daphne if we’re late!”

Colin grumbled in annoyance but begrudgingly made his way to the carriage. In truth, he'd do just about anything to be near you. Even if he didn’t immediately dance with you– knowing full well you would be flocked by hordes of gentlemen wanting your hand in marriage– he still liked to simply… observe you. How your eyes crinkled shut when you laughed, the way you nervously bit your lip when someone you didn’t particularly like asked you to dance, the way you fiddled with your gloves when you were itching to get out of a conversation.

Bloody hell, Colin thought, maybe he did have feelings for you. Well, not love, that would be absurd. But certainly something more than the petty rivalry that had consumed your interactions for weeks on end. It was a sobering realization, especially after relentlessly antagonizing you for the better part of seven weeks.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about you that Colin barely noticed once the carriage had arrived at Daphne and Simon’s residence.

“Colin, darling, is anything the matter?” his mother inquired, tapping him on the arm and gently leading him toward his sister’s home.

“No, no, sorry. Everything’s alright, just got a bit distracted there,” he smiled back.

Christ, he had to get a grip. You’d be put off immediately if you saw how he was acting now. He smoothed his coat down as he entered the ballroom, eyes immediately searching for you in the crowd.

He quickly spotted you speaking to a man he’d never seen before with Isabelle and Carlos by your side. Damn, thought. He’d have to wait to ask you to dance.

But it was no bother. In the meantime, he attended to his duties as the most beloved Bridgerton. He sought out his sister and Simon to thank them for hosting the ball, of course, and danced with Penelope Featherington.

Yet his focus stayed on you. He found himself glancing over to where you were every few minutes, just needing reassurance that you were still there. And also because he quite liked looking at you in general.

Colin shook his head, bringing his attention back to Penelope. He had to remind himself to pull himself together. Even though Colin had spoken to Anthony, you had no reason to believe anything was different between you two. And it wasn’t. Everything was the same. It was only Colin who had changed. Who wanted something different, something more.

“What’s on your mind?” asked Penelope after she noticed Colin’s drifting attention.

“Ah, nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Does Lady Montclair look particularly… subdued tonight, do you think?”

“Y/N?” Penelope clarified, looking over at where you were standing next to Louis.

“Oh heavens, don’t look now!” Colin whispered, panicked. “She’ll see us both looking and know we were talking about her.”

Penelope laughed in disbelief. “Could it be? That my dear friend Colin Bridgerton is finally falling for someone? Have you truly found roots in England? Is that why you’ve stayed for so long this season?”

Colin could only smile bashfully. She had never seen him quite like this. And though it was unusual, it was fairly endearing to see him so flustered over a girl.

“Well, go talk to her, then. What are you doing dancing with me?”

“Penelope, I dance with you at every ball. I can go speak with her after. And don’t tell anyone! I’m not even sure if she likes me.”

“Very well then,” relented Penelope, but Colin did not miss the knowing smile she sent him.

After the dance concluded, Colin chatted with his brothers for a few minutes before making his way over to you and Louis, wanting to avoid seeming overly eager. But once he started walking toward you, your head shot up, as if you could tell that he was getting nearer.

Your eyes met for a split second, but you immediately turned your head away, choosing instead to look at your gloved hands, which were fidgeting nervously. Colin frowned in confusion at your reaction, but continued walking, thinking that perhaps you had seen someone else behind him.

As he reached your side, he saw you chewing anxiously on your lip and his frown deepened. But he pushed through. This was what he wanted, after all. You were what he wanted.

“Lady Montclair,” he bowed. “Would you care for a dance tonight?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his lips as he reached for the dance card on your wrist.

But you pulled your hand away abruptly, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” was your curt response.

Colin’s confusion morphed into frustration. What was the matter with you?

“That’s alright, I understand if you want to save space on your dance card for more…serious suitors,” he cringed as he heard himself speak. But at the end of the day, he was well aware that you were looking for a titled gentleman to be your husband. “We could take a turn about the ballroom and chat for a bit,” he offered, looking at you hopefully once again.

You finally met his eyes, and he could tell you were searching for something as you looked at him, a pained look on your face.

“No, thank you,” you repeated firmly, an edge to your voice.

Colin rolled his eyes. This was so typical of you. You let him in for about three seconds and then went back to keeping him at arm’s length for whatever unknown reason.

“Are we really back to doing this?” asked Colin, exasperated. “I thought we were friends, at the very least.”

Your spine was suddenly rigid, and a fury ignited in your eyes. “We were never friends, Mr. Bridgerton,” you ground out. “You were simply doing Eloise a favor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone else I must dance with.”

Your voice was cold and uncaring, and Colin was slapped with a reminder of how things used to be as you sidestepped him to go toward the other side of the ballroom.

Three steps into your journey, it was clear that there wasn’t actually anyone waiting to dance with you, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why you were so desperate to get away. Even at the peak of your hatred toward him, you were always open to verbally sparring.

Colin turned around to Louis, shooting him a questioning look. But your brother could only shrug. Who knew what went on in the depths of your brain? Louis had noticed you had been slightly on edge ever since you returned from Hyde Park with your sisters yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t expecting you to be this hostile, especially after getting along so well with Colin.

Feeling his desire to speak with you outweigh his pride, Colin turned back and grabbed your hand, turning you to face him. “If what you want is to go back to arguing, I’m happy to do that,” he said, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of going back to how things were.

He sounded positively pathetic. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping this fragile dynamic alive, keeping you near him. If Anthony and Kate could do it, couldn’t the two of you?

You seemed on the brink of tears, but your voice held an unspeakable fury. “What I want is for you to leave. Me. Alone,” you emphasized each word with a pointed jab at his chest. “Please,” you whispered, your voice faltering. “I do not wish to dance with you, or to chat with you, or even to be near you at all. Good night.”

With that, you pivoted away, heading towards the refreshment table, tears welling in your eyes. And Colin was left standing there, hand lingering over the spot on his chest you had prodded.

He felt a familiar anger rising through him. It didn’t matter that you were the only person in the world who understood him. It didn’t matter that you were completely beautiful and incredibly smart, either. And it certainly didn’t matter that he’d fallen for you. Because you still hated him. And he was a fool to ever think things could be different.

Colin was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched you smile and greet some gentleman or other. He flinched as he saw the man kiss the back of your hand, and watched, seething, as he led you to the dance floor.

Deciding he needed something stronger than lemonade, Colin turned around and grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it in one go. He couldn’t believe you didn’t think he was your friend. What the hell else could you call it?

He spotted Eloise and Penelope chatting close by and stomped over to them. He was sure he looked like Gregory after a fight with Hyacinth, pouting with his arms crossed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I thought you were going to talk to Y/N,” said Penelope, confused to see him back so soon.

Colin shot her a murderous look. “She wants nothing to do with me, apparently. She said the only reason I talked to her was out of a favor to Eloise.”

Eloise coughed awkwardly. “Well, didn’t you?”

“No!” shot back Colin defensively. “Not entirely, at least. I don’t know. I need to leave.”

You were still dancing with the unnamed man, and Colin was very much still seething as he watched the pair of you twirl around and smile at one another.

Usually, it was frustrating to watch you dance with other people because you were never like that with him. But this well and truly hurt. It hurt to see you like this when he knew, now for a fact, that he could never have that with you again.

“I need to leave,” he repeated. He couldn’t bear to watch you do this all night.

Snatching another glass of champagne and downing that one, too, he bid his goodbyes to Penelope and Eloise and made his way across the ballroom to the exit.

“Are you leaving already, darling? You’ve barely been here an hour,” Colin heard next to him as a hand reached out for his elbow.

Turning around, he faced his mother, who looked like she was in the middle of a conversation with Anthony and Benedict.

Colin nodded. “I’m sorry, mother. I just can’t. I can’t stay,” he responded, voice breaking as he glanced back toward you again.

Seeing you lean to whisper something in your suitor’s ear, he slumped forward, practically feeling physical pain at the sight.

“I must go,” Colin said firmly, giving his mother a quick squeeze and rushing to the door.

Violet nodded, bewildered, and followed where Colin’s gaze had been. Finding you dancing with Lord Norcliffe, Violet sent a knowing look to Benedict and Anthony.

“I suppose Hyacinth was right,” she said sympathetically.

“And don’t you dare tell her! It’ll get to her head,” responded Benedict.

---

“The Bridgertons will be in attendance tonight,” your mother informed you carefully as you sat in the carriage on the way to yet another ball.

“And by the Bridgertons you mean…”

“She means Colin, yes,” answered Jacques, earning a stifled laugh from his wife, Chiara.

Ever since they’d been back and learned of your intense hatred for Colin, Jacques had not been able to stop making a mockery of it. Usually, you were quite agreeable, and it was rare that you found yourself at odds with someone who wasn’t your sibling, so this seemingly unprompted hatred was quite amusing to your brother.

You groaned and glared at him. “No one asked you to come tonight, you know. In fact, no one asked you to come to England at all! You could have stayed in Tuscany, and I would have been much happier.”

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to tease you about this,” answered Jacques, completely unbothered by your biting tone.

“Whatever,” you grumbled in response, only slightly comforted by Chiara’s apologetic smile as she softly scolded her husband.

It had been four days since your run-in with Nigel, and three since you saw Colin at Daphne’s ball, and the thought of seeing him again made you feel sick. It was already bad enough that he was disgusting and had no respect for you, but it was made infinitely worse by the fact that you had let yourself grow to care for him. In a friendly way, of course. You could never have married him, anyway. But it was still embarrassing that you fell into his charming trap and thought that you could become something more than a conquest for him.

“Be nice,” your mother whispered in warning as you approached the Bridgertons.

You shrugged her off, not needing a reminder. You had been brought up to be the perfect lady. You weren’t about to forget yourself now. You refused to give Colin that power.

You greeted the family warmly until you got to Colin. “Mr. Bridgerton,” you said, giving him a curt nod.

Not waiting for a response, you moved to stand away from him as you looked out at the crowd. Perhaps you would find a gentleman who was actually enjoyable to talk to, though your chances seemed slim.

Colin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, watching you intently. It seemed that your behavior at Daphne’s ball hadn’t been a fluke, after all. He ground his teeth in annoyance, growing increasingly irritated by the fact that you were just standing there.

Why weren’t you doing anything? It was infuriating. Perhaps it would have been less infuriating if it were anyone else, but it seemed like anything you did was particularly vexing to him.

Making his way over to you, he stopped beside you. Wanting to slip back into the comfort of your tumultuous dynamic, Colin took a shot at your attire. “I see the modiste-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice shaking, barely above a whisper, and your gaze locked ahead of you.

Colin was taken aback. You had never, in all the time that he had known you, backed down from an argument. It seemed that you just… didn’t want him around at all. You hated him enough that you didn’t want to be near him. And in any way that mattered, it was worse than when you were antagonizing him.

“I’m sorry,” Colin said desperately. “I didn’t mean- Look, can we please talk? Just quickly, I just want-”

But you didn’t even let him finish. “There’s nothing to say.”

Colin scoffed, a futile attempt to hide how hurt he was really feeling. “What do you mean there isn’t anything to say? I have things to say, at least. Just talk to me.”

You finally turned to face him, feeling your stomach drop as you looked at his desperate eyes searching yours for an answer.

“Let me rephrase. I do not wish to speak with you, in any capacity, now or any time in the future. I do not care to hear what you have to say, Mr. Bridgerton, and I would appreciate it if you could respect that, though I know that’s not usually in your nature.”

Colin could only sputter, staring at you in disbelief as you walked away. He felt his stomach turn uncomfortably as you reached a man he didn’t know, but whom you’d danced with at Daphne’s Ball.

He had to have done something wrong. Colin hadn’t the slightest clue what, but you obviously had something against him, and it clearly wasn’t just you being silly.

He swore under his breath. You were impossible. Not even Eloise knew why you hated him! How on earth was he supposed to know how to fix this when you refused to speak with him? It was almost easier when all you did was hurl insults at him and step on his feet as he poured lemonade down your dress.

Over on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Colin, mentally scolding yourself every time you did. This was not how you were supposed to be acting toward the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you.

The only reason you were dancing with Lord Norcliffe now was because he had not arrived in London until after your whole debacle with Lord Barlow. You supposed he could have heard what happened from someone else, but he was safer than the rest of the men of the ton, you thought grimly. It would’ve helped if he was interesting to talk to, or even nice to look at, but you supposed you couldn’t be very selective.

Curtsying and thanking Lord Norcliffe for the dance, you made a beeline toward Carlos and Philippe across the room.

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” commented your brother, amused.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Astute observation, Philippe.”

Carlos laughed and gave you a comforting pat on the head. “But what happened to your season in England? I thought you were excited to be here?”

“My mother and father were certainly excited,” you mused, taking Philippe’s lemonade and drinking from it.

Seeing their confused looks, you briefly explained your encounter with Nigel Berbrooke, and they suddenly became very concerned.

“Ce connard! Il est où? Je vai le tuer,” growled Philippe under his breath, not wanting the rest of the ton to hear his threat (That asshole! Where is he? I’m going to kill him).

“Philippe, it’s alright,” you assured him, glancing over at Carlos and seeing that he, too, had understood your brother’s words despite not speaking French. “I believe Simon Basset took care of him at White’s a few days ago.”

“That’s just as well, or I’d have done it myself,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You can just come to Spain next year, cariño,” Carlos said warmly.

You smiled up at your brother-in-law, silently thanking him for the offer even though you knew your parents would never allow it.

Colin watched enviously as you had a conversation with your older brother and your older sister’s husband. He wished he could talk to you again. Even if nothing got resolved between you, he liked to hear your voice. He loved how stubborn you were and how frustrated you got when you forgot the English word for something. He just missed you, he supposed.

Which is why, as Colin watched yet another man approach you and write their name on your dance card, he decided he couldn’t do this anymore. The watching, the waiting, the wanting. He couldn’t do any of it anymore.

“I need to leave,” he said firmly.

Daphne, who had been standing beside him, turned to face him, startled. “Leave where?”

“India, Egypt, Morocco, back to Greece. I don’t care. I just need to get out of here.”

“What? Why?” asked Daphne, still confused.

“You know why,” Colin responded flatly, giving her an unimpressed look.

Daphne instinctively turned to look at you, laughing as the man you were dancing with whispered something to you. She turned to look back at her brother with a disappointed look.

“I can’t imagine leaving would be the best option.”

“Why not?” Colin shot back. “What good can my presence possibly do?”

Daphne put a hand on her brother’s elbow, giving him a sympathetic look. However, her voice was firm. “You always leave when it gets hard, you know? You’re always the first out the door and onto a different continent. Why are you so scared of staying?”

Colin was stunned. He didn’t know his motives were that obvious. But he supposed it made sense for Daphne to know since she knew him better than most people.

“I’m not scared of staying,” Colin insisted defensively. “I just think it’ll be better for everyone if I go.”

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. “And do what? What could you possibly be doing that is so important that you would abandon the woman you love?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Colin argued, his voice growing strained as he felt his chest getting tighter. “None of it matters. She doesn’t love me back. I could be down the street or in Brazil and she wouldn’t even notice. She clearly hates me and wants nothing to do with me, so why should I stay?”

Daphne crossed her arms, looking more than a little disappointed. “Well, I won’t be the one to stop you if you decide to go. But really think about whether you want to be the person who leaves time and again. Things could change. It's only been a few days since she's been like this.”

She had a point, but Colin was too upset to admit it. Daphne was right. He couldn’t just leave now. If anything, it would hurt him more than being near you with you not speaking to him. It was the strangest feeling, knowing you loved someone but feeling powerless to do anything about it.

Colin knew he couldn’t continue like this. Perhaps he couldn’t leave, but he could certainly stay as far away as possible.

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waywardxwords · 7 months ago

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Chapter 8 - Save Me

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Slight language; there's a ton of dialogue in this one but I feel like it's necessary to prep for the chapters ahead

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~3k

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If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how you felt about going to Kansas for the unforeseeable future. While it wasn’t like you went into an office everyday and you could really work from anywhere within the United States, you had still built your life in Virginia. You had friends—especially Jen—and it felt weird leaving her here, unable to defend herself. But Dean had assured you she would be taken care of, and you knew that you were unable to defend yourself against these monsters Dean and Sam knew how to fight.

“You about ready?” Dean asked as he tapped softly on your opened bedroom door.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you looked at your packed-to-the-brim duffel bag and backpack. Dean said it was important to pack as light as possible, but without knowing when you’d be back, it was hard to be selective in what you brought.

“I think so,” you mumbled, your lip caught between your teeth yet again. You released it as Dean stepped into the room.

“Hey, I know this is a lot to take in,” Dean started slowly. Both of the boys kept treating you like you were made of glass, which was a little bit annoying but also made sense. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m okay,” you said out loud for him, but also for yourself. “I’m not really a big fan of the unknown…I’m a planner.” You mumbled as you looked around at your things.

“Not big on taking chances, huh?” Dean chuckled softly as his eyes watched you move. Again, it was like he was waiting for it all to set in and for you to crumble.

“Nope,” you sighed as you finally looked back at him. “Rule follower, remember?” You managed a half-smile as you remembered the first time you met in Atlanta.

“Oh, I remember,” Dean smirked back. He took a few steps towards you and you both sat on the edge of your bed. “Just keep in mind–this doesn’t have to be forever.” Your head had dipped a bit, so he moved his to find your gaze.

“I get that,” you nodded. You didn’t want to offend him; this was his life. He was used to packing an ‘oh shit’ bag and getting out of town. He was used to all of the things that went bump in the night. You, on the other hand, were still trying to wrap your mind around it all. “I just wish I could circle a date on the calendar and know when I could come home.”

Dean nodded as he processed your words. “Tell ya what,” he started. “How about we take it one day at a time, for now,” he paused but you waited for the ‘and then’ part. “Once we get back to Kansas, we can sit down and come up with a plan. Figure out what it looks like so we can get you back home.”

You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there was a tone in his voice that almost sounded like he wasn’t looking forward to that. But since everything had happened, you really hadn’t been given a moment to figure out what this was between you and Dean.

“That sounds fair,” you answered honestly. Dean smiled and seemed hesitant, but leaned over and kissed the side of your head anyway.

“Good,” he seemed okay with your answer. He sighed and looked around at the rest of your room. “Anything I can do to help?”

You pushed your hair behind your ears and followed his gaze as you, too, looked around. “I don’t think so,” you said softly. “I’ve packed just about everything that will fit into my bags. I’m just worried I’m forgetting something.”

“We do have stores in Kansas, ya know,” Dean winked as he stood and reached for your duffel. “Jesus, woman.” He muttered as he slung it over his shoulder. “You got a dead body in here, or what?”

You managed a laugh as you stood to follow him and slung your backpack up on your shoulders. “No, Dean, I think I’ll leave the dead bodies to you.” You patted him on the shoulder and walked just beyond him, but you heard him laugh as you rounded the corner into the hallway.

“Everything locked up?” Sam asked as you closed up the front door and headed to meet the boys in the driveway.

