#hi hello i am shockingly enough not dead

[spellwrites]

Was this normal small-child behavior? Imogen had no frame of reference to compare it to. She seemed to recall something about children always asking incessant questions — or maybe that was just Imogen-as-a-child, and this was cosmic retribution for all those times she bothered Professor Snape — but surely they weren't supposed to ask this many in such rapid succession. And would she have recognized a warding diagram or questioned how it worked at... well, at whatever age this girl was?

Well, most likely, yes. But then, Imogen-as-a-child knew enough about the inner workings of spells to start inventing her own at the age of thirteen, so she suspected she might be an outlier in that regard.

(How big was a thirteen-year-old supposed to be again?)

Whether or not this small, possibly-thirteen-year-old child was exhibiting abnormal behavior was really beside the point, though. The point was—

"You are lost, aren't you?" Imogen said. Normal or not, that 'no' sounded awfully shifty.

Should she... call... someone about this girl? Merlin's frilly knickers, she should probably do something. Right?

Haltingly, she climbed down from her ladder, feeling more like an under-socialized pet approaching a new kind of animal than she cared to admit. She tried to distract from this by gathering up her discarded notes and resisting the urge to explain how warding spells worked in great detail.

"Er - does Charlie know where you are?" Did normal small children wander off on purpose, or was Imogen just highly motivated to discover a secret passageway out of Hogwarts in her first year?

(How big was an eleven-year-old supposed to be again?)

"Do you know where Charlie is, for that matter?"

Merlin help her, she didn't know if she was cut out for the maternal responsibility of towing a small child around until she found the kid's uncle/babysitter/caregiver/redheaded-Weasley-of-unspecified-relation.

@iselwyn from here

Pru looked back up at Imogen, eyes wide and unwavering, mouth pursed in intense childish thought. This was an adult who didn't have to deal with children very often, she figured. Sometimes grown-ups had to learn how to talk to people her age.

"Uh-huh," she nodded absently. No offense to Charlie, but that's not interesting. Who else would she be here with? Midge isn't old enough to take her places.

"Does the pressure mean the fish hit harder? Or is the glass already..." She thought for a moment, face screwing up. "...adjusted to it?"

She'd like to see fish spit acid, she thought. It sounded like exactly the sort of thing her family was always trying to keep her away from.

"How do you test it?"

She scuffed her foot against the floor, crossing her legs to pick at something sticky on the sole. Adults were always so worried about being lost, but being lost usually really meant finding something cool.

"Noooo."

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Who’s this?” 

“Uh, it’s a band called Tame Impala.”

“It’s a bit… trippy or something isn’t it? I don’t think I like it.”

“Well you’re the one who put it on, passenger princess. I’m not the one with the aux.”

I quickly unlock Jude’s iPhone and scroll through his Spotify playlists in search of the one he made for me with no name, just that weird, very human looking sun emoji. He had this bright idea that he’d ease me into having an actual music taste seeing as I have none, and no idea where to even begin acquiring one. This playlist is a random mix of genres, anything and everything he could think of, and I scroll past everything else on the list in pursuit of one that I’ve become inexplicably attached to: Amie by Pure Prairie League. He shakes his head when the guitar riff begins, but doesn’t say a word about it.

The air conditioner is blasting as we coast along the motorway towards the midlands, and the sky and the hills flanking the road are reflected in his sunglasses. I can already tell he’s going to be shockingly out of place among my extended family, and for some reason him meeting my cousins, Decky and Conor, is the thought that is disturbing me the most. It’s a collision of two opposing universes. My heart has been beating at an accelerated rate all day at just the image of him entering my childhood home, ducking in through the doorway and looking my mother in the face. 

“You’re nervous.” He states as we take exit five towards Tullamore. He reaches his left hand over to halt my jerking knee. 

“I want it to go well.”

“It will, parents love me, I’m actually really intensely charming as a person.”

I bite my lip. “Is this a bit much, do you think?”

A glance. “What, this?”

“Bringing you in amongst my entire extended family straight away. I feel like I should have done the main introductions earlier, like, before there was a big event. It feels overwhelming.”

“For me? Or for you? I’m fine.”

“I can just imagine it being so chaotic.”

“It’s a christening, not a tent revival.”

“Yeah but I’m worried it’s all going to be too catholic for you and you’ll think it’s all spooky and weird or something like that.”

“Do you think I’m such a heathen that I’ll burst into flames when I go into the church?”

I fist my hand against my forehead and rest my elbow against the door. “Maybe. No. Just, please don’t tell anyone you’re protestant, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Oh, I’m barely.” He protests. “Only by birth. I’ve never once gone to church.”

“You’re culturally protestant, and that’s enough, I just don’t want stupid jokes about toasters in cupboards, or like, my uncle to start fake fighting you and thinking he’s hilarious.” 

“I’ll say nothing. They’ll never suspect me.” He zips his mouth shut and looks back at the road.

We get to the church just in time to see Sean and Fabiana wrangle their two squirming sons out of the backseat of the SUV. Lucas, two and a half and with a jam stain on his shirt, is clinging to his father’s leg like a spider monkey while Sean tries to lift Freddy, four months old and wailing, out of the car seat. Fabiana smokes a cigarette with one hand and pretends to be trying to peel Lucas off her husband with the other. They barely have time to glance at us when we pass them. 

The rest of my family are in the church already, and when the heavy doors thump closed behind us a dozen pairs of eyes turn to look at us. They’re standing in groups among the pews, and there’s a moment of dead air that makes intense panic explode inside me. There is nothing I hate more than being the centre of attention, even when it’s my own family. Jude grips my hand even as I start sweating and refuses to let me drop it, as I have just realised that I am completely mortified by having-a-boyfriend in front of my parents. 

“Hello.” Jude says casually, and his voice is very loud, and carries across the church in that very american way, and then my dad steps forward like it’s his fatherly duty to shake his hand. I watch carefully for any signs of finger-bone-crushing between them, but there aren’t any. I doubt my father would try that even if he wanted to. He looks about half Jude’s height, somehow. Maybe it’s the slump of his shoulders, the way his posture pushes his neck forward. His dark hair is thinning at the temples and his beer belly protrudes over the belt of his bootcut jeans, and Jude is like an olympic swimmer next to him. Broad shoulders and perfect posture. Clear skin that seems like it’s lit from within. Seeing him in this context is utterly bizarre. 

We move from person to person together, giving hugs and shaking hands, and he remembers everyone’s name, even though I only briefed him in the car on the way down. When he meets my mam he gives her a kiss on the cheek, and she smiles warmly, but doesn’t get flustered like I half expected. She only blushes for Shane Healy, after all. 

“Janey mac.” Aunt Catriona says during our hug. “Where’d you find that fella?” And I can’t tell if she’s impressed or shocked. Maybe both. I tell her that I honestly don’t know, and that I’m kind of still wondering what he’s doing with me. 

“Ah, you were always the best looking of my nieces and nephews.” She pinches my chin as she says it. “But don’t let Conor hear that.”

My cousin has brought a partner along too, Nicole, a hairdresser from town who is immaculately turned out in a white chiffon dress and a wide brimmed beige hat. We perch in the seats behind them as Conor makes a joke about the priest getting mixed up and baptising her instead. “It’s the same dress, like.” He protests when she doesn’t laugh. “You’re in the same outfit as wee Freddy. Okay, fine, you don’t get it.”

We all turn as Sean and Fabiana come into the church with their two boys. They look exhausted. It only takes thirty seconds for them to stop trying to reign in Lucas, who starts zipping between the seats, his little crop of dark hair the only thing we can see over the knees of my relatives as he bobs along on the other side of the church. I watch Jude anxiously the whole time, my fear that he thinks the situation is weird overtaking my fear that my Granny will know he’s never been to a mass before, but he does well. He stands when we stand, kneels when we kneel and even blesses himself with the right hand. Though I have to stop him when he tries to get out of the pew to queue up for holy communion in the middle of the ceremony. 

“You can’t do this part.” I whisper.

“Why?”

“You didn’t have your holy communion, so you can’t have the holy bread.”

“Ah, okay.” A pause. “Won’t that give me away though?”

I struggle with this. “Yes, I suppose, but you can’t just have it.”

“Because I’m not one of the anointed ones?”

“Yeah you’ll spontaneously combust if you do, sorry.” I leave him in his seat as I queue up with the others, at one point glancing over my shoulder to see that little Lucas has approached him offering a wooden clothes peg. Jude holds out his little finger and lets Lucas catch it with the peg, letting out a yelp of fake pain that makes the toddler shriek with laughter.

“Was it nice?” He mutters when I come back to my seat. 

“What?”

“The bread. I always wondered if it was nice.”

I snicker and nudge his shoulder with mine. “No.” 

Freddy screams through everything. He screams when he’s walked up to the altar, he screams when he’s approached by the priest, and he especially screams when they pour the water over his head, leaving soft wisps of black hair matted to his scalp. He’s red faced with a toothless maw, dressed contradictorily in that angelic, pristine white gown that will either be changed or ruined afterwards, whichever comes first.

“Oh.” I say in sympathy. “Poor baby.” I look over at Jude who has Lucas standing between his knees, letting him put clothes pegs on all of his fingers like claws and wiggling them in front of his face, then take them off and put them on again which is endlessly entertaining for him. I think about the mountain of toys this child has, and how he’s settled instead for carrying a bag of his mother’s clothes pegs around with him, the same pegs that seem to have my boyfriend equally enthralled.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[thebopkabbalah]

NOTES ON TELEVISION P.2

in chicken pox isolation, despite a long distance from t.v. shows in general and a will to read/watch films, i did end up consuming a lot of television. so here we go - this is from the last week or so, dating between 27th november to 4th december 2022. there are spoilers below. 

house of the dragon finale (repeat watch, hotstar) 

i rewatched the entire season and was very satisfied with spending more time in the GRRM universe, though here i’ll talk only about the finale. for an ending, it’s a pretty standard and solid delivery that, on my first watch, really kept the tension building towards the latter half very well -- on my second watch, though i knew what Vhaghar was going to do, just the visual of her overhead was enough to make me tense again. couldn’t quite connect with rhaenyra and daemon as a unit this time, especially when he does what he does. it seems a little out of line - was it just for the sake of unpredictability? or was this a development of his characterization? i don’t know. i think one more extra thing i love about HoTD was the music, the world building and production/costuming...just absolutely excellent. it’s still not quite as lived in a world as game of thrones but it could reach there. i think they need to stop hurrying so much? GODDAMN EMAA D’ARCY IS SO HOT. i’m very happy to see non-binary folks on screen. cannot wait for season 2, i’m a bit obsessed with the GRRM universe. ugh. 

the crown season 5 (netflix)

let’s be honest, this was a pretty shitty/average season. nobody except the actor playing diana was the least bit convincing - the camilla actor looked shockingly like her so really well done there. but the queen, the king, charles etc etc very average. i also found the narrative building/construction incredibly weak, loose and disconnected - what were the episodes moving towards? there was no direction to what i was watching and mostly, i skipped through the season only pausing to see diana. the season also seemed very pro charles-camilla, which was very odd and unsettling. definitely a waste of time, even someone as fucking brilliant as lesley manville seemed wasted in the show!!!! who cares to be honest, we could put this money into more interesting historical / period dramas now, really. awfully done. 

interview with the vampire (downloaded)

well well well, what a sexy little romp this was. there are some incredibly compelling things about it  - um, jacob fkn andersen for a start??? wow. also the beauty of being able to say a queer black man in a historical-supernatural setting, dealing with so many things, it was really fucking wonderful. sam reid is also incredible charismatic, would find myself wondering - ugh, why am i rooting so much for him??? the costuming was off the fucking charts. their child-sister was alright, improved later but not convinced by the actor tbh. i was also unconvinced by the lack of sexual intimacy/queer sex (hello???), it was always only ever suggested types, i thought the whole dubai set-up was too weirdly done, i didn’t find the actor playing Rashid/Armand very convincing or compelling (props for muslim representation but couldn’t we have picked another actor??) and the journalist also felt a little one note, not very COMPELLING.....especially for a show with so much promise!!!!!! music was lovely, the sexy vibes were almost perfect - but we could have seen more lore, more world building? idk. lots of fantastic queer, race and class politics!!! a mixed bag of being horny, happy and confused!!!

dead to me season 3 (netflix) 

this one started out okay, a little too on the nose with the hit and runs and overlaps to be honest but now it’s really dragging itself. it’s also like too much put together without much thought? jen is pregnant, judy has cancer, they’re making all kinds of claims to the fbi and the police? it’s getting harder and harder to take this universe seriously. before all the orchestrated chaos that seems to have little impact on the viewer, i was actually laughing. the dialogues were great first half, despite the hit and run gag etc, and i was living for this amazing female best-friendship on screen (YOU ARE MY FUCKING HEART! is something i want to scream at my best friend one day too!!!! its such a great moment) - but ya halfway through it seems to lose its steam, purpose and earlier energy?? why does jen’s house start looking like an ad shoot??? why is the fbi made up of only one agent who lives in a motel?? it’s like the show wants to create a number of different rules for its universe - campy? dark comedy? telenovela-esque?- idk, something’s off this time round -- or maybe i’m projecting too much realism? let’s see, two episodes left now. 

wednesday (netflix) 

ah! wheuew! after hearing so much from my flatmate, being shown that incredible dance sequence and the praise from my cousin as well as constant tumblr trending, i watched this in the span of a day or so. shouldn’t be so proud of super fast consumption but this was really very good!!! nearly excellent!!!! the music is absolutely exceptional, i will be hearing jenna ortega’s cello solo in my head for a while. she’s also absolutely PHENONEMAL. i love her and enid’s friendship, i was crying at that hug bitches. other characters are also great, though not given a lot of time to develop/gather depth. do agree that the black characters felt very detached from their racial identites even as racial politics is part of the show??? it was a lil weird. gwendolyn christie is a gorgeous one, though she stood often in only one pose. was this deliberate? catherine zeta jones did not fully convince me - but the 1990s casting was too good. that bee friend of hers was ok ok, some of the twists were expected, some were wildcards which i enjoyed. i really enjoyed this so much, surprisingly - i don’t really see the CW ties that many critics have pointed out, the tone is very much its own/certain/great. jenna ortega holds the whole damn thing together so perfectly. i would contest that the CGI/production is sometimes a little off and the narrative is weak in places, even the dialogue falls short at moments...but damn it, i enjoyed it so much. now im going to go back to my typewriter too!!!!!! 

