#it is now midnight . zero words have in fact been written

[uitzinnigmp3]

damn this google doc got hands

[actiniumwrites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓

synopsis: in which you play the bandit in zosimos’ play, aka kaeya’s counterpart. when an unscripted moment occurs between the two of you on stage, you can’t help but realize your feelings for him are all but lost

characters: kaeya x gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, like one cuss word, takes place in the 3.8 summer event, this was entirely written at midnight last night in one setting (so it might be ass)

notes: i absolutely loved this event and had to write something for kaeya! this definitely could have been a small scene in a bigger fic, but i feel like it worked as a drabble. also, i may or may not have a really long fic being written for him 👀 apologies if you’re reading this in the future and didn’t get to play the event and have zero clue what’s going on 😭

Damn these lights!

A subtle burning on both corners of either of your eyes was all you could focus on. The orange was coming from the left, while the blue was coming from the right. The intensity of each of them guaranteed you a painful headache later — a thought you had to send away before you groaned, an action that was certainly not within the script.

The sides of your lips were pulling downward against your will and your foot was starting to slip just a tad bit to the side. Any longer and you felt like you were going to collapse. Kaeya was taking too long to recite his lines, going all in with the theatrics and intense emotions. His hands waved dramatically in the air and his voice was booming, even though the crowd consisted entirely of your friends. If he could just hurry up and walk over to where you were stuck posing upright, then you could finally act out the final scene of Zosimos’ play and finish fixing the domain like you were supposed to be doing.

Admittedly, you had no intention of joining the play when Zosimos first announced he needed help with it. In fact, the script originally didn’t even include your character, The Bandit. It wasn’t until Zosimos came rushing out of his writing room complaining something was wrong with the script that he had somehow found a way to force you into the whole ordeal.

“Me?!” Your eyes widened when he pointed in your general direction. Honestly, you were barely even paying attention to the guy. So when he suddenly started pointing fingers and incoherently mumbling ideas about a new character, you were certainly startled.

“Yes! You!” he beamed with excitement and started shuffling around for a paper and pen, “I was just observing you and your boyfriend here, and suddenly I got the idea! You’ll be the thief’s sidekick: the bandit who he saved from a life of crime. Your real life dynamic is nothing but perfect for the role!”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when you realized what he said, “Huh? Hey, wait! Kaeya isn’t my—!”

He rushed off before you could correct him, laughing to himself and eagerly looking for some ink to adjust his script. Whether he heard you or not, it was obvious the playwright didn’t care. His mind was made up on the idea and you knew that there was no changing a mind like his.

Now you were stuck in this predicament. Eyes burning, leg cramping, and desperately wanting to go home to save yourself from the embarrassment of having zero acting skills. That and the fact that Kaeya and the others couldn’t help but tease you to no end after Zosimos’ assumption.

“I’m back!” Kaeya said as he walked over to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you returned to acting like your character. A bright smile pulled at the sides of your lips when you saw the prop in his hands. You had to stop yourself from squinting at it and ruining the scene. While your character was supposed to be happy, you were certainly not.

Kaeya moved slightly in front of you, shielding you from some of the harsh lights. The orange one still caught your side, lighting you as if you were standing amidst a beautiful sunset. And star props hanging above the stage gently reflected across your irises, almost like you had stars in your eyes. You looked up at your counterpart and breathed out as a your character slowly realized what was going on, “You…you got it? The darkness is finally over?”

Kaeya held his breath as he looked at you, stunned at the way you looked in all the stage lights and the beautifully sewn costume Idyia had tailored to you. His hands cupped themselves around yours and he pulled you in closer, “That’s right…we can finally live together in peace.”

His blue eyes were a much gentler sight to look at, contrasting the intense lights all around you. Kaeya leaned in gently, ready to pose for the final scene as Zosimos prepared to give his final narration and end the play.

When a few seconds passed and nothing was being said, your head tilted slightly past his shoulder so you could peer into the tiny crowd and figure out what was going on. All of them were sitting on the edge of their seats, enthralled by the sight in front of them, eagerly anticipating what was coming next — even the ever so apathetic Eula seemed to be waiting carefully. You quietly clear your throat, hoping the playwright would hear, but it seemed he too couldn’t tear his eyes away. Kaeya’s hand gently left one of your hands and reached up to meet your cheek, cupping it slightly and pulling you in.

“Wait, this wasn’t part of the script—” you hurriedly whisper and quickly glance between him and the crowd, but Kaeya cuts you off when his lips meet yours. He leans you back slightly, but pulls you in with the hand on the lower part of your back. It’s desperate, messy, but over far too quickly for your liking. He’s smiling into the kiss and it doesn’t leave his face when he pulls away and glances into your eyes for a split second before turning to the crowd. Before you know it, he’s grabbing onto your hand and the two of you are bowing together. With wide eyes and a flushed face, you turn to look at the crowd as well.

Collei is smiling brightly next to Eula who smiled a bit herself, but not before turning away so no one could see. Paimon is cheering loudly, but it’s not enough to drown out Zosimos who’s clapping profusely. You swear you see some tears fall out of his eyes as well. And soon enough, Kokomi, Aether, and Klee are next to you, bowing alongside the two of you.

You turn to Kaeya in the midst of it all, only to find him already looking at you with the biggest smile you think you’ve ever seen on his face. The lights are shining just as brightly as they were in your eyes, although you’re sure he looks a thousand times better than you do. His hand squeezes yours and he winks before turning back to the audience.

Suddenly the years you spent pining after your best friend come to a close as you finally realize: Kaeya had liked you all along and this was his grand way of finally showing it to you.

[nicholsroy]

November updates & December goals

Blog | Monthly updates

It's nearly December (which, side note, is wild - does it feel to anyone else like this year, in particular, just flew by?), a time where things tend to slow to a near-halt in terms of productivity as we prepare for various winter holidays. In terms of the personal writing schedule I maintain in my head, however, it feels a bit like things are busier than ever. Without further ado, updates and follow-up on November's goals are as follows:

November updates

NaNoWriMo: Absolutely blew this out of the water like a boss.

Nah, I'm totally kidding. I'd be lying if I said I was upset about this, though, because I "failed" for the best possible reason - I regained my full motivation for putting together LIFE IN BLACK AND WHITE's final manuscript, and have been fully focused on that for about the last 10-15 days. That being said, I did count all new words from scene editing toward the NaNoWriMo goal. Here's my (approximate) breakdown:

Warmups/drabbles: ~1,098

THE DOTTED LINE reoutline: 2,036

SUPERNOVA zero draft: 6,700

LIFE IN BLACK AND WHITE scene editing: ~3,000

I extend my encouragement and congrats to everyone else who took part, regardless of whether or not you "won". As an old curmudgeon who's participated in the challenge most years since 2008 (won five times, excluding one Camp NaNoWriMo win), my philosophy about this and similar challenges is basically: even if you don't "win," you've probably written more words this month than you would have otherwise. I know I did.

Query preparations:

I still can't believe I'm seeing this low of a chapter/WC discrepancy for this novel.

Goals for the final version of the manuscript, other than line editing/playing around with prose, fixing plot holes/inconsistencies, addressing beta comments, and fact-checking, include making the novel more marketable/more of a "typical" thriller in any way I can that doesn't affect the overall story. This has included things like restructuring the novel to make it "truly" dual timeline (ie. chapters now alternate consistently between THEN and NOW segments across both Acts), choosing strategic areas to end chapters and to split the Acts and main story arcs, and limiting individual chapters to 5,000 words maximum. This has resulted in more and shorter chapters, but it's also, weirdly enough, allowed me to more easily incorporate content about core story messages and themes, address some kind of unfinished/potentially unsatisfying plot threads, and develop parts of Gabriel's story that were previously lacking without completely obliterating the word count. I am very excited about this, especially because some of the aforementioned plot elements have been major headaches for years!

With the new structure, I've set myself a WC goal of 50,000 words per Act (bringing the total to 100,000 words). My actual goal is 110,000 words for the novel, but I want to try to leave myself as much wiggle room as possible for whatever new scenes/partial scenes/bridging scenes I need to add to close gaps with the dual timeline structure.

After this process is finished, I'll need to do a final readthrough for consistency, and then it's capital-D Done (until an agent asks me to edit it again, anyway)!

In terms of preparations for the actual querying process, I added one agent to my query list this month (and am considering adding a second).

Reading: I'm now 10 books (83%) into my reading goal for 2023!

Read this month:

The Keeper by Jessica Moor

December goals

Currently, my only writing priorities for December are:

To finish the line edit and re-assembly of LIFE IN BLACK AND WHITE, Act I;

Get at least a good chunk into the line edit and re-assembly of Act II;

Finish my query letter (finally).

I may also participate in another NYC Midnight challenge this month (a 250-word flash story this time), but this will depend on a few different factors.

I will also read at least two books in order to finish my 2023 reading challenge. These will most likely be A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara and Angels Before Man by Rafael Nicolás, unless something else comes up prior to the end of the month.

[iluvromance]

i haven't written a PD fic in so long......... i hope i can still pull it off. this is mia's internal monologue as she dances with michael at the cultural diversity dance. about 1700 words. :D

***

I think I’ve been wrong about Michael Moscovitz, and it’s biting me in the butt now.

I’ve danced with people, sure, like at weddings and with Lilly in the privacy in her room, or mine (not usually since my mom doesn’t like to hear Britney Spears playing at midnight), but there’s a difference between dancing with yourself when you’re comfortable and dancing with someone else. Especially if the other person is a boy.

Not that I’m uncomfortable dancing with Michael Moscovitz or whatever.

Well, maybe I’m just nervous, but it’s certainly weird because as I’m following him to the dance floor, I’m looking at the back of his head and thinking: “How the heck am I supposed to dance WITH someone?”. I’m in heels and Michael is, at best, three inches taller than me. It hits me that I’ll have to look him in the eye.

And let me tell you. Looking Michael Moscovitz in the eye is not for the faint of heart.

Not because he’s intimidating or whatever, but because he does this thing where he REALLY focuses on you when you’re speaking. It’s weird for such an antisocial person to have pretty good social skills, but I’m serious. Whenever I’m talking, I feel his eyes on me. And it’s weirder because even if I’m not speaking to him, I can still feel his dark eyes following me. They don’t even follow my hands (Grandmere says I REALLY need to stop being so gesticulative) when I’m talking. They just zero in on my face. Like lasers. The non threatening kind.

Sometimes it really makes you lose your train of thought.

So as I’m walking behind him, all I’m thinking is that I’ll need to talk slowly and carefully if he strikes up a conversation. And this is Michael so of course he’s going to be talking. He has something to say about everything. Like his sister, but also in a different way. Both of the Moscovitz’s are very intellectual and smart, but, I don’t know. Michael talks more easily. It makes sense in my head.

He turns and looks at me. I nearly bump into him. I’m not even talking and he’s already really looking at me. And this is when I realize I should never have assumed Michael doesn’t know the first thing about girls. I mean, he’s cute, so of course he’s had girls crush on him.

And when he immediately places his hands on my waist, I’m totally taken aback.

There’s a moment of awkwardness where I don’t know what to do with my arms. I’ve never waltz with anyone. This is the closest thing to a waltz right? Grandmere hasn't given me lessons on the waltz yet!

So I do a quick look around and find that people have their arms around the other person’s neck.

Michael raises his eyebrows in a silent question. It’s so brief that I barely catch it. I put my arms around his neck. Some of his hair touches my fingers. It's really soft.

Half of my arms rest on his shoulders. They're very firm.

I will say that being that close to him reminds me of his clean boy smell that I always get a whiff of when he’s tutoring me in G&T.

He kind of pulls me closer. It does something to my stomach, and I can suddenly feel all the contents in it, but it takes me a long time to notice that it’s different from the feeling I get before I have to throw up. This time, the nerves settle into a permanent form of freaking out, and they just stay like that. Like I'm on the verge of a panic attack, but I'll never actually tip over.

I’m expecting him to say something. Something about the music and how it sucks and how he wishes high school would be more modernized so that we could be dancing to pop punk, but he doesn’t say anything. In fact, this is the longest I think Michael has ever been silent. No quirky remarks or roll of his eyes when someone passes us saying something weird.

I tighten my fingers together behind his head. I hope I’m doing this right. Michael moves first, which is so surprising that I nearly feel a nosebleed coming on. He sort of…sways.

I glance down at our feet. They aren’t really moving. This is weird. I don't hate it.

I’m right about our height difference. We’re nearly eye to eye, and Michael is not saying anything and he’s just looking at me and it’s… it’s kind of nice. He’s looking at me like…

Michael’s never said a negative about me since news of my princess-ness hit the newsstands. He never said anything about my hair. Or my dresses. Or my lipstick, aside from that one time when he called it war paint, but still. He never told Lilly or made fun of me. He never pried about Josh. He just accepted it all.

Should I say something? Make conversation? Are Tina and Lilly looking over at this? I feel a blush form over my cheeks. Lilly! She must think I have the biggest crush on her brother! How embarrassing!

But as I’m thinking of something to say, I look into Michael’s eyes, and I guess that dim lighting in the room is making his eyes darker than usual or something because they look different. Michael already has super dark eyes. His eyelashes are thick too. His eyebrows are well defined naturally. And since there isn’t really anything to talk about or anywhere else to look at, I sort of just glance down at his lips.

It’s totally natural to look at someone’s face all casually. I don't think Michael notices that I peeked at his mouth because it’s dark and maybe he can’t even see me all that well. He doesn’t say anything about it, but then again, he doesn’t say anything at all.

His hair is falling into his eyes, lightly curling at the ends. I don't think I’ll be able to write about this in my journal. I just know what I’m thinking of right now. He blinks, trying to get the hair out of his eyes and in that moment, he looks so cute.

I think he gets irritated by his hair, though, because he messily pushes his fringe away with a hand. I notice how cold that part of my dress feels when he removes his hand. But when it comes back, it’s warm again.

I’m dancing with Michael Moscovitz. He's asked me to dance. And as we’re doing this weird sway kind of thing, I think about us dancing the next song. The DJ clearly is playing a mixture of songs. The next one will be one of those fast disco tech songs that everyone loves recently. They’re great, but it’s really hard to dance. I wonder if he’ll keep wanting to dance.

As I’m thinking this, the DJ switches the song. As expected, it’s one of the fast paced ones. Students around us cheer, and I let Michael’s neck go.

“Have to sit this one out, Thermopolis,” Michael says, releasing me.

“Yeah, me too,” I say.

I half expect him to go off with his friends after having spent so much time with the freshman, but he actually follows me back to where we were previously sitting. I have to sit on my hands because they're shaking, but Michael looks as cool as always. He just reaches for his water and takes a slow sip. I have to look away. My stomach still feels weird.

I will definitely not be able to write this in my journal. I don't have the words to describe this feeling. It's just on the edge of overwhelming.

“You know who’s absolutely underrated as a good guy?” he says, putting his plastic cup down. He looks down at me, eyes sparkling. “Anakin Skywalker.”

“Darth Vader?” I gasp. “A good guy?”

“Yeah. He’s totally a good guy.”

“Are you crazy?”

Michael laughs. He has to talk louder over the music. “No. I seriously think so. I hope when the next episodes come out, they do his story justice.”

“Is this just because he saved Luke from dying that one time?”

“I just think he has the potential to be a really good guy if he has a good story. I mean, it takes a lot for someone to turn to the Dark Side. It’s probably totally justified. Maybe he’ll be a better character than Leia.”

I gasp again. “There cannot be a better character than Leia.”

“We’ll see in the theater when we get there.”

I’m momentarily stumped when he says this because I don’t know if he means us together in the theater or just in general. I have to recover quickly, though, because he keeps going. He has a lot to say now that we’re not dancing.

But when we fall into an easy, energetic conversation about Star Wars, the music suddenly changes. The DJ has played two fast paced songs, so now it’s time for a slow one.

I don’t even see the music change register on Michael’s face. Because in the same breath that he says, “The graphics are way more advanced than any movie critic could ever imagine” he also says, “Hey, wanna dance?”

I look at Lilly and Boris already returning to the dance floor. So I nod my head, and the butterflies in my stomach erupt again. “Sure.”

Michael smiles slightly, just barely there, and then stands up. He gestures to me to walk in front this time, teasingly saying, “Princess” and when I walk by him, my heart is hammering so hard in my chest, I can scarcely hear the music.

I think Michael Moscovitz might like me. He’s smarter than me, totally deserving of a cuter girl, and he could probably get anyone he wants, but he’s asked me to dance with him. Twice. I really think he might like me. And it scares me, but it also makes me think that I, too, like Michael Moscovitz.

[omiramotakiart]

Random Nerevarine and Dagoth Ur completely not lore friendly interaction I wrote at midnight while on meds (btw my Nerevarine is a very fucked up middle age dunmer lady who gives zero shits about the prophecy) excuse all errors in this, I'm tired.

"Sharmat," her voice echoed through the chamber, Merezdis still wondered if she was making the right choice, she'd even downed a few shots of sujamma before entering, for luck, she told herself as the looming figure turned around and walked towards her, a humming of sorts coming from the face behind the mask, was it condescendance? Intrigue? A sick satisfaction of sorts?

"Have you come to talk, Neverar, most beloved?"

"I am no Indoril Nerevar, let alone a hero or…" screw it, damn it to Oblivion, all of it, she felt the mask on her face, one she stole from an ordinator in hopes of understanding the whole mantle issue, what would the Morag Tong say of her? A common criminal, a thief, "However I am here to talk, you got that part right."

Merezdis sat on the floor, put the mask away, the sound of metal against rock, the heat of the volcano suffocating her, the mer, whoever he was, Dagoth Ur or Voryn or the Sharmat, she cared not for titles, she cared for what he was capable of, "Very well," he said, following her move, she had to think how to even begin.

She told herself it was just like the old days, of giving herself some motivation before any big job and hoping for the best, "Had this been up to me, this would've ended sooner…"

"You could end this now, Nerevar, old friend."

"I am not—" was she not Nerevar? She liked– wanted, prefered, to think she wasn't, that she remained the same idiot found on a silt strider and raised by Ashlanders, the same stupid child who ran away and left the Morag Tong over simple thievery, not Indoril Nerevar nor the Nerevarine or Azura's new and shiny toy, she was Merezdis Sahaourdanu, a name that would remained hidden in history if it all went well, "I know who I was. In another lifetime. And I know who you were. Friend, lover perhaps," something on that word obtained the Sharmat's attention, she could tell, "I want you to know all I will do is not of my choice but Azura's. I am a tool, nothing else, nothing more, and I know for a fact the real Nerevar must be burning in rage for what I'm about to say. But fuck Azura."

More laughter, deep, rich, coming from the chest, "You should've seen your face, oh, what funny things you say, such blasphemy, never thought of you as capable of saying such words."

"Nerevar wasn't. I'm Merezdis however, the only Daedra I've served has been Mephala and even she has my judgement."

"I must admit I have missed our chatter, though it pains me how apart we have grown, complete strangers that we are, care to fill me up in the detail?"

Merezdis raised an eyebrow, looking at three eyes on a mask, a face she only has seen in vague flashes of memory from different lives, most of them show a rotting corpse, one, a Chimer of glowing red eyes and ebony hair with a grin of superiority calling out for everyone's favorite Hortator, she knew him, in the most superficial of ways, Voryn, was anything of him still there? "You mean my life?"

"I cannot simply follow each incarnation from birth to death, you never know where my beloved Nerevar would land each time."

She remained silent for a while, Dagoth Ur kept watching like a child would look at any adult showing an elaborate trick or telling an interesting story, she doubted hers would qualify as such, more like a badly written tragedy, "Grandpa was an ashlander, I think, got tired of it and moved to Cyrodiil, had a daughter, died, said daughter got pregnant and since the idiot father left she decided to go back to her father's people with a newborn," Merezdis shrugged, "That's what her diary said, you call us Ashlanders a bunch of savages but we have a code of no attacking an unarmed person, or a baby, she died because of raiders, I survived."