“Yep,” you sighed and readjusted your backpack a bit. “I mean, it probably doesn’t matter when it comes to demons, right? They can get through locked doors, I’m guessing.”

They didn’t answer you directly but nodded slightly. “I’m guessing you want to bring your car to Kansas?” Dean asked as he eyed your garage door.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answered quickly. “I just figured I would follow behind you guys, if that’s okay.” You said as you used the keypad on the side of the garage to type in your PIN number that opened the door.

Sam and Dean stared at you, confused for a minute. “Sam’s flying back to Kansas,” Dean said. “This is a rental so I figured I’d drop it off on the way and hitch a ride with you, if that’s alright.” His words made you turn around slowly and your brows pulled together in confusion.

“Wait,” you started carefully. “You flew here?”

Dean caught why you were so surprised and flashed his white teeth in a small smile. He pulled at the back of his neck as Sam watched you both look at each other. “Sweetheart, I don’t own European cars. Don’t drive ‘em either, if I can help it.” He shrugged as he thumbed to the Volkswagen Jetta in your driveway.

“Okay,” there was more you wanted to say but you decided not to rub in how much Dean hated flying in front of Sam. You weren’t familiar with their dynamic at all, but Dean had told you that he didn’t like being afraid, and that he always tried to be strong for his brother. You didn’t want to embarrass him or say something you shouldn’t in front of Sam. “Do I wanna know why you have to get back to Kansas quickly?” You turned your gaze to the younger Winchester.

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head. “Work…related,” he mumbled. “So probably not.”

You nodded once and turned back to your car. “Okay, then,” you breathed. “I’ll follow you to the airport and wait for you to drop off the rental.”

You loaded up your backpack and Dean tossed your duffel bag in the car. As you both turned away, you faced each other, maybe a foot apart.

“I’ll see you at the airport,” he said softly.

“Be safe,” you said back as you studied his features and tried to read what he was thinking. He nodded, and after one more look, he went to walk back to the rental car.

Before he could step away, you took a chance. You reached for his jacket and tugged so he turned back to you. With his jacket still between your fingers, you pressed your lips to his in a rather quick, but hard kiss. For a moment, he paused but then his hands cupped your face as he kissed you back.

As the pop echoed around you, you didn’t notice how Sam had turned to give you some privacy and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “What was that for?” Dean asked as his eyes looked between yours.

“To say I’m sorry, again, for not believing you,” you started softly but continued before he could say anything. “And for saving my life.” A small smile tugged up the corner of his lip just enough for his dimple to appear.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me again, got it?” His thumb caressed your cheek gently.

“No more apologizing from either of us,” you stared into his eyes until he nodded.

“Deal,” he agreed, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Okay,” you pulled back and waved at Sam. “Thanks to you too, Sam.” You called after him. He turned back around and nodded. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you in Kansas.”

“I’ll see you there,” he nodded as he waved. “Drive safe.”

You nodded and watched Dean walk back to the car. Just before he climbed into the driver’s seat, he called out after you. “And I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Even after everything, you couldn’t help the heat that radiated in your cheeks or the way a smile pulled across your lips.

Dean had dropped Sam off at the drop off area at the airport. Once he had gathered his backpack, you followed Dean to the rental car return. It only took a few minutes before you popped the trunk to your Toyota Camry and waited for Dean to toss in his duffel bag.

He pulled open the passenger door and leaned down. “You want me to drive?” He asked carefully. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who preferred driving, but you smiled and shook your head ‘no’ anyway.

“How about I take the first shift? And then we can switch,” you suggested. He seemed content enough with that response and climbed in. “Sorry it’s not the Impala.” You offered with a small smile.

“Ah, it’s alright,” he sighed as he pulled on his seatbelt. “I’ll get you in a Chevy or Ford, eventually.” He smiled back. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you pulled away from the airport.

“What’s the address?” You asked as you toyed with the navigation on the dash.

Dean grumbled, something about fancy cars and shitty navigation systems but you just rolled your eyes. He plugged in an address for Lebanon, Kansas.

“Jesus,” you mumbled, as the screen totaled your drive time at 20 hours and 32 minutes.

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Hope you’re ready for a long drive,” Dean chuckled. It was already late into the evening, pushing midnight by now.

“It’s weird, I feel like I’ve been up for days at this point,” you muttered as you adjusted the air and your seatbelt.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” He eyed you carefully. That was the thing about Dean’s gaze: you could feel it even when you didn’t see it.

“I’m alright. We can switch when we stop,” you shifted the car into drive and eased on the gas. Dean unbuckled his seat belt to pull off his jacket before he buckled it again. “I’m supposed to call Jen tomorrow. I’m not even sure what to say to her, she recognized you from the photos we found online.” The sound of your voice was anything but strong as your stomach flip-flopped.

“I’m guessin’ the truth isn’t an option?” Dean asked.

You shook your head no. “And say what? She got possessed by a demon named Meg, her eyes turned black and she flung me against the wall a few times? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’d have me committed,” you fell into a comfortable speed as you got on the interstate and hit cruise control.

Dean half chuckled and shook his head as he glanced out the passenger window and then back to the windshield, his features illuminated by the headlights of drivers coming down the other side of the highway. “That probably wouldn’t go over too well. It’s a lot for anybody to take in.”

You muddled over a thought before you said it out loud. “How did you take it when you first found out?” You asked him as you glanced between him and the road ahead of you.

His brows kind of pulled together and you took that as his thinking face. “I don’t really know how to explain that,” he started softly. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really.”

Shock had to have graced your features but you tried to calm your expression. While you recognized this was all new to you, it wasn’t to Dean. And you certainly didn’t want to offend him.

“When did you find out about the things that go bump in the night?” You asked him carefully.

“When I was four,” he didn’t look at you when he answered. Instead, his gaze went out the passenger window again as he watched the trees pass by in darkness.

“Four?! Dean, you were a baby,” you breathed. And then you remembered. “You were four when your mom died…”

There was a moment of silence that you took as his acknowledgment that you had the right idea. But then, he continued.

“My Dad kind of went into overdrive at that point. Trying to find what killed her,” he explained. You nodded as you tried to absorb it. When he didn’t offer up anything additional, you broke the silence.

“You were just a kid, Dean…” you felt a pang of sadness for the man next to you. It made you angry, even. “No kid should ever have to go through that.”

“No kid should have to lose their parent to some supernatural asshole, either,” he said back firmly. You somehow knew he wasn’t upset with you by the comment, just trying to make you understand. “Seeing my Dad go through that, and having to make sure Sammy was okay…” he shook his head as he trailed off.

The dots started to connect for you. Dad was busy fighting the monsters, Dean had to take care of his brother, you kept your thoughts to yourself but made a mental note. He had to be strong—couldn’t be afraid.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and resituated himself in his seat. “All that to say, I don’t know what it’s like, really, to be thrown into this world that I live in. But I know it can’t be easy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Dean,” you answered quickly, and you meant it. It seemed as though Dean was worried about protecting everyone in his life and being strong through it. “I don’t want to burden you with that.”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna worry about you whether you’re sitting right here next to me, or you’re thousands of miles away in another state,” he looked at you when he spoke. “And it’s not a burden.”

“Can I ask you something?” Your bravery to ask the hard questions surprised you. Something about being in the car with him for almost a full day made your usual resolve soften.

“Shoot,” he stole another glance at you.

“Do you like it? Fighting…monsters?” You asked, for lack of a better word.

Dean mulled it over before he answered right away. “I like helping people,” he said simply. “I like being able to save people so they won’t have to go through the same thing we did.”

“But who saves Dean Winchester?” Your eyes found him in the dark car once again.

“I don’t need saving, sweetheart,” he smirked again, a hint of confidence to his tone.

“Everybody needs saving sometimes, Dean,” you answered softly.

The only noise around you came from the hum of the engine.

“I guess Sammy does,” Dean looked out the window. You could tell he didn’t want the conversation to continue at that point, so you switched gears slightly.

“Does it ever scare you?” The idea of fighting monsters terrified you, but you were curious if Dean was ever afraid.

He seemed to process the question like it was something he had never been asked, which shocked you considering the line of work. “I mean, I guess sometimes. Usually when one of us is in trouble.” You nodded, but he continued. “When one of us is knockin’ on death’s door, I guess that scares me.”

Each new fact you found out about this life Dean lived in brought on a new wave of shock. “Death?” You asked him as you looked between him and the road.

Dean chuckled, but you could tell it was from him being a bit uncomfortable. “Let’s save that one for another day,” he shifted in his seat.

Maybe that was a good idea. You redirected the conversation slightly. “Where does your fear of flying fall on the scale of being scared?” You smirked.

“Oh, that one’s still at the top of the list,” he winked with a wide smile that reflected the light from the streetlights as you drove, welcoming a lighter conversation.

“But you got on a plane anyway. To get to me,” you stole another glance in his direction.

“Well, yeah,” he said simply. “Sam said I should let it go, that something must have made you change your mind. But when I couldn’t reach you…” he shook his head. “I just had to be sure you were alright.” His words caused a flutter to form in your stomach, and you smiled, but that was shortly followed by a yawn that tugged at your jawline. “Getting tired?” Dean asked.

You shrugged a bit but couldn’t help the nod that followed. “It’s been a really long day,” you sighed. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“That’s what happens when shock starts wearing off,” he reached to place his hand just above your knee over your denim jeans. It was obvious it was meant as something comforting as his thumb traced small circles on the fabric there. “Why don’t we pull off? I can switch with you.”

“Dean, you need sleep, too,” you argued.

“We can stop eventually if I get tired, too. But I’m alright, sweetheart,” his voice was gruff and raspy–you could sense the exhaustion there, but you obliged.

There was a rest stop up ahead and you took the exit slowly. Once the car was in park, you opened the driver’s door to switch with Dean. As you both got settled in your new seats, Dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before he adjusted the mirrors.

“You just get some rest,” he said gently.

You nodded against the headrest of the seat and closed your eyes. “Night, Dean.” It wouldn’t take long for sleep to find you.

A/N: Happy Thursday, friends! I know this chapter probably felt a bit "filler" with the dialogue, but it was important for the development of future chapters. I promise things will get more interesting in the next chapter!

Let me know what you think! I appreciate all the likes, comments & reblogs more than you know!

Chapter 9 will be posted on (or maybe before, TBD) Thursday, 4/25!

Chapter 9 Preview:

One blink, then two. The hum of the engine and vibration in the seat of the car reminded you where you were. There were so many emotions that coursed through you as you remembered: demons, monsters, Dean.

Your nose twitched as you smelled the air and your eyes were drawn over to Dean. The sun was out now–high in the sky.

“Dean?” You cleared your throat as you shifted in the passenger seat to sit up fully. He did a double take and you saw the smile spread across his lips.

“Morning, sunshine,” the gruffness to his words and the look on his face made your stomach flip–or was that hunger? You settled on a mixture of both.

“What time is it? Where are we?” You asked as blinked a few more times to try to take in your surroundings.

“It’s about 8:30,” Dean answered as he glanced at the clock. “And we’re about an hour outside of Louisville, Kentucky.”

“Jesus, I slept for eight hours, Dean! You should’ve woken me up,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and felt around your hair inconspicuously. You didn’t want to give away that you were slightly concerned with what you looked like after passing out in the passenger seat. God, what if you drooled?! You swiped your fingers across your mouth quickly.

“Nah, you needed the sleep,” he answered simply. “You had a rough few days there.”

“Thanks,” you breathed. Suddenly your stomach groaned and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “I’m starving. How about we stop and switch off again?”

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igotlovestruck · 1 year ago

Text

LIPS OF AN ANGEL | MM19

PAIRING: mason mount x wolff!reader ; a bit of george russell x wolff!reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: profanities, mentions cheating/infidelity, mason's anger is totally understandable, y/n's a bit of a bitch(? idk towards the end tho), rushed ending bc i really wanted to end this hahahah, also not proofread and tons of dialogues ahhahah

WC: 4k

A/N: i apologize for uploading this soo late 😭 i had writers block for a long while :< anyway, enjoy reading!

TAGGED: @i83andrew @pleasantducktimetravel

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

now, four months have passed since you’ve broken up with mason (or at least that was what your letter stated). in those months, mason finds himself longing for you. the man often finds himself up most nights, sleeping so late and waking up so early to head to training and other prior schedules he has every day.

mason would not deny it; that if someone were to ask if he had tried contacting you, your dad and even your stepmum. the couple would always say that they don’t know your whereabouts, but deep inside, he knows they know and knowing you, you were probably the one who asked them not to tell him. the first month was the hardest, he tried calling you every night and every chance he got while on his schedule. he was waiting for your voicemail greeting to play just to hear your voice and after that, he’d record what he wanted to say. a mixture of i love you’s, i miss you’s and please come back.

it wasn’t easy with you as well. you missed mason and you missed the days where it was just the two of you in your own little world. if you could only go back in time, you’d never leave the house during the night of your fight and maybe this never would’ve happened. you missed seeing mason on the other side of the bed; you weren’t a morning person but whenever there’s a chance that you wake up before him, you’d watch him sleep and listen to his gentle snores while you lightly trace his beard with the tip of your finger. you missed snuggling to him during cold mornings, you missed the lazy make-outs because he couldn’t get his hands off of you, you missed him whispering sweet nothings in your ear after you wake up. you missed mornings with mason, too bad you can no longer relive those moments.

though you can’t help that every time you wake up, you have that thought that you could go back to london, you could return his calls, you could return back to mason and restart your relationship. but every time you do think of doing those things, you’re reminded of what you did. all those lies you’ve told him, and those days where you were away and sleeping with another man.

going back to the man you’ve hurt seems such a foolish thing to do, and you know the people around mason wouldn’t allow such a thing. though you may think that mason would have the same thinking as the others, he sometimes does not. he wanted to risk it all again with you, he wanted to try and fix it with you. all he wanted is you and you alone.

going back to mason is something that you want to do but wouldn’t do. and on the fourth month, 5 day mark, mason had revealed his month long relationship with a model, lia mendes.

honey, why you calling me so late?

it’s kinda hard to talk right now.

honey, why you crying, is everything okay?

i gotta whisper cause i can’t be too loud.

you stood in your living room filled with moving boxes, susie and toto were outside while jack was napping inside your bedroom. all you could do was sigh. it felt so weird moving into a new apartment–let alone moving to the southeast corner of france. monaco was a lovely place to live in, knowing that your father lives here (though he travels most of the time), the fact that you live nearby brings you some sort of relief, safety and comfort. though, as many people have said, you disappeared off the face of the earth for a few months, you’ve lived your life quietly with your mum for a while as you wait for the situation with mason to die down.

you were in a rush when you left london the night you told mason you were just going to the store. you left without even taking a second look, not even an ounce of thought. sure, it was a wrong move—a dumb decision as well, but you wanted to run away from all the mistakes you’ve made. you wanted to escape. leave everything you have to the place you once loved—now a place you dread the most. it was not the easiest decision either, but it was the only solution that you could think of.

the night you left mason, you didn’t go to the store. instead, you met george. again, a clandestine meeting. you messaged george when you were a few blocks away from his place, which is why you met a furious brit.

“have you lost your mind, kid?” he says, god you hated that nickname. it was the nickname that toto knew george gave you and became the hint that you and the driver are close. “she could’ve caught me! she could’ve seen your bloody message! why did you want to see me—”

“i told him, george. he–he probably saw the letter by now because i left a few hours ago.”

the driver’s eyes widened, definitely not the sentence he was not expecting to hear from you. suddenly, he didn’t know what to do or say. george tried to pull you in his arms, but you were quick to push him away. “this… george! this is exactly why we need to stop what’s between us!” you said, “i can’t believe i’m saying this but i regret everything that happened between us. i regret taking advantage of mason and carmen. i hate how i know that dad will be so disappointed in me. so please, let’s stop this… we can’t keep hurting and breaking the trusts of the people around us.”

your voice cracks by the end of the last sentence, you could feel george staring at you but you kept your gaze on your feet. no strength to look at his eyes because you know that this man would do anything just to make you stay.

“but baby—”

from calling you kid to baby—you hated it. you felt disgusted. you needed to end it.

“no, george. no buts.” you cut off, “i have to go. i… i wish you all the best.”

you walk back to your car, locking the doors in case george runs after you. again, without looking back, you drive away. leaving the confused brit in the empty street.

and even though you ended things with george that night, he hadn’t stopped calling and texting you—afraid that you might say anything about your relationship to others, even with friends and family. all he ever cared about was his reputation, he was scared. after all, he was doing great with mercedes the past season and a scandal with his boss’ daughter would put him through hell.

now, you were left alone in this apartment overlooking the beauty of monaco. you sat on your balcony with a glass of wine sitting on the table, feeling the breeze of the mediterranean sea. oh you missed mason. you haven’t heard anything from him since you two broke up.

and maybe it was the number of wine in your system that you ended up dialing his number, the one you’ve deleted yet can’t seem to forget as you knew it by heart. no matter how hard you try to forget about it. it kept on ringing and ringing, and you tried to re-dial once it ended due to the exceeding minute.

on the fifth try, you finally heard his voice.

“hello?”

you know that feeling when you’ve spoken to your high school crush for the very first time, your heart drops and your stomach is filled with butterflies to the point where you don’t know what to say? that is exactly what you felt when you heard mason’s voice after months.

“hello?” he repeats, “is this a prank call? ‘cause this is the fifth time you called and i might need to block your number–”

“masey.”

you heard sounds of bed rustling followed by a door closing, you assumed that he was already in bed and was fast asleep. after all, it was already midnight. “y/n?” and that’s when the tears started to roll in, god how you missed that voice. “are you crying? is everything alright?” his voice was quiet.

“y-yeah, just…” you sniffed, “just missing you and i think it has something to do with this stupid wine.”

“sorry, i’ve got to whisper. m-my girlfriend’s asleep,”

“oh.” you wiped your tears, you only found out that mason was dating someone now. “i’m sorry, i should’ve known. god, i’ll hang up–”

“no!”

well, my girl’s in the next room

sometimes i wish she was you

i guess we never really moved on

it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name

it sounds so sweet

“she’s in the other room anyway, we can continue talking.” he continued, “h-how have you been? i’ve seen photos of jack on susie’s instagram, may have had a glimpse of you spending time with them in her stories. have you gone karting with jack recently?”

you chuckle, chugging the remaining wine on your glass before responding. “i-i stayed with them for a month, i stayed with my mum as well, after our… well, you know. i’ve accompanied jack while dad and susie are busy. you know, the season has already started and susie is busy with the f1 academy. i was vacant for a month, but i’ve started working again–i’m talking too much, you should really hang up, mason.”

“you know, it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name, y/n.” mason said, “it-it really sounds so sweet.”

“we should really stop, mason.”

you heard him scoff on the other end of the line, “it’s so funny that you’re the one saying that, i’m not the one who called in the first place, y/n.”

“i know, and i only found out that you were dating someone tonight. y-you should be with her, you shouldn’t be talking to your ex who… who cheated on you tonight. she deserves better.”