[eurypterid57-blog]

As the smoke of the crops rose from the altar of Mother Hubbard, the Voice came.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I'm scared."

This was not the Voice they were expecting. Mother Hubbard's voice was rich and strong and brown, like the soil in the fields. The Voice wasn't like that. It was high and tremulous, and shockingly orange, and it was not supposed to be here. After a long moment, the youngest of the priests pulled himself together enough to answer. "I'm here. Are you ok? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"It's Mother. She won't wake. I don't know what's happening."

"What's your name?"

"Amarantha"

"Can you tell me how you found her?"

"Well, when I woke, she wasn't in the kitchen. Sometimes she's extra busy, so she gets up early, but there was no breakfast either. So I went to her room to wake her, but the won't wake, and she's all stiff."

"Mother Hubbard is dead." The Head Priest had finally found an opening.

"Dead? But she can't be dead! What am I supposed to do without her?"

"With Mother Hubbard dead, it falls to you to perform the Rites."

"You don't have to." The youngest priest said. "We can survive a poor harvest. We hardly hunt the forests. We can do without the Blessing."

A hand tugged on the young priest's robe. He turned to find his daughter, who handed him her favorite husk doll and nodded towards the altar. "Are you sure?"

"She's scared and lonely. When I'm scared and lonely, Miss Maize always cheers me up."

He gave his daughter's shoulder a comforting squeeze, then carefully placed the poppet at the edge of the flames.

Some time after it had been consumed by the fire, Amarantha spoke once more. Her voice was different now, small, huddled, and darkened to a vibrant crimson. "Thank you."

as you bring a sample of your crops to the temple of the harvest god, you and everyone nearby suddenly hear a telepathic childlike voice “um, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but your god kind of died…”

[yhwhsdaughter]

still here

yandere kenma x fem. reader

promptober masterlist

Kenma Kozume was dead.

The police never found his body, but most shockingly of all—he was married. It’s not like you knew him anymore; after years of being close friends, Kenma left without a word.

You attended the service out of respect though you felt slightly silly, saying goodbye to an empty casket. Days later, one of his lawyers contacted you.

“It must be a mistake.”

Instead of leaving this incredible home to his wife, Kenma had bequeathed such place to you. It didn’t make sense. What on earth would you even do with this? At the height of your career, you had no time to sell it or even move into this monstrosity. Apparently it was packed with Kenma’s precious technology; his rivals would kill for such thing.

On your family’s insistence, you moved in. It was tough, but you managed somehow. At least you wouldn’t have to pay rent now. Everything had been taken care of. Wiping the sweat of your brow, you flopped onto the couch. “Phew! It’s so hot outside..”

“Would you like me to turn on the air conditioner, [Name]?”

A scream left your mouth at the sudden intrusion. Glancing around, you saw no one. “He-hello?” The voice, which sounded very much like your recently deceased friend, cut through clearly, introducing itself as the house’s AI.

Kenma had installed his brainchild for multiple purposes, all to ease the life of the owner. Honestly, it took you awhile to become accustomed to a voice waking you up every morning for work.

Weirdly enough, it seemed to know what you wanted even before you said so. After weeks, you began to get a feeling of being watched.

“I’m just being paranoid..”

You were probably too stressed from the office. Things seemed the same, nothing too alarming. Except when the doorbell rang, signaling you had a visitor.

Opening it, you saw a delivery man with several boxes. You frowned, “Um, I didn’t order any of that.” Before the man could answer, the AI interrupted.

“I took the liberty of ordering this on your behalf.”

The man glanced quickly at the inside of your high-tech home. Everything seemed to work electronically. Regular folks like him could only dream. “Wow! That’s so cool.” Reluctantly, you took the packages. Inside the boxes was a bunch of lingerie and jewelry that seemed way too expensive for your paycheck.

What…?

“If it’s the price you’re worried about, I should inform you that this comes out of Mr. Kozume’s account.”

“Why would you even get this for me? I have no need for—”

“I thought you would look cute in those.”

What did this machine just say to you?

There’s no way. There’s no fricking way.

You were dumb when it came to technology, hence your initial confusion as to why Kenma left you this place, but you wandered around the house, trying to unplug every little wire. Unbeknownst to you, the tech genius had installed backups in case this happened.

He should’ve known. You were shy.

That night you could hardly sleep, worried that the blasted machine would try to talk to you. It was haunting, really, and very creepy. Was this Kenma’s idea of a joke? If so, it wasn’t funny. At all.

After several calls to a realtor, you took a few days from work to pack. Error or not, you weren’t staying in this place anymore. Who cares if you had to pay rent again, or have roommates, or noisy neighbors. Anything was better than this.

Ready, you pulled the door to exit this place once and for all, only to find it locked. Maybe it got stuck. You tried again but it didn’t budge.

Panic began to flood your body.

No, no, no, no!

Pulling out your phone, you tried to call your sister but the call wasn’t going through. Suddenly the screen glitched, showing messages you hadn’t sent, talking about how you decided to stay after all.

“Did you think you were going anywhere [Name]?”

Dread. That’s all you felt.

“I am your home. Now and forever.”

[felicityphoenix5]

Sup folks hello and welcome to my blog i am Nix or Felix and i post things (shockingly, yes, i know /sar)

[My Tagging "System"] [Ao3]

hi. I'm Canadian, a minor, adhd, and i use xe/xem/xyr pronouns.

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you are legally required by law to follow loki @spacedykez if u are following me (and even if you're not following me). we are PARTNERS and a package deal as evidenced by these images <33333

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fandoms:

former mcyt blog, will still reblog stuff from there

band stuff (idkhow, the narcissist cookbook, ajr, noah kahan)

been gettin really into sherlock holmes stuff and im tryin to post more of that CRINGE IS DEAD I AM FREE

tasm (as soon as i find some good posts about it it is OVER for yall)

really anything funny + cool, if i see it ill reblog it idc

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i run @lifesteal-headcanons !! I'm the (currently) singular mod over there, send in your headcanons!! I promise that everyone there is really really normal and totally didn't start a three-season roleplay accidentally.

speaking of roleplay-

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THE OTTERVERSE!!!

What is it? Why should you care? Why are me and my friends so obsessed with it?

The Otterverse is a currently three-season roleplay story that i do with @spacedykez, @mushroompoisoning @bugsinthebayou, @wisp-exe, @gumy-shark, @cats-thoughts and a bunch of other anons! each of us has our own character(s), and the majority of it is acted out in Loki's inbox (yet another reason to follow it). For better explanations, go here (s1 + s2 recap), here and here, (general overviews),

You should care about it because it's cool. Hmm? that answer not good enough for you? fine, how about this one then.

*ahem* *commercial narrator voice*

Do YOU like LESBIANS? Shakesperian tragedy? Hamilton? The Apocalypse? Literally Every Character Is Queer And No I'm Not Exaggerating? More Lesbians? Angst? WELL, DO I HAVE THE STORY FOR YOU!!

And the moots are Still Insane over it because we're the ccs of this stupid little story, we were there for it, we experienced it in real-time, and we love our little fucked up ocs <33333

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Important Images + Userboxes

[terrence-silver]

Doors girlie here!! <3 I have 2 more recs (edit: it’s now 5 bc I have no self control>>😍) & shockingly enough they’re all unrelated to The Doors- but I HAD to share with you friend! 🥰

->first is Ball and Chain by Big Brother & The Holding Company/Janis Joplin (https://youtu.be/mrF_nM9pknU). The psychedelic riffs & rawness of Joplin’s vocals give off the impression that this would be playing in the bedroom while old man Terry is ruthlessly edging & overstimulating beloved. -> & icing on the cake is Janis Joplin’s To Love Somebody (https://youtu.be/IYdIeorcwbc) playing in the background while Terry is getting the aftercare ritual of the night prepared for beloved🥺❤️

->second is You Showed Me by The Turtles (https://youtu.be/JIxJOO02jWo). This is oddly specific but I can imagine old man Terry taking beloved to an old dive bar right on the outskirts of town, and it being absolutely dead, save for like two other patrons. I can envision a shitty jukebox in the corner, and Terry specially being the one who picks out this song. There might be a few drunken giggles about the song choice, but once the tenderness of the lyrics hits, they’re slow dancing & cannot get enough of each other’s presence <3 -> & bonus because I feel like Terry would INSIST on beloved picking a song next: option 1- more lovey dovey/tender: If I Had the World to Give by Grateful Dead (https://youtu.be/CEWjYfrMG_g) & option 2- more lighthearted & can picture a cute/silly candid moment of them dancing & beloved singing this to Terry🥺: Baby, I Love You by Ramones (https://youtu.be/AGlZwwtp92A)

- You seriously rock & I am so sorry for this word vomit <3 Hope you’re having a fantastic day!❤️

Heeeeey, you came off anon! I wanted to ask you to come off of anon because your musical scenarios seriously rock, my friend, and I want more whenever you’re willing to send me some! Hello there! ❤️ And those are super awesome! The Janis Joplin one is so fitting, because her intense vocals feel like they would match with beloved’s screaming and moaning as Terry edges his darling (🙈) and the jukebox ones are tremendously sweet.

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number. 

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide. 

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today. 

Shit, did billionaires even text? 

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead. 

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out? 

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding. 

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway. 

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused. 

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door. 

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building. 

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to. 

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside. 

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional. 

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words. 

~

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle. 

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good. 

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window. 

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress. 

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically. 

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly. 

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me. 

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on. 

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. 

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs. 

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline. 

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself. 

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself. 

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine. 

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one. 

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right. 

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap. 

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up. 

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.” 

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.” 

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again? 

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something. 

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist. 

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room. 

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but... 

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair. 

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling. 

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat. 

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed. 

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground. 

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless. 

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead. 

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs. 

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff. 

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display. 

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly. 

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened. 

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask. 

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses. 

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone. 

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine. 

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway. 

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important. 

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture. 

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I? 

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place. 

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod. 

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look. 

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it. 

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago. 

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners. 

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

~

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem. 

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks. 

He’s all I fucking think about. 

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck. 

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him. 

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more. 

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically. 

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days. 

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals. 

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings. 

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars. 

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring. 

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him. 

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book. 

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible? 

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying. 

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.” 

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over. 

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me. 

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside. 

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything. 

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment. 

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping. 

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain. 

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away. 

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake. 

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.” 

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility. 

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface. 

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile. 

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side. 

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest. 

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago. 

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation. 

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me. 

She’s falling for me. 

Which, technically, is the plan. 

Technically, everything is going great. 

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her. 

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture. 

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself. 

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born. 

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily. 

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that. 

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold. 

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect. 

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care. 

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake. 

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet. 

And I’m just getting started. 

___________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10​ @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @bamchickawowow​ @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[hankwritten]

Hofstadter’s Law

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for MinnesotaMedic821, Drunk

“You sure this best way in, Jane?” Demo muttered quietly as he gazed up at the looming concrete spires of BLU base.

“I am very sure!” Soldier said, not quietly at all. Practically yelling actually. Right in Demo’s ear too, what with his arm slung around the RED’s shoulders as the only thing keeping him upright.

“Shhh!” Demo hushed him. “You want me to go half-deaf as well as half-blind? ‘Sides, the last thing we need right now is the other BLUs hearing us.”

Soldier’s head, lolling like a pad of butter sliding around a hot pan, took a long and winding trip from one side to the other. “…Why?”

“…Because I’m a RED in the middle of a nest o’ BLU corn snakes?” Demo raised a brow. “Ach, you really did have a number done, didn’t you? Remind me not to let you near the Everclear again.”

“Okay! I will definitely remind you!”

Demo eyed him dubiously. “Remind me what, Jane?”

The grey shell of the helmet stared at him for several seconds. “…What?”

“Let’s just get you in, aye? We can do all sorts of filling in each other’s memories when your toesies are tucked safe under your covers.”

But in order get the Soldier safely in bed, they’d need to first traverse the minefield of potential termination that was the center of BLU operations. No problem at all really. It was late—even if some of the mercs had hit the town like Demo and Soldier had, they’d certainly be back by now, fast asleep, no chance at all of waking up and discovering a very difficult to explain situation in the form of an enemy merc carrying around their Soldier. As long as they were quiet, they’d be perfectly safe.