"Then you must have known. About all of this, what the false gods of the Tribunal did to you—"

"Let me finish!" First time she raised his voice at him, "Look at the stupid mark on my face, of course I knew, sort of, grew up with the prophecy and the Wise Women telling me all about it, yet I wanted no Nerevarine guarshit, I wanted to be like them. Sooner or later once the one from our clan had died… Old Irelenda was the only reason I had to stay, my only family. I never quite understood the fear and hatred my kind had towards the outside. What better opportunity to leave? Guess the skills I learned there were of use for the Morag Tong."

"So you…"

"Lived under the rule of the false gods? In a way, I was taught to hate them, at what use though? The Good Daedra were no better, same crap, different names, the Morag Tong was where nobody suspected a thing of a prophecy I never believed for myself. Now… don't ask me how, nor why, as not even I know, but something went sour in Cyrodiil, I was given a fake contract so my kill was not allowed, served some time for it, came back here… you know the rest."

More silence.

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

Broken by a single question, "You betrayed Azura?" There was indignation in that voice.

"I never sided with the Tribunal."

"You did nothing, having easy access to them!"

Anger.

"What was I supposed to do? Kill the living gods of Morrowind and risk being killed myself?"

"The prophecy—"

"To Oblivion with it!" She stood up, drew her weapon, "Once again, Dagoth Ur, or Voryn, or whatever name I ever called you before, had this been on me, none of this would've happened."

"They murdered you. Almalexia used poisoned candles and cut your feet. Sotha Sil used poisoned robes and cut your face. Vivec used poisoned incantations and pierced you with Muatra…"

"And you became the Sharmat. Cursed you, Dagoth Ur, as much as I curse Vivec, Almalexia and Sotha Sil. Idiots, all of you." She picked up her mask, the one meant to resemble the face she once had, looking at the ghost at her side, the resemblance was none, "Curse you, Indoril Nerevar, and Azura, Boethia, Mephala, the Heart of Lorkhan, kagrenac, all of you."

His voice was broken as he spoke, drowning with the sounds of the lava, the ground shook, she could see the Heart at the other side of the bridge, "You are breaking my heart, Nerevar, over and over again."

"You see him too? I've felt his fear, his anger, he curses all of you, yet the mer has that bit of love for every single one of you bastards, if only I could talk my way out of this…"

"Time for talking has ended, you are testing me, how tiresome this can be…"

"Had I done anything sooner… no…" she shook her head, "Get the four of you in a room and expect anything good to happen, huh… maybe that's why Azura leaves me no choice," Merezdis saw the red glow of magic in Dagoth's hands, Akulakhan, the trembling of the volcano, "I am but a tool, it doesn't matter how much I avoided this, Azura kept pushing me towards this outcome, and I suppose she prefers blood over dialog. What a shame, isn't it?"

Perhaps that mer who hugged him when sleeping and tied back his hair, the one who brought him flowers and jewels and would burn the world in the name of Indoril Nerevar, perhaps that mer saw the ghost of the champion of Azura stepping back, shaking his head, uttering Chimeri words of disapproval. Another nail for the coffin.

"You deliver the first hit, Nerevar."

Sun, sand on bare feet, light robes, young, wooden swords and spears, the volcano was far away, skin not ashen but golden, days long gone was what her eyes saw, a phrase that only the two of them knew had escaped her lips, "I'm gonna knock off that stupid mask off you, Voryn."

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Dress Up (Ethan x MC)

Summary: On Halloween night, Ethan gets a big surprise

A/N: Okay so this was the tooth rotting fluff I was talking about earlier this week. 

A/N 2: I haven’t written something this short in years. Issa miracle

A/N 3: Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

~v~

The words on the paper in front of Ethan start to blur together the longer he stares at the page. He’s been at the hospital for nearly 18 hours and it’s finally starting to have an effect on him, the exhaustion finally creeping in.

It’s been a long shift. He put in some hours in the free clinic on top of helping with his patient for the diagnostics team, and dealt with a particularly exhausting meeting with a few other department heads. On top of the usual business, it’s Halloween, and the holiday has never bode well for the hospital. By the time midnight rolls around, the ER is typically packed with college students and other young 20-somethings that have gotten way too drunk, started fights, and injured themselves.

His cell phone rings and he reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve it. His mood instantly perks up when he sees ‘Naomi R’ flash across the screen accompanied by a picture of his wife’s smiling face.

It takes him mere seconds to answer the phone, balancing it delicately between his shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

“Hi handsome,” Naomi greets back.

The cheeriness in her voice cheers him up slightly. While it’s been less than a day, he’s missed the sound of her voice. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“My job,” Ethan deadpans.

“Obviously smarty-pants. Are you working hard or hardly working?”

“I'm always working hard,” Ethan insists. “I’m trying to prepare myself for how busy the ER is going to be once the sun goes down. I hate Halloween.”

“You hate everything.”

“I hate pointless consumer holidays,” Ethan says. “Especially ones that promote candy and alcohol consumption.”

“Oh, so all the fun ones,” Naomi teases. “Where are you? Are you in the office?”

“Yes, I’m taking a break right now.”

“Perfect. Open the door.”

“Open the–” Ethan looks up, intrigued. He can’t make out any figures on the other side of the door, the frosted glass not doing him any favors. Either his lovely wife had food delivered for him, or she’s pulling some sort of Halloween trick on him. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise, so open the door.”

Deciding to play along, Ethan gets up from his huge leather chair and in a few quick strides, he’s on the other side of the room, opening the door. Looking straight ahead he doesn’t immediately see anyone standing outside. He should’ve known this was some prank of hers.

“Hi, daddy!”

The tiny voice cuts through the otherwise silent hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan sees a tiny blur practically flying towards him. The small figure collides with him with a soft thud, wrapping around him tightly.

“Oof!”

Chuckling to himself, Ethan glances down at the 3 year old clutching his pant legs like a life raft. “You are very strong for a toddler.”

“Valentina Marie Ramsey, what have I told you about running away from me!” Naomi’s voice is what captures Ethan’s attention as she speed-walks down the hall in an effort to make it to the office.

Ethan looks her up and down, confused. She’s wearing her work clothes, a simple blouse, pencil skirt and her white coat, as well as her purse and a plastic bag from CVS hanging off of her shoulder. Naomi isn’t supposed to be working today and she never dresses this formally in their casual life outside of work. “Did you take a shift?”

“Daddy, look, we're doctors because it’s Halloween!” Valentina says, garnering her dad’s attention. 

The couple had given up on picking a costume for Valentina over a week ago, as the precocious toddler wasn’t good at picking one thing and sticking to it. In the past month, she’s wanted to be a pirate, a bear, a fairy, a princess, a princess fairy, and Baby Shark.

Ethan looks down at her and sees she has on a white coat of her own, one that is entirely too big for her which only makes her look that much more adorable. He smiles at her. “You make a very cute doctor, my darling.”

“Mommy says doctors are supposed to be very smart, not cute,” Valentina corrects, and while she’s already the spitting image of her mother, she sounds just like her too. She’s just as stubborn and argumentative.

“You’re the smartest 3 year old I know,” Ethan says honestly. As if a child born to him and Naomi would be anything but.

“You promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

“We were just coming by to show off our costumes, and to grab my doctor’s bag,” Naomi says. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss onto Ethan’s lips, one he doesn’t let end to quickly. Wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, he pulls her in closer to deepen the kiss. 18 hours is far too long to go without her.

The kiss is broken up by Valentina aggressively wedging herself between the two of them. “No kissing.”

Naomi pulls away with an eye roll. “Okay, okay.” Leaving the doorway, Ethan moves backwards and allows them inside the office. Naomi instantly goes behind Ethan’s desk and grabs her physician’s bag. She usually doesn’t carry it unless the diagnostics team has to make a house call, and she empties it, making it easier for Valentina to carry around and use it as a candy bag. Before she hands it over, she empties the plastic bag she’s holding, a box of pink band-aids, popsicle sticks (aka tongue depressors), a roll of stickers, and a pair of small reading glasses fall onto the table.

Ethan watches as Naomi puts the final touches on Valentina’s costume. “Why the glasses?”

“Because you wear glasses,” Valentina answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Ethan raises an eyebrow in question, not understanding the point Valentina is trying to make. He turns to Naomi for further clarification.

“Val didn’t want to be any old doctor,” Naomi says. “She wanted to be...you.”

“Mommy said I can wear your big doctor coat!” Valentina exclaims.

And that’s when Ethan notices she is in fact wearing his spare white coat; Dr. Ethan Ramsey, M.D., F.A.C.P., stitched into it underneath Edenbrook’s logo.

While he already thought his three year old dressing up as a doctor was a sight to behold, something inside his chest warms as the thought of her wanting to be dressed up as him. Her entire world is comprised of doctors, but she wants to be a mini him.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been silent until Valentina tugs on his hand. “Are you okay, daddy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Ethan assures her with a smile. He crouches down so they’re able to look each other eye-to-eye. “Daddy is just very happy that you want to wear my coat, that’s all.” Valentina does a spin for him, spurred on by the positive affirmation and Ethan looks up, catching Naomi’s eye. “She wants to be me, not you.”

“Whatever. She looks like me, so when people see us together, she’ll automatically assume she’s dressed up as me.”

“But you and I both know the real intent. You know, I think your costume is missing something.” Reaching around his neck, Ethan takes off his stethoscope and drapes it around her instead. “There. Now you make a perfect Ethan Ramsey.”

“So now I have to make you feel better,” Valentina says. Dramatically, she places her hand on Ethan’s forehead, as if she’s taking his temperature. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” Ethan asks.

“You have a boo-boo,” she replies matter-of-factly. “But I can make it all better.” With some help from her mother, Valentina manages to open the box of band-aids. She sticks one on her dad’s cheek, just above his mustache, and follows that up by kissing his cheek. “There! How do you feel?”

“I feel much better,” Ethan says. “Thank you for being such a good doctor.”

“You’re welcome.” She then shoves a big Hello Kitty sticker into the palm of Ethan’s hand. “And you get a sticker for being good.”

“Even better.” Ethan tugs on one of Valentina’s curls, earning a giggle.

A few more minutes pass, with Naomi and Ethan snapping as many pictures as they possibly can and Valentina putting a few more band-aids on her parents.

The door opens and Baz comes in this time, eyes downcast as he’s staring at a file. “Hey Ethan, Dr. Banerji wanted to–” he stops short, laughing as he zeroes in on the bright pink band-aids covering Ethan. “That is quite the look you got going for yourself, Ethan.”

“I’ll have you know that my lovely doctor here put these bandages on me.”

Baz’s grin turns into a wide smile as he takes in Valentina’s appearance. “Well aren’t you the cutest doctor I’ve ever seen, Teeny!”

“I’m not a cute doctor, I’m a smart doctor, Uncle Baz,” Valentina practically growls.

“I apologize for the mistake.”

Naomi glances at the large clock hanging behind Ethan’s desk. “Okay, Val, we have to go so we can get some candy before it gets too dark. Say bye-bye to daddy.”

Valentina wraps her tiny arms around Ethan’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Bye daddy. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

As Naomi gathers up all of their things, Valentina tells him all about how she can’t wait to show off her costume and get candy. It was her first time trick-or-treating, as Naomi and Ethan decided it was better to wait until she was a bit older before participating in the holiday. 

Her excitement is palpable and Ethan can’t help but to feel excited too. And while it’s true he’s no fan of Halloween, the thought of not witnessing it through his daughter’s eyes makes his chest tight. “How long do you plan on taking her around?”

“An hour,” Naomi answers. “I think that appropriate enough time for a 3 year old, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Ethan turns to Baz. “Do you think you can hold down the fort for an hour?”

Baz shrugs. “Sure. But only if you bring me back a Reese’s peanut butter cup.”

“That can be arranged.” Ethan stands up, his arms still firmly secured around Valentina. “Come on, Dr. and Dr Ramsey, we have some trick or treating to do.

~v~

Tags: @professorkingslay @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @bluebellot @kaavyaethanramsey @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Case of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 3b)

Last Time: After being discovered in Miss Pavlova’s cabin, things didn’t go as badly for us as we thought they would. In fact we got to dance around with Herlock Sholmes the Himbo Detective and discovered that Susato (and presumably someone at Capcom) really knows a lot about snakes, Nikolina has a pet kitten called Darka, and Kazuma apparently died by tripping over said kitten in a tragic accident. However, while it would probably be the best explanation for everyone involved, I’m not entirely sure it’s true as it still doesn’t explain the fact the crime scene was clearly tampered with.

Well it seems that, like me, Susato’s not entirely convinced Nikolina’s telling us the truth.

In fact, it looks like she’s sure of it.

You know, I didn’t expect to feel conflicted about finding Kazuma’s killer, but I kind of do...

Like, I came into this fully expecting to feel hatred and anger towards whoever did this. I was expecting to confront some hateful villain on a par with Miss Brett or Manfred Von Karma and to take satisfaction and vengeance in taking them down... but this isn’t that. There’s no conspiracy, no big untouchable threat, there’s just an abused and scared little girl who probably killed Kazuma because she thought he was going to kill her.

I don’t expect to feel good about taking Nikolina down. I think it’ll feel like when we had to go for Adrian Andrews... only this time she’s actually guilty.

I don’t have anything to add to Susato’s speech, other than it feels important to put it up, and it seems like a good show of who Susato is as a person.

You know, I’ve had a little difficulty pinning Susato down until now, but I think I’ve finally got her. Susato Mikotoba is a woman who believes in truth and justice, and will go to great lengths to reveal it... even if it hurts far more than the lie ever did.

Herlock’s been quiet for a while now, and I don’t think he’s still reeling from the snake business. It’s difficult to read his expression with his hat like that, so I can’t tell if he’s running through the crime scene in his mind, or if Susato’s words have struck a cord with him.

Wait WHAT?

Ah, ok. Herlock basically been using this whole thing as a distraction, and was planning to give everything over to Scotland Yard once we arrived home so they could deal with any ‘outstanding issues’.

(Also he’s handcuffed us again)

It hadn’t quite clicked before, but no one’s actually considered what Ryunosuke must be feeling. His best friend has just been murdered, and all almost everyone has done, has been to accuse him of killing him. Even among Hosonaga, and later Susato, Ryunosuke hasn’t got to really talk about his feelings, and I’m not sure if anyone’s actually given him the opportunity to do so.

With the next stop looming ever closer, I know we don’t exactly have the time to talk right now, but I hope Ryunosuke gets the chance once this is all done.

Ok, let’s do this.

Let’s run through what we know doesn’t fit so far:

1) The writing in Russian: not only is it in the wrong language but Kazuma died instantly, meaning that there’s next to no way he wrote this himself, and absolutely no way he did it if he died tripping over a kitten.

2) The ships log has been left blank from after 2am, meaning that who ever was probably in on it.

3) Half of Darka’s bell somehow found it’s way in Nikolina’s bin, meaning someone must have taken it from the crime scene.

4) If someone went into the cabin (which they must have done) they have to have pressed the emergence alarm after they left.

Let’s start with the biggest contradiction shall we? The photographic print.

Oh Nikolina, that’s not the issue here.

Ryunosuke’s got it.

Well done Ryunosuke.

I’m trying to work out what this could be. The bell half perhaps? But that’s something that was taken away surely.

Ok, so just something that proves it wasn’t an accident. Well I’m not too sure if it’s what I’m supposed to be looking for here, but I’ll present the mark on the floor and see what happens.

Oh thank god!

Well, not exactly Hosonaga, while it’s true that the tripped kitten explanation does explain how the bell was broken, it doesn’t explain why half of it made its way out of Kazuma’s room and into Nikolina’s bin.

Exactly Ryunosuke!

So, now that we’ve successfully proved someone was at the crime scene, let’s start working out who could have done it.

(TBH I still think that, while Nikolina killed Kazuma, Stroganoff was the person who tampered with the crime scene. The writing just feels a bit too calculated to be Nikolina, especially if she killed Kazuma out of fear.)

Ah, I was wondering when you’d have enough Stroganoff.

He’s basically saying that we already know I (Ryunosuke) was in the room, and that if what I’m saying is true then it has to be me as the door was bolted from the inside.

However, as I (both Ryunosuke and me) have zero knowledge of Russian, it’s impossible for me to have written the message. What we do have however, is knowledge as to how the door was bolted from the outside, which we must be getting close to revealing.

That’s... a really good question actually. Why didn’t they just take the whole thing?

Ah, I see. I was looking at this from the eyes of someone from the modern era of electric lights, rather than with the eyes of someone who lives with jolly old Victorian lighting. The floor wasn’t visible enough to make out half of a cats bell.

Shit... she’s their kid...

You know, while we still don’t know exactly how Nikolina came onboard this ship, I’d kind of assumed that the sailors (or perhaps someone affiliated with them) had found her trying to stow away or hiding down by the docks, and taken pity on her and decided to help her out. Because, I thought, there was no way Nikolina would reach out to strangers for help, given how scared she is. But the answer is that they weren’t strangers. They were family.

That’s why they’ve all been ready to risk everything without hesitation, even if it means covering up a murder. She’s their kid, and I’m about to make them watch it all be for nothing.

Yeah, Ryunosuke... it is...

(I love the way these spirits combine together. Nikolina looks even smaller and younger next to Stroganoff, and her hiding behind him while his fighting stance partly shields her does a good job of showing how things are for them right now. It makes me think of images of cornered animals protecting their young.)

Because he’s lying, but then I think you’ve already figured that out.

My time has come.

Susato, it’s ok. I’ve got this, you don’t need to make us look bad by suggesting things you know aren’t true.

DON’T PASS THE BUCK TO ME!!!

(Again, me an Rynosuke operate on the same wavelength now)

OH MY GOD, THE HIMBO DETECTIVE MADE A PROPER DEDICATION ALL ON HIS OWN!!!

HELL YEAH I DO!!!

Look at him go! He’s even using Susato’s fancy words to explain it!

And there goes the bolt on the door!

Now we’re explaining that the emergency stop button can be pressed at various different points around the ship, including, crucially, just outside these two cabins.

Oh Susato, you know as well as I do that this whole things had Herlock’s fingerprints all over it.

(Important information, along with not being trusted with a pet, do not trust Herlock Sholmes with any machinery or control panels)

To be honest this is the appropriate reaction. We’re at sea Herlock! Don’t mess with the thing that stands between us and drowning!

Herlock ‘But Did You Die’ Sholmes: Now lets not lose sight of the fact I got us evidence.

And the worst part is that he’s right.

Not if you drugged everyone!

I think it’s finally time to bring up the blank ships log.

Ok team, Herlock’s in charge of our excuses from now on!

We’re going through the fact that the log was blank, which with Stroganoff’s meticulous ritual of writing: Nothing to Report, every half hour on the dot, means that there definitely was something to report.

We sure are suggesting that Susato!

Not if you were drugged Hosonaga!

HE MADE ANOTHER PROPER DEDUCTION!!! I’M SO PROUD!!!

Ok, have the drugs finally worn off on Herlock’s brain, because he’s saying really smart things now. Or is it just that he’s taking things seriously rather than using this whole thing as a distraction?

Susato’s got it too!

So, because it’s such a large scale job, it couldn’t have been pulled off by any one person, meaning that the entire crew must have been in on it.

(Poor drugged Hosonaga, they really identified you weren’t one of them the second you set foot on this ship didn’t they?)

Now see, the problem with this strategy, is that while Bif might not be happy about the rest of his crew getting into trouble, I feel like this is a Murder on the Orient Express scenario, in the sense that everyone involved fully acknowledge the risks and came into this prepared to go down if necessary.

Yeah, he’s not happy, but he’s not cracking.

In fact, I’m not sure anything could cause him to crack. He is the one person’s standing between Nikolina and (potentially) death. I can’t see any way he’s going to back down.

I understand now, Herlock wasn’t aiming for him. Because they’re Nikolina’s family too.

It seems to be just like we suspected. Nikolina asked them to help her escape, and so, as one, the crew agreed to help her. They put sleeping drugs in the chicken so no one would notice what was happening, and got one of their comrades on the shore of Shanghai to take her to the ship at midnight.

Here’s the problem we have now though. Now she’s covering for them. Even if I’m wrong about Stroganoff or another member of the crew writing the message, the ships log means that they either knew or found out, and I can’t imagine they would have sat by and done nothing.