“i guess we never really moved on, y/n.” he replied, “i–”

“goodbye, mason. good night.”

coming from the lips of an angel

hearing those words, it makes me weak

and i never wanna say goodbye

but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful

with the lips of an angel

mason couldn’t sleep that night and had trouble waking up, which was the reason why lia, so early in the morning, was mad as her boyfriend was sleeping so deep and no matter how hard she tried to wake him up, she just couldn’t. lia was running late for a schedule that mason had promised to come with her as their break for the season had begun.

“masey, i’m running super late. my manager is about to burst, can’t you please move much faster?” she said, in a mixture of annoyed and calm voice. “didn’t we go to bed at the same time last night? why do you look like you haven’t at all?”

“because i haven’t slept,” he answered directly.

“why?”

“just… nothing. let’s go.”

the couple exited mason’s house, lia practically sprinted to mason’s car and sat on the front seat. masey, that was the nickname most people call him but now, he only wanted to hear your voice call him that and nobody else. when you say his name, it sounded like it came from the lips of an angel. it made him weak most of the time.

lia had arrived a half an hour late, her manager was already glaring at mason and immediately separated the couple. while lia was doing her photoshoot, leaving mason alone, he realised that he never wanted to break up with you, even if you admitted what had happened between you and george, or maybe he was just thinking about it as you’ve spoken last night. maybe he just missed you. he did miss you.

what’s fucked up is that he thought he finally moved on from you, that he was ready to commit to a new relationship. he knew that when he and lia were testing the waters, a month before they officially dated. he has told himself several times that he was over you, yet here he is. reminiscing all the memories you’ve shared the past years you two were together after that phone call. you were making it hard for him to be faithful.

as he was waiting, mason was on his phone when he received a notification of an invite to attend another f1 race with red bull. this time, it was in barcelona. he remembered the last time you and he went to monaco, a weekend to remember indeed.

“we’re going to be separated for almost the whole day, baby” you laugh, putting on your dress as mason shoves his phone into his pocket. “it’s going to be so weird because you’ll be at the red bull garage, and i’ll be at mercedes!”

“hey, i can still go there, you know? plus we’ll see each other around the paddock.” he replied, walking behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “besides, your dad loooves me. i’m sure he’ll understand that this is for work and publicity.”

you smiled, zipping your dress up and turned to face him. mason pursed his lips, signifying that he was asking for a kiss. you giggled, and eventually leaned in to connect your lips together. when you pulled away, you put your hand on his face and ran the pads of your thumb on his beard–the one you loved doing after you two kissed every time.

“you, sir… look so handsome with your outfit.” you compliment, he was wearing his chequered rhude shirt over some white shirt. you leaned in again for another kiss, deepening it–only pulling away when you heard your phone ring. “okay, before things escalate, i have to go. dad’s calling.”

“your dad’s such a cockblocker.” he teased, earning a slap on the arm from you. “i’m just kidding! i’ll see you when i see you at the paddock.”

mason remembered how he stole a kiss every time you crossed paths at the paddock or at the pit lane during his walk. a lot of people saw and took pictures and videos of it, posting it on social media. that video was trending in the world of f1 and football for a few days before dying down. he remembered seeing tweets and posts on instagram, saying they were jealous of your relationship. he remembered the two of you having dinner at toto and susie’s place, how he was teased by you and jack (toto eventually joined) throughout dinner as he went as red bull’s guest and not mercedes. he remembered lying with you on the deck of a rented yacht, under the sun, enjoying the monte-carlo air.

on the other side of europe, you are woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. you were taking your afternoon siesta before returning back to your home office to continue working, and whoever was calling you in the middle of your nap, may they stub their toe on some furniture. tired, you reached out for your phone and answered the call without looking at the screen.

“hello?” you groggily said, “whoever you are, you’ve interrupted my siesta and i may hate you for that.”

“well, hello to you, my daughter.” your father’s voice rang through your ears. “and i’m sorry if i interrupted your nap, but would you be so kind and open your front door please?”

“what?”

“open the door, i’ve been out here for almost fifteen minutes.”

and off you went to your front door, toto was greeted by a grumpy daughter whose eyebrows were furrowed. you looked at your father, “what are you doing here, dad?”

“no ‘hallo, vater’? no ‘how are you doing, dad?’. none?” he joked, entering your place as you made way for him and closed the door. “okay, i will be quick. come with us to barcelona this weekend.”

your eyes widened, “what? i have work, i can’t just leave.”

“your brother told me that you have a flexible work schedule, that you’re allowed to bring your work everywhere you go.” your dad replied.

“theodore wolff, that little bitch.” you cursed under your breath, you couldn’t help but facepalm with what your brother just did. “dad–”

“i know that tone, y/n wolff.” toto stopped you from continuing your sentence, “come on, it’ll be just like the old days! except your brother isn’t here because his finals week aligned with the weekend in barcelona.”

you bit your lip, making a decision as your father can be impatient. if you go to the race, the possibility of running to george is high–no matter how much effort you exert on avoiding the man, you simply can’t as he is, of course, a driver for mercedes. but, it’ll be good for you as well! you haven’t gone to spain for years, a change of environment and working outside of your home office may be good for you as well. you work only on weekdays, and you’ll be free for the rest of the weekend so you wouldn’t think of work that much in case.

“okay fine, i’ll go with you. when’s the flight?”

“tonight.”

“TONIGHT?! dad, a little heads up would’ve been nice!”

“i’m sorry, pack your bags and we’ll pick you up by 8.” toto said, planting a kiss on your head. “i’ll go now, we’ll see you later!”

—

on saturday morning, arriving at the paddock with your father, a lot of people approached you by the entrance. some asked for pictures, some for autographs (which you didn’t quite understand), and some were nice enough to greet you. to say that you’re nervous is an understatement. you were returning to the paddock, you’re about to see george, his fiancée–the people you've been avoiding for months were in barcelona with you. you opted to stay in your hotel since your arrival in spain, finishing all the work you have left before proceeding with your weekend. as you walk to the paddock with toto, you could feel your palm sweat and your stomach turn the more you get closer to mercedes’ garage.

“word is, footballers are in red bull’s garage.” you overheard one of the mechanics upon entering the garage. the word football made you even more nervous than you already were.

“oh come on, mate. i think i’ve seen a few yesterday! that’s old news!”

“i haven’t seen any yesterday but so far, i’ve seen james, felix, chilwell–” please don’t tell me mason is here. “–and mount. just last year they were in monaco, weren’t they?”

the other mechanic nodded his head. mason is here. breathing the same air as you, probably a few metres away from you even. i knew this was a bad idea. you thought to yourself.

“you look like you saw a ghost.” said your father after speaking to the engineers.

you shook your head, “well, i think i’m about to see one today.” you joked, “i-uh, i’ll go out to find something to drink.”

toto raised an eyebrow, a bit unsure of your change of behaviour but you gave him a smile and reassured that you’ll be back. “alright, just…be back before quali, alright?”

you nodded your head and exited the garage. walking around the paddock like you were a normal guest, someone who just wants to enjoy the weekend. but it’s hard when people recognize you as toto wolff’s daughter, and as much as you try to stay away from the crowd, people still approached you. little did you know, someone has spotted you.

“oi, mason!” ben called his teammate, walking towards the man who’re talking with the other players. “guess who i saw walking around the paddock?”

“who?”

ben took a step closer to the younger, whispering your name. mason felt his heart skip a beat, realising the same thing you’ve thought about just a few minutes ago: you were here, breathing the same air as him.

it's funny that you're calling me tonight

and, yes, i've dreamt of you too

and does he know you're talking to me?

will it start a fight?

no, i don't think she has a clue.

needless to say, you were good at hiding. mason had presented the pirelli pole position award to max, he wanted to know if you were there to see him next to the driver. but as he scanned the sea of crowd, you were nowhere to be found. after the qualifying, you returned back to your hotel–reasoning that you were exhausted and had a headache. as soon as you were back, you changed clothes and plopped yourself on the bed. but it wasn’t so soon when your phone started ringing, a number you once called.

“hello?”

“a little birdie told me that you were in the paddock today.”

you sighed, closing your eyes but held the phone close to your earshot. “was it ben?”

“you know it. he’s always liked you–in a platonic way, i mean.”

silence followed right after he had mentioned ben, you were exhausted to even reply.

“y/n–”

“it’s so funny that you’re calling me tonight, mason.” you said, “i assumed the night i called you, you would’ve blocked my number.”

“you know i would never do that. we’ve been together for a long time, y/n.”

“i must be living in your head, mason.”

mason scoffed on the other end of the line, “well, i wasn’t thinking of you until the night you called.” he replied, “and yes, i’ve dreamt of you too.”

you jolted up from the bed when you heard a knock on the door, with the phone on the other hand you made your way to the door. you didn’t even bother looking through the peephole to see who was knocking on your door late in the night, you just assumed it was your dad. promptly, you opened the door–lo and behold, mason mount was standing in front of you. unable to speak, you still held your phone by your ear and stared at him, him and his stupid smile. mason was the one who ended the call and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“hi,” he said, “it’s been a few months, y/n.”

“how did you–what are you–i’m so confused right now.” you expressed, about to shut the door but mason was quick enough to stop you. “what do you want, mason?”

“does he know you’re talking to me? will it start a fight?” he asked, completely ignoring your question and welcomed himself inside your room, shutting the door close. “george. does george know?”

“i called it off with him the night i left a letter for you, mason. i went to his place and i ended things with you both at the same time.”

mason scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “wow,” he exclaimed, “george had the in-person “break-up” and all i got is a stupid fucking letter?”

“mason–”

“that is bullshit, y/n. pure bullshit.” mason barked, “all this time, george got the closure that i should’ve had. me–y/n, i was the one you dated for a long time and all i fucking got is a lousy letter about the truth of your affair with george?”

“i was supposed to, mason!” you yell back, “i was supposed to tell you, but the timing just wasn’t right.”

“and you thought lying straight to my face when i asked you about it, was okay?” you were about to answer, but mason was already rushing to the door. when he was about to exit, he said: “i went here thinking i could finally get the closure i needed, but fuck, was i wrong about this.”

you scoff, “that’s on you, then. you come running to the girl who cheated on you.” you said, “does lia know that you’re still hung up on your past? because i don’t think she has a clue.”

ynwolff

liked by susie_wolff, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

ynwolff so many familiar faces here in spain 🇪🇸 here’s a little dump of my weekend here 🤓

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yourbffsig oh i know who those familiar faces were 😉

ynwolff 😂 stop

yourbffsig we’re going to a party tonight after what happened, we need to get wasted!!

ynwolff as long as i make it back home on time and alive, let’s gooo

mercedesamgf1 glad to have you back in the garage, y/n! 🐺

ynwolff glad to see the team secure a double podium, thank you for having me! 🖤

mercedesamgf1 a great weekend indeed!

yourmomsig missing you so much, sweetheart! hope you enjoyed x

ynwolff miss you too mum ❤️

theowolff what about me 😓

ynwolff miss you too dumbass 🙄 you’re the reason why i went so you should’ve been with me, i could’ve avoided an unexpected circumstance hahahah

theowolff if only school let me 💀 but hey, at least you ‘enjoyed’

ynwolff i’m blocking you!!

user1 OMG SHES IN THE PADDOCK WHAT IF SHE SAW OR TALKED TI MASE IM DELULU (ALSO TOTO ON THE LAST SLIDE? LMAO)

user2 stop with these assumptions I BEG YALL

user3 people should learn how to stfu im being fr rn

user4 that’s toto’s reaction when he read your comment

user2 also the cryptic messages HELLO ?? i dont think they saw each other or if they did, it probably didn’t go so well

user3 you’re onto something babes 👀

masonmount

liked by declanrice, benchilwell, redbullracing and others

masonmount thank you redbullracing and jodieporter8 for everything!

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liamendes meu belo homem 😩🫶 i love you!

— ❤️ by masonmount

redbullracing THANK YOU!! 🫶

user5 when i tell yall this man is so FINE 🤌🏻

user6 this man is scrump-DILLY-tious

user7 yall CALM DOWN

user8 mason did something happen between u and y/n bc her posts have some sort of cryptic hints and i kinda wanna know whats going on tnx (jk hahaha love u both)

user9 HELPPP me too 😓 like what does her bff mean when she said “whag happened” and y/n saying “unexpected circumstance” LIKE GIVE ME SOMETHING??? A TEA PERHAPS???

user10 currently dying to know what the fucj happened in barcelona

#mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount angst #football instagram au #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football x you #football x y/n

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0perfectimperfections0 · 5 months ago

Note

What if Lou accidentally came to Uglyville before the uglydolls came to the Institute of Perfection?

Not sure exactly when you sent me this, but @subwhizz has a comic/graphic novel that they are working on called "Lou in Wonderland AU" and it is exactly what you're asking.

HOWEVER, I'm never gonna pass an opportunity to write out some ideas that sprung into my head. I do suggest reading the "Lou in Wonderland" story though. Sub is an amazing artist and an even better storyteller!

-------

The machines weren't perfect themselves by any means. Come to think of it, it would be pointless for Lou to even exist if the machines didn't intentionally create flawed dolls to a certain extent. But when Nolan popped into the Institute, Lou realized maybe the humans had let the factory go. There hadn't been that bad of a mess up since...

Lou shook the memories away, focusing on the never-ending tunnel in front of him as he walked. The flashlight flickered and the bulb made a static noise as it tried to warn Lou that the batteries were dying. He ignored it. Besides, the pipes only led to Perfection, so realistically he could just turn around and get back home easily.

It flickered again and Lou slammed the heel of his hand against it. "Stupid light..." He looked up, coming to a halt. "What in the world...?" The hole that normally led to the incinerator was blocked up with splintered wood and poorly driven in nails. No wonder he had mistakes like Nolan ending up in Perfection...

But that didn't entirely make sense either. The machines would realistically pop out a faulty doll out of every 100 or so made. He'd checked the math himself. That's what made Ox such a spectacle was that it was the first doll in years since the company started that hadn't been sorted correctly. But Nolan would still be recognized as a Pretty Doll. Despite his...differences, Nolan didn't have enough faults to him for the machine to deem him as a mistake.

So, if Lou hadn't seen any other faulty dolls...and the incinerator was blocked up...then where were mistakes going?

Lou blinked as the flashlight flickered one last time before dying unceremoniously. He sighed. This was a mystery for another day. Or whenever he could manage to steal the batteries from one of the robots again.

"Good thing the pipes all lead to--OHMYDOLL!" Lou screamed and felt his heart practically leap into his throat as he freefell into...well, it had looked like darkness before but now this was just liquid darkness he was slipping through. He desperately tried to reach his arms out in hope to grab onto something, but it felt like more pipe. But why was it going down!?

He screamed the whole way down, opting in closing his eyes despite not being able to see anything regardless, and praying that death would meet him quickly.

Light soon blinded him and he hardly had time to adjust his eyes before his whole body ached from crashing onto something hard. Luckily he landed on his back.

He groaned, eyes squinting in pain and still blinded by how much light there suddenly was. Some of it was blocked out suddenly by a weird, red figure. A wing-like appendage moved across his vision a few times and then he realized there was a voice connected to it.

Lou grimaced from the pain all through his back and head. "Please tell me I'm dead..."

The head of the figure tilted curiously. "I...w-well no...um...w-would you like to be?"

Lou put a heavy hand to his forehead. "Kind of. Are you gonna kill me?"

"No, but I do offer therapy sessions."

Who or whatever this voice belonged to had a lot more personality than the mindless dolls he trained on the daily. It didn't sound like such manufactured dialogue.

Something poked his side and Lou coughed as pain and a tickling sensation bubbled through him. "We have tons of food here too. You're awfully scrawny."

Lou waved the...it felt like an actual wing. What the heck. He opened his eyes blearily and finally got them to focus on...

A...bat? A red bat.

Lou scrambled back quickly. "What in the world are you?"

The bat looked surprised and a little put off by the reaction, but he spoke calmly. "My name is LuckyBat and I'm an UglyDoll, just like you!" He smiled with sharp fangs poking out of his lips.

"Excuse me?" Lou narrowed his eyes at the creature.

"Welcome to Uglyville! We never got an announcement of a new arrival. Did you get here through the flower?" LuckyBat paced a few circles around Lou, inspecting every inch of him.

Lou would lean a little ways opposite of wherever Lucky was as he revolved. "Flower?" The bat simply gestured upward. Lou followed up to the weird sunflower-looking thing jutting out of the cliff. "Yeah, I came out of that I think." Lou shook his head. "Where did you say this was?"

"Uglyville," Lucky straightened with a smile.

"Right..." Lou winced and forced himself to stand up. He rubbed the back of his head.

"I think this belongs to you. It fell out of the flower too." Lou squinted down. Lucky held up a dented flashlight to him.

Lou took it, already knowing it really wouldn't work anymore despite getting new batteries. "Thanks...What's your name again?"

"Luckybat." Boy, this newcomer sure had a bad memory.

"Why are you called that?"

"I'm usually very lucky. Lucky to have great friends, a great home, to be alive--"

Lou snorted. If this creature was here only because the incinerator was blocked, then yeah, he was lucky to be alive.

"What's so funny?" Lucky looked genuinely interested.

Lou shook his head quickly, going back to tinkering with the flashlight. "Nothing. I have another question."

"You're full of those, huh?" Lucky smiled.

The blond rolled his eyes. "Yeah. How do I get back up into the pi--flower?"

Lucky tilted his head. "You...want to leave?"

"Yes, very much so."

The bat seemed nervous now for some reason. "W-Well, I'm not so sure, but...I think I know someone who could help! She talks a lot about the flower and going through it. I'm sure she's got a million different ways to get up there!" Lucky bounded off ahead of Lou, not bothering to see if he was following.

Lou sighed, looking at the flashlight in his hand once before tossing it behind him and following the bat toward wherever.

The flashlight flickered back on behind them.

-----

I'll probably leave this right here for now and if you want a continuation I'll make the next parts longer.

Spoiler, I think I plan on continuing it anyway, but STILL.

It's also currently 1:40 in the morning where I am and I need to go to bed...

#uglydolls #lou #writing #fanfiction #answer

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novaksupremacy · 4 months ago

Text

The Veiled Law of Affection - Chapter 10

*Disclaimer* - I just want to say I'M SORRY right off the bat. I hate me for this chapter too. Please except the seven Word doc pages of smut that start this chapter off as my APOLOGY and a reminder that this is *temporary* Now on to the usual warnings- smut, svu talk (I tried to tone down dialogue surrounding this case as I felt that kind of stuff is probably more difficult to read than watch in the show}, night terrors, accidental violence, fluff and a shit ton of angst Based on S6E13 "Quarry"

Pairing: Casey Novak x Olivia Benson

Word Count: 9603

by PKJ @novaksupremacy

Read Part 9

Casey panted, naked, up against the doorframe, Liv’s hand to her throat as she kissed down the side of her neck. They had cast their clothes to the side the minute they were behind the apartment door. The counselor leaned her head to the side to give her girlfriend better access, “Mmm this is new detective, I like it.” She mewled biting down on her lip.