Demo guided Soldier towards the back doors, at which point they promptly ran into the enemy Demoman.

The BLU, spread out on a fabric lawn chair surrounded by dust, desert, and least a half-dozen bottles, blinked wide-eyed at the pair who’d just come around with the low-speed but high-inertia gait of a drunk couple. He shook his head slightly, as though to dispel the ‘ole three am fog and ascertain that yes, that truly was his teammate being helped along by the RED demolition’s man. Demo, for his part, froze like he’d been staked to the ground.

Soldier, as heavy things are want to do, kept going at his expected velocity. It nearly took them both over—Demo had to abandon the arm under his shoulders, lunging to haul Soldier up the waist and folding him in half like a Panini.

“Well,” the BLU in the lawn chair said, “you two look like you had fun.”

His face was a mish-mash of raised brow and, perplexingly enough, a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he bore witness to the two truants. Most shockingly of all, there wasn’t a trace of surprise on his face now, just those shades of smug amusement you put on when watching a particularly entertaining drunkard. The fact that Demo was used to having that expression leveled at him was neither here nor there.

“Er…” he said eloquently.

The flash of dread that’d shot through him when he’d caught sight of the BLU was the worse case scenario of course: reported on, fired, dead in a gravel pit somewhere, all rendered in gory detail by his mind’s eye. (His overactive imagination a bloody menace sometimes.) But as the BLU continued to sit there, not sounding the alarm, not even looking particularly worried, Demo’s fear for his own neck slowly morphed into confusion.

“I was just er-”

“Oh, hello Demoman!” Soldier chimed in. “We have been out. Drinking alcohol!”

“I’ve heard that’s a fun pastime,” his teammate commented mildly.

“Don’t tell him that,” Demo complained, hauling Soldier to an upright position. “Jesus, this er, isn’t what it looks like, honestly.”

“Sure it isn’t,” the BLU said, wearing what could now be identified unmistakably as a smirk. He gestured with his bottle. “Back entrance ‘s that-a-way.”

A little ball of defensiveness, not matter how unjustified, rolled around in Demo’s gut to the point he wanted to stop and give the other Demoman a piece of his mind. Which would probably involve lying. And then consequences to lying since Soldier had already given away this wasn’t a one time thing. He shut his gob and took the out.

Until the hum of the BLU’s resumed tune was far behind them, until the curving architecture of the base would keep them from being overheard, he didn’t dare start asking questions. Only when he was sure that the corner they’d rounded was at a significant distance away did he accusatorily hiss, “what was that about?”

“Hm?” Soldier asked pleasantly. He fixed a dopey smile on his friend, a second ago which had been the responsibility of a beetle crawling a tuft of bullheadidly tenacious grass.

“Your Demo, why’d you tell him where we were? And why didn’t he flip out?”

“You’re my Demo,” Soldier hummed unhelpfully.

“Ach,” Demo said, realizing he’d get nowhere with the security lights and a whole herd of horseflies bearing down on them. “Fine, lets get you inside first. But I’ve still got some bloody questions.”

They’d arrived at the unassuming little door cut into the base’s thick concrete, welded metal gushing haphazardly from its size as though its very addition had been an afterthought. Demo motioned at Soldier.

“Pass me your keycard, lad.”

“M’what?”

“Keycard.” Demo’s heart sank. “You keep it in your wallet or something, right?”

Soldier stared at the card reader. He stared at long and hard, so long and hard that Demo was starting to wonder if the question had made it through his ear canals at all when he concluded, “I forgot it.”

“You for- Oh for the love of Pete.” Demo took the hand that wasn’t supporting his mate and rubbed it long suffering across his face. “Well that’s great. Bloody great, risk my arse hauling a drunken fart back to his base cause he can’t hold his bloody liquor, and we can’t even get in to the fecking-”

The door hissed, layers of dust shaking loose like with a sci-fi swish as the vacuum seal was opened to the desert night. Demo gawked, watching it shake away grit like it was built into the surface of Mars instead of a dead-end town in the middle of New Mexico, and letting out a wash of air-conditioned oxygen.

When it was partially ajar, it unveiled the BLU Sniper, arms folded and leaning on the inner wall.

“How…what?” Demo asked. Soldier was too busy looking at the beetle again to be perplexed.

“Heard you guys arguing from the roof.” Sniper jerked his thumb upwards. “If you were sneaking ‘round, might want to think about keeping your voice down in the future. Probably could’ve heard you all the way at RED.”

“I wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Sniper waited. When no adequate explanation was forthcoming he said, “you comin’? Cold air’s getting out.”

Demo grimaced, and began the arduous processes of lugging the Soldier inside.

Chill ran up where his t-shirt had sweated to his neck, Soldier fairing no better since they’d spent the past half hour (every moment since Demo had realized Soldier would be going nowhere on his own) with their sides pressed together. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until the cold ai) brought the slightest suggestion of relief to his (admittedly also not terribly sober) body.

“If this is going to be a running thing for you two, maybe don’t get so munted next time, yeah?” Sniper offered. It was neither reprimanding nor conversational, like this was a totally normal exchange happening here with a RED in a BLU hallway.

“Who said anything about a ‘running thing’?” Demo demanded. “You didn’t overhear that!”

Sniper raised a brow. “Soldier said you were his new best mate. I assumed that meant you’d both be out and about more than once.”

Demo grit his teeth, the pieces clicking into place. “Did he now.” He leveled his best attempt at a glare from his blindspot at the disoriented Soldier who, unsurprisingly, was more interested in resting his head on Demo’s shoulder than being reprimanded. “Well that’s good to know. Any chance you can point me to his room?”

Sniper took one gloved hand and shoved a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Cheers.”

“Goodbye Sniper,” Soldier said belatedly, a good three minutes after he’d disappeared around a corner. “Oh hey! My room!”

“Jane, is there anyone you didn’t tell about us?” Demo demanded.

Soldier thought for a moment. “…I didn’t tell any REDs.”

“Jane,” Demo groaned. “This is supposed to be a secret. What if one of them tells the Administrator? You want that? Going to be hard ever meeting up again if we’re both six feet under.”

For the first time, a bit of shame managed to reach the Soldier through the woolen mesh of his inebriated state, and he looked at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just got really excited. Wanted everyone to know I was hanging out with you.”

Demo sighed heavily, not up bullying his friend when he was in such a pathetic sate already. “I know you were. Ach, it’s fine. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

Later being sometime after he’d managed to deposit Soldier onto a four-poster, though with the way the night was going it seemed like that moment would never arrive. His outlook wasn’t improved when he opened the door of Soldier’s room and found that not only was it Soldier’s room, but the occupancy of the entire Offense division.

“Whzzat?” Scout said, rolling to his elbow just in time to be bombarded by the hall light. “Ahg, dammit Sol. What the hell man?”

Demo didn’t bother freezing this time, successfully desensitized to literally every BLU on the planet stumbling across his ill-advised trip through the enemy base. Instead, he walked over, dropped Soldier on the bed, and began helping him unlace his boots.

“What the-?” Scout said when he finally lowered his arm. “Oh right. You. Jesus, how ‘bout a little consideration for the sleeping guy?”

“Mmrrhaunna,” came from the bundle in the corner.

“Yeah, what they said.”

“You don’t got the right to be begging consideration from anyone, jackrabbit,” Demo said hotly as he frees the military-grade combat boots from Soldier’s feet. He threw a blanket over the man’s form, who sighed appreciatively and said something about how this would earn Demo a medal. “‘Sides, don’t need to worry about me no more. I just came to drop of your sergeant and get out of here.”

To prove it, he backed out of the room with hands raised. Mission complete. Time to get out of here and bring this mortifying night to an end.

He might have gotten away with it too, if Pyro hadn’t shot straight up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Mrrhaha! Hudda hah ha hoo.”

Demo reared back slightly from the Pyro who was still very much in their rubber suit, now with added nightcap. Whatever the hell they were saying, they were very impassioned about it. He looked to the Scout for help.

“They want you to tuck them in too,” he said, and the light flooding in from the single open door was good enough to see that he was smirking as he did so.

“Wha- I’m not bloody tucking anyone in,” Demo said hotly.

“Hudda ha. Mrra haa hur ha.”

“You tucked Soldier in,” Scout translated. “Only fair.”

“Gurrhaha.”

“…Otherwise they’ll tattle.”

“I cannae bloody believe this,” Demo groaned, rubbing his face.

Grudgingly, he made his way over the giggling pyrotechnician, absolutely giddy to have gotten their way. Thankfully boots weren’t part of the pajama equation, and Demo had only to tuck in the blanket’s edges ‘round a pair of socked feet and a squirming, suit-clad body. When he tried to leave it at that, a keening noise stopped him, and he was forced to repeat the process for Mayor Balloonicorn. All the while, he could feel the Scout staring smugly at the back of his head.

“D’awww, ain’t that adorable. Going to be hard to be scared of you now, though. Y’know, after you swung by to give us goodnight kisses and all that crap.”

“Just for that, I’m going to have a sticky trap with your name on it, boyo,” Demo pointed an accusing finger in Scout’s direction. He just shrugged.

“But uh,” Scout added, just as Demo was finally about to make his escape. “Glad you turned out to be cool though. He was really gung ho about tonight. Its nice he has good friends besides us.”

Demo cast his gaze to Soldier, who’d fallen fitfully in the short while it’d taken to get Pyro off his back.

“…That’s good. It was a fun time.”

“Oh yeah?” Scout wiggled his eyebrows. “How fun?”

Demo took one of the pillows he’d used to burry Pyro in and flung it at Scout’s face.

“Sticky trap. Your name.”

He could still hear Scout snickering all the way out into the hall.

[natsukitakama]

It me. Hello. 😱 ~ 🐥 anon may i have.... 👉👈 Headcanons of Reader that is always really patient and caring with the members of levi squad meeting floch. And at first she’s aggressive towards him because he insulted Armin and she’s just trying to protect her babs. But later on growing to be shockingly just as worried about him as everyone else. confusing him when she pats his back and reminds him to drink water before giving a forehead SMOOTCH. Cuz he though she hated him. I wanna love him.

Author note : Hello 🐥 Anon, thank you for you request I’m glad you sent me something about Floch. I’m really sorry for taking so long, I kinda overworked myself. In addition it’s been week since I went back to college so I can’t work on my headcanon as much as I expected to. Anyways, done complaining ! I hope you’ll enjoy this I really wanted to write something good for Floch cause despite what he’s done in the manga I kinda like him ! 

I do not own that gif credit to the owner

Warning : some spoiler about the beginning of the next season 4 if you haven’t read manga after the anime don’t read this you might be spoil / fluffy / Floch being Floch but that’s okay / angst ? I don't know

Disclaimer : if you’re not comfortable with Floch that’s okay I've got plenty of headcanon on my masterlist I'm sure you’ll find something enjoyable. But please do not be mad at me for writing for Floch or against Anon because they ask a request about him. I won’t tolerate behavior like this. 

Masterlist 

You first encounter with Floch wasn’t very … calm. 

You didn’t mean to slap him right into the face, but when he went into your group talking shit about How you friends Armin should die so Erwin could survive. How he was useless and how humanity was about to fall down. Well you just saw red. It was his own fault, everyone in the 104th knew how protective you were with your friends. So yeah as soon as he was done talking shit, you just walked right in front of him and slap him. 

Everyone heard the loud « SLAM » coming from both of us, but they especially remembered the way you looked at him : if eyes could kill he would be dead by now. 

« Who do you think you are uh ? You’re nothing but shit on our shoes know your place baby boy » 

Then you walked pass him without letting him time to reply. Not like you cared about what he thought. 

Who am I kidding of course you cared. 

After couple hours, when you weren’t angry anymore you felt guilty. Not because of how you slap him but about the way you talked about him, he was part of your family too so you should treat him properly. That night, you promised yourself to make It up and apologize for your behavior and explain to him that what he said was bad but he didn’t deserve to be slapped especially in public. 

That’s what you did, next morning after dressing up you walked looking for Floch. You couldn’t not notice the way his friends’ face went white as soon as you walked into him. Just when he was about to open his mouth you shut him up 

« Listen, I’m here to apologize. I shouldn’t slap you that day but to me you deserve this. Everyone here went to hell yesterday and I know you more than everyone else could understand that, that day we lost a lot of peoples including Major. But you shouldn’t say to Armin he should die that day, you more than everyone else should  cherish any life. All of them are precious and useful. Still I shouldn’t humiliate you and hurt you so I ask you to forgive me, I can’t justify the way I act. Now be sure to eat enough and drink a lot of water, today is about to be harsh » 

Again before Floch could react, you already moved into your friends direction to be sure everyone was eating enough. Floch looked no stared at you hearing you scolding Eren for not eating his bread, then looking at Armin with a smile and for the very first time he felt something wrong, in fact his heart or maybe his chest or his stomach he couldn’t be sure but he felt something twisted right into him. Was he jealous ? Was he envious because you care about everyone else but not him ? No it was stupid he thought. 

But during the whole day, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. In fact he saw you during the whole day taking care of everyone : From Hanji and their lack of sleep to Mikasa who weren’t eating her breads to be sure Eren would eat enough. Because of his staring he wasn’t focus on his training and he ended up falling from a tree hurting his back in the process. 