Wait a second though. We met Nikolina in her cabin, which means she must have got back inside some way or another. She couldn’t have done that if she was the one who pressed the alarm. I think this could be a way to establish someone must have helped her.

They’re still fighting, and to be honest I didn’t expect anything else. They’re both protecting each other now and it’s going to take nothing but evidence to make them budge.

I’m going to be perfectly honest Herlock, you’ve kind of lost me.

In fact I think you’ve lost most of the room...

ITS TIME FOR DANCE OF DEDUCTION 3: I WAS HOPPING I’D HAVE UNTIL THE NEXT CASE TO THINK UP A NAME!

Ryunosuke, don’t play dumb. We must dance!

(Or observe, that’s good too)

Right, well we’ve worked out Stroganoff was the one who did the fabrication, so we should probably focus on him first.

Got you.

To be honest I’m at a loss as to how he got some of the ink round there. Perhaps he knocked the ink over when he was sorting the crime scene out.

Or perhaps it was on his finger and he accidentally rubbed it over when he held his hands like this?

... I thought so...

:(

So, just after one in the morning, Bif was patrolling the corridor when a scared an pail Nikolina came up to him desperate for help. He followed her to Kazuma’s cabin and found him on the floor. Apparently the event before went on like Nikolina said, only instead of luring Darka through the vent, she went next door because she was worried about the sounds she’d heard through the vent.

... he’s still shielding her isn’t he?

I think Susato knows it too.

The problem is, that Nikolina’s following Bif’s lead. Perhaps if we had the chance to talk to her alone we’d know we were getting the truth, but not with Bif there. And to be honest I’m not sure I can really blame either of them for that.

I’m not 100% sure to be honest. And I don’t think I will be until this case is closed.

I’ll take that as not being done then.

I have no idea...

(His fist was closed, could that be the issue?)

(Thank you god of video games!)

OPEN WITH THAT NEXT TIME HERLOCK!

Yeah, we’re not going to be able to guess!

Nikolina’s earring!

Which he couldn’t have had if he was dead when she came in!

(Stroganoff’s face seems to suggest that we’ve reached the final curtain.)

I don’t think either of them can explain away this.

(Again, lead with the earring next time Herlock)

Things are in the right order now.

He let her in. He thought she was Hosonaga so he let her in.

It’s all going fine right now, but we know how this ends.

Of course he did, just by looking at Nikolina you can see she’s been through a lot, and besides, Kazuma has a secret all of his own.

Here we go. Whatever it might be, the thing that triggered Nikolina’s survival instinct is coming.

Ah shit...

You know, since the moment Darka disappeared through that vent, I’m not sure things were ever going to end differently. Kazuma was always going to open the door, he was always going to help the frightened girl he found there, and being the incredibly quick man that he was, he was always going to recognize her.

And Kazuma was always going to want to look into the situation, and that was always going to tip Nikolina into a panic. And then sooner or later she was going to lash out in what seemed to her to be necessary self defence.

Here it is.

Oh!?

So this wasn’t the trigger. But then what was?

Oh no. He was going to get Ryunosuke from the wardrobe. The wardrobe Nikolina couldn’t possibly grasp the significance of, but that was right next to the bell cord.

(Also didn’t I say the captain was somehow to blame?)

(What do you guys say we chalk it up to him and put this whole business behind us?)

(And yes I do know that I’m stalling again)

... in a panic you struck out... and he stumbled... and hit his head on the way down...

I see, so Darka put him off balance first. And so when you pushed him he he hit his head on the bedpost.

Fear, adrenaline, and a lack of judgment due to stress and trauma. Perhaps if this had happened on any day other than the one where you’d just fled things would have been different, but maybe not. It’s hard to tell.

And we know the rest...

Stroganoff cleared away as much of Nikolina’s presence as he could find, and in doing so found Ryunosuke asleep in the wardrobe. It must have seemed like fate was giving him a stranger who could take the fall instead of his kid.

So Nikolina was the one who ‘cleared away’ the bell. That explain why some of it was left behind, and why it ended up in her bin. Stroganoff would probably have thrown it overboard.

What’s that?

I see, that’s a good question.

What he said about the inspector...

Oh dear.

Hosonaga, you were literally drugged at the time, and I’m still pretty sure you were set up to fail (which does raise the question of what would have happened to Kazuma if Nikolina hadn’t killed him)

Susato?

I see, she’s realized that he was going for Ryunosuke, thus slotting the final piece of this whole tragedy neatly into place.

(These two cases are really going all out in very different ways. The next one better let me relax and have fun Maskqu de Masque style. I’m not sure I can take much more of this.)

Here it comes, the unnecessariness of the whole murder.

:(

Yeah...

:((

Ryunosuke’s best friend has been murdered because of the misunderstandings of a child, and he’s been raked over the coals because of that. While it might not be the kindest thing to say for Nikolina, it’s an important thing to say for Ryunosuke, and I feel he’s justified in saying it.

In fact it would probably be a bad sign if he didn’t say this. He’s as much of a victim in this whole affair as anyone. I’m glad he’s at least getting an apology from Nikolina, even though it’s unfortunately gone past the point where that would be useful.

It’s finally over, and just as I predicted it doesn’t feel good.

HOSONAGA SATURO YOU HEAL LIKE A CHAMP!

‘It’s just a scratch’, you said.

‘Go to a hospital’, we cried.

‘No need, just give me a few hours to click my face back into position and pass me back my glasses lenses and I’ll be fine’

Hosonaga, you are unkillable and this is exactly why you’re superiors had to resort to shipping you out.

Ok, enough fun declaring Hosonaga to be our new god. Let’s go back to the serious and depressing business of Nikolina.

So, it seems like Nikolina will be handed over to Scotland Yard, and Herlock will sort things out with the immigrations office so she doesn’t have to go back to Russia.

Also the way they’re talking about her future means that she’s not going to be executed (thank god), which makes sense given that she committed manslaughter rather than murder. Whether or not she goes to prison will probably depend on the judge as, while she has the fact that she’s a white female child, she is also not English and speaks with a strong accent, and therefore, is going to be subjected to a lot of Xenophobia.

Hm?

Ah.

Again, I’m glad Ryunosuke’s getting these apologies.

Wait, are you sure Stroganoff? Like yeah, you’re not going to get done for murder, and the whole defending a kid thing will  play of pretty well in court (plus the man you accused wasn’t English and has a less white skin tone than you). But you are also a Russian man with a strong accent and you won’t be able to fall back on being a child or let the evils of sexism and xenophobia fight each other.

Well at least we’re free again, even if we’re in a worst place than when we started.

You know he will Ryunosuke. And given how well he was defending her till now, I think he might just succeed.

But we have to get to England to make Kazuma’s dream come true!

Herlock, can you come to us again in our hour of need? I know we have a lot of them but...

:(

:(

(I swear to god this game is shooting for my jugular)

We’re holding Kazuma’s sword, aka, his spirit. Please don’t make me let it go game.

Is it too much to ask for them to hug? I think they both need it.

Hold us Hosonaga.

(Though not me (Eleanor). Instinct tells me we must remain two meters apart so our weird lungs don’t accidentally take each other out.)

(I cannot be the person who killed Hosonaga)

(And yes I am trying  to lighten the mood with my talk of genetic lung conditions because I’m aware it’s only going to get sadder)

(Told you)

There was nothing you could have done Hosonaga, and it’s become my own private mission now to find a way to prove that to you.

:(((

Game are we going to have to sail to England on Hosonaga’s guilt?

I’m aware that you’ve got a whole fun game lined up over there, but is this really the only way?

Can’t we just go to Japanfornia instead, track down Amy Fey (if she’s even been born yet) and get Kazuma back on our team?

No... ok...

Exactly!

WHAT! WHY AM I BACK IN HANDCUFFS!??

HERLOCK SHOLMES COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW, THIS IS ONLY A LITTLE BIT FUNNY!

He’s amusing himself at least...

(You know what, I’ve decided right now that this is a family friendly blog, so no, I’m not going to say what I’m thinking. You can’t make me.)

Also read the room Herlock, the three of us were having a moment!

Nice save.

Ryunosuke’s trying to throw himself under the buss and send Susato and Herlock and Hosonaga off to go live out the rest of the game without him.

Sorry Ryunosuke, but you’re the protagonist. We can’t leave without you.

That’s it! Ryunosuke, you’re naturally good at lawyering! It’s time for you to take up Kazuma’s mantle!

Am I chopped liver to you Susato?

Are we doing a studying montage on the ship over?

Yes Ryunosuke!

Training montage Hosonaga!

You can help! Teach me how to be the crime scene thief and not give a damn!

(Actually on second thoughts, maybe you should sit this one out and offer moral support instead)

Said Hosonaga, knowing that I wasn’t.

(*Eye of the tiger starts to play*)

I CAN LEARN ENOUGH TO WING IT HOSONAGA!

HELL YEAH!!!

Oh good, I’d forgotten about Kazuma’s morally ambiguities loose end.

(Probably because every character I fancy has one of them and it’s no longer anything to write home about.)

Let’s do this Susato, me an you all the way!

Hosonaga? You cool too?

Wait, now is not the time to be sensible Hosonaga! Remember when we got Miss Brett? That was against protocol and it meant we got to see her take off via her big hat! (Although we didn’t get justice and it ended with you being shipped out, but let’s not dwell on that.)

Hosonaga normally (while shovelling three tables worth of crockery into his bag): Nothing will get in my way! I’ll lay my life on the line if I have to! I will strait up ignore the rules if I think they are unjust!

Hosonaga when Herlock is present: I have never broken a rule in my life, nor would I ever do so. I am the most sensible and down to earth man you will ever meet, please ignore the way I am dressed right now.

What happened Hosonaga, did you watch me and Herlock doing our dance of deduction and immediately decided someone had to be the adult and it might as well be you?

Or... did watching Herlock roll around on the floor and cling like a limpet to the walls make you wonder that this is how you come across?

Because to be honest you were loudly declaring yourself the Crime Scene Thief just last trial... so I don’t think you’ll ever be able to create too much contrast in our eyes.

Come on Crime Scene Thief!

Herlock’s aiming right for Hosonaga’s canonically shit schooling with those words.

Remember who you are Hosnaga! You’re the badass who lay his life on the line for us!

(I like how much Herlock’s talking Ryunoskue up, I guess this makes up for the fact he handcuffed us again for the asthenic)

Hooray!!! Hosonaga’s taking us to Disneyland England!

“Hello, this is Saturo Hosanaga. Just calling to say that I’ve done it again... yes I understand that my breaking the rules makes you sad, but I simply will not stop... well you see, they’re unfair and heavily biased in your favour. Also we both know if you could have stopped me you would have done so long ago. Goodbye.”

Capcom! Stop trying to make me get to England off of Hosonaga’s guilt!

Allow me to come with you, or at the very least please borrow the KBS (Kazuma’s big sword) for protection.

Goodbye Hosonaga... until we meet again...

But (and I need to make this very clear Capcom gods) not my mentor!

The KBS!

We will guard this with our lives!

(Karuma huh? That name sounds faintly familiar.)

(Ok Google, now play Eye Of The Tiger)

WE ARN’T DOING THIS AGAIN CAPCOM! PUT THOSE DEATH FLAGS DOWN!

Oh thank god, she just wants to be even!

Ryunosuke, are you sure you’re even able to do that?

You heard the lady Ryunosuke. (And no this totally isn’t because I want to see if you’re even able to do it.)

Booo

Herlock, I love you, but...

KICK HIS ASS SUSATO!!!

WHY ME!!!

Poor sweet Ryunosuke...

Ah, I see it’s time to be sad again.

Oh Kazuma, what were you up to?

Anyways, that’s it for The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band. Join me next time for The Adventure of the Runaway Room!

[arigatouiris]

reserved only for you // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: Soft Bakugou is my life. Soft Bakugou is who he is okay? I really like this idea idk where I got it from, but I’m so glad I wrote it down. This is how I see Bakugou respond to a crush and if that crush like him back! Hope you like it!

Word count: 3046

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Gentle! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, soft kacchan

❝

You did not know how it happened.

You rushed back into your room, right after that, and shut the door behind you. Your dorm was dark, considering it was over 2 a.m., in the night. You let out a sigh before feeling how warm your face was, how erratically your heart was beating, how wide your eyes were and how your lips were quivering. Instantly, upon realizing these facts, your hands shot to your face and you let out a quiet squeal. 

Bakugou Katsuki, your biggest crush for the past few months, had confessed to you.

The initial few hours after accepting a request such as this one sends anyone’s hearts to the skies, but you were fragile already. Katsuki didn’t exactly ‘ask’, it was more of a ‘demand’ but a softer one, one that you understood rather well. You felt your knees grow weak as you slid down on the ground behind your door.

Katsuki-kun... you grumbled in your mind, your face still red hot.

You could remember the very first time you met him and not feeling the same excitement. He was brash, angry even, and didn’t even meet you in the eye. Apparently, you were an ‘extra’—something he’d called everyone in his class already. However, it was Mina Ashido who had discovered that something lay beneath Bakugou Katsuki’s many layers, and as intrigued as you were, you intended on finding out exactly what that was.

Perhaps, the universe gave you a chance to do so by seating you beside him. Initially, it shocked you at how diligent he was as a student; he seemed the sort who’d never pay attention, who’d not give a damn as to what the teacher had to say. Instead, he went against each and every single one of your expectations and threw them in your face. 

And you let out “You really are amazing, Bakugou-kun...” without realizing.

He looked at you, from the corner of his eye, half-annoyed, and half-amused, a look only he could pull off, before shrugging your words off and minding his own business. In Bakugou’s language, that meant he didn’t mind what you said.

Days after that became rather easy. You actually looked forward to class more and more, and you could even remember the first day you greeted Bakugou in the morning, shocking the rest of the class when he actually replied.

     “Good morning, Bakugou-kun!” You chirped, sitting in your desk, looking at him with a sweet smile.

     “Hey.”

Ashido instantly married you two off in her mind, Kaminari sulked in the corner that you seemed more excited to see a porcupine than a lovable battery, Midoriya did what Midoriya did best—he cried, and Todoroki found his books fascinating. Your growing friendship with Bakugou was something everyone noticed, but no one really thought it could lead anywhere.

The ‘die! die! die!’ boy whose primary focus was to be the number one hero didn’t have time for stupid little crushes or playing house. You told yourself this multiple times, yet, your crush never stopped growing in intensity. It was then you told yourself that it’s completely alright to have a crush on someone as unattainable as Bakugou Katsuki because it’s as if you had a crush on a celebrity like Hawks (who is a celebrity hero, and you did like him). Expectations took a backseat and this was something the whole class noticed—you’d greet him every day, but you wouldn’t approach him more so just because of your growing friendship. You didn’t try finding too many things in common, and you’d not try to keep a conversation going if it was fading out.

Your attempts at wooing Bakugou were null to zero—the whole class knew you were not attempting at anything. It was something even Bakugou noticed. He’d watch as you interacted with faculty members regarding the nature of your quirk, he’d notice how you’d interact with his fellow classmates, how you’d turn other boys down, how sometimes you’d stare at him while he did something absolutely mundane like reading or writing or even eating, for that matter. 

Bakugou Katsuki knew what effect he had on you yet, he was impressed at your restraint. Maybe one day you’d burst and tell him about having a crush on him, maybe one day he’d actually get to turn you down—

He stopped at his thoughts. As he was writing, he paused... He blinked twice before analyzing from the corner of his eye at what you were doing. You were humming a soft tune, almost inaudible, and as Katsuki’s eyes traveled to your book, he noticed how you were completing homework. It was a free period, Aizawa-sensei was sleeping in front of the class, and there you were—instead of chatting or doodling or reading manga or some shit, you were completing homework. 

It was a second after that did his eyes dart to your face. You didn’t have a smile exactly, but it wasn’t a frown either. Your hair sat so perfectly at your face, and he noticed when you paused—your eyes scrunched up just a little bit and you popped your tongue out before letting out a soft curse.

His eyes darted back to your book before noticing your sum. You had written down the right formula, but you were working on it incorrectly. 

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou smoothly moved his pencil over to your book before raspily saying, “It’s like this.”

It was the smallest of movements, little to no significance. Classmates help each other out in situations like this one, but your heart couldn’t take it. Your eyes grew wide as Bakugou solved the sum for you, no curse word, no insult—just helping you, generously. You gulped before looking down at the book, trying to focus on the sum he was working on.

     “T-Thank you...” You let out, knowing you sounded stupid.

He didn’t say a word but just nodded once before minding his own business again. 

It was a few days after that did you notice something else. He yelled a little less often, he still cursed a lot—but his yelling almost ceased. It was as if the image he had built for himself was slowly fading; he was no longer angry Bakugou Katsuki but was unapproachable and serious Bakugou Katsuki who, in very, very rare moments, was nice and kind. He was trying to be something and it was a gesture almost everyone noticed.

     “So Bakugou’s been rather... soft these days.” Sero brought up once, right in front of Bakugou.

You smiled at Sero, then looking at Bakugou who was at your side, before feeling a sweat drop at your forehead. You knew Sero was merely pushing the blond to react. 

     “Actually, now that you mention it, he has gotten quieter these few days. What’s up, Bakubro?” Kirishima asked, blinking.

     “Is it because of a crush?” Ashido sang, bringing her hands together.

     “Psh! Bakugou? A crush? Pigs can start learning how to fly before that happens.” Kaminari said, rolling his eyes.

     “And what girl can like him anyway?” Mineta suddenly spoke, alerting everyone.

Even the gang thought what Mineta said was a bit rude. You initially just intended on sitting down there, not saying a word—letting them tease their friend. You knew in your heart Bakugou didn’t mind the teasing, he cherished his friendship despite being so aggressive, but Mineta’s comment threw you off guard.

     “I can.” You said, shocking the entire class.

You were smiling at Mineta, a soft smile that sent shivers down his back. Everyone else merely stared at you as you said it so confidently as if you weren’t ashamed of it. No, it was quite evident that you weren’t ashamed of it at all, in fact, you wore this fact with pride.

     “(y/n)-chan, you—”

You interrupted Kirishima and nodded, “I like Bakugou-kun. A lot. Let’s keep our rude thoughts to ourselves though, okay?”

No one could understand how confident you were at that second. It was a bit sad, seeing how you barely expected a response to your indirect confession—how you barely expected anything out of having feelings for Bakugou in the first place. It was as if you were crushing on a fictional character, but there he was, sitting right next to you.

     “Oi, Bakugou! (y/n)-chan just said—”

     “We have class now!” You said chirpily, before alerting everyone to Midnight-sensei who just entered class.

What you or anyone else in the class had failed to notice was Bakugou’s expression at your abrupt confession. He was wide-eyed, almost as wide-eyed as he was learning Midoriya’s secret. He couldn’t bear to look at you right then, he couldn’t bear to think of anything at the moment. He knew you were growing soft on him, but to think you’d stand up for him and say it like you owned it?

No, you did own it. Damn, you owned the stage so hard right then. 

He felt terrible, though. He knew you didn’t approach him because he was focused on his hero training. He felt terrible because he couldn’t even give you even a slight bit of hope that he did in fact like you back—and you could, in fact, approach him and confess. Instead, you were swallowing your confession deep inside your heart, hiding it from him so that he could succeed. He clicked his tongue and frowned hard, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure what he had to do.

After school, Bakugou would usually train with his classmates. But, that day he wasn’t anywhere to be found. You wanted to find him and explain to him about what had happened—hoping that he didn’t take it the wrong way. There was no wrong way, you knew now you had to tell him what you were feeling and it wasn’t as if you were hiding it. You were more than happy to let him know.

But, maybe, liking someone had some sort of expectation attached to it as well. You felt your spirits lower down as time passed—tired of asking anyone and everyone if they had seen Bakugou. No one had, he had simply vanished—it was strange, almost.

Maybe, he’s just so done that he couldn’t face this... You thought before heading over to the dorm. 

You shut yourself in your room and didn’t come out for the night. Mina called you out for dinner, but you couldn’t show yourself—not after what had happened. You texted her saying you weren’t too hungry and that you were feeling a bit ill. Mina understood right away and left you alone.