“Oh yeah?” Liv smirked against the dip between Casey’s neck and shoulder and slid her thigh in between the redhead’s. She tightened her grip a little bit, the ADA placing her hand over Liv’s and let out a moan.

“Baby, I need you.” The counselor whined, “don’t tease.” She would be lying if she said she meant that. She loved it when her detective tortured her.

The brunette dropped her hand and pressed herself tight against Casey, lifting her up by her thighs and wrapped them around her waist. She pressed the redhead’s back against the wall, biting and suckling down her pulse points.

“Mmm, leave a mark.” Casey sighed against the side of Liv’s face, her hands lost in her lover’s hair, her hips rutting towards Liv’s, “and please, please, take me to fucking bed.” She nipped at her girlfriend’s jaw.

The detective thrust her hips against her, pinning the young woman tighter against the doorframe, getting her to cry out. She got a tight grip on her lover’s backside and whisked her into the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed.

Casey giggled as she landed with a slight bounce and grabbed Liv’s hand pulling her down on top of her. The sensation of Liv’s smooth skin against her own got her every time, sending chills up her spine. She brought her hand down to her detective’s core and teased her lightly with her index finger, slowly pushing the tip of her finger in and out tauntingly. The brunette whimpering above her, letting out little sighs and moans of pleasure. She whined as Casey brought her finger back up to her lips, “Mmm, my good girl, my detective. You taste amazing.” She groaned.

The brunette quivered at her girlfriend's words and brought her body down to meet her. She flipped on to her back pulling the redhead on top of her, kissing her and pulling at her lip. “Finish what you started, Counselor.” She licked her lips and grinned, “Fuck me, and don’t stop.”

Casey let out a sultry chuckle and then traced the tip of her tongue slowly down Liv’s body straight to her center, giving her clit a swift flick. She gave pause to look up at her detective whose lips were curled up in a smile, eyes closed tight. “Look at me baby,” the redhead instructed running her hands up and down her girlfriend’s upper thighs, once the brunette locked her eyes on her, she ran her tongue over Liv’s sensitive bud and then delved into her slick heat. The brunette was already dripping as Casey began to slowly thrust her tongue, pulling Liv’s thighs to go deeper. Liv’s hands were desperately reaching to hold on to any part of Casey and ended up running her nails up and down her arms.

Liv cried out in relief, “Case, I’m so close.” She ground her hips down against her girlfriend’s face, their eyes still locked on each other.

The redhead moaned into her lover as she continued, not letting her gaze waver as she felt Liv contract and flutter around her tongue. Instead of stopping she gripped her girlfriend tighter and continued tongue fucking her as the orgasm subsided and then after.

“Ohhhh, Ohhhh.” Liv was practically screaming, she was trying so hard to keep eye contact as Casey moaned over and over again into her wet center, her nectar dripping down the redhead’s face. She couldn’t form words, not even to scream her lovers name the way she wanted to as she came toppling over her edge again. Her jaw hung slack, her body shivering. She went to pull herself up, but Casey pulled her back down not letting go as she cleaned up after herself.

“Not yet baby, I need at least one more from you.” She cooed causing her lover to shudder and jump under her touch. “And this time, I need you to wait until I say so, okay?” She kissed her way up Liv’s inner thighs watching her face for a response. Liv nodded as she tried to refocus and catch her breath.

“Verbal.” Casey quipped, laying a soft kiss on her girlfriend's sensitive bud as the brunette tried to rut against her. “Ah,” the ADA moved back, “talk to me Detective.”

“Please Casey, don’t stop.” She mewled.

“You sure, you sure you don’t want me to give you a break?” Casey teased. Her fingertip toying with Liv, running it up and down through her slick and then bringing it to her mouth. She giggled knowing exactly what she was doing as she drove the brunette wild.

“Please don’t stop, please, please.” The detective begged, rutting her hips in search of contact.

“Mmm, that’s Daddy’s good girl.” Casey grinned as she slipped two fingers in and began thrusting slowly, gently curling to massage Liv’s g-spot. She let her jaw hang as she mocked the brunette’s expression and let out a small gasp. “Mmm you feel so good baby,”

Olivia couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore; she threw her head back whimpering towards the ceiling. She could feel herself getting close. “Case, Casey, I”

The counselor shook her head, “not yet beautiful. Just hold on for me.”

Liv brought her hands to head pushing her palms down over her eyes. She didn’t think she could hold out for much longer. “Please Case, please.” She whined.

“Come on baby, you can wait, almost there.” The redhead slowed down again bringing her tongue down, pressed it against her lover’s clit languidly stroking circles on it and moaned loudly. She could feel the brunette start to clench.

“Ca-ca-ca-Casey! Casey.” The detective gasped, she was going insane, her hands flailing, and she slammed her hand against the headboard a few times.

“That’s it baby, scream my name and I promise I’ll let you get relief. Come on baby tell me who makes you feel good.” She kissed her clit still fucking her slowly with her fingers, “You want to come, don’t you?”

“Mmm, fuck.” Liv panted, “Casey! Ohhhh! CASEY!” she began whimpering.

“Louder.” The counselor began to pick up the pace, thrusting faster.

The brunette obliged as she rolled her hips against the ADAs fingers. “Oh G-d Casey, don’t stop.”

“Louder.” The redhead said again, she smirked. Olivia screaming her name like that had her throbbing and dripping down her own thighs. “And look at me,” she commanded as she picked up the pace again.

The detective groaned, she could barely keep still but she did as she was told and opened her eyes. They were glossed over, drunk with arousal, a grin sprawled across her face as she locked onto Casey’s green eyes. Her entire body was pulsing as Casey began fucking her as hard and fast as her forearm muscles would allow. The brunette’s lip quivered uncontrollably; the scent of Casey’s perfume mixed with their sex intoxicated her.

“Ohhhh, C-c-Casey, Oh my god Casey!” She was screaming now, her mouth hung open trying to keep her lover’s gaze. “Fuck baby, please let me come. It’s thr-throbbing,” she whimpered.

The luscious lawyer pulled her fingers away bringing everything to a grinding halt. The brunette’s eyes shot open as her body sputtered out. The redhead quickly brought herself up and straddled Liv bringing her sex down onto her lover’s core. She brought her hand back down between them and began thrusting again, she rolled her hips as she did which caused her arousal to start drenching Liv.

As she could feel herself building up, she could feel the detective barely hanging on. “Now baby,” she mewled as she started to get hot, seconds away from orgasm. “Come with me.”

She didn’t even have to repeat herself as Liv soaked Casey’s hand, making unintelligible sounds at top volume, her breath staggered. The redhead felt her own walls flutter as she came hard, grinding down against her girlfriend. She collapsed forward, their uncovered breasts brushing, touching each other as she smiled against her girlfriend’s lips and kissed her passionately. She rolled off and laid her head against Liv’s shoulder bringing her hand to her lips licking her fingers clean of her girlfriend.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Liv maneuvered herself on top of Casey, her thigh pressed up against the ADAs hot, wet, heat. The redhead let out a gasp and leaned her head back. Liv pulled her gaze back to her, pressing her thumb and forefinger to her chin, “Where you going baby? Look at me.” She slid her free hand down between them, sliding two fingers into her girlfriend’s core. She let her mouth fall slightly open and her eyes rolled in ecstasy as she felt how wet Casey truly was for her. She still held her chin to make sure the ADA was watching and knew how much pleasure Liv got from touching her.

Casey let her facial expression match Liv’s as she watched how much her girlfriend enjoyed fucking her. She bit her lip and moaned, “Mmm baby, I love how you feel.” She rutted her hips against the brunette's hand.

Liv happily began to pick up the pace, sliding in a third finger and slamming into the redhead fast and hard. “Come on baby, don’t hold back on me, let it out.”

The counselor was mewling and whimpering loudly as she could feel everything building up. It felt so good she had tears welling in her eyes, so good she couldn’t get words out, just a loud moan as she came against Liv’s hand who continued to fuck her until the orgasm was over. The detective collapsed against her, breathing hard and smiling into her neck.

Casey couldn’t help but smile and run her hands through Liv’s hair. “That was—” her chest heaving.

“Amazing? Incredible?” the brunette chuckled.

“Hot.” Casey stated kissing the detective’s forehead. “You did so good.” She pursed her lips and traced her fingertips across Olivia’s bare chest. “The way you were so—aggressive in the doorway.” She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling.

“Shit Case, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough.” Liv sighed.

“No, no,” The counselor kissed her, “I liked it, it was very sexy. I would’ve told you if I wasn’t okay with it. Promise.”

*****

“Good morning, got your confession?” Captain Cragen smiled as he entered the squad room. He was in a rare, good mood.

Liv stretched and yawned, “Yeah, nine hours. Guy held out for nine hours.”

“Hmm, well, the desk sergeant asked me to bring this up” he handed her a large manilla envelope.

The detective took it from him and looked at it with curiosity.

“Want a cup of coffee?” the captain asked as he headed to the machine. He really is in a good mood Liv thought to herself.

The brunette nodded opening the envelope, “yeah and two eggs over easy, some hash browns and toast.”

Cragen turned to look at her, giving her his famous, “come on kid don’t bust your father’s balls” face.

Liv turned around with a smirk; “Coffee’s fine” Don turned to fix coffee as Liv read the flyer in the envelope. “Have you seen this child? Missing, March 22nd, 1980—Jeffery Ronson”

Her boss whipped back around to face her, “Jeffrey Ronson?”

“Yeah an old missing child flyer and a photo of Yankee Clipper Park. Somebody wrote an “X” in the right field corner. Look at this,” she put the photo down and pointed at it, “He is here.” As Cragen picked up the flyer Liv looked up confused as the captain’s face got somber.

The two of them drove out to the field in the photo after notifying uni’s to meet them on scene. “I’ll even get you breakfast after.” The captain said as they got in the car.

Upon arrival, “Jeffrey Ronson was seven when he disappeared in 1980. We spent the entire spring trying to find him.” Cragen explained.

Liv nodded in agreement, “Wasn’t there a guy you liked for this?”

The captain nodded, “Yeah Lucas Biggs.”

“I remember Biggs, he got popped for that kidnap/murder down in VA. He’s on death row right?” The detective adjusted her sunglasses as they walked.

“Not for long, he’s slated for execution next week.”

As they made their way down the field they were greeted by Melinda, who was standing in a very large hole, “Captain we have something. Got a hit off ground penetrating radar. Started digging, found this—child’s skull, buried face down.”

“He’s still got his baseball jersey on.” Liv said incredulously.

Cragen nodded, “It’s gotta be Jeffrey, this is his neighborhood. He played ball here. If our case is active that means Biggs gets a stay of execution.” He and Benson headed back to the car.

The brunette shrugged her shoulders, “So he has help on the outside, someone hand delivered that flyer.”

The captain furrowed his brow, “Which he could’ve handed to anybody, so why’d he pick you.”

*****

“You even manage to make somber funeral clothes look sexy” Casey smirked as they pulled up into the parking lot of Reutz & Son’s Funeral Home.

Liv blushed, “Think so? I promise we won’t be here long then we can go grab some lunch.” She smiled and ran her hand along her girlfriend’s arm.

“Babe I’d rather spend my day off at a funeral home with you while you question potential suspects than home by myself any day of the week.” She giggled and gave the brunette a quick peck. They both got out of the car and headed for the door, Liv slightly in front of Casey who followed behind in her footsteps.

Liv approached the grieving parents as they entered the building, “Mr. and Mrs. Ronson I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Ronson smiled halfheartedly, “Thank you, Detective. The guest book is right here, please sign in before the service.”

Mrs. Ronson looked down, “Thank you.” she mouthed as Casey took her hand and gave her her most empathetic face. The ADA squeezed the woman’s hand before following behind Olivia.

Morales was back in the mobile command unit explaining how the pen next to the guest book worked. Liv and Casey were visible on their surveillance cam. “She writes her name, and it translates everything to our wireless receiver.”

Munch chuckled, “The magic of digital pens. Also remember we can see you and this is a sad occasion.”

“Keep it up John, and I’ll put her about five different positions to make you blush.” Liv joked, mumbling into the mic in her jacket.

Casey’s eyebrow went up as she whipped her head towards her girlfriend and mouthed, “What the fuck?” in utter embarrassment.

“So we just cross reference the names with the original case files.” Morales cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Munch realized he was being scolded for his silliness and readjusted, “Here’s one Deacon Brim, lived across the street from Jeffrey and was babysitting the night he died. Let him walk home alone. He was the last person to seem him alive. Liv, Case—we’re gonna need to interview Deacon the minute the service is over.”

The brunette leaned into her coat, “Copy that.” She placed her hand on Casey’s knee. The redhead smiled and put her arm on the back of Liv’s chair, her chest swelled with pride.

Morales piped up, “I’ve got another one, Avery Shaw.”

Munch checked his notes, “Played on Jeffrey’s baseball team. A week after he disappeared Avery remembered seeing Biggs talking to Jeffery.”

Moreles squinted at the screen, “Hang on what’s he doing. He’s leaving.”

Liv brought her mouth to her jacket again, “I’ll go talk to him.” Casey smoothed out the tails of her jacket as she stood up and followed suite.

“’Scuse me?” Liv called after Avery as she exited the building. “Avery? You alright?” she saw the man had been crying.

“I’m fine” he nodded. Casey hung back by the entry door in case Morales or Munch signaled her to grab someone else. “Do I know you?”

Liv lifted up her shield, “I’m Detective Benson. You left pretty quick.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t handle seeing all those people again,” he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked out towards the parking lot “I just wanted to say goodbye to my best friend.”

“You played baseball with Jeffrey Ronson?” Liv motioned to Casey to come over to them. Casey tilted her head and then began to walk to the brunette.

Avery nodded, “He played short, I played second.”

“Avery this my friend ADA Casey Novak, she also plays ball.” The detective put her arm on Casey’s back to bring her into the conversation.

The redhead nodded, “I do, I play first base, and our other friend plays short.” She smiled hoping that the common ground would get him to open up more.

This elicited a smile from the man, “We got a trophy once for turning the most double plays in the season.”

C- That’s impressive, we’re lucky if we make it through a game without someone getting injured.

Avery hands Liv a small, tattered photo of him and Jeffrey, “I can remember when we took that, Jeffrey yelled at Deacon for getting his finger in the photo.”

“Deacon Brinn?” the brunette asked?

The young man nodded, “He was like our guardian. He was older so he’d walk us home. Made sure we looked both ways before crossing. Do you think finding Jeffrey’s body will prove who killed him?”

Liv knew she had to be careful with her choice of words here, “We’re looking for evidence and re-interviewing everyone. Tell me about Lucas Biggs.” She followed him as he walked, Casey followed behind keeping an ear on the conversation.

Avery shrugged, “He had a huge stash of baseball cards. Everybody from Reggie to Goose to Tekulve and... He didn’t look like a pervert, he was cool.”

“So, you didn’t think that he’d hurt Jeffrey? Is that why it took you so long to go to the police?” The detective interrogated.

Avery stopped and got quiet, “Everybody was blaming Deacon for Jeffrey’s disappearance, I didn’t want them to blame me.

Liv tilted her head sympathetically, “Well, thank you for your time, Avery, I’ll let you know if we have any more questions.”

Avery nodded and gave a small wave to the redhead behind her, “Bye Ms. Casey.”

Casey smiled back and returned the wave, “Bye Avery.” It was easy to see there was still so much unprocessed damage going on with this man, she frowned sympathetically.

Liv turned towards her and took her hand. Ready for that food I promised?

The counselor shook her head enthusiastically, “Absolutely, I’m craving a good diner sandwich.” She swung their hands as they walked back towards the car.

The brunette pursed her lips in agreement, “Oh that sounds great, Skylight? Or would you rather stay around here?”

“No skylight sounds great; we have to get back to the precinct anyway.” The redhead smirked. They both got in the car simultaneously. The ADA wasted no time turning Liv’s face and pulling her into a languid kiss. “Mmm little deaths,” she sighed with a smile. “You were amazing with that interview. I love watching you work.”

Liv blushed, “You’re pretty amazing at what you do too counselor and how you picked up the cues to come coax him into more of a conversation about baseball.” She interlocked her fingers with Casey’s as they exited the parking lot.

*****

Liv walked outside with the captain as he headed to the coffee cart, “We got nothing from the funeral. Just a lot of fingers pointed at Biggs.”

Cragen nodded and thought for a moment, “I guess it’s time to talk to the man himself. I want you on the next flight to Virginia.”

The detective halted and then began walking again, “Really think he’s gonna talk? After all these years?”

The captain shrugged, “Maybe to you-- if he sent the map, it’s an invitation. Get your girlfriend to drive you to JFK.”

Liv stopped in her tracks.

Cragen scowled, “Yeah it was weird for me too. I was trying it on. Just imagine me being supportive but not out loud.”

The detective smiled, “You got it Cap.” she chuckled.

*****

Casey had tears streaming down her face as she drove, “Donald “Dad” Cragen said have your girlfriend drive you to the airport? Oh my god that’s great,” she laughed as she glanced at Liv in the passenger seat. “What did you do?”

“I froze,” the detective giggled, “it caught me so off guard I didn’t know what to do. The immediate regret on his face after was priceless.” She mocked the captains voice “‘Imagine my-- nonverbal support’” and then patted me on the back.”

The redhead guffawed, “Damn I miss all the fun. They have a car waiting for you in Virginia?”

Liv nodded, “Yeah someone from the Waverly PD is supposed to pick me up when I land.”

“Well, I don’t care what time it is when you get back, you better call me. None of this taking a cab in the middle of the night crap.” She ran her fingers over Liv’s thigh. “Promise you’ll call?”

“I promise babe. Swear it.” She kissed Casey’s fingertips, smirking. “Just make sure you’ve had coffee because I may keep you up when I get back.”

The ADA put her hand behind her girlfriend's neck and massaged it as they drove, “I look forward to it.”

They pulled up into the departure lanes at JFK International Airport and Liv hopped out. Casey threw the car into park and jumped out grabbing Liv’s bag for her out of the backseat. “You better be careful Oliva Benson. Tell the pilot he’s got precious cargo on board.” She pulled her close, hanging from her lips and the holding tight to the lapels of her jacket. “Come home safely. I miss you already.”

*****

Biggs said across the table from Olivia, “Last time a cop came here he tried to pin the death of a boy from Louisville on me. Where you from?”

“New York City”

“You’re a long way from home.” He sat down. “You must’ve heard they’re gonna kill me next week. Nothing like waiting till the last minute. You know how many of your colleagues have tried to get me to admit that I killed Jeffrey Ronson? Twelve”

Liv started circling the interrogation table.

Biggs smirked, he seemed unfazed, “That’d make you thirteen. Could be your lucky number.”

“Your girlfriend, Vivian…she used to work for the Ronsons.” The detective continued pacing. “Now tell me, Lucas, is that a coincidence?”

“It was the first time I saw him. I went to pick Viv up from work. Jeffrey was running around naked, screaming about having to get in the bathtub. His hair smelled like Mr. Bubbles.” Biggs closed his eyes as if he were reliving some twisted memory.