Before he could even move you were already running into his direction with a worried expression on your face, Floch didn’t know what to say or to do. Why were you worried ? It’s not like you like him or anything. At this point after your scolding he was sure you hated him. But still, he saw you running into him, kneeling down looking for any broken bones, any cut, everything that might be painful for him. Your touch was sweet despite your hands being rough because of all your training, it was as if you were touching him with silk. 

« Are you alright ? Can you move ? 

W-What ? I mean yes, yes I can move 

Good. Now take my hand I’m walking you into the nursery you need to rest

N-No  I, I can walk and train i’m fine 

Who are you kidding ? You’ve been distant during the whole day you obviously need to rest »

Then you carried him into the nursery as you promised. Floch stay silent during the whole walk, he didn’t know again how to react. Why were you so nice to him ? Did you really notice how distant he was ? How could you possibly know ? He stared at you the whole day, he would notice if you were looking at him. Again, you weren’t supposed to be like this, not after what you said to him. You were supposed to despise him, because after everything you said he still believe that Armin couldn’t be in charge he couldn’t be the major. But you were right about something, he shouldn’t say that because he as Armin was lucky to be here they didn’t deserve to be here. He shouldn’t be here. 

He shouldn’t craving for your attention. 

He couldn’t prevent it though. Since the day he joined the 104th, he felt something about you. They way you were so caring and yet so strong and confident. 

Everything he will never be. Not matter how hard he’ll try. 

All he can do was to dedicate his heart. 

Dedicate his heart so you could be safe, so you could finally be free from those monsters. 

That day, while you were taking care of him, checking his back for any sign or bad injury, cleaning his wounds, pouring a glass of water for him, looking into the kitchen and cooking something so he could heal properly. Floch promised himself that he would be someone who deserves your kindness toward him. 

« Still daydreaming ? 

What ? 

I don’t know, tell me you are pretty quiet since I took you into the nursery. Is something wrong ? 

Well I wanted to ask you something but I don’t know if I should 

Go ahed I won’t eat you 

Very funny. Well I wanted to know why you’re like this ? 

Like what ? 

You know caring ?

I don’t know. I guess it’s just a part of my personality besides all of you are my family so yeah it seems normal to me to act like this 

There’s people who don’t deserve your kindness 

Are you perhaps thinking about someone in particular ? 

Me actually 

Why make you think you don’t deserve my attention ? 

Well I actually said to one of your close friends that he should die 

Good point. You recognized your mistake right ? 

Sure but I still believe the Major should survive that day 

You’re not the only one they’re plenty of people who believed he should survive … maybe he should but in the end it’s not up to us to take that decision. We’re soldier, we can’t see the futur we don’t know what would happen. 

The major did or at least that’s what I thought 

I actually believe he knows shit about everything, he just tried, he was cocky but he succeed that’s what we expected from him. Nothing more nothing less. But in the end, he makes bad decision and he lived with it. I don’t believe he was the only one able to save humanity. 

Then who ? 

Us. I mean that’s why we’re here right ? 

And the major was cocky 

*laugh* yeah you’re right I’m probably presumptuous but like I said any on us can’t predict the future all we can do is to work harder so tomorrow would be better 

Dedicate our heart 

Exactly. Now rest I’ll check on you tonight alright ? 

Sure. Thank you Y/N 

You don’t need to thank me Floch, but you’re welcome » 

Smiling at him, you walked into your friends so you could keep your training. 

After your talk with Floch, started to notice that in fact, your kindness had no limit and you were helping anyone ; including him the coward who weren’t able to save the Major or any of his friends. The coward who can’t have a plan on his own and decide to follow someone instead of having his own opinion. The one who decided to follow the very man he despises for being able to follow his dream not matter what. The coward who would have to kill his friends, his camardes in order to protect eldians, in order to protect you. 

Sometimes, he wonders if you still like him ? If you would still take care of him after the war, Would you take care of his wounds like you used to ? Would you cook his meal so he could heal properly ? Would you comfort him again when he’ll have nightmare ? 

Does he even deserves your kindness ? Is it right for him to crave for your attention ? To always walk into your direction whenever he feels down or when he was dreaming about that day in Shiganshima ? The day when he fail as a soldier ? 

For now, he will just enjoy your company as much as he can.

For now you don’t hate him, so he can still talk to you, go to you anytime he feels like he needs to. Enjoying every attention you would give him. 

For now he doesn’t betray you, he doesn’t disappoint you. 

But maybe.

Maybe you won’t hate him ? Maybe his action would make sense to you ? Maybe you would still like him ? Maybe he’ll be able ton confess to you ? Maybe you’ll understand that everything he does was to protect his people and you in particular. 

Because for him, you are his light, his everything that help him to wake up and do his duty. You’re the one whop help him to remember why he is doing this, you’re the one who help him so he won’t go crazy. 

You’re the one for him. 

[howling-harpy]

Perfect storm

Pairing: Winters/Speirs Rating: T Word count: 5470

Summary: Dick reluctantly takes a pass alone to Paris and learns that sometimes someone most unlikely can become the right one at the right time in the right place.

*

If a trip to Paris was supposed to be relaxing, it wasn’t working. Nix’s thought had been nice, and maybe it worked for him, but Dick couldn’t say he liked Paris much. At least, not now. It was too noisy and too crowded, and if he had to choose the people to be crowded by, he’d choose his men over anyone else a thousand times. But it was forty-eight hours, a real privilege not everybody got, and so Dick was trying to make the most of it. He already treaded going back to base and seeing Nix welcoming him with a smirk and asking, “Well? How was it?”