However, she had a bone to pick with Bakugou and she didn’t care if Bakugou Katsuki was a scary person. 

You were the gentlest soul anyone had the opportunity of knowing. Learning how Bakugou had treated you—by not even acknowledging your confession. During dinner, Mina rushed to where Bakugou sat and slammed her hand on the table, not even alerting him.

     “Bakugou!” She looked angry, a look that didn’t exactly fit Mina. “(y/n)-chan doesn’t deserve silence!”

Almost the entire class of 1-A watched as Mina reprimanded Bakugou, almost everyone expected him to snap and scream at her or try to blast her away. Kirishima was even ready to grab his friend away before any harm came her way, but what shocked everyone and even Mina for that matter, was how he just sat there and... took it.

     “You... You... Bakugou...” Mina blinked, running out of breath.

He was quietly eating, or that was what Mina thought he was doing and the second she noticed his full bowl of rice, and the curry untouched—her eyes widened. She turned to look at her classmates and shrugged, knowing Bakugou wasn’t feeling himself either.

     “Just...” Mina didn’t know what else to say, “Just tell her already.”

     “I know, dumb alien.”

It was then everyone left Bakugou alone, almost surprised at how much he had changed the past few days. No one could understand why romance was so complicated for him, but it wasn’t just romance anymore. It had a lot more to do with how you understood things—the way you didn’t approach Bakugou. You had invariably put him first over yourself, which isn’t what people usually do. 

This was the very thing Bakugou wanted to address.

That night, Bakugou decided to not head back to his dorm right away. He lounged on the couch, lying down on it, sitting on it, resting his neck on the armrest—nothing was comfortable. Was he expecting you to turn up? He wasn’t sure—he wasn’t certain you would come, considering how you hadn’t eaten dinner, he assumed you could come down for a snack but you were probably asleep too. He checked the time and it was close to 1 a.m., and he groaned.

What the fuck am I doing? 

He rubbed a hand across his tired face before getting up to drink some water. Walking over to the kitchen, he froze when he saw a shadow.

     “Please, please, please...” There was no mistaking it, it was you.

Bakugou didn’t turn on the light, but took out his phone and threw the torchlight at you, causing you to almost shriek but he instantly put his hand on your mouth, swallowing your shout. Bakugou’s eyes darted to what was in your hand, a jar of cookies—unopened, and you seemed to be struggling with the lid.

How the hell did I not notice her? Bakugou wondered before letting you go, once he was certain you wouldn’t scream. Must be that quirk of hers...

     “You want me to open that for you?” 

You gulped before handing the jar to him, “Yes, please. I have bu—”

     “Butterfingers. I know.”

Katsuki could open it in one try, and you blushed at how easy he made it seem. You mumbled a small thank you before placing the jar back on the counter, taking one cookie out.

     “Bakugou-kun, I—”

     “Katsuki.”

Your eyes widened before feeling the blush increase, “U-Uh... Yes, okay... Um, Katsuki-kun, I... I wanted to explain what happened. You weren’t anywhere to be found after school and I thought I’d offended you. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going to bother you with these feelings. They are my feelings and I won’t burden them on you.”

He was looking straight at you, your eyes had somehow adjusted to the quasi-dark setting of the kitchen. 

     “Why?”

     “Heh?”

     “Why won’t you,” he rubbed the back of his neck, finding this a bit hard to say, “Why won’t you, you know, burden them or whatever.”

     “I mean, I was trying to—”

     “They’re not a fucking burden.”

He looked visibly uncomfortable, and you hated yourself for doing that. Your heart went out to how hard it may be for him at that second and you let out a sigh.

     “I’ve never tried hiding the fact that I like you, Katsuki-kun. You inspire me and you’re just very kind.”

     “Bullshit—”

     “You really are! I can fight you for it.” You giggled, sending his heart shooting to the skies.

     “Why didn’t you just tell me?” Bakugou asked, feeling so vulnerable, he felt nauseous.

     “Because I also want you to be the number one hero.” You said, smiling at him, tilting your head to the side.

A second later, Bakugou Katsuki did what Bakugou Katsuki did best—reveal what he felt through action. He walked over to you, his hand flying to your hand before pulling you closer to him. His other hand wound itself around your waist before pressing your form to his chest, embracing you in a tight hug. Your eyes were wide and his chin now rested on your shoulder. A second later, your hands pressed on his back and you could feel your heart pounding.

Actually, you weren’t sure if it was your heart or Katsuki’s.

     “I’m not good at any of this,” He admitted, shutting his eyes, “But I really don’t find you annoying. Not one bit.”

You felt like you were going to explode. Was this his quirk?

     “Katsu—”

     “Let me finish, dumbass,” It was perhaps the first time he threw a half-hearted insult at you in days, “I’m not saying I’m going to do this... I’m saying... Fuck, I’m saying I’ll try, got that?”

Your grip on him tightened and you hugged him back tighter. Bakugou’s eyes widened with that gesture.

     “You really don’t have to.” You said, softly.

     “I want to, (y/n). I like you.”

When you two pulled away, Katsuki darted his eyes away from yours and looked at your cookie. You followed his gaze before letting out a small squeak and eating it in one go, causing the blond to rub your back and call you a dumbass.

     “Katsuki-kun!” You whisper-yelled, “Does... Does this... Does this mean we’re—”

     “I suppose it does.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, not looking at you.

     “We’ll go at your own pace!” You said, smiling at him.

Katsuki took one look at you before saying ‘tch’ and gulping. That was enough of an answer.

Which led you back to your current predicament, as you struggled to maintain your composure. You wanted to see him again—and oh god, you wanted to seal the entire deal with a kiss. You were half-terrified if Katsuki woke up in the morning and realized he wasn’t going to do this—which would never happen, he never went back on what he said.

You covered your face in your lap but almost shrieked when you heard a knock sound on your door. You quickly opened the door to reveal a red-faced Katsuki.

     “Katsu—”

     “Don’t fucking say anything.” He said.

     “Say anything to what—”

In an instant, Katsuki leaned forward and kissed you squarely on the lips. It was awkward as if he didn’t have a clue what he was doing—neither did you, for that matter, but his lack of experience or previous interest was evident. Your right hand flew to his check and you held him, enjoying the feel of how soft his skin was. A second later, he pulled away, your hand still on his cheek.

You had never seen Bakugou so soft before. It almost broke your heart. 

But, it was a sight only for your eyes. When you smiled at him, he knew and you knew—that Bakugou Katsuki’s softness was reserved only for you. 

And there was no other way you’d have it.

❞

[sapphicmsmarvel]

JJ: Nothin but My Feelings

masterlist

song: nothing but my feelings by little mix

probably the most smut ive ever written so uh, viewer discretion is advised. 

kinks mentioned: public kink, “rich” kink, sitting on face, eating out 

I'm layin' here in nothin' but my feelings. 

JJ was having a rough time since the divorce, it’s been a year. All she could think about was your lips, her crush on you wasn't easing since Garcia asked her how she felt about you. 

Thinkin' 'bout our shadows on the ceiling

JJ couldn’t help but let her mind wander; her mind wandered to soft skin against each other. What your moans would sound like, how you would taste. She groaned at the thought, her hand wandered to her bedside table drawer, her hand grasped the silver bullet as she thought, “well might as well.” 

Waitin' for you

So you should probably come through

If you know what's good for you

Over the next couple of days, she noticed how you seemed more stressed than ever. So, she came up with a solution. 

The good ole one night stand agreement. Now, she just had to think of a way to ask you.  

It was just you two at work, “hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You sighed. 

“You wanna stay at my place tonight?” JJ asked, “we aren’t gonna be done until midnight, I dontttt want you driving home late.”

“Okay, what’re we gonna do?” 

She saw an opportunity, and she took it. “each other?” 

She looked up despite her fear and saw you wide eyed. “JJ, I meant the paperwork but….” You shrugged. “Hell, I’m down.”

“You serious?” She asked, shocked. 

You swallowed. “Yeah.” 

I know we will never work, yeah (I know we will never work, yeah)

But if you lookin' for a workout, you should come 'round

Breaths dispersed from both of your mouths as your teeth and lips clashed together messily. JJ felt hot everywhere and you felt desire course through your veins. She pushed you against the wall, she picked you up and your legs were around her waist. 

You felt bursts of hot arousal spark in your pussy and through your thighs as your hips grinded against each other. You moaned as JJ kissed down your neck, and trail a valley of kisses down your cleavage. 

JJ wanted you underneath her, she wanted to taste you as you moaned and writhed against her clever mouth. 

“Where do you want me?” You asked. Your breathing was heavy, the swells of your breasts pushing against JJ’s face as you breathed heavy. 

It felt like heaven to her. 

“God, anywhere and everywhere. Preferably on my face.” JJ said. 

You felt your pussy grow wetter at her words. “Your wish is my command.” 

You ain't even gotta worry (You ain't even gotta worry)

'Cause ain't no strings up on my body

I aint tied down. 

By the end of the hour long hook up, you two were covered in sweat, sheets twined in between your legs. “So when can we do this again?” You asked, breathlessly. Enjoying the way your pussy ached, as well as your legs. 

JJ laughed breathily. “In ten minutes?” 

You laughed, “I meant after today, this can be a one night stand if you want it to be?” 

“It’ll have to be, I’m not ready for a relationship. Not with the kids.” “Babygirl, I was thinking of a good ole fuckbuddy agreement.” 

“So many more times?” “As many times as you want. No strings attached. We’re still best friends, we’re just friends that fuck.” 

She laughed, “we should’ve started this right after the divorce.” 

You laughed in response, then that turned into a noise of surprise as JJ rolled over on top of you to fuck you into next week. 

Cause I warned you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

I told you, told you

You're my mood

Come over now

It became a regular thing that you two happily volunteered to room together on cases, when the case was finished is when the fucking would happen. Showers were a favorite spot. 

She also had a public kink. 

It was about 4am on the plane, every single team member had their own headphones in or else you wouldn’t have done what you were about to do. They had also been asleep for an hour so there was zero risk. And, you two were far, far away from everyone else. JJ was especially worked up due to the fact you two hadn’t fucked in two months due to the increased caseload and kids on her end. 

So while she was reading a book you told her, “if you can whisper-read through a whole chapter without moaning, I will go home with you and be your personal fucktoy for as long as you want. Anything is on the table.” You whispered in her ear. 

“And if I lose?” She breathed as your lips ghosted over her neck causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. “Then I get to control a vibrating egg in you while we grocery shop tomorrow.” She felt your teeth graze across her skin, she knew you were smiling. 

“Deal.” She gritted her teeth as your fingers trailed around her nipples through her t-shirt. 

“You don't have a bra on.” You laughed, huskily. “Naughty girl.” Her nipples were pointed, as you pinched her. “I don’t hear you reading.” 

And then she began reading. She took many pauses to regain composure as your fingers slipped under the waistband of her sweatpants, causing her to shiver. 

She was doing really well, you had two fingers inside of her, massaging her walls. She lost control when you pushed the tip of your finger against her g-spot. 

She came. 

As you licked your fingers clean, you smiled, “you lost.” 

I'm layin' here in nothin' but my feelings

Plus some diamonds, drippin' from my earrings

Waitin' for you

JJ had a “rich” kink. That’s the only way you could explain it. She loved you looking luxurious. She bought you a chest piece of sorts. It was all diamonds and white lace, it was a bralette with diamonds strung everywhere, it sparkled bright in the moonlight as you waited for JJ to enter the hotel room. You wore white heels and a white sheer thong. Everything was on display. 

You two splurged on a hotel room in vegas, you told the team you were visiting your hometown, and JJ was heading to vegas with her mom. 

Her flight had landed, you called the hotel lobby with her name and said she’d be picking up a key to your guys’ room. And now, you were waiting on the bed with your legs crossed and you lounging around.

Not to toot your own horn, but you looked hot as fuck

So you should probably come through

I'm layin' here in nothin' but my feelings

Your phone rang, “hey JJ.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Traffic is so bad.” 

“It’s alright, I’m just laying here in nothing but my feelings.” You talked in a lower octave. “I bet you look amazing.” 

“Good enough to eat.” You responded. 

“Oh, I will definitely be doing that when I get there.” She said darkly. You knew her panties were wet. 

“Mm, well I have to go. The person I’m meeting tonight is running late, I have to go take care of myself.”

“I swear to God-” 

“Bye babygirl.” You said and hung up. 

Then you grabbed her favorite vibrator you use on her, you popped the tip in your mouth, and took a photo to send to her. 

Thinkin' 'bout our shadows on the ceiling

Waiting for you (Waitin' for you, baby)

You received a text back,  “god damn, do I wanna rail you so hard that the wall dents.” 

You giggled, then you laid back against the soft bedding as you waited for JJ.

You thought about all the times you two had hooked up. How much you loved the sound of her moans, the feeling of her thighs clenching around your face as you ate her out. How it felt when her hands cupped your ass as you sat on her face. The feeling of her walls clenching around your fingers as your tongue assaulted her clit rapidly. 

God, what’d you do for her to sit on your face right now. 

So you should probably come through

If you know what's good for you

“Y/N!” JJ said as she got in the room, you were in your fancy position. 

You looked up at her, bored. “Took you long enough.” 

She admired you, “I’m so sorry. You look like….God.”

“Goddess.” You corrected, smiling. 

She smiled, “how can I worship you? My beautiful, sexy, delicious Goddess.” 

“Oh I don’t know.” You mused, as she climbed on top of your lap. “Sit on my face, eat me out, fuck me with that strap on over there, the list is endless.” 

“She smiled, “well, who am I to deny the wishes of the Goddess?” 

Kinda tipsy but I'll wait up (But I'll wait up, wait up)

And I ain't takin' off my makeup 'til you take mе down

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, take me down

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

Later on that trip at a casino, someone was flirting with you. And to get back at JJ for being late, you acted absolutely oblivious. 

You paid for it once you got back to the hotel room. She slammed you against the wall, her hand on the back of your head so you didn’t get hurt. “Baby, baby, baby.” She shook her head and tsked. 

You groaned, “you hadn’t been paying attention to me.” You said. 

“Oh?” She cocked her head. “Well, let me make sure my babygirl knows how much I love the taste of her.” You moaned as she picked you up, your lips slamming together, her hands cupped your ass, she laid you down on the bed. She used her arms as support as she looked down at you. Your flushed cheeks, watching your breasts rise up and down with your deep breathing, your swollen lips and the straps of your silk tank top down your arms, your tits nearly popping from your shirt due to you not wearing a bra. 

She yanked your short skirt down, and smiled when she saw the lavender colored thong. Her teeth scraped your hip bone as she grasped the flimsy straps between her teeth. You groaned as you looked down and met her eyes. Her hands cupped your calves as she pulled the thong down your smooth legs. She pulled your thighs apart, she kissed a trail from your knee up to your pussy. She blew on it causing you to moan. She licked a long stripe up your slit, flicking your clit with her tongue. “I want you to ride my tongue.” She said.

And who were you to deny her of anything? 

'Cause I warnеd you

I told you, told you

You're my mood

I'll show you tonight

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 17

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,700

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21

They punished him when he got back. He’d been gone for almost two weeks—twelve days—and they took it out on him the second he returned. His work hours lengthened until he was leaving before the sun came up and coming home after midnight. Sometimes he’d key into her apartment, falling into bed next to her with his uniform still on, boots kicked off next to the door.

Eva kept food wrapped in plastic in the fridge for him, pulled his belt free from the loops and at least got his button up off when he was too tired to do it for himself. When she did see him, on the occasions he set foot in the embassy, there were dark circles under his eyes.

Still, he didn’t complain. Not one word. Eva’s own workload had grown, having to pick up all the things that had been sitting on her desk. But, Javier and Steve had taken it upon themselves to do a little when they could. Connie would sometimes bring her lunch and they would chat, Eva having to forgo their usual work out nights until she got caught up.

And still, he seemed to just...take it from them. This went on for almost a month before she said anything. The conversation had been short, brusque in a way that he normally wasn’t, the stress peeking out from behind strained eyes. She didn’t say anything after that.

Eva gave him comfort where she could. She set the coffee maker to an earlier time and made sure that he had a travel mug sitting beside it every morning. She washed the uniforms he sometimes left behind, even going so far as to iron his undershirt and fold it neatly atop the pile on the dresser. This was about the extent of her ability to help and it ate at her.

After the first month, he got a day off and spent most of it asleep, or close to it. He’d crawled in next to her after showering, pulling her into his chest before dropping off into unconsciousness. When she’d woken the next day, he was still asleep.  When she checked in with him mid-morning, he was snoring softly, one arm reaching across the bed to the place where she’d been.

Finally, when lunchtime slipped by, Eva roused him and forced him to come out and eat a little. He did so mechanically, his eyes unfocused. She maneuvered him to lay on the couch after that, pulling all the curtains in her living room closed, the TV at a low volume.

They spent most of the day like this, vegetating on the couch. And then, when the evening came, Eva put more food in him and sent him to bed early while she worked on a few files she’d brought home from the office. The next morning, he’d gone in early, as he had to the month previous, and she didn’t see him for three days.

This went on for another month before the higher ups started to let off. By that time, he’d been worked nearly to the ground and she could see the beginning of burn out start to set in. Eva encouraged him to rest on the days he had off, doing what she could to bring back the determined set of his jaw when he went about his work.

And, when he seemed to come back to his normal self, she set up a dinner at a nice restaurant with Connie and Steve. They worked in tandem to keep the conversation from flowing back into office talk, but weren’t entirely successful.

“I got those photos developed,” Steve said a little too casually. “I have ‘em if you want to take a look.”

Connie took a disdainful sip of her wine, “I told him not to bring them, but he insisted.”

Eva looked at Horacio, who was carefully gauging her reaction. With a shrug, she reached over the table and flicked her fingers at him, indicating that he should hand them over. He leaned down and pulled a manila folder from where he’d stashed it under his chair. Eva took it from him, opening it and pulling out the photos.

She felt her jaw lock with the effort it took to control her face. The first photo was of her, standing in the airport, looking lost. She flipped to the next: moving in. Then, her walking from the parking lot into the embassy, her sitting at a park after her first day staring into the middle distance, and her talking with Javier as they walked on a sidewalk—a conversation she’d forgotten about. That’s when things started to get interesting.

The next photo pictured her standing next to her car down the street from that little hotel, Horacio leaning over her. His expression looked frustrated. She was smiling. Next, the two of them in a similar position after the bar fight, mid motion as he’d pushed her against her car. Then, her and Connie laughing outside of the gym, sweaty and glowing in the streetlights.

After that came the moment outside of the bombed restaurant, smoke everywhere, Horacio hovering over her. Out of context, it was a stunningly captured image. They looked utterly alone, his concern for her written all over his face. She was holding him by his forearm, chin tilted up a bit, her hair falling in haphazard curls, haloed around her.

Eva stared at it a moment longer before she flipped to the next one. More of her and Connie, sitting on a low wall, eating. Her arguing with Javier on the steps of the church. Her and Horacio sitting on that bench across the street, his hand trailing down her arm, eyes wandering to the hem of her skirt. Another of him kissing her at her door after dropping her off from one of their early dates.

And then she was standing in the street, staring her ex mother in law down. A little out of focus behind her, Horacio was standing by the table with his arms crossed. Eva stared at the picture for a moment longer than the rest, feeling her lip curl. That woman was still living, and possibly already figured out that Zero had been unsuccessful—possibly was already contacting another contractor to finish the job. That would need to be dealt with eventually.

The final photo was taken a few days before she’d been called to examine Zero’s final warning. She was walking hand in hand with Horacio, they were in a busy farmer’s market, picking out a few things to cook up for dinner. Eva was looking up at him as he talked with a vendor, her eyes so full of emotion that she felt herself blush even looking at it. She looked like a woman in love, a thing that Eva had never thought would be something she would have.

Very carefully, Eva slipped the photos back into the folder and set it aside, “Thank you for doing that.”

Steve nodded, his eyes dropping to the glass in his hand, “At least its over now.”

She sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

The ride back to Horacio’s house was quiet. Eva glanced at him periodically, could tell that he was deep in thought. She clutched the folder of photos in her lap, unsettled. It wasn’t until she was taking her make up off in the mirror of the bathroom that he finally broached the subject he’d been contemplating all night.

Standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, he watched her wash her face, “We do need to address it.”

Eva looked at him in the mirror as she turned off the water, “Address what?”

“The fact that there is likely another hitman already contracted to kill you,” he said matter of factly.

Eva drew in a breath, glad that he hadn’t taken too awful long to decide to have this conversation. She didn’t know how fast Myra would move, but the woman was not known for her patience, or her mercy. It was extremely likely that they had contacted a new guy to finish the job.

She wiped her face off with a towel, “I know. I’ll think of something sooner or later.”

His mouth thinned, eyes narrow, “How can you be so calm?”

Setting the towel on the counter, Eva stepped up to him, placing her hands on his chest, “I have spent almost my entire life with people doing things to me that are completely out of my control. Maybe I’m used to it.”

Walking him back, she sat him down on the bed and kissed his brow. Turning, she reached behind her and tugged down the zipper of her dress, pulling it off while she searched for a sleep shirt to wear.

“This is serious, Eva. Your life is in danger.”

She laughed as she unclasped her bra and threw on the shirt. He very likely did not know how much of a hypocrite he was being in that moment.

“What?” he asked, his tone sharp.

Eva fixed him with a sardonic look, “I’m not the only person in this room with a bounty on their head, Horacio.”

His eyes looked away, “That’s different.”

“How?” she exclaimed, incredulous.

“I’m a police officer working to dissemble a cartel.”

He stood, hands on his hips, mouth curling. Eva felt her inside harden up, unbowed by his fierce look.

“And I’m a felon and former drug trafficker. I can’t escape this, I cannot walk away from it. You have a choice.”

He was already shaking his head, “I don’t.”

Eva stepped up to him, taking his hands, “You do. You can walk away. Retire. Spend some time at the cabin by the ocean. Fucking relax in public places. All of these things you can do. You just have to make the choice to do them.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Horacio looked unsteady. He was looking her with so many conflicting emotions that Eva couldn’t quite parse them out. Sensing that this might be the time to have the other conversation that she’d been keeping to herself for the last few weeks, she soldiered on.

“This job is going to kill you,” she whispered, voice low and rough, “I can’t stand to watch that happen.”

His mouth parted, “We have guards, protocols-,”

She cut him off, “That’s not what I’m talking about. Have you seen yourself these last few months? Did you see what I saw? They’re going to drive you into the ground.”

Horacio blinked, “Its difficult for everyone.”

“No,” she bit out, her hands tightening on his, “You’ve had maybe three days off since we got back. You’ve hardly slept, you’re not eating regularly, you’re so stressed I can literally smell it coming off you.”

Gently, she thumbed the skin beneath his scent gland. His eyes drooped a little, jaw loosening from where he’d been holding it so tightly. Settling into his body, Eva held him to her, trying to convey her worry, her concern for him.

“You want me to walk away from my career? Everything I’ve worked to build?” His voice was on the edge of anger, and Eva fought the urge to back up, to relent to him.

“I want the same thing that I think you want for me,” she murmured, “I want you to live. Really live. You can’t do that if you don’t make some changes. Take that one foot out of the darkness.”

He sighed deeply, dropping his head into the crook of her neck and embracing her, “Its late. We’re both tired. Let’s table this for now.”

Afraid that she’d push him too far if she pressed on, Eva nodded and stepped away to crawl onto the bed. She watched him undress and climb in next to her. After turning off the lamp on the nightstand, he settled into the pillows, taking her hand and kissing it. She drifted off with that solid connection between them.

The next few days were dusted with sporadic conversations about an intangible future. The end of Eva’s contract loomed, now four weeks away. She went to work every day, knowing that it was one less day she would be required to be there. And then something weird happened.

She’d been pulled into a meeting. She’d been censured for continuing to perform field work, outside of the scope of her contract. And then they’d told her that they were cutting it short and to clean out her desk. She’d have two weeks to get her personal items out of the apartment rented for her by the department. Eva couldn’t help the little sneer on her face as she watched Vanessa happily deliver the news.

She couldn’t keep her desk past the end of the day, had been given a box to put her belongings in. Eva had done so mechanically, putting the box of little personal items into her car and returning for her purse, still sitting on that shitty desk Steve had pointed out to her all those months ago. On the way out, she stood under an awning, looking out to the parking lot, confused and feeling just a tiny bit...sad.

A boot scuffed behind her and Eva looked over her shoulder to see Javier standing not far away, his fingers drumming on his leg.

“I guess you heard,” she said, a small smile on her lips.

Javier nodded, reaching up to pluck the cigarette from behind his ear, his other hand already holding a lighter.

“Its strange,” Eva continued on, “I think I’m actually going to miss it.”

He nodded again, not speaking. Eva frowned, gesturing at him as if to say ‘what’s the deal?’

Javier took a drag off the stick in his hand, “Let’s go to lunch.”

Without further explanation, he grabbed her by the elbow and started walking with her. His stride was quick, firm, determined.  His expression was closed. Eva felt her stomach drop with anxiety as she followed along.

“Okay,” Eva drawled in a false attempt at bravado, hustling to keep up with him in her heels, “What is this about?”

“Not here,” he murmured, steering her to his car.

It wasn’t until they were both ensconced in their seats and the engine had turned over that he said anything.

“We’re gonna meet Carrillo at a little out of the way dive just outside the city. I’ve been digging into your contract for a couple weeks and wanted to tell you both.”

Interesting.

Eva’s brows lifted, “What did you find?”

“Let’s wait until we get to the place, I’ll tell you everything then.”

They did, indeed, drive just outside of the city to a little hole in the wall place with what looked like only one waiter. At Javier’s direction, he led them to the back of the main room, through the kitchen, down a hall, and into a basement. Eva stood at the top of the steps, feeling just a little bit like she was walking into a trap.  She looked at Javier’s back as he descended, looked at the waiter, then sighed and stepped down.

It smelled a little bit musty, and there was only a single light hanging from the ceiling. But, a table had been set up with a few chairs. It even had a tablecloth.

“Well,” she commented, because she needed to talk or she was going to start freaking out, “This is certainly the strangest going away lunch I’ve ever had.”

Javier rolled his eyes and sat heavily in one of the chairs, “Have a seat. They’ll bring us some coffee.”

Eva sat, looping her purse strap over the top of the chair, “Is Horacio on his way?”

He nodded, “Should be here any minute.”

She stared him down, looking for clues as to what this was all about. He hadn’t brought a file, he didn’t even have that little notebook he sometimes carried with him. All he had was his wallet (currently wearing through the fabric of his jeans), his gun (tucked in the back of his waistband), his cigarettes (slipped into the breast pocket of his short-sleeved button up), and his lighter (twirling between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand).

The door at the stairs opened and Carrillo’s heavy steps sounded, a slow, measured thump. Eva folded her hands in her lap and waited until he ducked down to scan the room. He was wearing his uniform, gun at his hip, the first few buttons of his shirt undone so that a little of his undershirt peeked out.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he approached and sat down, “Had to make a few calls.”

“Not a problem,” Javier responded, “I almost didn’t catch Eva before she headed out.”

Eva scratched at the skin above her brow, “Does anyone want to tell me what this is about?”

Javier leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, “I did a little research on you.”

“This again?” Eva bit out, feeling a hot anger bubbled up from where is had laid simmering since she’d walked out of that meeting.

Hand up, he indicated for her to wait, “More than just your work history. More than your prison stint. I know a guy who knows a guy, who pulled your file—your actual file. I got a copy of your contract, and I managed to dig up some interoffice mail between Vanessa and some shady people.”

“Okay?”

He leaned forward on his forearms, “There’s a few expense forms that were incomplete, but paid out anyways. Expense forms for plane tickets for, Vladimir Prost—a known alias of Alexei Volkov, according to an FBI friend of mine—w ith a hotel voucher for the same name.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed, her brain circling around the information and coming out on the other side feeling her anxiety spike.

To her left, Carrillo added, “I went to the hotel, pulled a few of their records.  He stayed there for months, Eva.”

She crossed her legs, trying to keep her body more still, “I told you that he had, the pictures proved that he had. The question is why Vanessa, why the DEA, was footing the bill.”

Javier shook his head, “That’s the thing, they weren’t. The forms weren’t standard DEA—very close, but not quite the same.”

She blinked, “You’re saying they were doctored.”

“I’m saying they were doctored,” Javier confirmed with a sharp nod.

Carrillo looked at her solemnly, “I paid off a few administrators where she banks, tracked her bank statements and accounts for the last two years and cross referenced them with the forms Javier found. There are several large deposits close to the dates on the forms from a company our of Louisiana, Ardent Pharmaceuticals. That name familiar to you?”

Eva could feel the blood drain from her face, “That’s the company name for the Moore family’s business front.”

“Well,” Javier commented with a little shrug, “They’ve gone straight with a lot of their stuff. They’re a leader in the field of suppressant therapy.”

“I’m sure they are,” Eva sneered, eyes cutting to the side as she thought about those three syringes gleaming on that table.

“Eva,” Carrillo prompted lowly, “Do you understand what we’re telling you?”

She looked at him, “That my early release, my contract, all the work I’ve done, the shitty boss I’ve had, and my entire professional career is a big set up to keep me contained and under the thumb of my former mother in law so that she can eventually corral me into a corner and murder me? That sound close enough?”

“I know you’re mad,” Javier said, catching her eye, “But we’ve got to think smart about this.”

“Smart?” Eva hissed, her voice high, “You’re telling me to be smart? Everything I’ve done under this contract is a lie and you’re telling me to be smart?”

He made a soft sound of comfort, “You can be mad about that—hell, I’m mad about it—but, you can’t react from that anger.”

“How am I supposed to react?”

“With cunning,” Carrillo answered, and she could tell that he’d already made a plan. “I looked at the contract, the end date is set in stone. Did you get a formal letter of release?”

Eva nodded, reaching into her purse and handing it to him. He read it over quickly before handing it to Javier.

“Good,” he said, “That saves you from the DEA asserting that you broke the contract. Now, I’ve still got a hand in Vanessa’s accounts.  For the near future, that’s going to be our best bet for tracking when the next hit will come.”

Javier handed the release letter back to Eva, “I also made a call to one of my contacts at the IRS. He’s going to call for an audit of the Ardent books, which should tie up some of their funding for the next few months, at least.”

Eva shook her head, “If they’re still using my system, then they won’t find anything.  All their off the books transactions are buried under layer after layer of red tape and false company names.”

Javier leaned forward, “Can you lay out that system for me? So I can send it to them?”

She nodded, “I can do that.”

“Okay, that’ll work. I’ll fax that over to him and that might help speed things along. Eva?”

“Yeah,” she croaked.

“We need you to go about your life as usual. Go pack up your apartment, buy a ticket back to the states, do whatever you think will need to be done so that no one knows you’re onto them.”

Her brows drew together, “You want me to go back to the states?”

Carrillo put a hand on her arm, “We want it to look like you’re going back. We need to buy some time, until we hear back from our contacts.”

Staring into the middle distance, Eva processed the conversation, running over the information a second time and coming out just as angry, if not more so. She was quiet so long that the two men at the table began to fidget.

“Eva?” Javier edged.

She swallowed, then sighed, “Are we actually going to eat at this ‘lunch’? I’ve only had coffee today and I’m starving.”

[nomattertheoceans]

feysand + “you know that your book is upside-down, right?”

Sooooo this has literally zero editing because I got inspired past midnight and now it's already near half past one and I just wrote for an hour instead of sleeping and I really want to publish it tonight before I sleep and wake up and think what I wrote is awful 😂 so I hope you enjoy it 😘😘😘

Also I'm sorry but I'm on mobile rn and I do t have the "under the cut" option

September

Feyre didn't really like the college library.

Well, that wasn't true. She liked her part of the library. She liked browsing through the countless books and academic papers about paintings from the sixteenth century. She loved the little booths were you could install your computer and still  have space to put down books and papers. And most of all, she loved that one booth in the far left corner, with a window with a view on the small patio in front of her.

She really liked the library, and the books, and the patio. What she didn't like was the view at the other side of the patio.

Because the library on the other side was the language section, and people there always seemed to work in group, and loudly. She couldn't even hear them, but still, it annoyed her to see them move around and laugh when she was trying to focus.

But she really liked her little booth on the far left corner, and she didn't want to give it up, so she kept working there even with the people on the other side of the patio.

October

God, that essay was going to kill her.

Sighing loudly, Feyre sat back on her chair and closed her eyes for a second. Just a second. Or maybe it had been a minute. Or more.

She didn't know how long she'd spent with her eyes closed, but when she opened them, she found a guy smirking at her from the other side of the patio.

She would have frowned, annoyed once again by what she saw there, except her brain didn't register her annoyance. Because that guy was gorgeous.

Short black hair sticking out on his head as if he'd passed his hand in it one too many times, broad shoulders and a strong built, and brown skin that contrasted with striking blue eyes. Eyes she could have lost herself in forever if she let it happen.

But he was still smirking, and it was getting on her nerves. So she crossed her arms on her chest and raised an eyebrow at him, hoping to make him look away. His smile only got bigger.

She saw him look down to grab a pen and paper, and she thought he'd moved  on from her when he looked back up and splayed the paper against his window.

You know your book is upside down, right?

She stared at the words for way too long, and finally looked down to her desk, realizing the book she'd pulled up against the window was indeed upside down. She'd been studying a detail in a painting and had needed to see it that way.

She grabbed a pen and started writing a very lengthy explanation about her thought process, but stopped herself midway. Why was she justifying herself to him? She didn't know him and didn't care what he thought about her. So she grabbed another paper and wrote quickly before putting it on the window.

I do. You know libraries are meant to study, right?

She saw him laugh, and he answered almost immediately.

It's hard to study with such a captivating view in front of me.

She stared at his answer, unable to think of what to say next. Was he talking about her? She was wearing an old grey sweatshirt and her hair was held up in a bun.  She wasn't even wearing makeup. Or maybe he was mocking her. 'Captivating' wasn't necessarily a compliment after all.

After a long minute of internal debate, she decided on ignoring him, and went back to her book. She really needed to finish that essay.

November

The stranger was back at the library most days, but he was alone. In the section where most people were working in groups. And she'd caught him throwing quick glances at her a few times, when he thought she wasn't looking. She should've been annoyed, but if she was being honest, she too found herself looking out the window more than usual when he was sitting there.

There hadn't been any more notes between them, but his comment about finding her captivating had stuck with her, and sometimes, she found herself mindlessly arranging her hair or changing her posture slightly when she knew he was over there.

Not today though.

Because today was the last day before her midterms, and she was late in her studies, and she couldn't have cared less if he was looking at her or not. She hadn't washed her hair in a week, and she was actually wearing a ridiculous onesie her roommate had gotten her as a goofy present and she had sworn never to wear outside of her bedroom.

Oh well.

She was lost in a commentary on female painters in France in 1748 when a movement across the patio caught her eyes.

Nice overalls

She rolled her eyes and grabbed something to write.

They're unicorn onesies

He laughed.

Way more sophisticated, you're right. I should've known better

She answered in under fifteen seconds.

Less than 24h before exam, no time to argue with you

And she went back to her book. 

When she looked back up a moment later, she saw that he was gone. But he'd stuck a paper on the glass. 

Good luck

December

They started talking more after that day. Well, talking was a bit of an exaggeration to describe what they were doing. Sticking papers on windows wasn't exactly what she would have called a normal conversation.

He was always the one starting it, and she felt grateful for it. Because for all that she loved writing back, she didn't think she would be able to grab the pen first.

The snow had started to fall over the weekend, and it was covering the patio between them. The night had fallen already, even though it was only 5 p.m., and the only lights were the ones from their respective sides of the library. They hadn't talked that day, he was focused on the screen of his computer, visibly absorbed in his work.

Normally, Feyre wouldn't have written anything. They didn't speak everytime, and she was okay with it. But today was special. She really wanted to talk to him today.

What are you working on?

She waited for him to see the paper for a long minute until finally he lifted his eyes to her and she saw him taking in her words.

Economy final essay due tomorrow morning. Still haven't started it

She let out a startled laugh.

Aren't you a bit late?

He smiled at her.

Not my first time winging it!

And then he wrote on a second paper, before she had time to answer.

What about you? Thought you'd already finished everything

She had. Three days earlier. And she hadn't wanted him to remember that. But of course he had, and now she had to tell him why she'd come.

Didn't feel like being alone tonight

A small frown on his forehead.

Oh?

It's my birthday today

And because he just stared at her with a small smile and a puzzled look, she took back her paper and added:

My roommate's out of town and I had nothing waiting for me at home.  Hoped you'd be here

He smiled, a genuine one this time, and she felt a feeling of joy spread through her body at the sight.

Happy birthday then

And then,

Do you want me to come over to your side?

She felt her throat tighten. It had always been a silent rule between them. They stayed on their side, they didn't meet. She didn't even know his name. And now she was conflicted, because she really really wanted him to hug her. But…

Their little conversation felt like a dream, a small bubble of calm in the constant storm that was her life. And if he came over to her side, the bubble wouldn't hold. She didn't want that. Not yet.

It's fine, thanks

January

She arrived at her booth one Thursday to find a package waiting for her, with a note pinned on it. She knew the handwriting well by now.

Sorry I came over to your side, but I found this over the holidays and thought of you.

She sat down and looked over, but he wasn't there. Was it on purpose? Maybe he didn't want to see her reaction. She gingerly grabbed the box and opened it, to find a present that made her chuckle. It was a blue sweater with a unicorn drawn at the front.

She felt heat creep up her cheeks. He'd thought of her. Outside of their conversation, he was thinking of her.

Just like she was thinking of him, almost every night. Of his gorgeous smile and the way he'd pass his hand through his hair when he tried to focus, and the fact that he loved to go to the cinema and had written her reviews about his favorite movie so long that she'd struggled to read it through the glass.

She thought of him often, and now he knew that he did too, and he'd given her this amazing thoughtful present and she couldn't even say thank you.

She toyed with the idea of going to his side and leave a word. But she wasn't ready for that. So she decided she'd wear the sweater the next time she'd see him.

February

I'd like to hear your laugh

The note came without warning, one cold winter morning of February. He'd told her about some embarrassing thing that had happened in his class that morning, and she'd laughed.  And then he'd written this, and now it had been a long minute and she still hadn't answered.

He looked back down and added something.

In my head it's the most beautiful sound I can imagine. I'd like to hear it for real

She felt herself blushing. Because she too had started to imagine his voice, like a low rumble, vibrating with intensity, but soft and warm at the same time. And she wanted to hear it.

So she gathered her things, got up, and without a look at him, walked away.

Rhysand

She'd walked away.

For months, he's been longing for the weird kind of conversation they'd established, loving the moments when they talked and cherishing every stolen glance in her direction.

That beautiful girl, with long, brown, messy hair, and a unicorn onesie. The girl with clear eyes that seemed to be blue, and freckles on her nose.

He'd loved their moments together, and he'd wanted more, but he felt that she didn't want more. For whatever reason he'd never dared to ask, she wanted to keep their relationship as it was.

But today she'd been so pretty in her red winter dress and he'd cheeks flushed by the cold, he hadn't resisted telling her how he truly felt.

And now she was gone.

He buried his head in his arms on the table, and let his mind wonder. God, he could kick himself for being so stupid and ruin everything. He'd known she was shy and yet he'd pushed and -

"I really don't know how you can work on this place, it's so noisy," a feminine voice interrupted his thought, and his head shot up. He looked to his left, and there she was, standing in front of him, her bag on her shoulder, her hair as messy as usual, a smile on her lips. Not believing his eyes, he got up, and found himself towering over her.

Her eyes were grey, not blue. And she had more freckles than he'd realized.

"I… I can't focus when there's no noise around." His voice came out a mere whisper and he mentally slapped himself. One chance to make a good first impression and he was ruining it.

But she was still smiling.

"I'm Feyre."

"Rhysand."