“Is that why you went to the ballpark to lure him away with you?”

“I never lured him anywhere. He wasn’t my type.” He looked down at the floor.

“You sure?” Liv said as she stepped towards him. “Cause I think you went back to the ballpark that night, Lucas. I think you kidnapped Jeffrey Ronson; you molested him and then you killed him.”

Biggs snapped, “Listen to me carefully. I never touched Jeffrey Ronson.”

“Then how did you know where he was buried?” the detective demanded.

Biggs shot her a confused look, “What are you talking about?”

“Why’d you send me these?” She placed the flyers down on the table in front of him. “You think it’s funny?”

“Next Friday, they’re gonna fry me like a piece of bacon. Why would I send you these now?” The prisoner pushed the flyers back at her.

Liv quirked her brow, “So we find Jeffrey, the case stays alive, and so do you.”

“What you don’t understand Detective Benson is I’m ready to die. I’ve made peace with my lord, he’s forgiven my sins, and Jeffrey Ronson” he paused, “isn’t one of them.”

Liv grabbed her bag from the return and headed out to the pickup lanes at JFK. She only expected to be looking for Casey’s car but was pleasantly surprised to see her girlfriend posted up against it, hands buried in her trench coat. The redhead had a big cheesy smile as the detective approached.

“Hey beautiful.” she pursed her lips and flashed her bedroom eyes at her girlfriend.

“Hey yourself,” she pulled her close, inhaling the smell of her perfume and kissing her softly, “sorry on the short notice. I really thought it would’ve taken longer.”

“More time with you is never something to apologize for. I just said it was case related.”

*****

The detective’s had gotten a hot tip on Bigg’s financials. The records revealed that his ex, the Ronson’s old housekeeper, was still cashing Biggs’ pension checks. When Munch and Liv drove out to see her, she let it slip that Lucas Biggs had a storage locker for which she was still paying.

Benson looked around in shock as her and John clipped the lock on the storage. She shone her flashlight in and saw what looked like shelves of baseball caps. “Oh my god.” She gasped.

Munch flicked on the light, “There's gotta be a hundred baseball caps in here.” There was also a small table and chair facing the direction of the shelves.

“Trophies, each one from a different victim.” Liv curled her lip in disgust as she motioned to CSU to come document everything.

*****

Liv didn’t often dream about work but tonight it consumed every dream that had. She tossed and turned unable to get the thought of the storage unit out of her head. Casey rolled over, stirring from all of the motion on the other side of the bed. She squinted and noticed that her girlfriend’s jaw was clenched, and she was drenched in sweat.

“Babe,” Casey whispered, “Liv, baby, are you okay?” The brunette was thrashing, the ADA could hear her teeth grinding. “Hey,” she sat up. “Olivia? Are you okay?” Casey was starting to worry she was having some type of seizure as she gently placed her hand on the sleeping detective in an attempt to rouse her from her nightmare. Before she realized what was happening Liv had shot up and had her in a chokehold. The redhead grabbed Liv’s arm in a state of shock trying to pull it away enough to get air and yell at her. “Liv! Baby let go!” Casey started smacking Liv’s arm “LIV! Wake up you’re hurting me!” The brunette had her tight and she was afraid if she let go she’d pass out. So in a last resort she took her free arm and threw her elbow back to jab Olivia in the gut. It was enough to jolt the detective back to a waking state and she let go startled.

Casey jumped off the bed and turned around looking at Liv while rubbing her neck, “Son of a bitch! What the fuck Olivia?!” Her heart was pounding, and she tried to catch her breath.

“Casey, oh my god, what was I doing? I’m so sorry baby, are you okay?” She scrambled to her feet to check on her girlfriend.

The redhead retreated, her eyes wide in fear on the verge of tears. “Please don’t.”

“Casey, baby I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Liv felt the hot tears running down her face. “What did I do?”

“You had me in a fucking chokehold!” Casey was still rubbing her neck. “You could’ve killed me.”

“Baby I’m so sorry. I would never knowingly do that. I was dreaming about Lucas and that storage unit. I’m so sorry, please let me make sure you’re alright? Please?” She was in hysterics. The counselor’s face softened, and she accepted, flipping on the light. Liv’s face went white as she saw the red mark her forearm left on Casey’s neck.

“Is it bad,” the redhead whimpered.

“It’s red, can I touch you?” Liv let out a sob. The ADA nodded and the detective gently put her fingertips to Casey’s neck. “Does it hurt.”

The prosecutor shook her head, “No, it just—scared me.” She looked at the hurt on the detective’s face, how could she ever for a second think that her girlfriend would do that on purpose. She brought her hands up to meet Liv’s and pulled the detective’s arms around her and held her tight.

The brunette wept into her the crook of her neck. Casey hugged her tighter which made her wince in pain. “Ow”

“Shit, Liv I’m so sorry. I was panicking and you wouldn’t wake up, so I jabbed you with my elbow.” The redhead gently lifted the hem of the brunette's shirt to make sure she didn’t grievously injure her. She ran the pads of her fingers along her abdomen checking for bruises, which thankfully she found none of.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. I probably would’ve done the same thing!” She brought her chestnut brown eyes to meet Casey’s. She was doing that puppy eye thing that always melted Liv into a puddle. “Can I kiss you?”

The ADA almost broke into pieces, “Olivia Benson don’t you dare ask if you can kiss me, of course you can. In fact I need you to.”

Liv gently cupped Casey’s face and kissed her lips tenderly. “I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” She kept placing tender kisses in between whispers of “I’m sorry.”

“You think we can try to go back to bed? We have to be up pretty early tomorrow.” The redhead whispered.

The detective nodded, “Only if you’ll hold me, I’m terrified I hurt you again.”

Casey laid down and pulled Liv close to her heart, and wrapped her arms around her tight, “I’m not.” She kissed her temple.

*****

Something about being in Casey’s sweater made her feel safe, like some sort of armor. However, she still had a knot in her stomach from last night's events. She waited for Lucas in the interrogation room once more, all of his “trophies” on display, a list of all of the inventory on a clip board in her hand.

Biggs was taken aback as he walked to the holding cell and saw his collection. “You had no right to touch those!” The guard slid the cell gate open, and he waltzed through, pompous in his movement, “They gave ‘em to me! To remember them by. And I remember them. Their necks, their shoulders—their bellies. Always changing.”

Liv stared at him in disgust, her fingers tugging at her sleeve in an attempt to soothe her anxieties—it felt like having Casey with her.

“Turning from boys into men, right before my eyes.” He looked at the caps lined up on the tables and started to rattle off what shelf they were from as well as where he acquired them. The detective glared him down, her stomach churning. “They were always there, waitin for me in my room. Always there till I—need ‘em”

“Tell me their names.” Liv commanded flatly.

“Only if I can touch them.” Biggs pointed to the hats.

The brunette looked at the guard and nodded, “Take him back to his cell.” Her lips curled, she wanted to be rid of Biggs at this point. Then she had a thought as he was being led away. “You know what we do with old evidence?” She did not want to have to come back down here again. “We burn it, big old incinerator. Turns all this junk into ash in a heartbeat.” She tossed one of the baseball caps to the ground.

Biggs cringed and began to prattle, “That—that hat belongs to Randy Morgan. October 17th, 1979. Macon Georgia. This could be fun, do you want to go on?” He lifted his cuffs and Liv nodded at the prison guard to release him. He began to pick up the caps one by one and gave their location in the unit as well as who they belonged to and when they were acquired until finally there was only one cap left on the table. Liv watched him intensely with revulsion. Finally, he picked up the last cap, “Riverside Eagles.”

Liv smirked, she knew she had him now, “Jeffrey Ronson.”

“I told you I never touched Jeffrey.”

“Well then who’s hat is it?” she queried, annoyance and frustration present as she spoke.

“March 2nd, 1980, NYC, Deacon Brinn.” And handed the hat to the detective.

*****

When Liv made it back to the precinct for the second time, she debriefed with Captain Cragen and George Huang going over everything she acquired from her visit down to Virginia.

“Its been 25 years how am I going to get Deacon to admit what happened now?”

George shrugged, “Tell him you already know.”

Liv went meet Deacon later that afternoon, “Do you recognize this hat?” handing him a photo from the evidence inventory.

“That’s the Riverside Eagles,” he said taking the photo from her. “That was my baseball team,” he said handing it back. “Where’d you get that?”

Liv sighed, “We found it in Biggs storage locker, he had souvenirs from all the boys he had hurt. You were one of them.”

Deacon looked down, his face sullen, “He gave me tips, taught me how to hit a curveball. I couldn’t believe it when he invited me to his place. He treated me like a grown-up. We drank beer, watched dirty moves, and then one day…” his voice trailed off.

She handed him the photo she had received, “So that’s why you sent me this photo?”

He took it and stared at it for a second, “How’d you know I sent it?”

“You just told me.”

*****

Liv walked into Casey’s office only to find her at her desk massaging her neck which still bore a faint red mark. The brunette’s face dropped, “Hey,” she said weakly and closed the door behind her.

“Hey baby,” Casey smiled up at her from the desk, “you need me?”

“Always,” Liv shifted uncomfortably, the knot in her stomach still there, “Jeffrey’s parents are here. I thought we could talk to them together.”

The ADA wrinkled her brow, “Hey, Liv, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head, waved her hand out in front of her and without warning burst into tears.

The redhead flew from her desk to the detectives side. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying babe? Are you hurt? Did something happen with Biggs?” She hugged her and then pulled back assessing for injury.

Liv shook her head, “No, but you are.” The tears were free flowing as much as she tried to fight them. “I walked in, and I could tell, it’s hurting you and you didn’t tell me.”

Casey looked at Liv, her puppy eyes soft and caring, “Baby you had a really bad dream and I know better than to wake someone up from that sort of thing. It was an accident. It’s okay, I’m okay.” She put her hands to her face in an attempt to soothe her. “Shh, I’m fine I promise.”

“It’s not okay, how could that happen? What’s wrong with me?” the brunette continued to cry.

“Nothing, nothing is wrong with you.” The redhead said firmly and kissed Olivia and refused to let it go. When she finally did she looked her girlfriend in the eye, “You are an amazing human being Olivia Benson, look how many people you help every single day. Look how well you treat me and care about me. If there was something wrong with you? You wouldn’t even be upset right now.” She pulled their foreheads together and breathed in and out deeply until she felt Liv’s breathing regulate. “Come on baby lets fix you up a little and go meet the Ronson’s.” She wiped the brunette’s tears with her thumbs and tried to fix her eyeliner. She gave her a soft kiss before leading her back out into the hall.

“So you’re convinced Biggs did it?” Mrs. Ronson asked across the table from Casey and Liv as they sat in the conference center.

“Mrs. Ronson,” Casey took a breath, “we have a witness who can help convict Lucas Biggs of killing your son.”

“How long would a trial take?” the woman said with agitation.

“Depends, a year, maybe two.” The ADA tilted her head sympathetically. Liv sat next to her, arms folded trying to decipher the Ronson’s body language.

“That’s years of going to court,” the woman said exasperated. “Talking about what happened, answering questions.”

“Years Biggs gets to spend eating, breathing, watching TV.” Mr. Ronson interjected.

“Yes,” Liv entered the conversation in a comforting tone, “But in the end, at least you’ll the have peace of mind that comes with knowing that the man who killed your son will pay for what he did.”

The older man scoffed at this. “We were out having a nice dinner while that man murdered our son. Peace of mind won’t be coming anytime soon.” He shook his head.

“We just want this to be over.” His wife said somberly as the detective looked down at the table. “Don’t stop the execution.”

As she said this the door swung open and both Casey and Liv turned their heads. Don Cragen was standing in the doorway with a deadpan expression. “Olivia,” he beckoned, “Get your coat.” She stood up and hurried to the door to follow him, glancing back at Casey, mouthing “I’ll see you later.” under her breath with a sympathetic nod knowing the pair needed to have a serious conversation, and then rushed out to grab her things.

*****

Munch met Oliva and the Captain down by the train tracks. “Engineer called it in, he thought he saw something go under the train. The body was cut in two.” They continued to walk towards the deceased.

Liv leaned down and pulled the white sheet back from the victim’s face, “Deacon Brinn.” She sighed.

“That’s his car over there,” Munch pointed. “Drove out to the middle of nowhere and jumped in front of the train.” He said talking over his ringing cellphone.

Liv stared down at the body, “He wasn’t ready to deal with what Biggs did to him.” Munch answered the call and Cragen stepped towards her as she continued, “He’s been burying it for so long.”

“He sent you that note because he wanted the truth to come out.” The captain said softly.

“The truth about Jeffrey but not himself.” Liv shook her head.

“That was O’Halloran,” Munch called out, “He wants us at the lab.”

Upon arrival O’Halloran began to show the two what he had discovered, which was the fact that the perp had taken chewing gum out of his mouth and stuck it to Jeffrey Ronson’s baseball jersey before burying him. The gum had a partial print that wasn’t a match to Lucas Briggs, it was however a perfect match to Deacon Brinn.

“My victim is my perp.” Liv said in shock.

*****

Back in the squad room Cragen stood up at the crime board, “So Deacon killed Avery and got away with it. He had a good life, a wife, and a kid. There’s no way he sent you a phone of Jeffrey’s grave.” He thumbed at the flyers on the board.

“I screwed up.” Liv said hoping down from the desk, “I showed him the photo and the map. He knew that he had to lie about them so I wouldn’t suspect he’d killed Jeffrey.” She paced back and forth as she spoke.

“But why kill his friend?” the captain questioned.

The brunette shrugged, “Probably pretty close to the edge after Biggs assaulted him.”

“Deacon was angry at Biggs, but he redirected that anger towards Jeffrey, the younger version of himself. Its called identification with the oppressor.” Munch iterated.

Cragen furrowed his brow, “Did he simply kill Jeffrey, or did he molest him too?”

“I’ll bet he molested him,” Munch continued the psychoanalysis. The stress on Liv’s face was becoming clearer. “The kind of trauma Deacon suffered can warp a victim’s sexuality.”

Liv’s heart was in her stomach, lost in her own thoughts, her own trauma from dealing with her drunk abusive mother all of those years caused her to become an abuser. The thought that even unknowingly she could raise a hand to Casey, her sweet Casey, her beautiful ADA made her sick to her stomach.

“So Deacon doesn’t want to be the victim anymore. He becomes the victimizer.”

“Until someone put a bullet in him,” the sound of Melinda’s voice snapped Liv out of her thoughts.

“I thought he was hit by a train?” Cragen whipped around.

“So did I till I X-rayed the body.” She pulled out the x-ray and handed it to the captain. “Nine-millimeter slug in his heart. I’ll put time of death around ten o’clock last night, two hours before the train hit him.”

Olivia looked at the x-ray, her face contorted in confusion, “Could Deacon have shot himself?”

Melinda shook her head, “No residue on his hands. Whoever killed him, put him on the tracks to make it look like a suicide.”

“Maybe the same person that led me to Jeffrey’s body,” Liv supposed.

“Talk to Deacon’s wife, find out where he was last night.” Cragen instructed firmly and dismissed everyone.

*****

After speaking with Deacon’s wife Liv learned that he moved out months ago after a bout of marital issues.

“Looks like nothing but a crash pad,” Munch mused as he and Liv assessed the apartment.

“Then why’d he keep his desk locked?” the brunette replied prying the drawer open. “A bunch of mail.”

“Love letters?”

“Hate mail.” Liv said holding up a picture of Deacon and his family. Flipping it over she read the back, “Before the perfect American family, the after version won’t be as pretty. Deacon’s stalker knew about Jeffrey. They probably sent the flyer and the photo hoping that we’d collar Deacon.”

“The stalker knew about Biggs too, here’s a clipping about his execution, the stalker wrote on it—‘He owned you then, I own you now.’” Munch held out the clipping.

Liv stood up and studied it, “Deacon said he never told anyone about the abuse. So who knew?”

“Pedophiles like to share their exploits,” John explained, “Maybe Biggs bragged to our stalker about molesting Deacon?” Liv cocked her eyebrow as she pondered the question.

*****

“Somebody murdered Deacon Brinn,” Liv spat, once again alone in a cell with Lucas Biggs. “Somebody who knew that you abused him.”

Biggs listened intently but piped up to defend himself. “I never abused Deacon, or any of the boys. I loved them.”

“Your love ruined their lives.” The brunette retorted, her hands folded under her chin.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Come on Lucas, you know that’s not true.” She shot back immediately.

“What did I do wrong?” Biggs asked, seemingly in earnest. “I was born with these feelings. I don’t know why I have them, they were always there. It wasn’t exactly like I had a choice.”

Liv scoffed, “Neither did the 117 boys you assaulted.”

“I never hurt them,” he protested, “it never hurt me.” His eyes teared up slightly and Liv’s face softened.

“You were abused.” She said quietly waiting to see how he would react.

Lucas tried to speak only to get choked up. He would start, then stop, shift uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he let out a deep sigh and began to speak, his voice cracked, “My father left when I was a baby. When I was about nine this man moved in across the street. He was the only one I could talk to. He loved me, he cared for me and…that was how he showed it.” Biggs began to weep.

“I’m sorry,” the detective offered.

The prisoner now in hysterics stood up and tossed his chair across the room. He feel to his knees and openly wept, “I never meant to hurt the boys.”

“Lucas,” she stood up and walked over to him, she almost felt bad for him at this point, “Deacon Brimm is dead, so who did you tell about what you did?”

“No one,” he was still crying.

“There has to be someone, in jail? Someone who knew you back then? Somebody who knew about you and Deacon.”

Biggs looked up as if a lightbulb went off in his head, “There was a little boy, he used to follow Deacon and Jeffrey around. And Deacon used to look at him, the way I looked at boys…”

“What was his name?” Liv coaxed trying to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

“Avery, his name was Avery.”

“Hey baby, did you get it? The warrant?” Liv kissed Casey’s cheek as she hopped into the car.

“I got it, they’re waiting on you to serve it.” She reached for her girlfriends hand, but to her surprise Liv pulled away. “What’s that about?” she couldn’t keep her lip from quivering.

“I’m sorry,” Liv sighed, she sounded—distressed. “It’s not you.”

“It’s not you, it’s me? Are you really about to feed me that line right now?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Liv’s eyes stared a hole in the car floor before looking up, “Casey— what if I’m a monster?” a tear streamed down her face.

“What?” the redhead looked at her and then back at the road, “How could you even think that?”

“Look at these men, look at the people we put away. The abuse is all cyclical. I didn’t have the greatest homelife. Maybe, maybe it broke something. Maybe I’m just a switch waiting to be flipped.”

Casey grabbed Liv’s hand squeezed it and then brought it to her heart, “You listen to me! I don’t know what happened to you and you can tell me when you’re ready, but I know without a doubt that you are nothing like these people. Nothing. My heart would not beat this steady for a monster. You are a good person. I’ve known that since day one.” Her eyes now welling up as well as she tried to focus on driving.

“I wish I could believe you.” Liv sobbed.