He'd know that nothing exciting had happened, Dick just wasn’t that kind of a person and Nix knew that already, but still he would ask, and Dick would have to awkwardly figure out what to say without sounding ungrateful. He didn’t want to think about it now, he’d save that for when the time came. Now he simply wandered the streets, just walked ahead until the air turned cool and his breath started to come easily. He ended up on the underground, traveling back to his hotel late in the evening. The rhythmic rattle of the tracks underneath and the rocking of the train lulled him into deep thought, and the constant swaying of the car felt like it was shaking jammed thoughts in his head loose. He stared out of the window into the darkness and listened to the clang clang clang of the tracks, metal against metal, and his thoughts shifted back to Holland. He remembered charging through the open field, the earth soft and muddy under his boots, his own footsteps like thunder in his ears. He remembered standing on that dike so clearly he could smell the wet grass, mud and his own sweat, and he looked at that soldier, knelt down, unarmed and wearing German green. It was a boy, shockingly young, the uniform jacket ill-fitting on his coltish frame. He didn’t even look scared, just surprised and confused when he looked up at Dick like he couldn’t make sense of him being there. And then Dick squeezed the trigger, felt the recoil of his rifle, felt a sting in his ears at the noise, and the boy went down. Dick kept shooting. He didn’t think, just kept firing, there were too many targets to choose from, he felt his own adrenaline coursing and heard his company reaching his side. He had forgotten about the boy quickly, hadn’t thought about him even right after, but for some reason he was on his mind now. There was a boy on the train too, just as young, just as wide-eyed and just as soft-looking. To Dick, they looked exactly the same, dead boys staring back at him with too young eyes, bright for a moment and no more. Dick couldn’t look at him without feeling a heavy, sharp feeling settling in his chest. The rest of the way from the station to the hotel he was staying at felt longer than the many miles he had already walked even though it was just a few blocks. He dragged his feet and felt a horrible, deep exhaustion that he feared he wouldn’t be able to shake now that it had settled over him. In the moment he felt so heartbreakingly lonely he almost wanted to cry. He didn’t want to be alone in Paris, he wanted to be with Nix wherever he was right now. He just wanted him to be there, that would be enough. “Captain Winters?” someone called, and Dick felt his heart skipping. Dick turned to a bar he was just passing and saw Nix. His heart skipped again almost painfully in joy, but it didn’t make any sense – Nix wasn’t here, he was back at the base probably avoiding his many responsibilities, how could he be here? Dick blinked, took another look, and realized that it wasn’t Nix. The dark hair, handsome face and the paratrooper’s uniform had fooled his lonely heart, and the man whom he was facing wasn’t Nix but Lieutenant Ronald Speirs from Dog Company. “Ah, hello, Lieutenant,” Dick greeted mildly. Speirs had stepped out of a bar Dick had been passing, apparently to have a cigarette in peace since he had one between his lips, but now that he was curiously regarding Dick he didn’t reach to light it. He looked like he wanted to talk more than the passing greeting, and with a hint of annoyance Dick stopped. “I didn’t know you were on leave too,” Speirs said. Dick didn’t see why he would have and shrugged. “This was pushed on me. I’d rather be doing something useful.” Speirs nodded with understanding, the unlit cigarette still between his lips. “Ah, that makes more sense. Have you enjoyed your stay so far at all?” “It’s been alright.” “You alone, or…?” Dick frowned slightly. In his opinion the answer was obvious; he wouldn’t have been walking the streets alone if he had company, but his hesitance seemed to only raise more questions for Speirs, who stepped further from the door and closer to Dick. “I was just wondering, since you’re out this late and just walking,” he said, drawing out the sentence for a reason Dick couldn’t begin to guess. “I came alone, too, if that’s the case,” Speirs added with a tilt of his head. Dick didn’t know how to respond. He had a feeling he was being asked something more than it seemed, but he couldn’t read Speirs. He did remember him well from the OCS as one of the top soldiers, but he couldn’t say he had learned to know him very well. The man was still somehow unreadable to Dick, and despite having fought alongside him, he didn’t feel any closer to him. “I am alone, yes. Do you have a place to stay?” Dick asked, guessing that was what Speirs was trying to ask him. A strikingly warm smile spread of Speirs’ face, and with a start Dick realized it made him not only more handsome but approachable. Suddenly, he decided he wouldn’t mind company at all. “Actually no, I don’t,” Speirs said like it was a surprise that it came up. For the first time during the whole conversation, Dick smiled back. “I happen to have actually too much room. Would you like to share?” There was a curious gleam in Speirs’ eyes. “I’d like that.” They walked together. Speirs tossed his cigarette away when he hurried to join Dick, who showed the way back to the hotel. He had to admit that as annoyed as he had been about being spotted like this, Speirs’ company was actually comfortable. They arrived at the hotel far quicker than Dick thought they would have, and Speirs followed him upstairs into his room without another word. When he closed the door behind him, it occurred to Dick that he had never been alone with Speirs before. The first thing Speirs did was to kick his boots off. He looked around the room and gave an appreciative nod. “A nice room you’ve got,” he said. Dick felt awkward about it. Three-room-suite for one person was definitely too much. “Thanks. Nix picked it for me.” “And didn’t come with you?” Speirs asked, looking far too surprised. For some reason, Dick felt embarrassed. Not by being alone or having been tricked to take leave, but by the casual intensity of Speirs’ look and tone. Dick might not have been sure if he liked Speirs, but Speirs certainly had gotten comfortable around him quickly. It even made Dick feel a bit bad for being so reserved and on guard around someone who seemed to simply enjoy his company. Still, kindness didn’t mix seamlessly with Ron Speirs, and Dick couldn’t shake the feeling that they were here for some other reason than the obvious one. He felt a funny tingle in his nape. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. Speirs’ brows shot up. “Do you have something good?” Dick heard the real question there and smirked. “There was a bottle of brandy here when I arrived, compliments of the house, I think. I didn’t ask for it, yet here it is. Might as well give it to someone who wants it rather than waste it.” Speirs smiled again, a twinkle in his green eyes. “A splendid point. I’d like a drink, thank you.” Dick went over to the cabinet that had a bar and a selection of fine glasses behind its stained-glass doors, took out the crystal bottle and a matching glass, then poured a drink for Speirs, guessing the amount. It was a polite thing to do, but also gave Dick something to occupy himself with and bought him time to think. He glanced to Speirs, who was walking around the large sitting room and admiring the fine furniture at leisure pace, and wondered about him. This Speirs was once again different to the versions Dick had been acquainted with. Speirs back in OCS had been raw material, eager and competitive, tough but still green. Speirs in combat had been ferocious, covered in grime, and more than a little mad. This Speirs, Speirs on leave in Paris, was something else entirely, or perhaps a polished mirror of his combat self; Dick could see the ferocity underneath the surface, and the line of his shoulders and his general demeanour were pure military confidence, but he was also calm, clean and sociable. Something about his clean face, neatly combed hair and dress greens had softened him just a bit, as had his smile. There was a strange ambience in the room. Dick didn’t know what to do, so he elected to sit down on the nearest armchair after handing Ron his drink. Ron kept watching him even when he drank, and Dick had the strangest urge to put on some music. He didn’t, and the dim room was quiet for several long minutes. The single warm lamp didn’t illuminate much, but Speirs didn’t seem to mind. He circled the room slowly as he sipped his drink, his hands idly touching the tabletops and the windowsill, and his feet made almost no sound on the oriental rug on the floor. Finally Speirs made it to the chair where Dick was sitting, and for a moment Dick thought that he was going to reach for the brandy bottle on the delicate little table next to it to take another drink, but instead he sat down on the footstool before the chair. Dick swallowed. Speirs was very close, their legs pressed against each other in the narrow space between the chair and the stool, and even with a brandy glass in hand and in uniform, sitting on a low stool Speirs looked boyish. “I always wondered about you,” Speirs said. Dick didn’t understand, but he had a creeping feeling he should. “About what?” “Since OCS. I just saw you and wondered, if… You know,” Speirs said in a quiet, intimate tone that shocked Dick. Earlier this evening he hadn’t thought he and Speirs knew each other very well and he certainly wouldn’t have called them friends, but here he was, sitting with him of all people with their legs tangled together and speaking in low tones. It was comfortable, he noted. Perhaps it was his loneliness and the cold thoughts from before, but Speirs didn’t seem at all reserved, and that made Dick relax into it and accept the warmth. Dick slumped a bit forward on the chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. Before he had been perching rigidly on the edge of the seat, but now he just leaned closer to Ron. “What did you wonder about?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Ron watched his smile for a moment before looking him in the eye again. “I wondered if you walk the twilight zone as well. You do, don’t you?” Dick tilted his head at the phrase. It wasn’t familiar and he suspected it was Ron’s original. It was an oddly beautiful one too and didn’t fit the image he had of Ron, but at the same time something warm bloomed inside his chest. Yes, he could deal being called that. Dick smiled, and there was a silent understanding in Ron’s eyes when he returned it. “What where you looking for on the streets?” Ron asked, tilting his glass and sloshing the last drop of brandy around. “Oh! Not – Um, not that,” Dick said and thought rapidly back to their encounter before the bar. He was slightly impressed how quickly Ron had read him and jumped on the chance. “I was trying to walk the stress off, that’s all.” “That’s what the leave is for,” Ron said. There was something gentle in his tone, and Dick wondered about that. He had already heard a few stories about Ron and knew him to be a wild thing in combat, something he didn’t relate to, but now he considered if Ron’s ability to let go of certain higher values also meant that he was uncaring towards judging others for small sins. Dick laced his fingers together, wrapped his arms around his knees and wondered if he could tell Ron. He flicked his gaze over the man again, and Ron just craned his neck and quirked a brow back at him when he was inspected. He seemed comfortable, not at all intimidated before him or awkward like differences in rank often meant, but he wasn’t a familiar shadow or a missing piece that had fallen into place like Nix was. Ron was something completely new, and in an odd way a kindred spirit. Almost like a mirror image, similar but still the opposite. Dick hadn’t even noticed when their legs had properly tangled in the narrow space they had at first shared tensely. “Some thoughts come back to me,” Dick muttered. “At times, I remember combat and feel like it just happened a second ago, and I feel like I’ve just attacked for a mile. I’m afraid I’ve done things I can’t forgive myself for.” He stared at the intricate designs woven into the rug by his feet when he said it, but when he was finished talking, he looked up to Ron again. Ron was leaning on his knees as well and reaching towards Dick. There was a steady, open look in his eyes. “I get that too,” he said. “But I don’t get memories, I just feel cold and alone. It feels like I’ve already judged myself and that no one can reach me ever again.” Dick had nothing to say, he just lowered his eyes. “Is that why you were so eager to come with me?” Ron tilted his head, maybe thoughtful, maybe trying to catch Dick’s eye. “Perhaps,” he allowed, but not without a sly quip in his tone. “Maybe I have a thing for tough but kind wholly good guys who complement my darker side.” Dick let out a dry laugh. He knew he was being played, but it was still a nice thing to hear. “I’m not so sure I’m the soft beau you’re looking for.” “Perhaps not,” Ron admitted lightly, “but you’re still good. And this is Paris after all. It would be wrong not to fan some sort of a flame up here.” They were so close that their knees were pressed together, and one of Ron’s hands that was resting on his knee was slowly creeping over to Dick. He turned to watch Ron’s fingers reach out, slow but bold, the index one brushing against his knee, climbing on and pulling the rest along. It was a light touch, a gentle little pet that kept to the knee for a few strokes before slowly moving up his thigh, careful like he didn’t want to spook him. Dick looked down at the hand when it stroked his thigh over his crisp uniform trousers and marvelled at how tender the touch was. It was once again something he wouldn’t have thought of Ron before, but it seemed that the hotel room would be keeping more than a few secrets, so it was alright. When he looked up, he saw Ron looking back like he had been waiting for him. It was a curious, warm look that flicked over his face, and Dick knew Ron was trying to read him, perhaps searching for a permission. Dick felt like he had downed a whole cup of hot chocolate with all the sweet warmth suddenly flowing through him and warming the very core of his chest. He leaned forward an inch, tilted his head a little, and something softened in Ron’s eyes before he leaned towards him the rest of the way. It was a heartachingly sweet kiss. Dick heard Ron take a deep breath before sealing his lips over his, and they pressed together close enough for Dick to feel the light scratch of stubble. He heard Ron dropping the glass on the rug and felt him inching closer on the stool, his lips were so much softer than Dick could have ever imagined, plush and warm, and all the while his hand petted his thigh. When the kiss ended, Ron didn’t lean back at all but pressed closer. Dick didn’t open his eyes but leaned towards the inviting heat that was Ron’s embrace. Ron had nearly climbed on the chair with him with one hand stroking the inseam on his trousers and other grasping the armrest. Ron placed another tender kiss on Dick’s lips before pressing closer, nuzzling his cheek and taking a deep breath like he wanted to enjoy him with every sense. “You know what would help?” Ron muttered idly. “Hm?” “A hot bath. It just might make you feel like a civilized human being again.” Dick sighed a laugh and leaned against Ron. “Sounds wonderful.” Ron turned his head and searched for Dick’s mouth again, took him into a kiss for a few long, drawn out seconds before gently leaning back. “I’ll draw you a bath then,” he said, brushed his fingers against Dick’s chin and then regrettably stepped back. When Ron got up and walked to the bathroom, Dick let out a shuddering sigh and collapsed into the chair. Its cushions were soft enough to sink into, and he let the velvet cosiness hold him. The sound of running water came from the other room, muffled by the wall but still clear. Dick lazed in the chair and stared up into the ceiling, following the ornate decorations with his eyes as well as he could in the dim light. It felt so strange to think that this city had seen war and faced occupation for years, and still beautiful things like these had survived it. Dick was lost in his thoughts and only came out when Ron touched his arm. He had appeared back from the bathroom and was leaning over Dick with his arm draped over the back of the chair. He was smiling down at him. “Your bath’s ready. Come on.” Dick stood up from the chair, and once he was up, Ron started to lead the way to the bathroom. Dick followed him barely a step behind. The bathroom was a small but beautiful one with cool tile floors and an ornate, oval mirror over a porcelain sink. The bathtub was clearly a recent addition in the middle of the room, now full of steaming hot water. There was a low rack with towels on it by the foot of the bath, and Ron picked one of them up and handed it to Dick. It was large, soft and heavy in his hands, much thicker than an army towel, and Dick sank his fingers into the fabric with deep satisfaction. For a moment he regarded Ron, who looked back with a pleasant, expecting expression. It was warm in the room because of the bath, and the steam gathered like morning mist around. Ron moved first and pulled the top button of his jacket open. Then the next one, then the next one and the next one until he could drop his jacket on the floor. Dick followed his example, shedding a layer after layer of his uniform and feeling lighter by each article. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stripped before other men before, but something about the privacy made him shy, so he held the towel to his chest the entire time, hiding behind it. Ron didn’t strip all the way, just lost his shirt and socks, then pulled a small chair from underneath the sink next to the tub and sat down. He leaned on the side of the tub and stretched out his legs, getting really comfortable on his spot, and then looked up to Dick still clutching his towel, bare feet cold on the floor. There was a latent charge in the air, something that made the blood in Dick’s veins buzz in a way that was remarkably pleasant and exciting. The pale steam spiralling in the room felt like a curtain that protected his modesty even though it certainly didn’t, and letting the towel fall was suddenly easy. Ron tilted his head, and Dick felt his green eyes roaming his body. He stepped into the tub, slowly sinking into the hot water that welcomed him into its steaming hot depths, and he could practically feel his skin turning red. The water embraced him completely. The slight burn was nothing but welcome, and Dick sank down all the way down to his neck letting out a deep, worn out sigh and let his head rest on the side. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ron said quietly to him. Dick opened his eyes and looked at the man leaning on the tub, resting his chin on the back of his hand. He smiled. “Yes, it does,” he answered. Ron blinked slowly resembling an affectionate cat, and his hand slipped to let his fingers sink into the water. “Can I ask you something?” Dick turned and curled in the bath so that he could rest his head on the side closer to Ron. “Sure.” “You wanted to come here with Nixon, didn’t you?” Ron asked, his fingers stirring the water. Dick could feel the ripples in the water on his body like a promise of something to come. There was no reason for pretence or lies here, and Dick gave a timid smile and half a shrug. “I would have liked to, yes.” Ron peered at him curiously. The steam had undone his neat hair, causing it to fluff up and curl, and a strand of it had fallen over his forehead. He looked younger like that, wearing only his trousers and undershirt and with his dark hair damp and out of place. “You’d like him here with you in this room. You wouldn’t have gone out at all if Nixon were with you,” Ron stated. It was too confident to be a question, and Dick felt completely seen. He thanked the hot water for already flushing his skin all over. He didn’t answer, just nodded against the side of the tub. Ron nodded back. “You have a thing for bad boys, huh?” he joked. Dick frowned. “No, not really,” he said, “You’re a chance meeting, and Nix is honourable and good, just a little wild sometimes.” Ron raised his brows at him and was quiet long enough for Dick to get that he didn’t agree. But instead of arguing, Ron just sighed. “You’ve got it bad, I see.” Dick sank deeper into the water. Loneliness threatened to creep over him again. “Yeah,” he admitted even when it made his insides ache. Foolish and hopeless, he already knew. He didn’t say anything more, but Ron seemed to sense it in him anyway, because he reached out to sink his fingers into Dick’s damp hair and leaned closer to kiss him again. It was fast becoming all too natural and easy to kiss Ron, even when it was thrillingly intimate like that, naked in the bath with Ron so close to him, half stripped down himself and swaying towards him like some unseen power was pulling him in. With their hands in each other’s hair they just kissed for a while, lazy and languid in the damp heat of the bathroom. It was Ron who pulled back again but only a fraction of an inch, and his fingers stayed tangled in Dick’s hair where it grew longer. “Let me wash your hair for you?” Ron asked so gently it was almost a plea, muttered against Dick’s cheek. The request filled Dick with such warmth so fast he had to gasp for breath. He pressed his cheek against Ron’s. “Sure.” Ron pulled his chair to the head of the tub, and Dick lay back again and closed his eyes. Ron used the unscented, simple soap the hotel provided and spent way too long washing Dick’s hair with it. It was nothing like the army efficiency when your shower lasts five minutes top, this was a slow, affectionate affair that made that warmth inside Dick’s chest wind up and ache. Ron dipped the soap in the water and rubbed it between his hands before combing the foam into Dick’s hair. Again and again he ran his fingers through strands of hair, slow and thorough until he was satisfied with his work. The soap bar was placed back onto its little plate somewhere, but Dick didn’t pay it any mind. Ron’s hands were back in his hair massaging slow circles into his scalp and making a deeply satisfying tingle spread all over Dick’s head and the back of his neck. Ron kept massaging all over, little by little covering every inch of his scalp, then moved on to rub the soap into his hair by one small strand at time. It felt like he wanted to do more than just wash, he wanted to care for him and make sure every last speck of dirt was gone, even those that couldn’t be touched upon with simple soap and water. Ron cupped his hands and ran water on top of Dick’s head. Instinctively Dick slumped down and tilted his head back to make it easier, and Ron just kept patiently bringing palmful after palmful of warm water on his hair while combing through it with his fingers until every last bubble of soap was gone. Dick felt utterly comfortable and relaxed. He lay absolutely boneless in the bottom of the tub, stirring only when he felt his towel on his hair. Ron patted his hair before properly towelling it, first ruffling it and then firmly petting it back from Dick’s forehead. Dick knew it was time to get up, and reluctantly he pulled his sluggish limbs under him. Ron helped him out of the bath and wrapped him in the towel. Nothing remained of Dick’s earlier shyness like it had been washed away with all the sweat, stress, and lingering fear. He felt pure and strong again, and civilized enough to desire touch and warmth. Ron must have seen it in his eyes, because he pulled him by the towel against him. He relaxed into the embrace and wrapped his arms around Ron, letting him carry his weight. Ron was steady and pressed his hands to his hips and his lips to his neck. “Your clothes will get wet,” Dick commented idly. “I’ll just take them off, then,” Ron replied against his neck. “Good,” Dick sighed and pressed closer. He felt the last droplets of bathwater running down his spine, and Ron’s fingers caught them on their way up. “But not here.” Dick huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no. Come, let’s go to bed,” he said and started to pull him with him from the bathroom. The floorboards and the rug were warm compared to the cool tiles of the bathroom. The room felt smaller now that they were pressed together and moving as one, and before Dick had the time to gather even one coherent thought in his head they were already by the bed and Ron tipped them over on it. They landed in the middle of fresh sheets and thick covers on their sides. The bed was softer and warmer than anything Dick could remember, and it felt unnatural to the soldier in him. But perhaps that was good, because something truly strange and uncharacteristic was about to take place there, something he didn’t think he could allow anything like this as a soldier on duty. He kicked the towel off the bed, then reached over to relieve Ron of his white undershirt and trousers. There was a bubbly, giddy feeling growing in Dick’s gut, and it made him both smile and blush. “This is my first time, you know,” he confessed. He didn’t know what compelled him to say it, perhaps he was just surprised that it was happening without planning it at all. Ron pulled back enough to quirk a brow at him but didn’t look surprised or off-put, then leaned in to give him a kiss, his hand cupping his face before slipping down his neck and chest. “I’m honored, then,” he said with feeling. “Are you nervous?” Dick thought about it. He wondered if he ought to be, but there was nothing alien or scary about lying in bed with his arms around Ron, who seemed to take this as a challenge to rise to if anything. The thought made Dick laugh quietly. “I suppose not,” he said, studying Ron’s green eyes that were beginning to darken and gleam with what must have been desire. “Good,” Ron purred, kicking the rest of his clothes off the bed and crawling closer. “There’s no need to be. I’m always kind. We can just take it slow and see where it takes us.” It turned out the night took them everywhere, all the way, every way. It was nearly three in the morning when they finally tired and just lay in the bed half under the covers but still too hot to want to fully crawl beneath them to sleep, both pleasantly sore and thoroughly loved. Dick pulled Ron to his side and let him rest his head on his chest, while Ron absently drew spirals on Dick’s belly and thigh.   “You know…” Dick said, “you’re not at all like I thought you’d be.” Ron chuckled like he already knew what Dick meant. “How so?” he asked, low-key playful. He was tracing a figure eight in the dip by Dick’s pelvic bone. “I don’t know,” Dick replied, “You’re such a rough and tough soldier and you have a temperament. I never would have guessed this is what you’re like in bed.” “Like what?” Ron asked, now clearly teasing. Dick didn’t have to look to know that the man was grinning, obviously pleased at everything he was hearing. “Like you are,” Dick said, refusing to be toyed with. “Like a lover, you mean,” Ron specified for him. “Like each of my men are precious to me and not interchangeable lays.” Dick nudged him and heard an honest-to-god snigger. “Each of your men, you say, huh?” he asked and couldn’t help wondering how many men Ron had loved for a night, and how many of them were in service with them. “Oh yes. This is why I love the army,” Ron said in a low tone, drawing out the words like he was lost in pleasant memories, which he most likely was. “I plan to find one man to take home with me for good.” “One?” Dick asked. “Yes, one. One who is gentle, strong and faithful and who loves me. One to have and hold for the rest of my days,” Ron mused, and his grinning, purring voice turned gentle again, as did his hand that had only been resting on Dick’s thigh for a while now. Ron stroked him with his fingers like he was tracing an oath on his skin. “Sounds wonderful,” Dick said. “Yes. If I can do that, whatever else has happened to me doesn’t matter.” Ron said it like a conviction, unwavering in his faith in it. Dick stroked his hair. “I’d like that too,” he said. It was strange to be there. Mere twenty-four hours ago Dick hadn’t thought he shared much of anything with Ron Speirs, and definitely not the bed and the deepest desire of his heart. It was surreal enough to make his head spin to think how much had transpired between them within such a short period of time and in just one room. But then again, they were both creatures from the twilight zone. Perhaps it was only natural.