They both stayed silent for a moment, staring into each other's eyes as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Then Feyre talked again.

"So, Rhysand. Should we grab a coffee?"

Send me prompts!!!

[lil-creatorwritings]

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge July 6: Lovers [Sid Arnault]

Fandom: Midnight Cinderella Pairing:  Sid Arnault x Reader Word Count: 4,840 words--I am #shookt Prompt: Nighttime skinny dipping Warning: Pure, unadulterated smut. There is zero plot. Also, modern!AU. Cause why not. And FWB. A/N: Part of @voltage-vixen ’s Summer of Smut Writing Challenge. You can check the original post for the rules and prompts if you’d like to join in as well! *big breath* I don't know if I was just inspired or possessed while I was writing this. I had an idea in my head that I wanted to see through, so I started to write, and kept writing it, and kept writing it...and then wrote some more. This word count may not be impressive to others, but to me, it's possibly the greatest achievement I've done with a one-shot. I have never written a fic that was almost 5,000 fricking words. My mind is blown. Also, no I have not done Sid's route, actually, not even once! Also no beta so we die like men! So that's my excuse for you on my horrible writing and proceed at your own risk! Tagging @otome-smut-queen and @jennacat84 as well~

---

Every now and then, you and your friends made it a point to go on a trip together to hang out and spend time with each other. It was a way for everyone to destress from their work life and just have some fun and adventure. This time, it was decided that a trip to a forest lodge was the perfect summer getaway. The place was known for its hidden lakes and natural waterfalls, which was an ideal spot for taking a swim in.

It was already mid-afternoon when you reached the house, hearing the rush of water nearby as a couple of the boys busied themselves over finding the waterfall while the girls were discussing what to have for dinner. You felt a hand on your shoulder, looking up to deep blue eyes watching you. "Whatcha doing standing around here?"

"I was just taking in how pretty this place is. Don't you think so?"

"Yeah, it sure is. Though we should probably beat everyone else to which room we want to sleep in.

"The room closest to the stairs then. That seems to be farther away from the rest of the others." You mentioned, setting your backpack down on the table. "I guess this is what we get for being the only ones single in this group of couples."

"What, you saying you don't wanna share a room with me?" He teased. "It's not my fault that you keep dating jerks who break up with you after a month."

"Yeah, yeah, will you stop reminding me already and grab the room keys?"

It was still a bit of a sore topic to talk about. There was always some issue with every guy you previously dated, ranging from the typical 'got back together with their ex after a week or so' or they were dating another woman at the same time. There was even one that felt they were rushing too fast into the relationship after you harmlessly offered to let him sleep on your couch for a night.

Sid had been the one who was there after each breakup. You've known each other since your college days, which almost always surprised everyone who knew that fact. He was one of the few who got the privilege to listen to you drone on about how much of a jerk they were, preferably over some alcohol. It was stupid because even though you didn't have the same tolerance as he did, you would continue to drink even if you'd hit your limit. This sprouted a problem when one morning, you woke up to a different bedroom in a different set of clothes. Your panicked scream made him run inside to check on you only to have one of his pillows smack him right in the face.  

"Sid! What happened last night?!" Clutching the blanket closer to your chest, you tried to hide from him. "Don't tell me we--"

"Sheesh, calm down for a sec." He gently placed his hands on your shoulder, his warmth shaking you out of your confusion. "Take a deep breath and lemme talk."

When you had calmed down, he started to explain last night. After you got drunk, he drove you to his place since it was much closer compared to yours and asked one of his maids to attend to you. Your clothes were in the laundry since you had spilled a drink down your blouse as you tried to stumble your way to the nearby dance floor. He managed to stop you from humiliating yourself just in time and convinced you to come home with him.

Your cheeks burned as you listened to his story, the words triggering a few bits of your hazy memory. Looking around, you noticed that the rest of the room seemed untouched. "Wait, if I was here, then where did you sleep?"

"Why, did you think I stayed here with you?" He grinned, the tone of his voice suggesting otherwise.

"I said nothing of the sort."

Sid handed you a bottle of aspirin and some water from his nightstand. "My living room couch is pretty comfy, you know. Now drink up and get changed so I can drive you home."

That morning, to say the least, was quite strange. You knew that he was well-off, but you didn't feel the extent of the reality until you sat down on the spacious table with him, eating breakfast as a few of the maids simply stood close by. It was surreal, especially when you're used to eating all alone in your apartment. An older butler, who you guessed was the head housekeeper, approached you in the foyer and handed you a small opaque packet. You weren't able to inspect what it was until you were settled in Sid's car, the blister pack slipping from your hand in surprise.

"What's--"

"Your butler gave me Plan B!" You couldn't decide if this was comical or horrifying.

Sid paused as his shoulders shook, pulling over the nearest sidewalk before exploding in laughter. You should have been suspicious, especially since you knew about his infamous track record with women. Not that you were a part of that--even back in college, which is a whole other thing in itself--, but you should have made the connection much earlier.

"Stop laughing! This is serious!" You smacked his arm. "Your staff thinks that we slept together!"

"Ah, James, ya damn prick. Sticking your nose where you shouldn't." He murmured, finally getting a hold of himself before continuing to drive down the road.

"I don't see why this is funny to you."

"Because you and I both know that that will never happen between us."

"I wouldn't use the word never..." You muttered under your breath as you turned to the window.

"You sure you mean that?"

The shift of his voice from being playful to serious made you look back at him. For some reason, you thought he looked a bit tense as he kept his eyes on the road. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying that if it's possible, you would give being friends with benefits with me a chance."

You can't say that the thought hadn't crossed your mind before. He certainly was good looking, though quite cocky and tactless at times. What stood out to you though was despite that, there was a caring and selfless side to him. Not many people would know that, mostly because they get put off with his abrasive attitude.

A part of you wondered how serious he was. "You've seen how terrible my relationships are."

"It doesn't have to be anything else but physical." He replied. "I think we both know that there are certain urges that are better dealt with someone who knows what they're doing."

"That's a bit subjective."

He chuckled. "That's not what drunk you said to me last night."

"Oh god... What did I even say to you?"

"A lot. Some would say a bit too much. You turn into quite the chatterbox after a few shots."

Groaning, you rested your forehead on your hand. It was bad enough that you couldn't remember what you said, but now he knows about how poorly your exes perform in bed. Though you trusted him not to say anything to anyone, the fact that he knew about it made you wish the ground would swallow you up on the spot.

The car came to a full stop in front of your apartment complex. "Nothing else is going to change. Except that we may get a bit busy in the sheets with each other now and then." He said it so casually as if talking about the weather. "We can also forget this conversation ever happened."

This sort of thing wasn't that unusual--you know people who had friends with benefits and turned out okay. He already knew about your intimate frustrations and here he was, offering you a viable option with no strings attached. To say that you didn't want it would be a lie. Plus, both of you were smart and responsible adults who can make their own decisions. Either of you can choose to stop at any given time and still keep the friendship intact.

You thought it was a fine idea. Until it got complicated.

Night had already come as you sat on a log by the campfire, tending to a s'more on a metal skewer. Everyone else had gone up ahead to swim in the lake but you decided to stay behind, declaring that you forgot your swimwear to avoid any further questions.

"You sure you don't want to swim?"

"No, Sid. I don't want to." You rotated the stick, careful to not let the marshmallow burn. He took a seat beside you. "What about you? Didn't you say you wanted to take a dip?"

"Nah. Maybe later." Poking at the fire, he rested his chin on his hand and watched the ashes dance with the wind.

A strange silence settled over the two of you as you waited for your perfectly toasted s'more to cool down before taking a bite. Maybe it was just you who felt that way, but for the past few weeks, you knew that something had changed. Admittedly, being friends with benefits with Sid was quite the revelation. You were confident in your assumption that he was good in bed, but experiencing it for yourself had been mind-blowing. You were by no means innocent, but each encounter had left you breathless and wanting for more.

Of course, there were rules that both of you had agreed on, which mainly rotated around communication. Be open about what you want to try or what you don't want to do. Respecting personal space and time. Speaking up if one of you has found someone they want to romantically date--which was the set deal breaker.

Thankfully, you never received another blister pack from James. It did make you wonder about the previous women he slept with, thinking about if they received this same sort of treatment with him. You quickly shoved those thoughts away, your chest aching a little. It was also easy to forget about it when you were with him because you always enjoyed your time together, whether it be just hanging out as friends.

Out of the blue, one of your co-workers commented on your improved mood, chalking it up with a new and better lover. Before you could explain, a realization had struck you as you stared at them wide-eyed.

You were in love with Sid Arnault.

And that was trouble. But after that day, you couldn't ignore the swirl of emotions in your chest when you saw him. In hindsight, you didn't expect this to happen since you were quite secure on what your ground was with him. He was a great friend, someone who knew some of your intimate secrets, who always looked out for you and protected you. Sure he would tease you for the spirit of it, but never to the point of harm.

A relationship with him was out of the question--you weren't even sure if he was interested in having one, more so with you. You were sure that he had no romantic feelings for you.

Right?

Engrossed in your thoughts, you didn't notice Sid until he was right in your face as he took a bite from your s'more. "Hey!"

"It'll go to waste if you keep spacing out like that." He teased, licking the chocolate off his lips.

Seeing him do that sent a rush of memories through your mind, your body tingling in response to the closeness of his warmth. The singing cicadas were a good reminder of where you were, looking away as you focused on your treat. As a means of distraction, you decided to skewer another one on your stick, pretending to watch it cook as you push your thoughts away.

"You keep thinking about something."

I'm thinking about you. "What makes you say that?"

"You have this distant look in your eyes. Like you're trying to remember something."

I'm trying to remember the moment when I fell for you. "Really? When do I do that?"

"Sometimes, when you look at me." You tore your gaze from the fire to look at him. Sid looked far ahead into the forest and for a second there, you thought he was about to say something profound. He grinned, leaning closer as he stared into your eyes. "You're not falling in love with me, are you?"

I already am. "You wish." 

He shrugged and pulled away. "You should let me know if you're dating someone."

I'm not. "I know. We agreed to that."

"But there is someone you're interested in."

Yes. "No."

"Who is it?"

You. "There isn't anyone."

"Don't tell me." He paused, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "He hasn't the balls to confess to you."

Annoyed, you hit him on the head with your hand. "No one! How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through that thick head of yours?!"

Sid covered his head, wincing in pain from your sudden attack. A moment passed before the sound of his unbridled laughter rang in your ears, filling you with a sense of happiness. "There we go. You look better when you smile."

You hadn't even realized you were frowning until he mentioned it.

"Whatever you're worried about, it'll be fine. Trust me."

Before you could respond, footsteps echoed behind the two of you as you heard your friends coming back from their night swim. He stood up, ruffling your hair before walking off towards the lodge. "I'm gonna go lie down first. See you inside."

As you watched his retreating back, you whispered to yourself. "If only it was that easy..."

After extinguishing the fire and bidding goodnight to everyone else, you quietly slipped inside the dimly lit room and under the covers of your bed. Although it's been roughly an hour since Sid lied down, your gut somehow told you otherwise. It didn't help that you couldn't sleep, hyperaware of the fact that you were surrounded by couples who could be up to some business.

"Hey."

Nothing. You turned around, seeing the back of his head poke out from his blanket. "Sid."

"Whaddya want?"

The hoarse quality of his voice told you that he might have been asleep. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No. Kinda hard to sleep on this bed."

"Take a dip with me." The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

You heard him shuffle a bit, presumably to check the time on his watch. "Right now? It's well past midnight."

"I know."

"I thought you didn't have anything to swim in."

"Swimming naked doesn't sound too bad."

"The water's going to be cold."

"Then you'll keep me warm."

"..."

"Come on." You pleaded. "Please?"

Pause. "Fine."

The two of you slipped outside, using the moonlight to guide your path. It was easy to follow the sound of rushing water to the lake as your eyes widened in wonder. "Oh wow. It's amazing."

"The others mentioned that there was a small alcove behind the waterfall. Pretty sure no one's been using that for any funny business." His tone suggested otherwise as he approached the edge, watching as he undressed before glancing back at you. "Well? Stop gawking and get moving."

This wasn't the first time you've been naked in front of him, yet a shy feeling bloomed in your chest. Staring at the ground, you started to take off your clothes, tossing it on his pile, and slowly stepped in the cold waters. It wasn't too bad as you tested the bottom, seeing how far you could go until it all disappeared beneath your feet.

Sid headed for the center, which was also probably the deepest area. "What are you doing all the way over there? I thought you wanted a swim."

"I am not going any further than this." You pouted, crossing your hands over your chest.

"You shouldn't waste the opportunity, you know." He made his way over to you, standing in front of you as you tried to avoid staring at his muscular chest. "What, are you afraid of drowning or something?"

"No."

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Biting your lip, you cast your gaze to the waterfall. "I don't like it if I can't feel my footing under me and there's nothing for me to hold on to. It's... unnerving for me."

Without another word, Sid reached for your arms to wrap them around his neck, pulling you closer and pressing your chests together. The warmth from his body made you shudder as he tilted your chin up to him. "If we're like this, then there's nothing to worry about now."

As the ground starts to fade, you closed your eyes and hid your face in his neck. His arms rested on your waist, holding you securely as he let out a husky chuckle. "You alright there?"

"I'm fine!" You fought the urge to kick around, worried that you might hit him by accident.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice a bit softer now. "you're doing okay."

Feeling nothing with your legs, you tuned your attention to him instead. Idly playing with his damp hair, you matched the rhythm of your breathing with his own. He was looking at the sky, and you didn't bother to look until he stopped swimming.

"Hey, look up."

You lifted your head, following his instruction as you took in the sight in front of you. The night sky was unobstructed, the darkness littered with stars as far as the eye could see. They created a stream of light and colors, dispersing away as they stretched higher and faded in the distance. It was mesmerizing, leaving you in awe as you smiled.

"Beautiful."

"Right? I've never seen anything like--" You looked back at Sid, surprised to see him staring at you. The gentle look on his face made your heart skip a beat, wondering if he had been talking about the sky or describing something else.

Something pulled the two of you closer, lips coming in for a kiss. One of his hands came up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tilting your head back as he deepened the kiss. You nipped on his lower lip, sucking on it and sliding your tongue in when he opened his mouth. It was demanding and intense, quickly robbing you of your breath as he palmed your breast.

Sid leaned down to nip on your neck, teasing your skin with his tongue as he said. "I think we need to move if we're going to continue this."

"Mhn. A bath sounds like a good idea as well."

You let him lead you back to the edge, having enough restraint to put your clothes back on and walk back to the house. Even in this uncomfortably damp situation, it did nothing to impede the growing heat in your core. Sneaking back into your shared room, he immediately pulled you in the shower and stripped you both of your clothing. The smell of lavender filled your nose as Sid massaged the shampoo in your hair, washing it carefully before moving along your body with soap. When he reached the apex of your thighs, you whimpered when his hand slipped between them and brushed against your clit.

Not wanting to be left out, you started to do the same to him, reaching up to gently rake your lathered fingers through his hair. You started to rub your hands over his chest and down his hips before reaching to stroke his hardness, earning you a strained grunt from him. Swiping your thumb on the head, you balled your hand around it and squeezed before pumping your hand over the entire length.

"Don't play naughty." He nipped on your ear before getting on his knees, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. "You know the rules."

"Why did you even put that rule in?" You asked, remembering his preference of pleasuring you first before taking his.

Sid answered with his tongue on your slit. Gasping in surprise, you clutched on his hair and rolled your hips forward. His appetite was as ravenous as the last you remembered, your body shuddering in delight when he sucked hard on your clit. Fingers rubbed your soaked entrance, two of them thrusting in you fast while applying more pressure with his mouth. You could only moan his name as your orgasm crashed over you, your other leg giving out and trusting him to support your weight.

Dizzy from the rush of your release, you slid down into his awaiting arms. He held you to him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. He pressed soft kisses on your shoulder, caressing your sides. "Sid," your purred, blowing hot air below his ear as you raked your nails up his back. "give me all of you."

Whether either of you realized the implication of those words was the least of your concern as his tall form hovered over you. His disheveled and wet hair framed his gorgeous face, his intense blue eyes shining like the midnight sky you saw earlier. If your thoughts hadn't been hopelessly muddled by him, you would have recognized that look he had.

"I just can't win over you, can I?" He mumbled, voice taut as he shut the shower off. Without letting go, he stood up and left the bathroom with you still in his arms before laying you down on one of the beds. Settling himself between your legs, he rubs his cock along your slit, using your arousal to push into your slick heat without causing you pain.

You moaned loudly as he filled you, stretching around his impressive size. With a steady pace, he started to thrust inside you while his thumb stroked your aching clit with wide circles. It was a slow climb to your peak, a contrast from his earlier ministrations. His free hand caressed your chest, cupping and massaging your breast.

A pinch to your hardened nipple made you whimper. "Any other man would be lucky to see you like this."

Flustered with his words, your cheeks grew red. "What? No one else is--"

The rest of the words died in your throat when he slammed his hips hard into yours. Letting go of your breast, he leaned forward on his knees and slipped his arm under your waist, hugging you closer to him. His mouth nipped on your neck as you arched your back, thighs quivering from the building tension in your core. You couldn't grind up against him in this position, leaving you open and defenseless as you took everything he gave you. His cock rubbed right against your sweet spot in this angle, making you spasm with each thrust.

Moving faster, he pumped in and out of you as his fingers drew smaller circles on your clit. You felt him whisper in your ear, your heart leaping out of your chest over his words. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you rasped out his name with your reply, squeezing around him tightly. Groaning in your neck, he released inside you as his thrust became erratic, filling you with much of his warmth.

Even as exhaustion set in, Sid gently pulled out of you and eased you down on the bed. A soft towel was wiped down your body before he lifted you in his arms, carrying you over to the next bed and tucking you in the cool sheets with him. His hand caressing your hair quickly pulled on your consciousness, sending you off into a dreamless sleep.

When you woke up, you were alone in the room. The darkness outside told you that it was still early morning, probably just before dawn. You got dressed and grabbed Sid's jacket, draping it over you as you made your way downstairs. The living room was empty, though a cup of unfinished coffee was your only sign that someone else was awake.

Leaving the lodge, you looked around for him. You ventured down the path to the lake, spotting him by the edge as you came closer. He was looking out into the distance, refusing to turn around as he spoke. "It's still too early. Go back to sleep."

"Nah. Maybe later."

The cicadas were gone now. There was no one but the two of you here. Walking over to a rock next to him, you faced the opposite direction and leaned on a smooth portion. "Last night, I heard something."

"Did you now?"

"I remember you said that any other guy would be lucky to see me like that." What struck you with that sentence wasn't so much the words, but the undertone of jealousy. "And then you said, 'be mine'."

Sid didn't respond, so you continued. "You didn't let me finish replying to the first one. I was going to say, 'no one else is going to see me like this'. Because I only want it to be you who sees me like that."

As scared as you were to address the pink elephant, you couldn't bear to leave it just like that, not after what you heard. You would survive if the arrangement was broken after this, but not before you determine what his feelings for you are. Even if you're wrong and this is all just one-sided, you could bear the heartache. It's the regret from not giving this--the two of you--your all that you refuse to let happen. Not with Sid.

Still nothing. Taking a deep breath, you clenched your fist and mustered what courage you had left. "What I'm saying is, I love you."

Your heart clamored in your chest as you waited for a reply, staring at the patch of grass in front of your feet. The first morning rays had started to peek over the horizon when you finally mustered the courage to look up at him. "Sid?"

He looked at you, cocking a sure smile. "Heh. It feels nice to hear that from someone you love."

As your mind scrambled to think, he leaned closer and cupped your cheek. Your vision was filled with him as he kissed you with quiet passion, pouring out his feelings into you. Kissing him back, you clutched on his shirt to keep yourself steady as you pulled him down.

Sid let out a chuckle. "I didn't think you'd remember all that. Not with what I was doing."

Your cheeks flushed over the memory. "I usually don't, but I couldn't get it out of my head."

"Hm. Makes that two of us then."

The two of you stared at each other for a while before you spoke. "Are you sure about this? I don't have a very good track record when it comes to relationships."