*****

Once everyone had donned their flack jackets, Liv kicked in the door to Avery’s apartment. As the rooms were cleared, Liv saw something in the bedroom that made her call out for the other detective’s attention, “John in here.” In front of her a wall that looked more like a crime board was plastered with photos and newspaper articles about Deacon over the years. “Avery’s been stalking Deacon for years.” She stated.

“Check this out,” Munch pointed to the map behind her, “A map of all the train routes in Queens leading to Deacon’s house.”

“Copies of the missing poster, just like the one he sent me,” the brunette picked up a flyer off the desk.

Munch moved to check behind the bedroom door, “Deacon’s not the only one he’s obsessed with. Special Victim, special cop. Avery’s been stalking you too.” There were cut outs of all of Liv’s recent cases from the newspapers taped all over the door.

Liv and Casey didn’t talk much when Liv got home. The redhead heard her come in but was scared that if they spoke Liv would still be in the same state as earlier and nothing good would come of that. The brunette crawled into bed and spooned the younger woman. She kissed her shoulder and wrapped arms around her. She pulled her close to breathe her in and Casey couldn’t help but melt, she grabbed the brunettes hands and pulled her tighter to her. It wasn’t long before she decided that wasn’t close enough and rolled over, laying her head against Liv’s heart and squeezed her tight. The ADA slept soundly, and her detective held her close all night and watched her.

*****

Going through Avery’s bank statements, the squad discovered he had been making monthly payments to a woman named Kimber Faulk. The captain instructed them to go find out what he was paying her off for.

“This is Theo.” Kimber said picking up the small baby from his crib. “Avery’s son.”

“Is that what he’s sending you money?” Liv inquired.

The young woman nodded, “Avery started supporting me the day I found out I was pregnant. The same day he left. Said he couldn’t handle being a dad.”

“Nice guy.” Munch scoffed.

“You don’t know Avery,” Kimber rebuked and put the baby back in his playpen, “He is the sweetest man I’ve ever known. The only thing we every fought about was having kids.”

“You wanted them, he didn’t.” Liv added.

“At least he was honest about it. When it came to having children he didn’t just have issues, he had a subscription. Someone really screwed him up as a kid.”

“How often do you talk?”

“We don’t. He just sends money.”

“Then why does your phone show four incoming calls in the last two days?” Benson pressed. “All from Avery, where is he Kimber?”

“I don’t know.” The young woman stated directly.

“Tell me or I’ll arrest you for aiding and abetting a fugitive.” Liv wasn’t in the mood to play games. After pressing a few more times, the detective nodded to Munch to cuff her, and they led her from the building. Liv carried the baby as Munch walked her out.

“What’s gonna happen to Theo?” she cried.

John talked as he kept walking “Social services will take him in.”

As they made it to the corner of the building another voice became present, “Detectives, let her go. Please.” It was Avery. “Please she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Stand back,” Liv commanded as she handed the baby off to a uni and drew down on Avery. “Hands on your head now.” She read him his Miranda Warning as he kept muttering ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath.

*****

“I killed Deacon.” Avery blurted out as Liv entered interrogation.

“I know,” Liv said, “and I know why. We searched your apartment and I read your diaries. What, I don’t know, is why you sent these to me?” She placed the photo and flyer down on the table.

“I thought you’d figure it out.”

“You could’ve gone to anyone in the precinct with what you knew. Why me?” Liv questioned.

Avery sat down, “I read about you in the papers, about how you never sleep when you’re on a case. About how your whole life is about helping kids.”

The brunette shook her head, “Same with my partner. Same with any of my colleagues. You singled me out.” She tossed a file onto the desk, “You stalked me for weeks.” She opened the file to expose pictures of her coming too and from work, her and Casey at the airport, having dinner. She was more bothered by the fact that he had pictures of her girlfriend then of herself. It was her job to protect Casey and she’d been failing miserably. “Why?”

“There was just something about you.” He tried to explain, “I knew you would understand. You and me—we’re so alike.”

“No we’re not alike.” Liv snapped. Casey who was standing on the other side of the glass flinched at this exchange. “You killed a man.”

“So have you.” Avery quipped.

Liv stood up, “I didn’t have a choice. You did it as revenge.”

“No!” Avery followed suit and stood up too. “I went to Deacon’s apartment to confront him, and he said he was sorry, but he was lying! He was still hurting children.”

“How do you know that?” Liv demanded.

Avery’s voice wavered, “When I went in there he was watching a tape. Deacon with a little boy.”

Outside interrogation Captain Cragen was waiting with Casey and Munch. “John call CSU and you and Olivia get back to Deacon’s and find that tape.” Munch nodded and set off down the hall.

“If there is one,” Casey called after him. She was bitter this man was getting to Liv and it was putting a strain on her girlfriend and on them as a couple.

“Can you arraign Avery tonight?” Cragen asked quizzically.

“Why do you care? He’s a murderer.” she asked in confusion.

“Because he’s also a victim.” He sighed.

Deep down Casey knew he was right as her demeanor tempered, she nodded and grabbed her briefcase. “Lights and siren, we might make it.”

*****

Back at Deacon’s apartment Liv, Munch and O’Halloran were able to locate both the video and the camera. What they weren’t expecting was for the tape to reveal that Avery was innocent despite his confession and that the real killer was Deacon’s wife who found out how he was abusing their child.

*****

“Why now?” Liv asked Avery, the two of them back in interrogation. “After all these years? What made you want to end it now?”

“Kimber got pregnant, and I got scared. I didn’t want to hurt the baby.”

Liv tilted her head, “Hurt the baby how?”

Avery began to cry, “Have you ever been afraid of what might be inside you?”

Liv stopped for a second but played it off, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t help thinking there’s like a switch inside of me,” Avery stuttered, “Just like it did in Deacon. And I’d start hurting kids.”

Liv swallowed hard. In her mind she was flashing back to Casey terrified of her in the dark of their bedroom. The fact that she could’ve killed her. The way she jerked her hand away from her in the car the night before. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so sick in her life.

“And that’s why I left my son,” he continued as he wept.

“You’re not a monster Avery,” the brunette shook her head. Why was it so easy to say this to a stranger and so hard to believe about herself?

“How do you know?” Avery sobbed as the detective knelt down next to him.

“Because you didn’t shoot Deacon. Because you love your son so much that you were willing to give him up to protect him. And the truth is—you didn’t have to.” She turned and nodded as Kimber and the baby approached to see Avery. Liv stayed for a second to watch as Avery smiled and held his son for the first time.

She headed to the lockers to get changed for the evening. Elliot headed towards her with a cup of coffee. “You heard about Biggs?”

She nodded wrapping her scarf around her neck, “Prison doc declared him dead 12:01 A.M. No last words.”

Elliot sat down on the desk, “I guess he left enough of a legacy.”

The brunette paused for a minute as she put on her jacket and grabbed the rest of her stuff, “Before you had kids, you ever worry what they’d be like?” She questioned her partner.

Elliot looked up at her, “All the time, I still do.” He shrugged.

“At least you and Kathy know what you’re passing on.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Half my genes are drunk; the other half are violent and cruel.” She walked past him to leave, her eyes teary.

“Look how great you turned out.” She froze as he continued, “It’s not all about the genes, Liv. All you can do is love your kids.”

She nodded her head a few times trying to compose herself before turning around to face him, “Goodnight.” She whispered.

Casey opened the door to her apartment and called out, “Babe? Hey I got Wo-Hop.” It was eerily quiet in the house. “Maybe she crashed from a long day?” she muttered to herself as she put the food down on the counter. “Liv?” She called out again to no reply, so she walked back to the bedroom to see if maybe she had passed out in bed already. When she walked through the doorway, she saw that the bed was still made from that morning. “Olivia? Babe, are you home?” She knew she left the precinct way before her, she had to be home by now. The redhead rounded the corner into the bathroom only to find that Olivia wasn’t there either. Then she saw it and her heart sank into the floor. All of Liv’s stuff was gone from the countertop. The ADA raced back into the bedroom trying to think over the pounding of her heart in her ears, no clothes on Liv’s side of the closet. “No, no, no,” she could feel the tears forming in her eyes as she made her way back to the kitchen only for her eyes to fall on shiny silver lament, the key she had given Liv was placed neatly on the counter next to an envelope labeled “Casey.” The counter they had kissed each other against so many times, forgone breakfast craving only each other, midnight coffee cuddles. She sank down to the floor, if she could’ve found a way to crawl beneath the boards she would’ve. The tears now flowed hot and angry down the redhead’s cheeks. She couldn’t move, frozen in the ache of her detective.

Read Part 11

#casey novak #olivia benson #svu #law and order svu #lgbtqia #casey novak x olivia benson #casey novak smut #casey novak angst #casey novak fanfic #olivia benson smut #olivia benson angst #wlw smut #wlw fanfic #sapphic #the veiled law of affection fanfic

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lehdenlaulu · 6 days ago

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Okay, 40h in, some stray thoughts:

I keep going back and forth between 'oh it's not really that bad after all' and 'ugh why' basically. Every time there's actually a nice bit of writing etc. the frustration at some other aspect soon takes over.

I'm particularly not fond of the random faceless mook hordes that keep respawning in certain locations (seriously, DA2 was bad enough). Or the dumb pointless boss battles you have to do in order to unlock new areas in the Fade where your reward is... another boss battle. And more faceless mooks. And maybe some gear. And maybe more of Solas's tedious sob story if you're lucky. The ghost of the live co-op thing really keeps quite literally haunting the narrative.

Oh, and there's even a fucking gladiator arena. I'm guessing that was originally for PvP. And now it's just there just in case you didn't already get your fill of combat elsewhere. And wanted to ogle Isabela who now inexplicably wears only a bikini and thigh-high boots. Because apparently that's Rivaini cultural outfit now or something? Some pseudo-Aztec thing? Sure. Whatever.

Honestly, just imagine if they'd put as much time and effort into making sure the story is narratively sound and makes any kind of sense as a sequel to its predecessors as they did into crafting the combat system and the needlessly byzantine combat skill tree. *sigh*

I do really like the new exploration mechanics though. I like that I can strafe on narrow ledges and vault over fences and through windows and such. Not super fond that I can magically just use my absent companions' exploration abilities because of my mystical magical all-powerful MacGuffin, though. Guess some people really don't feel like changing their party composition ever. 🙄

And that's another thing. This game coddles the player way too much to the point of treating us like particularly dense toddlers. Not only are there tons of visual options that basically guide you by the hand and point out everything relevant (all of which I obviously immediately turned off) but the dialogue also will very unsubtly tell you what to do at every turn. Like... Taash, babe, we're both Lords of Fortune, I don't think I need to be told to check out if there's something behind the waterfall. And if someone is so new to RPGs to not know something that basic, they need to discover it for themselves, not have it spelled out to them. Honestly, I thought this game's age limit was 18, not 12.

Speaking of Taash and all things unsubtle... I feel like there was a way to introduce their struggle with gender identity in a less... anvilicious way. And maybe come up with some in-universe lore and terminology instead of just defaulting to modern real-world vocabulary. The codex entry in particular frankly felt like breaking the fourth wall and talking directly to the player. And I say this as someone whose own gender identity is pretty nebulous.

Frankly, I'm surprised someone hasn't already literally told Bellara she has ADHD. Yet. I'm guessing she and Taash are relatable to some players, but to me they feel... vaguely insulting, honestly, because it really is about as subtle as a brick in the face. I'm also getting the vibe they're both someone's self insert to some degree at least. Which isn't new for DA, but... yeah.

What else... Oh. Yeah. The less said about the main plot the better. Varric, this really is your worst book yet.

Speaking of Varric, it's pretty funny how he keeps telling Rook to please get some sleep. Sure, mate, would love to but a) all I get for a bed is apparently a bare divan in a room with a massive glowing aquarium b) every time I try to sleep some smarmy elf keeps mansplaining at me in my dreams. Which, you know, is something I shouldn't have in the first place as a dwarf. Maybe I should just start chugging coffee with Lucanis. (But honestly, only Taash and Davrin get to have actual beds, everyone else has to make do with cots, bedrolls, divans, and... an embalming slate??)

Oh, and I'll be really surprised if Varric survives this story. I mean, he's barely there in the first place and keeps talking like some ailing relative who secretly has consumption in a Victorian novel. I mean, his writer was laid off after all.

The pacing and structure of this game is extremely weird. The beginning was particularly rough, then it got better, but it's still a bit all over the place.

Oh, right. I'm fairly sure we were promised cool bard songs at some point. I haven't heard a single one yet. Unless that one street performer in Treviso strumming Enchanters counts, which I don't believe does. It was nice to hear it, though, as much as it was a bit contextually odd to choose that song in particular. Ah well, I guess Empress of Fire would have been even odder.

This is also the most forgettable Hans Zimmer soundtrack I have heard in my life. I can't think of a single theme or leitmotif off the top of my head, but the Inquisition theme on the other hand was instantly recognizable. I might say he's just new to writing video game soundtracks, but... dude's famous for his highly catchy, recognizable and evocative themes. Weird.

But hey! As much as I don't like the cartoony character models, the game is actually otherwise really pretty and has some really lovely visual designs in environments and architecture etc. It's also very stable and smooth for a brand-new game, I've only had one crash and two obvious bugs so far. That's always a big win for a studio. Too bad its actual problems are too baked in to be fixable with some patches.

Anyway, that's it for now. Lots of negativity, I know, but I actually do like playing this game for the most part. I just have to... not think of it as a Dragon Age, basically. Because for all the bells and whistles, or maybe because of them, it really doesn't feel like one. There are glimpses here and there of a great DA game it could have been, but unfortunately, the final result is a bit of a Frankenstein's monster of different and largely incompatible concepts hastily sewn together.

#DA:TV #DA4 #Veilguard spoilers #Dragon Age #Darna plays video games

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fuckyeahfightlock · 1 month ago

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It's 2004. Someone has sent me a link, or I have found a link, or whatever. Link.

The link is to a video. YouTube has not been invented yet so I waste time downloading this video via the link. This can take up to five minutes as we are past dial-up but still do not tout the number of G's our internet. . .makes? accommodates? (I don't understand G's, to this day). So it's probably broadband that does this.

The video is a panning shot of a black and white. . either a room or an outdoor scene, moody, not necessarily spooky. There is very small, cursive script appearing on the video, a line at a time, while gentle music plays in the background. The text tells me that this is [song title] by the horror/goth/metal/whatever-they-were band Cradle of Filth, then noted something or other about the band, or the song, like a very slow and boring wikipedia article.

I lean in to read the text better. The music is so-so; I've heard of Cradle of Filth, for some reason I know they recently had a baby girl they named Agony, which I admire for its commitment to the premise, but of which I ultimately disapprove--she's a baby, not a fashion accessory.

Suddenly there's a loud screech and a hideous, terrifying face, and I jump and scream. This is a thing that happens online; seemingly innocuous videos end in jump scares, called "screamers". Later, when YouTube is invented, a lot of videos will be filmed of people being jump-scared by screamers.

Fast forward to this morning, when I watched my scary movie of the day and this is exactly the kind of scare this movie has exactly one of (ninety long minutes ends with one scare, then five minutes later it ends on one gross-out. Period.). I do not jump or scream. I roll my eyes and sigh and say loudly, "Oh, come ON, are you fucking KIDDING me right now?" A sudden close-up of a scary black and white face with a shrieky sound. I mean really. What century are we in?

Butterfly Kisses is a 2018 faux-documentary about (wait for it!) some found footage and the man who has cut it together into a film, and how no one believes the footage is real.

I was angry three minutes into this movie, when the lore of "Peeping Tom" was explained. A railroad tunnel in Maryland. If you stare down it for AN HOUR without blinking (impossible, but OK, it does sound like a plausible urban legend), a shadowy figure called Peeping Tom appears at the opposite end of the tunnel. Each time you blink, he comes closer, until finally he is so close to you he can flutter his long eyelashes and they brush yr face and you have to blink and he kills you.

DOES THIS LORE SOUND FAMILIAR??? IS IT THE SAME LORE AS THE THIRD MOST FAMOUS DOCTOR WHO VILLAIN???

I was so annoyed.

My irritation grew incandescent when halfway through the movie the Guy Who Found the Footage (Gavin) takes off his dumb tweed jacket and just happens to have a tattoo on his forearm of a sonic screwdriver. I threw a sofa pillow. These fucking people who made this fucking movie what the fuck.

At one point in the faux doc, which is set in Maryland, actual Eduardo Sanchez!!!, one of the co-directors of actual The Blair Witch Project (also set in Maryland), does a talking head segment about The Guy Gavin, asserting that his found footage must be fake because it's all too convenient. There's another guy who is not actual John Waters but you just know the filmmakers wrote the part hoping John Waters would agree to do their little indie Maryland movie.

The dialogue was improvised, so there was a lot of awkwardly dumped-in exposition and too much swearing. There were only four women with speaking parts, only one with more than ten lines. There were a shit ton of 30something white guys, though!

Director Erik Kristopher Myers died young (40) after being struck by a van, leaving behind a wife and children, so I won't speak ill of him. But this movie just rubbed me every wrong way. It's not good.

Also, how I ended up watching four found footage films in under a week is really beyond me; I don't even LIKE found footage movies. I'd say on the whole I actively DISLIKE them. No more found footage this month. Except that I might rewatch Lake Mungo if I run out of movies near the end of the month (I have a list of To Rewatch films in case I can't find new-to-me movies I want to watch and/or I've watched so many stinkers I just don't want to risk it anymore). But no others!

Anyway, miss me with this one.

#horror movies #horror films #horrorflictober '24 #october 2024 #Butterfly Kisses

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sailorsplatoon · 6 months ago

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acht and neo 3 having a talk about fuzzy 4(could also be 4 and paul talking about fuzzy acht)

I’m gonna go with the one where Acht and Neo talk about fuzzy Four because I want to develop Acht and Neo’s relationship more (they’re very close friends).

———

“Hey, Neo? Can I chat with you about something?” Acht asked, sitting down next to Neo on a small box. The two were right in the middle of Alterna, away from everyone else. They looked out onto the Squid Sisters Camp, watching the rest of the Splatoon socializing.

“Sure thing, what do you need?”

“I’m worried about Four.”

“Because they’re fuzzy? They seem to be handling it well.”

“That’s good to hear. I figured you would be the expert in this sort of stuff.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’ve fought a ton of fuzzy octos before.”

“Well yeah, but Four’s not like them. For one, they’re not ripping our limbs off right now. But also because, even when they were under the control of the fuzzy ooze, there was still some of themself there. In the way they fought especially. I don’t think Grizz ever had full control over them. They’re too strong to give up that easy. What exactly was it you were worried about?”

“It’s just that…” Acht sighed. “How do we know if they’re actually okay? Four’s always been one to try to hide their suffering. What if they’re really hurting and won’t tell us?”

“Well,” Neo stood up, as if to give Acht an encouraging speech, “They might not tell us, but they’d certainly tell you.”

“What?”

“Four really cares about you, Acht. I don’t think they could ever keep something a secret from you.”