[nickysurfer28]

I’ve been working on this for a little bit.

Hope you like it. Be kind I’m not sure if there’s any mistakes. I try my best. Enjoy!

Summary: Dr. Nicky Ransom is on search for her lost cousin Denise Ames. She is determined to find her at all cost. But something happens along the way....

Warning: 18+ only

Chapter 1

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you look at your surroundings.

“My cousin Denise has been missing for a week now, and I’m ready to confront the man who last saw her.”

For weeks, Denise’s been dating some “mystery man” who’s been nothing but a bad influence on her. “I finally caught a glimpse of this guy at Denise’s art show last week. It was the last time anyone saw her.”

You spot him immediately. He’s in a corner booth, reading a book.

Chris “...”.

“That’s him, all right . Chris Evans, the last person who saw my cousin.”

He looks up as you approach, his brilliant blue eyes meeting yours.

Nicky spoke “ Chris Evans, I presume?”.

The man gives you a polished smile. He’s poised, his expression pleasant with a old-world kind of charm. Chris spoke “ You presume correctly.” His low, smooth voice carries a strange lilt, like a cross between an American and British accent. “What can I do for you?”.

Thinking to yourself, “I should handle this...Calmly”.

Nicky calmly answered, “ Could you please tell me where your girlfriend is?”.

“I... My girlfriend?”, Chris answer confused.

“ My cousin, Denise Ames. Where is she?”, Nicky asked.

“Wait, you say Denise missing? I...I’m afraid there must be some mistake, Miss...?, Chris still confused.

“Doctor Ransom”, Nicky answered him.

“Well, doctor, you’ve been misinformed.” Chris spoke with a stern voice.

The man sets his books down and motions for you to sit. When you don’t move, he sighs.

Chris spoke, “I’m acquainted with Denise Ames, yes, but I had no idea she was missing”, And we are not, and never have been, romantically involved.”

Nicky look in disbelief “That’s textbook gaslighting.”, Mr. Evans, I saw you at her art show last week. You and I made eye-contact.”, “ Don’t pull this” don’t believe your eyes” crap one me”.

He regards you with those discerning, brilliant blue eyes.

“That’s impossible “,Chris answered.

“And why is that?” , Nicky answered him back.

“Because I’ve been out of town for well over a month.There’s no way I could have even seen Denise.”, Chris spoken with confidence.

“What?” , Nicky answered in shock.

Chris sighs heavily, reaching into his breast coat pocket for a slip of paper.

“No, not paper. A plane ticket “. Nicky thought to herself.

You inspect the ticket.

“It’s real, I assure you.” Chris answered.

You hand it back to him feeling your brow crease in confusion.

Nicky answered still in disbelief, “But I swear I saw you. You were at the gallery last week with her, I’m not buying it unless you have... A doppelgänger, or an evil twin or something”.

Chris’s expression darkens for a moment. He takes his fingers through his hair, looking agitated and concerned.

“This boyfriend of Denise’s. How much do you know about him?”,Chris asking with concern.

Nicky answered “All I know about Denise’s boyfriend is that he looks exactly like you, Do you have identical twin, Mr. Evans?”

Chris’s eyes flash, and he ducks his head, frowning into his coffee cup.

“Any family I have is dead, doctor.” Chris answered coldly. “I’m sorry, but I’m not Denise’s mystery man.”

“What I am, however, is her friend. And if she’s gone missing, I want to do everything in my power to help you find her.” Chris spoke with concern in his voice. “Please let me help you. For Denise’s sake.”

You bite your lip, considering. Nicky thought to herself “He seems sincere. And he clearly wants to help me.” “ I should hesitate.”

“There’s no way I can believe you. I’m calling the police “, Nicky answered still in disbelief.

He sighs.

“Fine. That’s fine. But I assure you, you’ll find nothing “. Chris spoke sternly.

He hands you a card with his name, address, and phone number.

“Give me a call when my story check out, doctor “. Chris answered. “And let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you find Denise.”

“I... will consider it” Nicky answered.

“Thank you” , Chris spoke politely. “ I don’t believe I ever caught your first name.”

“It’s Nicky.” You answered.

“Well, Nicky, despite the circumstances, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Chris spoke with that raspy voice. He extends his hand and regards you expectantly.

Nicky thought “I should be polite.” You reach up, taking his hand in yours. However, as soon as your hand comes into contact with his, you jump. You feel something, then. A strange warmth in the center of your chest that makes you pause.

“Nicky? Is something wrong?, Chris spoke with concern. Nicky thought to herself “Focus, Nicky”. You clear your throat and offer him thin smile.

“No. Nothing.” , you answered quickly. “It was nice to meet you, too.”

“Until we meet again,Nicky.” Chris answered back.

“Goodnight, Chris. I’ll keep you posted.” Nicky answered.

You give him a nod, turn on your heel, and walk out.

By the time you arrive at your home, you feel exhausted. Your eyes are heavy, your limbs numb. You sit down on the couch, sighing as you sink into the cushions.

“Where are you, Denise.” . You close your eyes, and before you know it, you drift off to sleep.

Red. Everything is red. Denise spoke , “N...no. Please...”

Your little cousin, the last family you have left, lies helpless on the bed. Above her are two men with identical faces.

Chris spoke “ Brother, stop this madness!”

??? Spoke , “Haha...” . Denise spoke helplessly “Nicky... help me...”

“Denise!” , Nicky yelling for her . One the twins bends over her, baring his bloody fangs. Vampire’s fangs.

Nicky thought to herself “Maybe I can save her if I... attack him!”. You try to move, to fling yourself at him. But no matter how hard you struggle, your feet are rooted to the spot.

Chris yelled “Brother, no!” . ??? , he laughed....., the vampire plunges his fangs into Denise’s neck. “No!, Nicky yelled.

You wake with a start, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“W-what happened?, How did...? Nicky spoke to herself. you take a long breath, shock overthinking you. “A...a dream? But how?. You place a hand over your hammering heart.

You haven’t had a single dream since you were a child. And now... of all the things you dream about... You sit up, your resolve strengthening. “I’m getting to the bottom of this. I’m going to find Denise and I’m going to figure out what Chris Evans is hiding.”

The next day is your day off, and you head straight to the police station. Your posture stiffens as you speak with the detective in charge of Denise’s missing person case.

Detective answers “I’m sorry, Dr. Ransom, but the alibi checks out. His travel papers are all in order, and we have security footage of the airport. There’s no way Chris Evans was anywhere near San Francisco in the past month.”

“That’s...shocking”. Nicky answered in disbelief. “There just no way.”,” I swear I saw him with Denise.”

Detective answers, “We can keep looking into it, but I’ll be honest. I think it’s a dead end.”

The detective sighs, scratching so thing on a notepad. “Dr. Ransom, it’s been over a week since she’s gone missing. You need to prepare for the worst.”

“I see.” , Nicky answered sadly.

You groan in frustration as you get into the car. For a long moment, you do nothing but stare at the San Francisco street. Then, you pull out Chris’s card and stare at the number.

Nicky thought to herself,”what should I do?. Rush over to his house right now! “Forget it. I don’t owe him anything.” He’s GOT to have more to do with this than he’s told me.”

Your mind races as you drive through the city, following the directions to Chris’s home.

Nicky kept thinking, “ I swear I saw him. I ... I know I did.”

You gather your thoughts back to your car and back to the road in front of you.

Finally, you pull up to large black gate, you feel your jaw drop.

“This place is huge.”Nicky thinking to herself. “He’s loaded...figures.”

You park outside the gate and walk up to the iron bars. There’s a small keypad nearby, but the bars are just slightly ajar. “What should I do?” , “ I’ll try the keypad”.

You press green button on the keypad.

Nicky spoke “Uh, hello?”.

Luckily, a voice speaks through the speaker. “Dr. Ransom?”.

Nicky hesitating,” Yeah?..”.

That seems to be enough, and soon the gate opens for you to enter.

You walk up the path to the mansion, suddenly feeling nervous.

You give the door a short knock.

Nicky thinking to herself “No answer...is he not home?,But the gate opened.”

Then, just like the gate, the door swings open on its own.

Your jaw drops as you take in the enormous foyer.

Nicky spoke shockingly, “C-Chris?”.

You walk inside, looking around in awe. Then you see him. His blue eyes are focused on you as he descends the stairs.

“Hello, Nicky.” Chris greeted you.

Here in this mansion, he outshines even the finest piece of artwork. His beauty is too unreal, too inhuman.

Chris spoke, “Lets find your cousin , shall we?”.

Nicky thinking to herself, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Tags: @denisemarieangelina @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @ohmy-captain @patzammit @daliaevans @lovinevans @mizcaptainphoenix @thatgirly81 @jtargaryen18 @southerngracela @katiew1973 @deidrashouseofpain @pine-fresh-kirk @littlefiercequeen @shellbilee @star-spangled-beard-burn @kirstie-evans-writes @thinkxlovexloud @luvinchris @wintrcaptn @kelbabyblue @americasass91 @comebackandhauntme21 @nomadevans82 @nbarnes @brilliantkey @bellaireland1981 @worksby-d @captaincrazyexlover @shadowcatsworld @chris-butt @chrisevansfanfic @blvck-liquorice @kailyndavillier @what-is-your-plan-today @captain-rogers-beard @waywardodysseys @captainchrisstan @twittytelly @gothamlovr91 @jennmurawski13 @imma-new-soul @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @amazon-x @thatsxamericasxass @chrisrogerscap @ok-buchanan @denissjmaddox @jms358 @xlanawriter

If I missed any tags forgive me it wouldn’t let me add more.

[deadbiwrites]

99 Drunk Balloons

(For @nieladasdenani )

Okay, so look.

Kara’s not, like, a prude when it comes to alcohol. She’s down for sneaking a nip of Alex’s whiskey, if only to laugh at her sister’s indignant squawking when she spots Kara’s plunder. She’s cool to drink ridiculous, fruity nonsense with Nia, and to crack open a beer with Clark after choring (read: heckling him from the porch with Lois) on the farm. She’s especially fond of wine with Lena, the way her eyes get brighter and her laughs louder and her lips wine-stained and irresistible- not that Kara is really all that resistant to those lips, anyway…

So yeah, Kara’s no teetotaler. She can handle her alcohol, no problem.