"I have my own bad record and you seem to be accepting of it." He rested his forehead on yours, gazing into your eyes. "This is just the start, so we'll have plenty of time to figure stuff out."

Nodding, you leaned closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." He smiled, kissing your forehead before extending a hand out to you. "Come on. Let's have some breakfast."

"Oh, before we head back, there's something I want to ask you."

"Hm?"

You felt embarrassed to ask this, but you needed to know. "When did you start to like me?"

His eyes widened in surprise as a faint blush spread on his cheeks. "Around our last year in college."

"What! It's been that long?!" You shouted, clamping your hand over your mouth. "Okay, then why didn't you try to ask me out then?"

Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, he averted his gaze. "I would've, but... When you cried to me about how you hated playboys because your first boyfriend was one, I knew I couldn't at that time. I was pretty much jumping from bed to bed back then." You noticed the tips of his ears turning a shade of red as he continued. "So I had to straighten myself out first."

"So, that day in your car, when you offered that... You weren't sleeping around anymore?"

"Not for a long while."

Now it was your turn to blush. "But the pill..."

"James is a nosy guy. Sticks himself in other people's business even if he isn't supposed to." Sid cleared his throat. "Are you done investigating? You can ask me more after we eat."

"Fine, fine." You pulled on his arm, walking back together to the lodge. Although you had many more questions for him and probably vice versa, he was right--this was just the start, and there's plenty of time for the two of you to explore this next step. It can't be that bad, not if you have him at your side through it, and you were sure to do the same for him.

[lazywriter7]

Five Bells

Written for @lightsonparkave prompt one and two. Cheers to the delightful @firebrands for all her words of encouragement.

Summary:  

After returning the Stones, Steve takes a detour through time.

First few lines of dialogue taken from Avengers: Endgame. All other lines in italics, as well as the title, are taken from Kenneth Slessor’s Five Bells.

________________________________

“How long is this gonna take?”

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.”

  Time that is moved by little fidget wheels Is not my time

the flood that does not flow.

 I have lived many lives, and this one life

  “You know which bagel,” Steve says – mostly distracted. Cross-legged, notepad on thigh, he is drafting new training plans for the team; Pietro is proving to be a unique challenge.

“I do?” Tony queries, standing above his shoulder. The couch is low and he towers over Steve. “I don’t remember that being covered by the history books… unless I’d fallen asleep, of course.”

Steve freezes. No, no, he stills. The setting sun angles over Tony’s cheekbone, a deep, burnt red.

Steve lowers his gaze, his skin shivering with the afternoon chill. “Sesame seed, please.”

  Why do I think of you, dead man

 You have gone from earth,

Gone even from the meaning of a name;

  It is in the little things. Natasha’s surprised blink when Steve brings her a peanut butter sandwich, the hollow silence when he curses on the comms and no one chimes the L-word back at him.

It is nothing. It should pale before the face of the big things, the earth-shattering, the miraculous – the reality of getting to hear their voices, see their faces, unblemished, every day.

Even Christmas. Clint snags a thumbnail under the wrapping paper and peels it open from the middle; lifts the box set of Jurassic Park colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.”

It’s for Cooper, Steve thinks; it’s dumb, I couldn’t help myself, you haven’t told us and I’m so sorry–

“Did you not have presents in your time?” Tony asks, part snark and mostly befuddled, the multicoloured gleam of fairy lights dappled in his hair.

I didn’t have you in my time – and. And. It is in the little things.

  Yet something's there, yet something forms its lips

And hits and cries against the ports of space,

Beating their sides to make its fury heard.

  “They’re shiny. Silver.” Tony says, bruised eyes, dim with a kind of terror Steve has lived through first-hand. “These big, heaving whales in the air… and everything else is dark. All of you are dead.”

It’s been twenty-three days since Steve told him about December 16, 1991. New traumas evoking older nightmares.

“And I’m alone.”

It wasn’t real, Steve should say. That is the correct response to a nightmare.

It was real, in another, deliberately forgotten lifetime. Five years, and they weren’t even the worst of it.

“We can prepare,” Steve fists his hands by his sides, so as to not reach for Tony’s trembling ones on the kitchen countertop. Everything around them is night and still, but for the flickering of the bulb overhead. “We’ll be ready for them when they’re here.”

It’s like a face shifting from the shade into the light; the gratitude moving over Tony’s features.

The kettle whistles, Tony pads over to the stove – and for an instant, it’s as if a cloud passes and Steve is convinced this is a BARF memory. There by the corner, the real Tony stands with shoulders curled in – gaunt, emaciated, mouthing words.

Liar. Thief. Liar, liar.

  Are you shouting at me, dead man, squeezing your face

In agonies of speech on speechless panes?

Cry louder, beat the windows, bawl your name!

  Tony, Steve breathes – and Tony catches it on his lips.

This has never happened before. Steve has no memories to compare it with, and catalogues every detail to add to a rolodex of sensations, for safekeeping; Tony’s eyelashes fluttering against Steve’s skin, the way the callus on his thumb digs into Steve’s chin when he’s holding it steady, the soft skin in the crevices between his fingers as their hands wound tighter together, the happiness of an impossible moment.

Tony pulls back, smiles softly.

Steve closes his own eyes, brushes his mouth over the corner of Tony’s, where the wrinkles begin – the place missing just a few extra lines.

  But I hear nothing, nothing...only bells,

Five bells, the bumpkin calculus of Time

Your echoes die, your voice is dowsed by Life

  “I have… Arlington.” Steve awkwardly presses himself against the wall of the overfull coffeeshop, paper cup oozing warmth through to his palms. Sometimes, if he lets himself forget, the crowds piling through the street and bustling indoors can still stun him. “There’s a memorial there, I mean. But if I could pick, after I eventually… Brooklyn, probably. In the Barnes family plot, if they allow it.”

“What,” Steve asks – turned morbid by the laughter and press of people around him. Fifty percent. It never happened here. “What about you?”

Natasha looks at him, brow crooking high enough to reach her hairline. Steve used to think that blistering colour came from hair dye, but he knows better now.

“Where I’d want to be buried?” She summarises bluntly. It’s like a wound getting cauterised – relief and pain making everything insensate.

The answer is a farm that isn’t supposed to exist, in the middle of nowhere. “Minsk,” Natasha says instead, and it doesn’t sound like a lie he’s heard before.

  Nothing except the memory of some bones

Long shoved away, and sucked away, in mud;

And unimportant things you might have done,

Or once I thought you did; but you forgot,

And all have now forgotten

   “Happy Sputnik Day!” Tony choruses, Thor’s deep base rumbling alongside his. Bruce is in the attached kitchenette, peering at jar labels in the shelf; Clint and Natasha playing Borderlands on the couch.

Steve comes further in from the doorway, gaze flitting incorrigibly from person to person. “What?”

“You know, Sputnik. The day all of humanity became a little cooler, and the Russians successfully launched the first satellite into orbit, driving the Americans insane.” Tony springs to his feet, wide grin approaching for a morning kiss. “October fourth.”

He barely catches Steve, fingers clamped about the arms, just as Steve pitches into the floor.

One year, one year one yearoneyearone –

Past, present, future swirls together in his serum-perfect brain, gibbering over two words, a fact so carefully forgotten; his breaths grow shallower and shallower, pain shooting through his chest with every hitch, black-spots-inverse-stars shimmering in his vision–

“You’re dead.” Steve rasps out, Tony’s face shuttering in confusion. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it. “You’re dead.”

  Where have you gone? The tide is over you,

The turn of midnight water's over you,

As Time is over you, and mystery,

And memory, the flood that does not flow.

  He’s curled on the couch, apostrophe-like; dry-mouthed but breathing slower against Tony’s denim-covered thigh. Tony drags blunt nails over his scalp, quietly humming under his own breath.

I’ve watched you, Steve thinks hazily – watched you raise a child, watched you be blissfully married, watched you speak to Howard, father to father, and dole out more understanding than he deserved, and let me walk you away from your pristine life and give me more trust than I had ever earned. I watched the silver grow from the temples of your head to the longer hair-strands, to the scrub of your goatee, up to the fleck of your brows. And the longer I keep watching you now, the more I know I’m watching someone else.

“Was so sure,” He can hear his voice reverberate off the floor, more of a croak than anything– “tha’ I wasn’ gonna leave you this time.”

Tony regards him, hum falling silent. There’s a dam there, in those eyes, holding back a wave of slowly stirring anger and injury that Steve fully intends to weather – but is leashed now, for some reason.

This Tony doesn’t have grey in his beard yet, but even as his lips move and Steve braces himself, he says–

“I’ll forgive you.”

  The night you died, I felt your eardrums crack,

And the short agony, the longer dream,

The Nothing that was neither long nor short;

But I was bound, and could not go that way,

But I was blind, and could not feel your hand

  After he’s said his goodbyes, Natasha follows him back to his room.

“Is he still in the plane somewhere?”

Back at the beginning, when he’d been dropping off the Tesseract at Camp Lehigh – he’d briefly considered it. Dropping off an envelope on Peggy’s desk with the coordinates of the Valkyrie, so that the other him could find… something. Maybe a happy ending, maybe just a chance. But all of time and its knowledge had been laid out before Steve, and he hadn’t resisted one extra indulgence.

It was only time before he met Scott, after all. One extra Particle than he had, one trip to the forties and back – and his self could be spared the pain of thirty years in the ice.

In twenty-twelve, Steve changed the course of history merely by showing up; all deep sea vessels, search parties in the Arctic called home. Captain America was alive and well.

“Seventy five, point two three zero six north, ninety nine point one one three zero west.” With every blink, Steve can see her memorising the numbers. “Find him, kick his ass into gear. Don’t let him run.”

She nods, and remains waiting in the doorway. Steve is motionless on the bed, the looming weight of the future wrapped around his wrist.

He looks at her. Natasha’s lips curve straight up, soft and reassuring.

“See you in a minute,” Steve whispers, and disappears.

  If I could find an answer, could only find

Your meaning, or could say why you were here

Who now are gone, what purpose gave you breath

Or seized it back, might I not hear your voice?

  Back on the platform, Bucky runs to him first. His brows are furrowed with faint surprise.

In that other past, and now that was The Other – Peggy had set him free in the seventies, aided by information that Steve left behind. When Steve re-emerged in twenty-twelve, he had no idea where Bucky was and how the years had passed for him – fettering his impulses in steel, and letting it remain that way. His interference would accomplish little, and Bucky had always managed on without him.

Or maybe that had just been easier for him to believe.

“Not the end of the line just yet,” Steve says.

The surprise smooths out of Bucky’s features, so does the staidness; he squeezes Steve’s elbow once and for a second, that grin seems alive.

“I hate running alone,” Steve tells Sam, who’s standing but two paces behind. He strides forward to catch up, reaches out and wraps Sam’s solid fingers over the strap of the shield in one motion. “Hold this for me, will you? Be back soon.”

He turns and walks. It’s a short one – the lakehouse property isn’t really big. There’s grass everywhere, and dandelions, and no headstones.

Just a tall, stately oak towards the side – foliage in full summer splendour. There’s already a circle of dropped acorns around the base, ready to sprout into a hundred, newer lives.

“Hey.” Steve strokes his fingers over the burnished bark. “I’m back.”

 I have lived many lives, and this one life

 Time that is moved by little fidget wheels

Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.

  Outside the lakehouse, Laura is bundling the kids into a van. Clint steps down from the porch, murmurs something to her, then jogs over to where Steve is watching, arms folded.

“She did have family,” Clint says, almost as an aside. “Sisters, a few others.”

Steve breathes the news in. The scent of summer is strong in the air, lilacs and crabapples and the soil itself.

“I have a few of her effects. They must’ve heard, already, but someone should tell them in-person.”

“I’ll find them.” Steve affirms. Clint nods, and walks back to the van, where Cooper sticks his head out of the open windowpane and gets his hair ruffled teasingly for his efforts.

Steve watches, the warmth of the sun beating down his arms and back. He has a feeling Minsk is pretty nice this time of year too.

[marvelslut16]

A jealous new year

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Synopsis: (Y/N) has been working with Sam and Dean for the past two years. She had feelings for Sam almost instantly, but has never acted on them. The three hunters head to a bar on new years eve, and now that a guy that kinda looks like Sam is all over (Y/N) will he finally confess his feelings?

Word count: 2505

Warnings: Implied smut. Poorly written smut adjacent? Slight smut? Swearing, Unwanted advances. A dash of violence. 

A/N: I just want to say a major thank you to every single person who has ever liked, commented, or reblogged my work this past year! It was my first year on here and you guys made it so amazing. It’s so hard to believe that I have close to 300 followers since I started this blog in May. Especially since I’m not too consistent with uploads (I’m working on that I promise). Also, if this story completely suck, I’m sorry. It’s my first time writing for Sam, and I wrote this in about two hours to get it out on the first of the year. One last thing in my super long note, I’m having knee surgery in two weeks so I’ll have more time to write. Please, please, please, feel free to send in requests.

Sam and Dean Winchester were never ones for traditions, with the exception of the family business that is. The only time they celebrated a holiday was when it was Dean’s last Christmas before he was sent to Hell. After that they got too busy with all of the apocalypse crap, and they just didn’t care anymore. Not even when they picked up you, the holiday queen. 

While you were a hunter and researcher, never in one place for long, you still loved to celebrate the holidays. In a way it gave you some control and brought happiness in your otherwise hectic life. You soon learned that the boys wouldn’t even humor you and celebrate, deciding to ignore your festive spirit or yell at you on the stressful days that happened to line up with a holiday. In the two years you have been with the hunters, they’ve celebrated zero holidays with you. 

Today is New Year’s Eve and you don’t even try to get them to celebrate with you, instead opting to get dressed up in your best dress and go get drunk. It’s close to nine at night when you’re dressed and ready to leave, hoping you can catch Dean on his way to a local bar. 

When you leave your room you notice the bunker is completely silent, so you head to the library hoping the Winchesters are in there. The TV would typically have Dick Clark’s Rockin New Years Eve on, you liked to watch it even though there was a two hour time difference between Kansas and New York, but you kept it off since the brothers are grumpy Gus’. 

As expected the brothers were in the library searching for a new case, because they clearly don’t know how to sit still. The three of you had gotten home from a pretty nasty wendigo hunt late last night, and here they were already looking for a new one. 

“Hey Dean, you heading out soon?” you ask the shorter brother. 

“Yeah, in a lit- whoa,” Deans green eyes widen as he takes in your appearance. They’ve never really seen you all done up; nice dress, makeup, hair done nice, and a pair of heels. 

“You’re not planning on going out like that, are you?” Sam asks incredulously. You nervously pull at the bottom of your dress. 

“As a matter of fact, I am,” you say more confident than you feel. Sam’s scrutinizing gaze makes you self conscious. 

His caring attitude had made you feel at home with them two years ago. The gratification and comfort soon twisting into desire and an intimate affection. You knew you stood no chance with him, so you pushed those feelings away almost as soon as they arose. If he saw anything in you, he would have stopped Dean’s constant flirting, right? 

“When do you want to leave, sweetheart?” Dean openly checks you out, bringing back the confidence that Sam had just washed away. 

“As soon as your ready,” you smirk down at his seated form. He quickly gets up and slips his leather jacket on, fixing his collar before twirling Baby’s keys around his index finger. You but on your black leather jacket, popping your collar with attitude. The jackets may not be weather appropriate, but they’re more for looks than warmth tonight. 

“Wait for me,” Sam’s rough voice comes from behind you.

“You sure you really wanna go buzzkill?” Dean laughs. Sam ignores him as he roughly grabs his jacket and heads to the garage door. Dean and you makes exasperated faces at each other, tonight will sure be interesting. 

Even though Sam made it to the garage first, you made it to Baby first and slid into the passenger seat. Sam grumbles as he makes his way to the backseat, leather squeaking as he gets into the car. 

“Who’s gonna be the designated driver?” Sam asks gruffly. 

“Not it!” Dean and you shout at the same time, making eye contact before giggling at each other. Sam grumbles from the back again, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Free drinks here I came,” you smirk as you step out of the Impala, fixing your cleavage to pop more. “See you in the new year boys,” you wink before walking ahead of them, making sure it’s obvious to the other guys you’re available. 

There’s an attractive man at your side the moment you sit on one of the bar stools. The bar is packed, but minus your best friends this stranger was the most attractive guy in there. He’s taller than Dean, but shorter than Sam, and his hair is long like Sammy’s but he’s clean shaven. He’s bottom shelf Sam Winchester, but if that’s the closest you can get to having Sam you sure as hell are gonna take advantage of the opportunity. 

“Whatcha drinking?” the blue eyed man grins down at you, eyes flicking to the girls.

“A rum and coke, but I wouldn’t mind a tall glass of you later,” you bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes. 

You hear a gruff laugh come from your other side, your eyes flick over to Dean’s green ones. He’s smirking at your stupid line, that somehow made blue eyes melt. Sam’s glaring at the scene in front of him as a blonde waitress pushes her boobs into his arm. A surge of anger runs through you, but you ignore it as you turn back to the man graciously buying you a drink.

The TV behind the bar is playing Dick Clark’s Rockin New Years Eve and you can’t help but grin, you won’t miss the famous ball drop after all. You and blue eyes, who’s name you learn is Jeremy, talk and flirt for the next twenty minutes. He’s not bad to look at, and he’s not completely boring. When the subject of work comes up you of course lie and say you’re a librarian, he comments about how he had a thing for his librarian when he was in grade school, which is a tad gross and too much information. Jeremy works for a fortune 500 company that you can’t remember the name of, and is in Lebanon on business. How many drinks have you had in twenty minutes? 

Drunk voices shouting in unison alerts you to the fact that the countdown is staring on the TV. You turn and catch Dean’s eye, he quickly vacated the seat next to you for a group of sorority girls, some brunette is sitting on his lap and playing with his necklace. The two of you smirk and wink at each other, tonight's going to be fun. However, your smirk falls when your eyes land on Sam, he’s at the opposite side of the bar and glaring at Jeremy. You quickly turn away from him and back to those pretty blue eyes. They can’t compare to Sam's gorgeous expressive hazel eyes, but they’re still pretty. 

Your painted lips meet Jeremy’s chapped ones when the ball has officially dropped. This kiss is too fast, too hard, too rough. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, you bite it playfully hoping he would catch your drift and back off. He doesn’t. Instead he pulls you off your stool and almost don’t catch your balance. His hands leave your back and slide down to grab your butt. Too fast. 

You rest your hands on his chest, and push off of him hard. He laughs and licks his lips in an attempt to be sexy, but it just comes off as weird. Jeremy orders you another drink as you get back on the stool. You do a quick glance around the bar, lots of people are clearing out even though it’s not midnight, wanting to ring in the new year in someone's arms. Your eyes land on Sam’s figure as you thinking about being tangled in someone’s embrace, but all you get is his back. Your eyes slip down to his denim covered backside, the jeans hugging it deliciously. It takes you a second to realize he’s storming off to the bathroom. 

Your eyes continue their search of the bar, and they meet Dean’s furrowed brows. You silently communicate with just the slightest changes in your facial features. He soon gets up and follows Sam, since you demanded he do so. He flips you the bird right before he turns the corner to the bathrooms. You turn back around to a pair of blues staring at you so intently.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your trying to get me drunk,” you’re voice comes out light and airy, even though the feeling of dread is sinking to the pit of your stomach. Jeremy tries to laugh it off, but there’s something in his smile that tells you you’re right. 

Sam and Dean are gone for close to five minutes and you worry that they were attacked by a monster, they’re defenseless and probably wouldn’t be able to contact you for help. Just as your about to excuse yourself from Jeremy, Sam and Dean’s tall statures come into view. Dean walks back over to his sorority girl, while Sam sits heavily in a stool closer to yours. You try to get the taller mans attention, but he avoids looking in your direction.

“Lets get out of here,” Jeremy’s hand is on your ass again, this time giving it an unwelcome squeeze. He leans into you, lips brushing against your earlobe before giving it a painful bite. 