Acht blushed. “Thanks, Neo. You’re amazing.”

“I know!”

“Oh! And I did actually have one more question,” Acht began.

“Sure, what is it?”

“What’s a ‘mating season’?”

———

There’s a lot of dialogue in this one, so if it starts to get confusing as to who’s talking, let me know and I’ll add in little lines of text that specify!

#agent 4 #agent 4 splatoon #acht splatoon #dedf1sh #ahato mizuta #neo agent 3 #neo 3 #splatoon au #asks #ask box #dedfour #acht x agent 4

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samuelth3crow · 1 year ago

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For context, in ep5, there’s a bit where Aziraphale and Crowley banter a bit on Aziraphale’s French speaking and he starts talking a bit in French. But in the French dub, it was totally replaced (the dialogue with Justine too but it’s not very important) and it adds lore to the Ineffable Husbands lore.

So, here is the French transcription (time stamps 08:32 - 09:01)

Crowley= Attends un peu, les autres tu les as soudoyés à coups de bouquins rares et Justine c’est vins et fromages

Aziraphale= Je la connais bien, *soupire* les Parisiens ! J’ai passé beaucoup de temps à Paris ces derniers siècles et je connais leurs faiblesses. *voix bizarre* “Boire du vin, du fromage et une baguette pas trop cuite et ils te suivraient en Enfer”

C= C’est l’hôpital qui se fout de la charité ! Tu raffoles des bons petits plats ! C’est ton péché mignon.

A= Tu m’as démasqué, je me rends.

C= Et le pire c’est que tu m’as rendu accro ! J’adore leurs jambon beurre , leurs œufs mayonnaise, leurs croque-monsieur !

Nina= Vous êtes mignons

And now the approximative English translation I made :

C= Wait a bit, the others you bribed them with rare books and Justine it’s wines and cheeses

A= I know her well, *sigh* Parisians! I have spent a lot of time in Paris in recent centuries and I know their weaknesses. *weird voice* “Drink wine, cheese and a not overcooked baguette and they would follow you to Hell”

C=Says pot to kettle! You love good food! It’s your guilty pleasure.

A= You have discovered me, I surrender.

C= And the worst is that you made me addicted! I love their ham sandwiches, their eggs mayonnaise, their croque-monsieurs!

N= You two are cute

Do what you want with those informations

#innefable husbands #good omens s2 #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #aziracrow #good omens

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shinyphoenix · 13 days ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for tagging me @eternallaughter! I also wouldn't consider myself a fic writer. I am a fic reader and a fic imaginer who very occasionally actually wrangles one out of her brain onto the page (screen).

There are some spoilers in the tags and descriptions of some of my fics for some media so proceed with caution.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14! I'm shocked the number is that high every time.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

20,547

El you have over double my wordcount with fewer than half my fics haha. Sigh, the only ideas I ever finish/post are the short ones.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Kind of none right now. I always have things floating around in my head and notes apps but I wouldn't say I'm actively writing any of them right now. Though I do want to finish my ... 3? Yuumori wips because they actually have promise and I want to read them finished *sob*.

The ones I've published for are Yuumori, Pokemon SWSH, K (Project), and Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu LOVE!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Eight Note (Rated G, KBNZ, 607 words, stream-of-consciousness cat-POV retelling of a really fantastic longer fic written by a friend, Pokemon SWSH)

4. Blushies and Plushies (Rated T, KBNZ, 1,796 words, shopping pre-relationship drabble thingy (they're all drabbles), Pokemon SWSH)

3. The Lion And The House Cat (Rated T, Mikorei, 1,605 words, exchange fic for the prompt "AU where Reisi has a pet cat who doesn't like Mikoto very much", K)

2. Study Tree (Rated T, Mikorei, 2,473 words, .... inspired by a scene from Gilmore Girls, but definitely not one you'd expect..., K) I am too embarrassed to reread this one and I'm so glad I wrote Stag Night because this was #1 for a WHILE

Stag Night (Rated T, Sherliam, 686 words, inspired by the stag night scene from BBC Sherlock, Moriarty the Patriot)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes if I check and they don't get buried under responses to my comments on other fics that I forget to mark as read. No if they get buried or I forget the inbox exists (it happens alllll the time).

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Phone Calls is the one (1) MCD fic I've written so... probably that? It's either that or Mirror, Tell Me Something which is an angsty character-study thing. (or we can say Tale as Old as Time which is angsty because the last part published was angsty and also because I will never finish it)

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

Probably Eighth Note because Stagger is happy with two dads.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think so. Thankfully. No one should get hate on their fics.

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

I have posted a vague-masturbation fic, but other than that smut hasn't crossed over from the WIP world (yet. That Fibonacci sequence, man...)

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

I write things inspired by other things and imagine a TON of AUs, but I don't write crossovers, no.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, and I hope not.

12. Have you had a fic translated?

Someone translated Stag Night into Russian!

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

No. My sister and I have MANY stupid crack fic ideas that we are "definitely going to write one day" though...

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

Gut reaction is Mikorei because they were my first crazy-hyperfixation OTP and I'll always have a special place for them... But I can't really decide, otherwise.

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

Most of them? T_T

16. What are your writing strengths ?

Grammar probably. And the fact that I read a lot so I know (theoretically) what sounds good

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing anything that isn't That One Scene that I thought of .

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

I'm not fluent in any language other than English so I won't write in any other languages. I will use honorifics though. I have nothing against it in other people's writing (I greatly appreciate if they translate it in the end notes)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu LOVE! (baby's first fandom has a new movie coming out soon woo!)

20. Favorite fic you have ever written?

I want to say Stag Night and Phone Calls, but those could just be the ones I've reread the most post-publishing so it's exposure bias. But I think I like all of my fics except for Study Tree XD.

I get stressed out tagging people for tag things, but consider yourself tagged if you see this and want to do it!

#opening ao3 on my computer and not intending to publish anything is such a weird experience haha #apparently that's the only time I open fandom stuff on my computer rather than my phone?#my posts #omg I did a tag game #that'll be my tag for tag games if I remember #which I won't because the next time I actually do one will be in 10 years

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boybandjediorder · 4 months ago

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hii ! for the ask game, 9 and 11 for the end of the line ? (bc i love it and would like to know more about it)

asjdlfjasdf omg hiiiii

first off i'm so glad you love the end of the line bc i had a blast writing it and i'm excited to get to work on the next chapter/sequel as soon as codywan week is over and done

link to the end of the line on Ao3 (does require an account to access)

9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

As for alternate versions, I definetely played around with the thought of Obi-Wan being there when Cody died, frantically searching for the body and having to come to terms with the fact that there wouldn't be one. I also played with the idea of Rex being the new commander instead of Fox, but decided that it would be best to have Fox move because he also has that high status and he wouldn't be leaving any Jedi behind. I'm still writing it (aaaaaaaaaaagh), so as of now, my ideas are pretty streamlined, but who knows where my story will take me in the future!!! I sure don't!!!

11. What do you like best about this fic?

So, there was a ton of things I loved about this fic and the process of writing it. Some of the things especially were exploring the sort of grief and guilt that Obi-Wan felt after receiving the news, another was absolutely writing Fox and Boil. Fox, forcing himself to be strong in his brother's absence, and Boil, still trying to keep optimistic after he lost his leader and vod.

Another thing I particularly loved was some of the dialogue bits I included such as:

"I think I would know you in death," Obi-Wan admitted one slow night, when they were tasked with the cruel job of tallying the amount of soldiers who were injured or slaughtered. "You're too warm, Cody. You're like the sun." Cody would be his anchor, something to drag him towards a sense of purpose in his afterlife. "I'm glad," Cody responded with a certain, sad yet thankful look in his amber eyes. "I'd hate to be lost."

and

"Alright there, sir?" comes a voice, accompanied by a subdued presence in the Force that has Obi-Wan slowly finding his balance in reality. It must be the start of the alpha shift. Oh, how time flies when Obi-Wan isn't trying to utilize it. I suppose, is what he wants to say, but he really doesn't have the energy to lie. "No." A hum. "That's okay." A soldier sits beside him, his signature easily one of a bubbling pool, a hot spring set into the jagged canyons of Ryloth. Hesitant protection, a misplaced cause, a tad too much caution usually just thrown to the wind by his twin, one ripped from the living like too many of his brothers. Nevertheless, he sighs, knitting his fingers together over his knees. "None of us are really alright either."

(I also loved including just a bit of my beloved OC, Nadia Rouge, there in the beginning to set up that sort of longing from Obi-Wan's POV alsdjf)

Thank you so, so very much for the ask!!!! omg i loved answering it!!!!!! <333

#asks <3 #writing #the end of the line #cody #obi-wan #codywan

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bosbas · 7 months ago

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Chapter 7: something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in Spanish, idiots in love-ish moments (maybe idiots in non-hate?)

June 1, 1816 – A few whispers have been floating around about Lord Arthur Barlow’s whereabouts following his escapade with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball, but this author must sadly say that she has no credible information on the subject. The Duke has likely paid his staff handsomely to avoid any news reaching the curious ears of the ton, much to our disappointment. While propriety suggests that his wedding plans to Miss Barrington should be in full swing, Lord Barlow is not particularly known for his propriety, and therefore we cannot assume anything.

Among other Montclair-related news, two of the Count’s children arrived in London yesterday: Lord Philippe Montclair IV and Lady Isabelle de la Torre, accompanied by their respective spouses and children. Is this unexpected gathering somehow linked to Lady Y/N's recent entanglement in scandal, or is it merely a coincidental family reunion?

You wrung your hands nervously in your carriage bound for Hyde Park, not quite able to sit still. Beside you sat Leonor, Philippe's wife, while your sisters, sitting opposite from you, observed your anxious demeanor with growing impatience. Isabelle, in particular, seemed annoyed by your restless gestures, her irritation palpable in the air.

“Y/N, for heaven's sake, it’s not like you’ve been compromised in any way!” said Isabelle, exasperated. “You’ll find someone else, and the Duke’s betrayal will be but a distant memory.”

It was easy for her to say; after all, her own search for a husband had been nothing short of a fairy tale. Unlike the rest of your siblings, Isabelle had had a love match from the beginning, and it only made it easier that Carlos, her now-husband, had strong ties to the royal family. Though her love story had been one for the ages, the fact that it had happened so easily was making her quite unsympathetic to your loss of a Duke you weren’t even properly interested in.

“I might as well have been! Lady Whistledown is still mentioning my involvement in the scandal, and your presence isn’t helping.” You thanked the universe that your mother was on another carriage with Louis, Carlos, and Philippe, and hadn’t heard you being rude toward your sister.

"And why should we care about the musings of this Lady Whistledown?" retorted Isabelle with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“These English people treat that gossip column like gospel,” said Charlotte, crinkling her nose in disdain. “Though I dare say, Y/N, your predicament isn't as dire as you're painting it," she added, casting you a knowing glance.

"You two can afford to be cavalier about it, being safely married," you sighed, feeling defeated, and turned your gaze back out the window.

As your carriage rolled into the park, Leonor leaned in, placing her hand over yours. “No te preocupes, cariño,” she whispered reassuringly, so only you could hear (Don’t worry, sweetheart). “En todo caso, te vienes a España con tu hermano y conmigo” (In any case, you can come to Spain with your brother and me).

You smiled at her, resigned, but grateful for her offer. As you surveyed the bustling crowd outside, predominantly comprised of eligible men, the allure of Spain beckoned. It would certainly have better weather than London. And at least there was no Lady Whistledown in Salamanca. Though with the seemingly endless sources the woman had, you wouldn’t doubt her abilities to follow you there, too.

Stepping down from your carriage and walking toward the crowd of people in the park, you made eye contact with one of the gentlemen who had called on you yesterday. Though his poem had nearly put you to sleep, you smiled politely anyway. Perhaps he would be the first to talk to you today and ask for a turn about the park, and you would be able to finally relax in the knowledge that at least one person was still interested in you.

Though you hadn’t seen or heard from Lord Barlow since the Bridgerton ball, he still lingered in your mind. He ended up being just like any other man, you thought, annoyed. You hadn’t necessarily expected him to be the picture of attentiveness and love, especially not when you had only known each other a little over a month, but it was still disappointing to see how it had all turned out.

"Lady Montclair," a voice interjected, drawing your attention to your right. Startled, you turned to see Colin Bridgerton, sporting an uncharacteristically earnest smile.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” you inquired.

You had thought your dance two nights prior had been a one-time event, a small courtesy on his part, for Eloise, so you didn’t look a complete fool upon your re-entry to society. So why was he here now? Had he come here to resume tormenting you? You weren’t quite sure you had the energy for that today, already feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you thought about how many men you would have to impress and the intense scrutiny you would face from the rest of the ton.

“Would you care for a promenade?” his voice, a gentle invitation, broke through your thoughts.

“A prom- What?” you said lowly, careful that no one would hear you. “You already danced with me once, and it was more than enough,” you assured him.

Colin was fighting an internal battle. He was torn between still being absolutely enchanted by you after one dance, and the larger part of him that was annoyed that you apparently didn’t want to speak with him today. Yet, true to form, Colin’s more combative side won out.

“Well, I don’t particularly see gentlemen lining up to speak with you today, so I rather think you might need some more help,” he shot back.

You felt your face flush as you gasped in offense. “That is so patronizing. I’ve barely been here three seconds! I hardly think that amount of time is indicative of whether any suitors would like to speak with me today.”

It was true; Colin had rushed to greet you moments after you had stepped down from your carriage. But aside from the fact that he was embarrassed by his eagerness and trying to cover it up, he was not about to let up, not against you.

“Do you think, for once in your life, you could engage with me without throwing a fit?” he asked you, anger seeping into his words.

You were speechless, your eyes wide as you stared at him. Your instinct would have been to get mad at him, but unfortunately, he was right. You were struggling to let yourself be vulnerable with Colin, never mind how good of a time you had had dancing with him. But you were too stubborn to accept his offer to walk with him. You simply stared at him, your eyes swimming with uncertainty, and silently willed him to keep pushing you to accept his help. It was the only way you would allow yourself to do it, and you were relieved when he held out his arm for you to take.

“Come along,” he said, rolling his eyes. “For both our sakes, we should just walk to avoid a scene.”

“Very well, then,” you relented, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. You were momentarily distracted by the feeling of his arm beneath your touch. It lit a fire inside of you that you weren’t familiar with, and you suddenly found yourself out of breath.

“My sister can chaperone,” he suggested, gently guiding you toward where his family was situated.

You could only nod dumbly in response, the flutters in your lower abdomen only growing stronger when he placed his hand over yours. Vaguely registering Daphne and Simon waving at you, you smiled and greeted them, grateful to have something else to focus on that wasn't Mr. Bridgerton's very well-sculpted arms.

As you began to stroll, the Bassets a few paces behind you, you felt that your voice was stable enough to begin a conversation. “So, Mr. Bridgerton, indulge my curiosity and tell me more about your travels. Have you ever been lost at sea?”

Colin smiled at you, unable to hold back his fondness for you once again, and his breath was stolen from his lips as he made eye contact with you. You looked back eagerly, staring straight into him, and he was momentarily speechless. But you blinked, indicating that you were still awaiting a response, and he realized he had forgotten himself once again in your presence, an alarmingly increasing trend.

After clearing his throat, Colin answered, “A few times, yes. Most unfortunate was the time we became lost in the twilight hours when it was freezing out, but the stars proved an exceptionally useful tool in helping us find our way.”

“The stars?” you asked, curious. Could it be that you and Colin had yet another thing in common? It was hard to parse who he had been with you the past few days with the man you had a rivalry with practically from the moment you arrived in England. Who was the real Colin?

“Yes, indeed,” affirmed Colin, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. “They’re actually quite a useful tool. Regardless of our whereabouts, we look at the same constellations, albeit from differing vantage points. For instance, if you look up at the sky any of these nights, and you see three stars close together arranged in a line, that’s-”

“Orion’s belt,” you finished for him, your voice soft. Then, seeing his amused, and admittedly curious, smile, you explained, “My governess used to take me outside at night, even in the winter, so I could look at the stars. I know a fair few constellations, and I always like to know which ones are visible to me.”

Colin shook his head in wonder. The universe was a cruel thing, to make you so perfectly suited to him and make you hate him more than you hated, apparently, anyone or anything else. But it wasn’t like he liked you any better, he reasoned.

“I’d wager you’d be a wonderful navigator, then,” he said. “I’m certain you’d never get lost in treacherous waters.” He had to physically bite his tongue to keep from suggesting that you go with him on his next trip around the world.

You hummed softly in response. It never quite felt like you had a grip on where you were going. Usually, you just felt like you were groping around in the dark, desperately trying to find the right way to go.

The promenade stretched on longer than anticipated, with both of you engaging in pleasant conversation throughout, and more than a few stolen glances. It was a shock, really, when Daphne cleared her throat politely behind you and Colin. You suddenly realized that you and Colin had been walking together for longer than was typically appropriate.

“It might be time for Lady Montclair to promenade with someone else,” she suggested gently, a sympathetic smile on her face as she looked at Colin's crestfallen face. Turning away from you, she leaned over and whispered something unintelligible to Simon as the pair walked away back toward the rest of the Bridgertons, allowing you and Colin a few moments of privacy.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, finding yourself slightly disappointed that your time together was ending. “I’m not quite sure I would have needed your saving again, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Suddenly, you noticed a piece of lint on the lapel of Colin’s jacket. You reached over, almost instinctively, and picked it off. Your fingers barely grazed his chest, and his words caught in his throat as he saw your hand reach toward his chest in slow motion.

The two of you stood still, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, one of your hands still extended toward him. Realizing your actions necessitated an explanation, you hurriedly brought your hand back to your side again and averted your gaze, avoiding eye contact with Colin.

“Lint,” you explained awkwardly. “On your coat.”

Oh, how could you have done something so brash? And in such a public setting, too, you scolded yourself.

“I-Th-Well, I-Thank you, Lady Montclair,” Colin stuttered out, his brain short-circuiting from your intimate gesture. But you were already walking away, fists clenched at your sides as he saw you walking back to your family.

Once more, you were intercepted by what could only be described as a horde of men vying for your favor. But, just like two nights prior, all Colin could feel was a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he watched you walk away, your laughter ringing like music in his ears.

He knew what that was like now. To have you genuinely laugh at something he said. And it was different from how you were with these men. Even different from how you had been with the Duke. His heart warmed when he realized he had something of you that no one else did, and he wanted to bottle up your laugh and keep it in his breast pocket, forever a reminder of you near his heart.

A short distance away, Carlos observed with amusement as Colin stood there, seemingly transfixed by your departure. Standing beside him was Leonor, who had also been privy to the entire spectacle. The two often found themselves together during family outings, enjoying speaking in Spanish for a change.

“La ama,” Carlos said to Leonor, his tone tinged with amusement at Colin's evident infatuation (He loves her).

Suppressing a chuckle, Leonor discreetly cleared her throat. “Y cuanto tiempo crees que será hasta que se de cuenta?” she quipped in response (And how long do you think it'll be until he realizes?).