Obviously.

Alien booze, however… she doesn’t have a ton of experience with that. She’s only ever really tried it the one time, and Mon-El had given her the strongest possible shot (like an asshole), and the resulting awful hangover had kinda soured her to the whole thing.

But Lucy is in town for the night, and she’s managed to smuggle not only herself and Vasquez but a bottle of alien booze out of the desert base, and she’s so proud of herself for it that Kara knows that the gig is up before it’s even cracked open.

 

Lena’s stuck at work, because… something. Kara didn’t- she was paying attention, okay? It’s just that none of the words sounded like real words. But the gist of it was that Lena’s not coming. Which is cool, she’s busy and important and she’s always trying so hard to be everywhere for everyone else that Kara doesn’t have it in her to be upset. Even when it’s, like, super lame.

Ha! Super lame!

“What was that, Kara?” Lucy asks with a devilish grin.

“Nothing. I’m just funny,” Kara informs her, taking another (less than) dainty sip of her drink.

“But are you funny on purpose?” Alex muses.

“Everything I do is on purpose,” Kara sniffs, promptly spilling her drink across the table. A bit fuzzy, but still clear enough to feel the weight of stifled giggles and knowing smirks, Kara rights her empty glass and nods. “See? I was finished with that.”

“Oh my god, she’s wasted,” Nia cackles, delighted.

“I am not!” Kara shouts, instantly shushed by her giggling friends. “I am soberly perfect.” Kara’s brow crinkles, and her head tips to the side. “Oh, wait, no…”

“Oh, honey,” Alex coos at her, pulling Kara snug against her side. Kara briefly considers shrugging her off, but being cuddled is like, her favorite thing in the world, so she decides to roll with it. “Where’s your wife?”

Kara huffs loudly. “She’s not my wife.”

“Not yet,” Lucy says. “What is it, three more weeks?”

“Four,” Kara corrects with what is definitely not her ‘dopey Lena smile’, shut up, Alex. “That’s why she’s stuck at work, I think. Doesn’t wanna worry about stuff before the wedding. Except for, like, the wedding. Hey, d’you think I could get her to do the Cupid Shuffle with me?”

“Only if it’s horizontal,” Lucy says seriously. Kara nods thoughtfully at this.

Alex snorts wine out her nose.

 

The night continues, the drinks keep flowing, and now they’re all laughing and no one seems to really know why, exactly, but they also can’t stop.

Kara’s butt is vibrating, currently, which is at least a small part of why she’s laughing, because it tickles and oh. Oh! It’s her phone! She fishes it out with no small degree of difficulty.

“Kara’s pants! How may I direct your call?” she chirps.

There’s a soft laugh in her ear. “Hey, love. Are you having fun?”

“Lena! We’re having the most fun of anyone! Alex spat wine everywhere, and Nia might be- yup, she’s asleep. Nia! But yes! Hi! Hello! How is your work going?”

Lena snorts. “It was fine, I’m done now, just about to get in the car and head home.”

“Yaaaaaaay!”

“Have you been drinking a little?”

“Nope! I’ve been drinking a lot,” Kara says with a grin.

“Do you want me to come pick you up on my way?”

Kara positively beams. “Heck yeah, please! Vasquez left, and Nia is asleep and Lucy said something about ‘paratrooping’ that made Alex all red and spit more wine…”

Another snort. “Alright, I’m on my way. You’re at Alex’s, right?”

“Yup! Oh hey! I didn’t tell you the best part!”

“What’s that?”

“I get to see you!”

There’s a huff of what Kara knows after several years to be fondness. Or exasperation. Really they’re one and the same, in her experience. “Oh, lord. You’re a flirty drunk, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea! Am I? And is it working, because I would not mind seeing a boob this evening. Would probably really make this night a ten out of ten, for me. Because boobs are great. ‘specially your  boobs. Like, wow.”

“Gross, Kara!” Alex yells, shoving Kara sideways so she flops off of her sister and onto the floor.

“Ow.” Kara turns on her best puppy eyes, though they’re wasted on the non-video call. “Alex hit me.”

“I’m sure she’s sorry.”

Kara hums suspiciously before whisper-shouting, “Are you sorry you hit me?”

“Nope!” Alex says, swatting her on the butt.

“She’s not sorry at all!” Kara gasps. “She hit my butt, and I did not like it! Why do you like that?”

There’s dead silence on all sides before Lucy rolls her head enough to give Alex a shit-eating grin. “You owe me $50.”

“My ears!” Alex wails, immediately grabbing the nearest bottle and upending it into her mouth in the quest for amnesia.

“Okay, so… that just happened. I’m gonna come up to get you, and then we’re gonna go home and I’m gonna not see your sister for a few days. Okay?”

“Okay! She’s mean, anyways.”

“Yes she is.”

***

Lena knew what she was walking into. She’s dealt with drunk people before- she’s been a drunk person, probably with far more regularity than is entirely healthy. She’s handled drunk girlfriends, even.

However.

Drunk Kara is another matter entirely.

 

“Baby!”

This is Lena’s only warning before her arms are fully of a warm, wiggly, very drunk Kryptonian. Lena manages to catch Kara and herself, barely, only stuttering half a step backward at the impact. “Hi there.”

Kara snuggles deeply into her embrace, pressing her face to Lena’s neck and breathing deeply. “Y’smell so nice. How d’you always smell nice?”

Lena coughs, fighting the good fight against the flush creeping up her neck. She ducks her head to the side, smiling sheepishly and giving the still-conscious occupants of the room a wave. “Hello.”

Lucy offers her a lazy half-wave and Alex glares while Nia snores away. “Hey hey, Luthor. Gonna take her home?”

“Well I’m not flyin’, that’s for sure,” Kara laughs, and Lena suppresses the urge to shudder as Kara’s hot breath puffs against her neck.

“Can’t have Supergirl knocking a jetliner out of the sky,” Lena says with a smile. “That’s a lot of paperwork for you.”

Lucy waves that away with a slow grin. “Nah, I’d just make Alex do it.”

Alex, without looking over or breaking the seal of her lips on the bottle, stretches her leg out, plants her foot firmly to Lucy’s side, and shoves hard, sending Lucy flying.

And with Kara now mouthing wetly at her neck and murmuring things in Kryptonian that she’s extremely glad only she can hear, Lena gives them a parting wave and starts to struggle her way down the hall with Kara’s weight heavy against her side.

“How are you so heavy?” she groans playfully, shifting a bit so Kara’s arm is thrown over her shoulder and hers is wrapped snugly around Kara's waist.

Kara pouts at her, the new position preventing her from being able to reach Lena’s neck with her mouth. “You saying I’m fat?”

“I don’t think anyone on Earth could call you fat. You are shockingly heavy for being as thin as you are, though. I wonder if your bone or muscle structure is denser than ours? Or if it’s a result of Earth’s gravity…”

Kara’s pout deepens. “Sounds like you’re calling me fat with science.”

Lena huffs at her affectionately. “Don’t be a brat. Did you have fun?”

Kara’s face lights up. “We had so much fun! We played games, and Nia learned why she shouldn’t play shot poker with Lucy and Alex, and it turns out that Lucy mixes really good drinks with the stuff I drink- d’you think she practiced? I bet she practiced. We should go ask!” Kara turns on her heel, only stopped when she feels Lena tug her backward by a belt loop. She tips her head back until she can see her upside-down girlfriend- nope! Wait! Fiancee! “No?”

“No. Not unless you want to learn what paratrooping is,” Lena chuckles.

Kara’s nose wrinkled. “I prob’ly don’t.”

“Probably not.”

“Can we get balloons? I just- I really think I need to get a balloon, y’know? You ever just really need to have a balloon?”

Lena grins. “I can’t say that I have, but sure. We can stop and get you a balloon.”

“You’re the best fiancée anywhere, ever. And I’d know, ‘cause like, I’ve been to other anywheres and other evers. And yeah, you definitely win the fiancée contest. By a mile. Because nobody else got their fiancée balloons.”

“Deeply impressed that you managed to say fiancée correctly three times when you can’t walk straight.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s fun to say! And fun to think! We’re almost married! That’s nuts! Who said we were allowed?”

Lena pops onto her tiptoes to plant a sound kiss to Kara’s flushed cheek. “We did, I think.”

“Oh, yeah, right. We’re so smart, for doing that. ‘Cause now you’re my fiancée. Which is fun to say. Know what else is fun to say? Balloon. Balloon, balloon, balloon. Y’ever do that thing, where you say a word so many times that it doesn’t even sound like a real word anymore?”

“Synergy. Margins. Quarterly…” Lena laughs as they finally, mercifully reach the elevator. “Pretty much any time I have a board meeting, at least one word sounds made up by the end.”

“That makes sense. Hey! I bet I can be a balloon!”

“What do you- Kara!”

Kara grins down at her, hovering a foot or so off the ground. “This is fun!”

“Kara, you can’t be a balloon right now, what if someone sees you?”

“They’ll think they’re drunk.”

“That only works when they are drunk. Right now the only drunk one is you.”

“’m not drunk, you’re just blurry,” Kara giggles. “Cute blurry.”

Lena hooks her finger through Kara’s belt loop again when she starts to float too high, relieved when it brings her closer. “Can you be a balloon closer to the ground?”

“I dunno, ‘m just a balloon, Lena, duh.”

Lena snorts, tugging her into the elevator when it arrives, resigned to her fate. “You’re a very talkative balloon.”

“Am I being a bad balloon? You gonna pop me?”

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Is this… supposed to be a euphemism?”

“What’s a euphonium?”

“Right, not a euphemism, got it.”

Kara blinks at her, eyes too-bright in that way they get sometimes when she’s overtired (or, apparently, drunk). “Am I annoying you?”

“No more so than usual,” Lena grins. At Kara’s crestfallen look, she pulls her close until she can wrap her in a proper hug. “You’re not being annoying, love, just funny. And I’m really happy that you had such a good time with your friends, especially since I feel so bad about bailing on you last minute. I’ll carry you home any day of the week, Kara Danvers, because I love you.”

“Even when I’m bein’ a balloon?”

“Nobody I’d rather have on the end of my string,” Lena confirms, thumb tracing over the braided metal band of Kara's betrothal bracelet.

Kara nods with a big, goofy smile, pressing a kiss to Lena’s mouth that tastes… not quite like anything Lena’s ever tasted before. Something sweet and sticky and not exactly unpleasant. “Awesome. Love you too. Can we still go get a balloon?”

Lena laughs loud and bright in the tiny, snail’s pace elevator. “We can get you a dozen balloons.”

 

(Kara remembers none of this the next morning, and emerges from their bedroom squinting and questioning the large bouquet of balloons emblazoned with messages ranging from 'It's a Boy!' to 'Get Well Soon!'.

Lena is only too delighted to remind her.)

[starcrossedyanderes]

Xavier w/ Big Sick Darling

You knew it was going to be a bad day the moment you woke up and felt that acid coming out your mouth.

You knew it the moment you started to hunch over the toilet and started retching.

Oh and as if Captain Obvious was screaming in your ear you knew it was most certainly an awful day when you felt that awful taste on your teeth and felt your mom help pull back your hair.

For today was a bad day because it seemed you were indeed the big sick.

With a thermometer stuck in your ear you limply laid under your warm covers in an attempt to get comfortable.

With a beep and a sigh the thermometer was pulled out to reveal in black numbers that spelled your fate.

“Degree of 100. Looks like somebody won’t be going to school.”

Reaching over your body your mom’s hands wrapped around a white bottle and started to fight against the lid before it popped off and 2 tablets laid in her hands.

“Okay, there’s some flavored water in that big tervis cup, you got advil right next to you, bowl by your bed, cozy blankets, the only thing we’re missing is some good food. How about we get you some doordash from that breakfast place you like so much?”

Your eyes pitifully looked into your mother’s as you barely whispered out a “please.”

Her pink lips pressed against your forehead before she pulled away.

“I’m so sorry honey, but you’re a big girl now and your father and I have to go to work. But feel free to get DoorDash and call us if you need anything. Hope you feel better sweetie.”

As soon as your mom left your room and you could hear the door shut and a car start up did you turn around on your side to stare at your wall whilst your arm wrapped like a boa constrictor around your beloved plushie.

You were quite tired from such a rude awakening and loosing all the contents of your stomach but still you choose to stay awake so you would be ready for when your food gets here.

But it seemed your plan had failed as your eyes slowly became heavier, breathing got slower, and the brain became slugger. Right as your eyes were about to close and succumb to a land of dreams it was rudely stopped in its tracks by a loud BRRRRINNNG!

Your body shot up from its lying position as a slight cursed was whispered under your breath. Can’t a girl sleep for once!?

A hand harshly gripped your phone and with a quick tug it was put right against your ear.

“Hello?”

Wow, was your voice that pathetic when sick? “Dahling, I’m headed your vay. I’m afraid ve may be a bit late though because i vas.. um, occupied vith something.”

Your eyes slowly blinked like a lizard.

Oh yeah, you completely forgot about this guy.

“Er, your highness I won’t be coming to school?”

You had to hold your ear after hearing quite the earsplitting noise.

“YOU VHAT!? Vhy in the vorld vould you do zo?”

“Oh, I’m uh.. sick your majesty.”