---

In the late afternoon, you found yourself seated by the pianoforte, the pleasant notes of your scales filling the room. Across from you, your mother quietly engrossed herself in a book, while Isabelle diligently worked on her needlepoint. Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere of your sitting room was disrupted as your butler made an unexpected entrance.

“Lady Montclair, a visitor,” he said politely, bowing slightly.

Your fingers stopped playing and you looked toward your mother, who had a questioning look on her face.

“I hadn’t been expecting anyone. And at this hour? Is everything alright?” she asked the butler.

His face flushed slightly. “My apologies, I meant Lady Y/N Montclair,” he corrected himself. “It’s the Duke.”

But he barely had time to announce your visitor before Lord Barlow strode into your sitting room, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. He looked positively ghastly, and you wouldn’t have doubted it if he told you he hadn’t slept in a week.

He was panting and slightly sweaty, clearly having rushed over to your home for some unknown reason, when he took off his hat and crouched next to the pianoforte bench.

“Forgive me,” he addressed the other women in the room. Then, turning back to you, he roughly grasped your hand, placing a wet kiss on the back of it. You slightly cringed in disgust, not particularly wanting this man anywhere near you.

“Y/N, my darling, I am so terribly sorry for what happened at the Bridgerton ball. It was unforgivable. Except that you must forgive me!” he pleaded, voice full of desperation.

You were utterly confused, and more than a little angry. Who did this man think he was, barging into your home at this hour and demanding forgiveness? You shared a look with your mother, who looked equally as scandalized.

“Lord Bar-” you started, but before you could finish, he interrupted you, grasping your hand even tighter.

“No! Not Lord Barlow. Arthur. Your Arthur. It’s me; I’m here. What happened with Miss Barrington was a foolish mistake, and it will never happen again. Marry me, Y/N. Marry me and make me the happiest man in all of Mayfair. In all of England, even. Please,” he begged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leonor leaving the room quietly, and your stomach churned uncomfortably at the idea of having to face this man on your own. You breathed deeply, calming yourself with the thought that your mother remained in the room before you addressed Lord Barlow.

“I don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “What of Miss Barrington? She will be ruined if you do not marry her.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and shaking his head in annoyance. “What of her? She is not as important to me as you are,” he said lowly. “I do not have with her what I have with you. I need you, Y/N. Please marry me.”

Letting the anger that had been slowly bubbling inside you take over, you snatched your hand out of his grip and stood up, towering over him. “Are you quite finished? You are completely unbelievable. I will not marry you, your Grace, and it is egregious that you would even suggest it. Do you truly have so little respect for Miss Barlow that you would leave her, ruined, as you married someone else? Do you truly think so lowly of me that you thought I would say yes?”

“Barlow, take your leave,” came a commanding voice from the doorway before the Duke could respond to you.

With a surge of relief, you caught sight of Louis and Philippe standing firm with Leonor at their side, their expressions firm and determined, while she was looking anxiously between you and Lord Barlow.

But the Duke was relentless, his desperation palpable as he pleaded his case, his words brimming with urgency. He stood up from where he had been kneeling and turned to face your brothers. "You don’t understand. I must marry your sister. I must!"

“I believe my brother asked you to take your leave, your Grace,” said Philippe, voice cold and cutting. “Louis, if you could be so kind as to escort Lord Barlow out.”

Louis wasted no time, roughly grabbing Barlow’s arm and dragging him away from you as the man protested profusely. But your brother wasn’t going to let him hurt you again. It was bad enough that he had already done it once, but Louis would rather come to blows right now in your home than let the Duke stand in your presence for another second.

As Louis ushered Lord Barlow out of your sitting room, Philippe placed a protective hand in front of Leonor and pulled her behind him. Ensuring his wife’s safety, he turned to you, a concerned expression on his face.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

But you didn’t have time to answer, your father storming into the room with fury in his eyes.

“Was that Barlow I saw in the hall? Can someone give me an explanation?" he demanded, his gaze fixed on your stricken expression.

Your voice trembled as you confessed, still reeling from the shock of the encounter. "He asked me to marry him," you admitted, the words hanging heavily in the air.

“She said no, of course. And put him in his place,” your mother added, eyes wide and fixed on the doorway still. It seemed that Lord Barlow’s unexpected appearance had been an unwelcome shock for her, too.

Your father placed his hands on his hips, staring at the two of you in disbelief. “Well done,” he finally conceded after a few moments of silence.

You nodded meekly in response, not quite feeling anything right at this minute.

“He is not worthy of you, Y/N. A title and fortune are important, of course, but so is honor. And he clearly has none,” said your father, disgust clear in his voice.

You’d heard this speech a million times, but this time the words rang loudly in your ears. A title and fortune are important, his words echoed in your mind. It was what your father always said, but this time you couldn’t help thinking: Colin Bridgerton, whom you had developed an inexplicable fondness for, possessed neither title nor fortune.

But as quickly as the doubt arose, you cast it aside. You reminded yourself firmly that Colin was not the sort of man a Montclair could marry. The reality was stark, and you refused to entertain the notion that such a match could ever be possible. You weren’t even sure that you liked the man, why were you thinking of marrying him?

—

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halfgood-halfbad-badboy · 1 year ago

Text

First Date

Another fic based off the Hero and Villain rp I am in :3 once again my bud on discord helped me write Virgil's dialogue.

(Ao3 version of story: Linked here)

Tw. Mention of vomit and concussion mention

Ships: Roman/Virgil

Summary: Roman is extremely nervous for his first ever date. He also doesn't quite understand why the mysterious new hero would ask HIM on a date.

(not beta read)

Roman didn’t understand how he got here. Well that’s not entirely true. He knew he picked up his rental suit at the nearby college then walked across the city to some way too nice restaurant he couldn’t pronounce the name of. No, the part he didn’t understand is how he managed to get invited by the Virgil Storm to go to dinner with him.

To him, Virgil always seemed like the cool quiet guy that kept to herself, not the type of guy to randomly ask someone on a date. They’ve only talked like 3 times! One of which Roman threw up on his shoes and had to be dragged back to base. This whole situation felt like some fever induced dream.

Roman kept replaying Virgil's question in his head. “ Do you want to get dinner? At 7?” It felt so random. Not that Roman was complaining or anything! He was more than happy to be asked to dinner by his first and only crush. It just felt odd how sudden and seemingly unprompted all of this is. Though he didn’t let himself think about that for too long.

Nervousness filled Romans empty stomach. He’s never been on a date before! Hell he’s never even held someone’s hand! Virgil seems so nice and handsome, they’ve probably had tons of partners in their life! Roman couldn’t possibly meet whatever Virgil's expectations were. Maybe it would be best to turn around and find a villain to fight so he could have an excuse to cancel.

While contemplating whether or not he should escape he turned the corner and saw him. Virgil stood outside the restaurant in line with other customers. He checked his watch and tapped his foot against the pavement.

‘Fuck’

It was too late for Roman to back out now. He sighed, straightened his posture and walked up to him. He could not afford to mess this up.

——

“Wait what do you mean I asked you out!?” Roman looked at Virgil in surprise.

Virgil responded with a laugh. “Ok ok so do you remember when you chased that speedster Villain out of town and I had to come get you?”

Roman blushed with embarrassment from the memories. “I- yes- unfortunately.”

“Do you remember anything after you threw up on me?”

Roman covered his face with his hands, extremely embarrassed. “You didn’t need to bring it up again! I apologized a million times! But no, I don’t remember anything after.”

“Well as I was getting you back to base you asked me on a date here.”

“I did!?” Roman felt like he was going to combust. God why was delusional him so confident. “Wait and you said yes!?”

Virgil smiled at him, nervously fiddling with the table cloth. “Well actually I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until you almost lost your arm like two weeks later and I was taking care of you I said yes.”

Roman has been through a lot of horrible experiences in his life. Some that still to this day keep him up at night, but this was far worse than any of that.

“Then why did you say ‘do you wanna get dinner’?”

“I said do you *still* want to get dinner. I wanted to make sure you still wanted to go on this date.”

Roman mentally kicked himself for forgetting and misremembering so much. Maybe getting concussions every other month was affecting him more than he thought.

“I am so sorry I don’t remember any of that. I mean- I’m very happy we’re on this date and I’m talking to you now but- I don’t know why I said all that stuff.”

Virgil looked down feeling more nervous than before. “Oh. Well. We can call this off if you want. I understand if this was all just a mistake.”

Roman quickly reached over the table to grab Virgil's hand and look her in the eyes. “No! No this is not a mistake at all! I’m more than happy to be here right now!”

Virgil was surprised, but her smile slowly crept back onto his face. “Then let’s start over.” Virgil straightened his posture and looked Roman in the eyes. “I’m so glad you asked me on this date. What do you think we should order?”

Roman now knew he was in hell. “I… I can’t read most of the menu.”

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my post #my writing #prinxiety #sanders sides fic #Sanders sides superpower au #hero au #villain au

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wander-over-the-words · 1 year ago

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Hi! I don't know if you already received a ton of those asks for this but for the sleeping ask: deltaclair or Ethan/Benny?

Send me a ship and I will tell you: (Sleeping!) Gonna go with Benny/Ethan :3

Who is a night owl:

Benny. He’s very much used to the Vegas lifestyle by now.

Ethan had a strict routine as a courier, which involved sleeping soon after the sun went down. Now that he lives on the Strip and has chilled the fuck out a bit, he doesn’t sleep quite so early, but it’s still a good few hours before Benny sleeps. At the earliest, Benny will go to bed at like one in the morning, while Ethan’s bedtime is anywhere between ten and eleven

(and on a more serious note: Ethan kinda has to sleep once his body decides it’s time to cause the seizures he has due to his brain damage are often triggered by tiredness so he can’t risk staying up too late. People have never looked more nervous at the sight of someone yawning than when Ethan does it.)

Who is a morning person:

ETHAN.

Par his routine, Ethan would wake up at the crack of dawn. That bothered the fuck out of Benny when they were travel buddies post-The Fort cause Benny is NOT a morning person. Caused many arguments when Ethan was all “we gotta go!! Get up!!!” “it’s six am!!” “exactly!! We’re burnin’ daylight!!”

Ethan no longer wakes up quite so early, but he still wakes up a good one or two hours before Benny will, and he doesn’t really have a ‘waking up’ period, he’s still very “I’m awake now, time to live life”. If he slept on his own the night before, he’ll immediately get up and go; if he shared a bed with Benny (either at the Lucky 38 or Benny’s suite; they don’t live together right away but they sleep around each other’s places often), he’ll lay there for a while and either wait for Benny to wake up naturally or wake him up himself like “morning!!” :D

Benny. Does not like mornings nrngnrg He’s very slow to wake up so often ends up sitting there with his eyes shut while breakfast is getting cold right in front of him. Borderline falls asleep leaning against the wall of his shower. Doesn’t wanna talk to people. Morning Benny is Grumpy Benny.

Ethan’s also the only person who gets away with waking Benny up in the mornings cause Benny’s not above throwing pillows or threatening to cut anybody’s pay if Swank or the other Chairmen come to try and wake him up. Ethan gets blank staring, pitiful little sighs like how dogs do it and then stuff like “why’re you doing this to me, baby? I thought we were cool now? I thought you forgave me? But OBVIOUSLY you still HATE ME.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Are they cuddlers:

Yup!

Ethan is hella touchstarved from his solitary lifestyle; he ends up rolling over and cuddling whoever’s nearest in his sleep without even realising ‘til he wakes up. Used to do it to the companions if they slept too close to him, even ended up doing it to Benny whilst they were travelling together and still hated each other (one of the few times Benny’s ever woken up before Ethan cause he was NOT gonna miss Ethan’s reaction to learning he used Benny as a pillow last night). Obviously, now that he and Benny are together, the cuddles are deliberate

Benny’s pretty much canonically a cuddler (“Hold me, will ya? I swear, you wore me out…” - and listen I know his sex dialogue is ridiculous and a meme at this point but I always thought that particular line was cute as hell, especially since the script notes for it are ‘unexpectedly vulnerable’ like 🥺 my boy out here just wanting to be held). He’s a very touchy partner in general, always has a hand on Ethan when they’re together, which is chill cause Ethan’s like that too; they’re the kind of couple who are always within arm’s reach of each other once they’re in the same room (which is hilarious cause whilst they hated each other they were very “don’t fuckin touch me” at each other)

In terms of sleeping, Benny’s that level of cuddler where he can tell Ethan isn’t beside him. Like Ethan will get up in the middle of the night and after a couple of minutes, Benny starts patting at his spot on the bed, then sleepily lifts his head and looks around. If the bathroom light is on, then he just “oh” and lays back down. If the living room light is on, then he’ll go investigate cause it probably means Something’s Up and he’s needed. Soon as Ethan’s back, Benny’s pulling him in again to resume the snuggle.

Benny being like that is the reason Ethan lays beside him and waits for him to wake up in the morning: Benny won’t let go and Ethan doesn’t wanna wake him up too early. One of the things that surprised Ethan the most when they officially got together: Big Bad Benny’s a real cuddler :3

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon:

Depends on who reached for the other in their sleep :3

What is their favourite sleeping position:

When sleeping alone, Benny tends to sleep on his belly, with his arms under his pillow to hug it to his head, while Ethan tends to curl up into a ball on his side while clutching his blanket in his fist so that it’s pulled up to his chin, all nice and snug (nowadays anyway; back before he lived on the Strip, he’d sleep like a dead person and he taught himself not to move much in his sleep to avoid making noise, since he often had to camp out in the dirt).

When sleeping together, both favour sleeping on their sides because by default, they tend to either cuddle or at least huddle together. Their favourites in that regard are Benny holding Ethan to his chest, with Ethan’s head tucked under his chin, or Benny laying on his back with Ethan half on top of him, head on his chest (which tends to be their go-to post sex)

Who steals all the blankets:

Neither really do; they’re both pretty warm people and they end up huddling when in bed together anyways, so if anything the blankets probably end up kicked off

What they wear to bed:

I’ve always headcanoned that Benny sleeps in the nude so he just drops his clothes and climbs into bed. He owns pyjamas but he only really wears them if he gets sick and wants to lounge around in comfort. Obviously, he didn’t/wouldn’t go nude when sleeping outside so luckily for the Khans, they never experienced him going “well goodnight” and immediately whipping his kit off like

He’s also very unapologetic about not getting dressed immediately in the mornings and thus wandering around his suite fuckin butt ass naked. If any of the Chairmen see him like that (which I’m sure some have), he remains uncaring cause well “if ya don’t wanna see the package you shouldn’t open the mailbox, dig? As in: knock first, you animals, we ain’t tribal anymore.” and if he overhears the bloke telling someone else about what they just saw, he tells ‘em “pft you’re welcome” because that boy’s body image issues don’t exist. And it’s his suite so he’ll walk around with Benny Jr. out if he damn well wants to

(and then Ethan walks in like "oh goddammit Benny are you walking around with your dick out again?")

Only time Ethan ever sleeps naked is after le sexy times, though he’s equally likely to put on Benny’s shirt too cause he’s into it. His usual sleepwear depends on where he’s sleeping: if he sleeps at the Lucky 38 - ie. his actual home - then he puts on the pyjamas he acquired once he moved to the Strip full time; if he sleeps at Benny’s, he just wears his undershirt and boxers.

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt:

BENNY.

(I mean it’s gotta be him cause he can’t fit into Ethan’s clothes; height difference is too much)

Ethan does very much have the habit of wearing Benny’s shirt to go to sleep post le sexy times (and hell, sometimes without that, sometimes he just wants to). But more than that, he’s in the habit of stealing The Coat during daily life; Benny can’t expect his coat to still be where he put it if Ethan’s chilling in his suite with him.

They got eight inches of height difference between em too so you know that coat and that shirt are both big on him when he wears em

Who falls asleep mid-conversation:

Ethan might, if Benny tries talking to him at too late an hour.

Benny might, if Ethan tries talking to him at too early an hour.

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares:

I mean they both might, as is just the normal human experience

Ethan’s more likely to have the ‘catapult nightmare’ where he flies up into a sitting position and gets rly freaked out upon waking up and everything. He’s seen some shit that sticks with him (the Dead Money DLC, in particular, FUCKS Ethan UP) and that can make him take a while to get back to sleep. He’s prone to getting out of bed and leaving the room to deal with it; like mentioned above, Benny will eventually realise he isn’t there and go find him.

Benny doesn’t have many nightmares, but he also isn’t as..chill after getting tortured by the Legion as he lets on. He’s still covered in scars from what they did to him and still remembers how he got them all not-so-fondly. But he’s a Manly Man Who Has No Trauma, so he doesn’t talk about it and he doesn’t want Ethan to talk about it.

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep:

Oh, I’m sure Ethan has. Either due to the nightmare situation above or cause well

Ethan was largely on his own since he was fourteen, and he’s thirty-one by the time of canon, so by virtue of having to protect himself, he pretty much trained himself to ‘hear’ things when he’s asleep and like. detect what’s going on around him (cause y’know. raiders and other stuff out there in the wasteland). And so when he detects that something is nearby, his first instinct is to lash out (which the companions probably learned the hard way too)

So for a while when he first starts sharing a bed with Benny on and off, there comes the problem where Benny goes to bed later than he does, which results in him detecting what is actually just Benny coming to bed and his mind being all “DANGER” and him suddenly half-waking up and lashing out in response. Which either culminates in him feeling Benny laying down next to him and flipping over and pinning him down, or, say, Benny stands a little too close to his side of the bed while taking off his clothes or whatever and Ethan ends up punching Benny in the nuts, then fully waking up to Benny in a foetal position on the floor like “BABY WHY”

If Benny happens to go to bed at the same time as him, then yeah, it’s fine, Ethan’s brain is all “it’s cool that’s just Benny c:” but otherwise it’s “WHO THE FUCK IS THAT” and Benny gets whacked by accident

Most of the time, Benny’s good at either dodging or catching the fist that’s thrown at him, so it’s not too much of an issue and obviously, Ethan always feels terrible if he manages to strike him; they’re way passed that point in their relationship where he’d go “haha” if Benny got hurt.

Though, thankfully, it’s something Ethan unlearns rather quickly, at least as far as Benny’s concerned. If someone else came into the room, I’m sure Ethan’s brain would go “well Benny’s here so WHO THE FUCK IS THAT” and still lash out, but, hey, that’d be their fault for coming in. and Benny sits there all smug cause haha his baby comes with his own security system

Who can’t keep their hands to themself:

Oh, come now, y’all know who it is. I’m sure “not tonight, hon, I’m tired” is a phrase that has oft left Ethan’s mouth. or a disgruntled “hands above the waist”, to which Benny replies “you got it” and then just immediately grabs his pecs in both hands

“*sighs*...Well, at least your hands are warm.”

“I keep ‘em that way for ya~”

“Wow. What a gentleman.”

#Benny Gecko #Benny x Courier #Benny/Ethan #Courier Six: Ethan Faust #Headcanon Hell #answering #reply #thanks for sending this in!!

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