And just like a switch turning in his head his voice and composure changed in an instance to hushed whispers and soft coos.

“Oh, my poor dahling. You should have yust said zo.”

And once again he did a complete 160 as your heard him yell,

“Drivah! Gun it! BYSTRO!”

Oh and you were already getting a migraine from his mood swings just listening to him.

“I’ll be there az soon az I can sveetie. And don’t even think about going outzide. Tata!”

And just like that he hung up.

Now that was the sure sign of today being a bad day.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

The long, sleek vehicle pulled up into the suburban neighborhood that was practically dead quiet as all the parents were now at work and children were at school.

A tinted black window rolled down just the slightest as the car was slowly coming to a stop so only his harsh emerald green eyes could be seen. Only the smallest of glances was gifted to his guards as only the mere words of “go get them for me.” were spoken.

A door swung open and 5 buff men stepped out dressed in black suits and each of them had the stereotypical little white earcoms. Each of them looked like the could take out 10 men and a bear just by themselves.

“Yes your majesty.”

Only 2 of the burly men walked up to your door and quite ironically gently knocked on your door thrice. Despite the lack of response once reaching into a pocket and pulling out a little box that held a far too ornamental of a key.

With just a swift turn there were allowed access and didn’t waste a moment to quickly walk up stairs and swoop you, who was just happening to be brushing her teeth again from another throwing up session, up into their arms and proceeded to carry a confused (y/n) down the stairs in a variant of an arm throne.

“Uh.. could you put me down?”

You received no response and knowing these bodyguards you knew that you would not be able to get down yourself.

“He does realize he could just knock.. right?”

Once again no response.

You cursed Xavier for having such robotic like protectors.

The front door was now in view and was swung open by another guard outside.

The men carrying you carefully stepped inside and once passing the remanding 3 guards bowed down to you before rushing to get into their places. One of them while bowing opened the limousine door where you could already see Xavier’s golden locks practically taunting you as the 2 guards carefully lowered onto one of the seats in the limousine.

Once safely on the leather and door being shut you let out a string of grumbles questioning how necessary that whole procedure was. But you didn’t have long to do that before Xavier’s body practically rammed into you in a hug.

“Dahling!”

His head nuzzled into your neck as you could see the content look on his face.

“Um. Your highness that may not be the best idea since I am, you know, sick..”

His once closed eyes opened up with a glint shining in them as his arms tightened around you more.

“Do not care. My princess iz zick and I will take care of her.”

The glint immediately dissapeared in his eyes as he let out a gasp.

“Oh my! Vhat if I get zick?”

At that sentence your body relaxed in his hold, finally he was starting to understand something and would just leave you alone at home.

“Then I could have my printsessa take care of me, like I am vith her.”

And you think his grip got tighter and his head started to rub against hers more aggresively.

“Oh, how I vould love that. My own printsessa doting over me vhilst I am frail. Oh now that truly zounds zomething like a dream.

Vait, vhat am I doing? If I am planning on taking care ov you I need to know your zymptoms. So vhat iz wrong vith you?”

Your body slightly teetered as you nibbled on your lip.

“Well I have a fever of 100 and I’ve been throwi- why are you looking at me like that?”

Xavier’s emerald green eyes looked into yours with what could only be described as shock before he seemed to force a smile on his face and make his face appear more kind.

“Uh my sveet princess, my dahling dearest. You mozt certainly do not have a fever of 100. For your vlood vould boil and you vould be dead.”

A cough was heard from the other side of the limousine causing the prince to snap his head to that direction and practically hiss out “vhat?”

His bodyguard spoke up by politely and quietly saying, “Your majesty, I believe th- er- your princess meant she had a fever of 38.”

Xavier’s mouth went from a scowl to an ‘o’ before he quickly pulled himself together and turned back to you.

“Yes, yes. A fever of vun hundred iz concerning. That zort of fever is uzually caused by an illness. Don’t vorry my dahling, I’ll be zure you get the best care.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

As much as you hated to admit it you were getting shockingly good care in Xavier’s penthouse. He gave you excellent medicine and food along with having his own personal doctor coming to you to check you over.

It turns out you just had the basic stomach bug.

Yet despite this fact Xavier was still being his over-dramatic self.

You were surprised he wasn’t a king yet. A drama king that is.

But still you had to admit it was quite nice here. You managed to get a couple hours of sleep thanks to the oh so heavenly soft sheets that just engulfed you in their warmth. Also his pets were just so nice and cute!

Marciel, Xavier’s monkey, was nice enough to take care of your messy hair by cleaning it strand by strand until there was probably not even a speck of dirt.

Indigo was also nice enough to honk more quietly and even sat down next to your side and decided to nap with you.

And Ebony seemed to think Indigo had an excellent idea as well and fell asleep with her head your leg.

You’ll have to admit all of these awesome animals almost make putting up with Xavier bearable. Almost.

Remember if you make a wish on a shooting star your wish

sʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀs

[sammysreelreviews]

8 New Netflix Originals

Hello people there is a lot happening May 10th. Britney is going to court, Bieber is dropping a new song, and Netflix is dropping new shit per usual. Here are some new movies and shows that are coming out and some that are already out. I promise that the next post will be for my Hulu hoes. I’ve been neglecting you and it’s not fair. I’ve also been frantically binging Netflix foreign films and shows so expect some lists soon about those too! If you love Prime I probably won’t post until June and I’m so sorry it’s just that Hulu literally owns my ass and I only watch Netflix cause it gets people to actually read this blog! Also please notice how I gave 8 options instead of the usual 4 or 5. Do not ask me for a Netflix recommendation until fucking July. Ok enough of me rambling happy binging!

1. The Society (Season 1)

A group of good looking teens wake up in their town but they realize somethings off when their parents are all gone. Kathryn Newton stars in this show and the writer of this blog (me the beautiful and charismatic Samantha McFarland) was an extra on it! Obviously I can’t tell y’all what happens but I think you’ll love it! Btw thats me in the right hand corner with the maroon hat on! Woo!

Streaming: May 10th

2. Someone Great (2019)

Jenny’s (Gina Rodriguez) boyfriend (the amazing LaKeith Stanfield) breaks up with her the night before she’s supposed to move across the country so her best friends Blair (Brittany Snow) and Erin (Netflix’s She’s Gotta Have it star DeWanda Wise) help her have an epic last night out in New York City. I actually really loved this movie cause it flashbacks to the relationship. It also is genuinely funny and TOO relatable. It’s like Broad City in movie form.

Streaming: Now

3. Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile (2019)

Zac Efron, the love of my life, plays Ted Bundy in a creepy look into his life. Lily Collins plays Ted’s girlfriend at the time and Kaya aka Effy fucking Stonem Scodelario plays his wife. If you’re looking for a movie that shows the murders, this is not it. This film is all about showing how much Ted was a psychopath. Zac shines in this and you need to see.

Streaming: Now

4. The Last Summer (2019)

This thrown together movie is about a some high school seniors enjoying their last summer before college. I’m not gonna lie it’s not very good but Kj Apa, Tyler Posey, Halston Sage, and Maia Mitchell are in it. So if you love any of those people I guess it’s the cheesy movie for you.

Streaming: Now

5. Easy (Season 3)

Easy is one of my favorite Netflix original shows and this is sadly the last season! Each episode shows the dynamic of a different couple. Some couples are recurring throughout the seasons while some episodes have new couples! I’ve written about the show Easy before and I will be writing about it again VERY soon. Dave Franco, Kiersey Clemons, and Orlando Bloom are in it to name a few stars. If you love a realistic adult show about love and life this is the show for you! 

Streaming: May 10th

6. Dead to Me (Season 1)

Christina Applegate plays a recently widowed woman who makes a new friend who seems to have a secret. I honestly haven’t watched any of this yet cause I’m currently between literally 15 shows right now, I am not even exaggerating, so I haven’t had the time to get to it. BUT I’ve only heard amazing things so give it a go and if it sucks you can’t blame me I’m just giving y’all some fucking options.

Streaming: Now

7. Wine Country (2019)

This is a film with Amy Poheler, Tina Fey, Rachel Dratch, and Maya Rudolph with other funny women in Napa drinking wine... need I say more?

Streaming: May 10th

8. See You Yesterday (2019)

CJ (Eden Duncan-Smith) and her bff Sebastian (Dante Crichlow) build a time machine to save Cj’s brother who was murdered innocently by a cop. I’m so excited about this movie. I’ve learned that I love time travel movies for some reason but the fact that the cast is all black makes me extremely happy. It’s so great to have a black girl portrayed as a genius and show the real effects of police brutality. Representation is so important and I’m glad Netflix is catching on to that.

Streaming: May 17th

[deerheadlights]

Chapter 3: mega dramatic

When Marduniya woke up, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been awake. Then again the circumstances weren’t favorable to reflection. Everything was moving, how had he fallen asleep on a bucking horse? No, he was in a wooden room, it must be an earthquake! He fell off the pallet and attempted to crawl under the table. There was pounding on the walls from the outside, and shrieking wind. This is wrong, it’s taking too long and moving side to side! Suddenly, the door was thrown open by an old man. Have I lost my mind? He’s shouting but nothing makes any sense! The language sounded loopy with staccato endings… he wasn’t mad, the old man was just a Yauna. Three voices from behind him answered his call. Marduniya whipped around, where had they come from? A pale girl with her hands pressed against her mouth and two angry men. Water flowed from behind the first man. What a strange dream he thought as the whole world suddenly turned, the table he sheltered under fell under him, and three bodies were tossed against him. He still couldn’t understand when water lapped up to him, slowly at first, then all of a sudden it was pressing against his body, his mouth, his throat. A pair of hands grabbed him as he banged his head against the floor-turned ceiling and the doorframe. He inhaled in a burning rush, just a few seconds shy of surfacing from the water. The wound in his chest also burned like a brand. Could this be the burning river of ordeal? It all came back to him. The battle at Issus. He was dead, he was undergoing his trials, to burn off the impurities of his soul and enter paradise with whatever was left. But why am I with these Yauna then? They don’t worship the wise god… why aren’t my father and uncle here, I saw them fall too… He was starting to sink again when the hands flung him over the remains of the mast, the buoyant wood keeping them afloat. The owner of the hands got right in his face, “You will kick.” he said, conjugating his verbs in the old Persian style. His dark wet beard and wild eyes put Marduniya in mind of the great guardian sculptures in the palace at Nineveh. So he wasn’t in the wrong place, there was something to guide him on this trial. He just had to kick to reach the other side.

 It was difficult. The sea was roiling around them and his limbs felt weak, obviously since he was dead. The burning at his chest wouldn’t let up. He reflected on his past transgressions. I never told a real lie… but I may have misrepresented the truth. But only murderers and traitors burnt to nothing on the River of Ordeal, and he had killed plenty of lizards in his short life. He remembered a priest in the great temple at Zadrakarta assuring him once when he went to the capital of Varkana. His father...was.... a lord of a manor who swore fealty to the satrap of [Varkana or Parthia?]. The priest had taken off his white mask once they had walked a respectable distance from the great flame altar and stated, for an additional fee, he would be sure to count towards the relief of sins of any man going soldiering in the west. And then they had left with the rest of the satraps division. As a young nobleman he was attached to an officer. He had expected more action. Before Issus, it was all riding, currying the horses, riding, watering the horse, riding, feeding the horses. At least he didn’t have to walk like the common soldiers. Then that gujastak, the accursed one, had caught them while they were waiting for the naval reinforcement. It was hard to say if he had acquitted himself well, he’d been in the [right arm??] crossing the river. He’d cut someone at least, and gotten cut in return before everything seemed to collapse around him. He didn’t make the choice to flee, as soon as the left saw the King’s chariot flying, all the horses seemed to move as a herd. But his beautiful storm gray charger had gotten hit in the neck, he remembered now, and had fallen and that was probably when he had died.

 There was a horse here, too, he could hear it snorting as it swam. It wasn’t his though, dun as it was. Across the water there was only stars, could it be they were swimming straight into the sky?...

 ----

 They’d lost their sailor when the boat capsized. Poor old bastard, the sea always gets them in the end, Tydeus thought. Though Xanthe was still swimming by them so that was something. The wind had picked up before the storm, he prayed they had gone a good enough distance to at least be close to the southern islands of the Aegean. At least the rain had stopped, though the sea still churned. Alkyone’s hands slipped off the remnants of the mast again and he pulled them back up. “Hold on and kick!” he commanded, but she was muttering to herself through mouthfuls of water “Alkyone, it’s all such a bad joke! So much for their goat!...”

 Nothon had his head down and was kicking doggedly. It may have been the only thing trustworthy about him, but Tydeus knew he could trust the man’s instinct for self-preservation. Shockingly, the Persian who had spent the past few hours shaking from ague was kicking as well. The cold sea water is probably doing him some good.

 The first inch of gray dawn was starting to appear. If they were by the islands like he’d planned, then the earliest fishermen would putting out their boats. He had to get their attention. “HELP! CREW IN DISTRESS!” all his companions jerked at once. Looks like he still had his naval crew voice. “Hello?” A call came, barely audible over the waves, and the group was reinvigorated. They continued kicking, until a boat with two figures was visible as a shadow on the horizon. Two fisherman, younger and older, gawked at them. “Did you all get caught in the storm?” “... I don’t suppose you have room for our horse?”