“I’m happy here,” you slightly pull away from him, scared that he;ll snap if you retreat too quickly. His hand falls heavily on your thigh, too far up for your liking and you squeak in surprise. “What are you doing?” your voice raises slightly, alerting Sam to what's going on.

“Getting ready for you to repay me. After all, I did buy your drinks,” his grip tightens. All of your hunter instincts disappear, more scared now than on a solo vamp hunt. 

“Get your hands off her,” Sam rips Jeremy’s sweaty palm off your bare thigh, voice gaining attention as it bounces off the paneled walls.

“Whoa man, calm down,” Jeremy looks around at all the eyes staring at us. “This is my girl, it’s called role-play.”

“She isn’t your girl, she’s my best friend. Now hands off,” Sam practically growls, fires burning bright in his hazel eyes. Your teeth gently gnaw on your bottom lip, Sam’s jealousy is undeniably sexy. “Let’s go (Y/N),” he grabs your hand and leads you to the exit. 

“Whatever man,” Jeremy calls after you. “She’s just a whore, she was asking for it.”

Sam is in Jeremy’s face in two long strides, boots stomping on the wooden floor. Sam’s fist connects with Jeremy’s nose, a sickening crack echoing through the silent bar. Blood spurts out of Jeremy’s nose and falls onto his button up. “You don’t talk about anyone like that,” Sam takes a menacing step towards Jeremy, they’re chest to chest. “Especially not (Y/N).” 

Sam walks swiftly back to you, escorting you out the door and into the Impala’s passenger seat. A tense silence hangs in the air on the drive home, you don’t dare try putting music on. As soon as the car is off, Sam is out of it and stomping into the bunker. You really regret leaving Dean behind and assuming he’ll find a way home in the morning.

You grab a glass of water, deciding that you shouldn’t drink a beer and add to your alcohol level, and you watch Sam’s tense form pace the kitchen. “Why him,” Sam eventually asks.

“What?” your surprised by the question. You expected to get reprimanded for your behavior, not this question.

“I have my reasons,” you state defensively. Sam walks up to you grabbing the table on either side of you, effectively caging you.

“Why?” Sam’s anger grows, the wooden table seems to bend under his tight grip.

“Because he looked like you!” the words leave your mouth before you can realize it. Sam lets go of the table and steps away from you, and you realize that you just ruined your friendship, “Just forget I said anything,” you mumble as you head to your room.

Sam finally reacts, reaching out and yanking on your wrist as you walk past him. You're spun around so you're now chest to chest with him, he grabs your glass and sets it on the table next to him.  

“Do you really mean that?” he gently cups your cheek, searching your eyes for any hint of a lie. 

“Of course I do,” you laugh softly, “I’ve been in love with you since I met you Sam Winchester.”

“I love you too,” a grin splits across his face as he pulls you in for an earth shattering kiss, it's like nothing you've ever felt before. 

The kiss quickly heats up and your unbuttoning his flannel and discarding it on the kitchen floor. He quickly, hungrily, pushes your leather jacket off your shoulders and you can’t bring yourself to care that your phone was in the pocket. He leads you backwards as you continue to kiss, stopping in the hallway for a second so he can get you out of your dress.

He pushes you into his room, slamming the door shut with his foot. You pull away panting, your hands go to work on unfastening his belt and getting those jeans off of him. He drinks in the sight of you in your bra and panties, a sight he’ll never get tired of seeing. He’s pulled back from his trance when his belt hits the floor with a clang, leaving you both in your undergarments.

Your mouth waters at the tent in his boxers and the way the material curves around his plump butt. You sink to your knees and use your teeth to pull down his boxers. Your nose skims across his impressive length causing him to inhale sharply. He quickly pulls you to your feet, practically ripping the last of the material on you off. 

He pushes you back onto his bed, hovering over you. His lips connect with your neck, sucking so hard he’s undoubtedly marking your skin. He murmurs soft I love you’s as he kissed down your bare skin, each touch of his lips sends heat directly to your core. Every kiss gets him closer and closer until the place you need him most, his breath ghosts over your slick folds sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Your mine,” his voice is husky and rough. Every drawn-out syllable conveys his need. 

“I'm all yours,” you gasp out as his fingers slide into you and his lips latch onto your clit.

And just like all of those people from the bar, you ring in the new year with you limbs tangled with Sam’s. The plain white sheet tightly wrapped around yours and Sam’s calves and ankles. There is no better way to enter the new year.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny​

[klarolinedrabbles]

What are some of the tvd to fandoms greatest hits so to speak... I was only in it for a short time and then jumped out because I couldn't stand to

Oh, well allow me to be your guide. This will be under a read more because I already know, I’m gonna write a whole essay. Shout out to my ride or die @hellsbellschime.

I don’t think any overtly crazy happened during the good!TVD years. No wait, I’m lying.

The year the spin-off got announced, I believe it was tvguide, that posted an article with like info tidbits for currently airing shows. And one of them, was that Hayley was pregnant with Klaus’ kid. I remember this shit so clearly, man. Everyone was so confused. And then they were like SURPRISE, APRIL FOOLS. Because it was in fact April 1st. So ha-ha we all had a laugh, great. Fastforward to what, late April? Episode 4x20 airs, and it’s exactly what happened???

That whole day btw, the day the backdoor pilot for TO aired was just insanity. I’ll say that about a lot of days in this answer, but that day was really just something else. Like we were delirious, that’s the only way I can explain what happened on here. It was a nightmare but also one of the funniest night’s I’ve ever spent on here. I gotta go back for old time’s sake and reblog some of the shit from that night because we all snapped. And not in the good way. 

The TVD 100th. Now, we knew Joseph was coming back for that episode so they hype was real. Because up until that point, we’d gotten a huge load of nothing in regards to Klaroline. They released a trailer, a short one, that’s still in my favorites folder on youtube to this day. I rewatch it all the time because it’s iconic. And there was literally .002 seconds of Klaroline. It’s Caroline standing and then Klaus says “hello, caroline” and everyone lost their shit so much when it dropped that ‘hello caroline’ trended ww on twitter. 

THE DAY THE NETWORK THAT AIRED TVD IN AUSTRALIA AIRED A PROMO WITH THE KLAROLINE KISS IN 5X11. ICONIC. I literally woke up, logged on at around 11 AM my time, and my dashboard was on fire. It was the BEST. We didn’t know wtf to do, it was amazing. 

Paleyfest. Ohhhh buddy, lemme tell ya. So TVD/TO got chosen to have the CW panel’s at Paleyfest that year. Everyone was on a bit of edge because TO to that point was what, almost done with S1 and Klaroline had been given the mega cold-shoulder despite being the very thing other than the Mikaelson’s that got used to lure people in? After the pregnancy plot from hell, everyone was ready to peace tf out, but we got halted because it was a ‘ohh of course it’s gonna continue’ then they tried to nip Klaroline in the bud with 5x11 and no one was having it. So Paleyfest was where we were gonna get some ANSWERS, DAMMIT. I live on the east coast and the festival was held in the west coast so I wasn’t awake when it was happening. I remember making a post about how ‘going to sleep, and hoping when I woke up the answers were good.’. So I went to sleep, woke up a few hours later like 2-3 AM my time, and checked my blog and the first message I had was ‘don’t wake up stephanie, everything is a mess, stay asleep where everything’s fine’ I—

The gist of that was, they basically set JoMo up to be the bad-cop in shutting down Klaroline. He gave this long answer that made absolutely zero sense. The girl who asked the question about Klaroline, who was like 13 at the time, got called a bully for even asking a question at an event she paid to be at. A mess. And JP was like NO CROSSOVERS, ORGANIC, BLAH BLAH. And Paul was sitting next to her going “why can’t the show’s just intersect”, he was right and he said it. 

I can’t remember if this was S1 or S2, but somebody tweeted something and Carina replied ‘when you’re found dead in your basement with klaroline written on you this is why’ or something like that, that was a ~fun~ night. And then like half an hour later she was like “I’m sorry, I’ll never tweet about Klaroline again just leave me alone” if you’ve ever seen this fandom refer to ourselves as basement dwellers, this night is why. 

NARDUCCI. Can’t forget him. Talk about a man who just didn’t get it. And I don’t mean Klaroline, he just didn’t get anything, nothing in his head has ever clicked, I’m convinced. He used to pick fights on twitter repeatedly. Admitted once that he missed his flight because he was on twitter…arguing with a fan. AND ONE DAY, he decided to just—snap. Went on this hours long tirade against the Klaroline fandom, essentially calling everyone stupid because no one was appreciating the ‘art’ of the show. So when I say it lasted hours, I mean that. Now, you’d think, that he would be done, right? WELL, apparently that wasn’t enough, so the next day, he continued. I remember because I was in this gc on whatsapp, and I remember Erika sending a message to the gc going “omg, Narducci vs KCers round 2″ when I tell you I screamed. The man went on a two-day rampage against this fandom and it was insane. 

S6/S2 of TVD/TO was not a fun time. I can genuinely say it was borderline a chore to come on here during that time. It wasn’t fun, every day someone was in argument with someone from production on twitter. Truly the worst year of the fandom, imo. So S7/S3 rolls around and that’s where shit went nuclear. 

Hillary and I, are minding our own damn business, when someone come’s to us with information regarding the new seasons. This was post-SDCC, so it’s like the lull of September, waiting for the seasons to start in October. And we get approached with information, talkin bout how Caroline’s gonna be pregnant with Alaric’s twins in S7. When I tell you we didn’t know wtf to do. And we had to like wait on confirmation about it but then we found out it was legit and we were pissed. Literally ask us if we wanted to be in the spoiler game, the answer is no tf we did not. And she and I basically spent two days complaining. LIKE UGHHHH WE DON’T WANNA DO THIS, BUT ALSO THIS IS DISGUSTING, WE CAN’T JUST LET THEM SPRING THIS ON EVERYONE, BUT AGHH WHY US. So we chose collectively, as a duo, because das my other half yo, to blab. 

That went over as best as anyone could hope for it to go. Now, flashforward yet again, this time to around late Novemeber/December. I had been sent word that something was going down. TVD/TO lost their Thursday slots and got bumped to Friday’s, so a plan was going on, and they made one. We’d heard that they were rearranging something mid-season because they were gonna make a crossover work, publicly we found out it would be Paul and JoMo that crossover back-to-back. THEN ONE NIGHT—I call it black friday bc  that day was a fucking mess—, a friend of mine was friends with an SCer, I wanna say, and she was hearing word that the crossover did have Klaus and Caroline interact via phone call, but that it was very definitively an ending. Because they spoke about Camille and Stefan, etc, etc. Like a closing of the book type thing. So okay, we were like devastated, everyone on twitter was losing their shit. Everyone was pissed, and @-ing the writers all these crazy, sad things, we were a wreck. Ask Hillary about this night because she, I remember, describes it as ‘logging on and reading what everyone else had and not understanding why tf everyone was mad about it’. It was the first and last time that our roles were reversed, and bless her for it. 

SO WE’RE SITTING THERE, it’s Saturday, and we kept getting more information and we were like…something isn’t right here. So we did a bit of digging, spoke to a few people and waited it out. LO AND BEHOLD, everything we’d heard about the phone call was false. There was a phone call but the CKers and SCers were so mad about what was actually said in it, that a few of em, ring leaders of the feeble minded, made up a version and passed it around their fandoms as legit till it eventually worked it’s way over to us. So we all jumped the gun on fake information, lmfskdnknsks. Rumor has it, you can still hear Hillary yelling ‘I told you so’ at me through our group chat. 

So all was well, I couldn’t tell everyone why not to panic, just that they didn’t need to. Until, this account popped up called tvdspoiler or something on twitter, also saying false information about the phone call. Sending everyone into a panic yet again. I remember this because I was at  kmart with my mom, and the kmart by my house was in a basement so I had no cell service. I was able to send like a couple of messages, and was basically like ‘tell everyone to chill, I’ll clear it up when I get home’ did that in like a couple of hours cause then I had to leave to the midnight showing of the force awakens with my friends. So that day was chaotic, but fun. It was the first time I reached 99+ messages on my inbox, lmao. 

So that all happened like a good while before we actually saw the episode. But cut to a few weeks later. I woke up at 1 AM my time to drink water, was on tumblr trying to go back to sleep. I checked my inbox and there was this bizarre message talking about ‘got some scoop’ and they were like ‘Finn dies in 3x17, Aurora gets put into some weird sleeping spell in 3x18, Camille and Davina die in 3x19, Lucien dies in 3x20′ and I quite literally laughed??? Literally who wouldn’t. Like who tf would ever believe TO had the balls to do all of that when they never killed anyone off. AND, WHO WOULD BELIEVE THAT SOMEONE WOULD JUST STOP BY, SHARE IT AND LEAVE. So I sent a screenshot to Hillary and was like ‘yo did you get this because wtf’. We often got duplicate messages. And we often got messages of people who were pissed about the two previous times we, from the klaroline fandom of all places, had legit info that wound up being true, that they were just waiting for us to fuck up. So we used to get messages of people pretending they were sharing info, and it was just antis trying to make us look stupid. 

SO, Hillary says ‘just answer it because it’s obviously fake’ top ten moments before disaster. I answer it and am like oh haha, and where did that info come from. And they came back like a minute later, saying ‘I have a source’ THEN THEY ELABORATED. They mentioned that Lucien drags Freya and Vincent to Mystic Falls to do this spell with some bullet and etc. So at that point we were like fUCK because that same day we’d found out was in 3x16, which ended with Lucien and this white-oak bullet, having kidnapped Freya. And that’s when we knew, that someone showed up in the middle of the night, spoiled the whole back-half of TO S3—and then left.

The back-half of S3 was so fun??? Every week the info just kept coming true. On the wikia everyone hated me, probably the most anti messages I ever had was during that time, honestly it was great, 10/10 would recommend. 

THEN, at some point in our blog history, Hillary had been getting quite a few messages about PT. And she had this fucking line in one of the messages about Phoebe’s pronunciation with her accent for the show, or lack thereof. And she said “weeches and woves will always have a place in my heart” SO THEM PHOEBE TWEETED IT. THAT EXACT LINE, and we were like was she...? So we shrugged off okay. A few days later, she tweeted “hellsbellschime enough, there’s plenty of other things to watch on tv, I hear mad men’s great.” And I—

THIS WAS ON SOME RANDOM ASS SUNDAY. Like I was lounging around, waiting for the new episode of game of thrones and then WHAM, chaos. AND AS IF THAT WASNT ENOUGH, Leah joined in too. Putting a target on my friends back...about her blog that no one was making them read. You can’t make that shit up. And Jenn actually replied to Phoebe’s tweet and got a reply back, and she was all “you’re right, I’m sorry” and then deleted the original tweet, which I still have a screenshot of btw. And then Leah showed up in Hillary’s inbox with this ridiculous three part ask about how she shouldn’t criticize women in the acting industry because of how hard it is for women in that industry which is true, but it doesn’t make you exempt from criticism??? So not sure where she meant to go with that one.

SO THERE WE HAVE IT, our fandom’s greatest hits. I’m sure I can elaborate and insert more, but I’ve been typing for a good 40 minutes. 

Told ya, I wrote a whole dissertation, lmaooo.

[brokenjardaantech]

abstract ghosts, concrete lives

written for this prompt challenge. rated T for potentially disturbing scenes but nothing too graphical imo.

relationship: captain allen/simon

fandom: detroit: become human

summary: 

But there are also times like this when his mind betrays him. Images too fleeting to be described even in the broadest sense flash in front of his mind, haunting him and dragging him to the deep end no matter how hard he tries to focus on the good, the neutral, the reality.

also on ao3

---

Louis Allen prides himself in being able to more or less take care of himself properly despite having lived alone for more than ten years. Of course, his usual routine has been disrupted since the arrival of a certain little kid on his doorstep, but that doesn’t change the fact that he goes to sleep and wakes up regularly unless his child needs him and he is woken up by their cries; even if he is tired enough to sleep through them, there is always Simon to take up the job, and by now Shub sees the android as their second father more than anything else - not that Louis will have it any other way, the android being more human than most actual humans he has ever met. 

But there are also times like this when his mind betrays him. Images too fleeting to be described even in the broadest sense flash in front of his mind, haunting him and dragging him to the deep end no matter how hard he tries to focus on the good, the neutral, the reality, Shub being compressed into the simplest shapes before shattering like broken glass, Simon’s body falling apart piece by piece as his face twists in the gravity of an object heavier than a black hole and his arm stretched outward awkwardly and his mouth open in a static-filled scream, a tide of white and brown that manages to remind him of the darkness at the same time sweeping them away until he blinks and his heart races and suddenly he is back to staring at the ceiling of his bedroom with Simon curled up against his side, the android’s breath too deep and regular to be a regular human’s but his movement and position also too human to be a regular android’s. Simon’s mere presence and regular heartbeat are usually enough to calm Louis down, but as the cycle repeats itself for the sixth time and midnight passes, he knows that it isn’t going to help tonight. Not wanting to disturb the android’s stasis with his own tossing and turning in case those images turn into actual nightmares which he would have no control over, he slides off his bed, careful not to disturb Simon, and pads first to check on Shub, finding them still sound asleep and their vitals steady and strong, then climbs the stairs to the attic which is, most of the times, his own space. 

A small window allows him a narrow view of what is outside his house from this angle, and normally speaking he can stare at the nothingness until he bores himself out and falls asleep because of it, but tonight, the shadows and darkness only brings out the ones his mind creates for him to fill the gaps in his memory that he has known since a long time ago that exist but never sought them out: they are mostly from before his eighth birthday which to this day he still has zero recollection off, but on top of that there are also moments with his mother who went MIA shortly before he graduated from high school, things that he did together with his father that returns as him speaking more than ten languages without a single memory on why and how he learnt them, events that he brought his sister to (or vice versa) that confuses him whenever she mentions them because he never remembers. Tonight, they all blend into one, reality mixing with imagination and memories that should have been long gone but choose this moment to resurface temporarily before disappearing like wisps of dissipating smoke, untouchable and uncontrollable and gone just like the ages. So he alternates between drawing and writing, trying to capture bits and pieces of the images at the front of his mind with his stylus and his fingers while being completely oblivious to the numbness of his crossed legs and the knot forming on his back and the dryness of his eyes, but even though the logical and adult part of him tells him that he isn’t exactly twenty and young anymore and he should be aware of the strain he is putting on his body, the part of him that has always been running from the lost memories, the one that somehow manages to remain a scared little boy despite four decades’ worth of life experience and growing pain - it just takes over and urges him to let everything out until his entire body is shaking and the page is full. Guided by the magnets within the two devices, the stylus snaps to the side of the tablet automatically, its light blinking yellow to indicate that it is charging, and Louis puts down the tablet on the floor next to him before he closes his suddenly-heavy eyelids and unwinds his body with a wince and too many popping joints and needles underneath his skin. He picks up his tablet again to take a better look at what the hell he spent the last… two hours and a half working on just to hear the familiar creak of wooden floorboards, the attic illuminated by the faint blue glow of Simon’s LED. Louis freezes like a deer in headlights.

The android folds himself into the already-cramped space of the attic and sits with his legs folded underneath him next to the human, his hand reaching for Louis’ thigh, and the warmth through his sweatpants is enough to drain whatever fight that remains in his body away. So much for going back before Simon notices.

‘I woke up and you weren’t there,’ Simon whispers without breaking eye contact. Then he cocks his head, his LED spins yellow, and he continues, ‘You didn’t sleep at all.’

Louis blinks and looks away, suddenly embarrassed. ‘Can’t.’

He can feel Simon’s intense gaze on his own face. ‘Why?’

He starts fidgeting with the stylus by removing it from where it’s attached to the side of the tablet just to let it snap back again. ‘Memories,’ some images still flash in front of his eyes, but they are less haunting now, less graphic, less detailed, ‘or lack thereof. I try not to think about them.’

‘But…?’

‘Sometimes they just come back and haunt me.’

‘Do you want to talk about them?’

Louis unlocks the tablet to view his creation again, a mixture of abstract images and words that don’t make sense when put together that hurts his head to look at, telling him that keeping it and letting anyone else even glance at it is a mistake, is a torture, and that it shouldn’t have existed in the first place, but they are a representation of his own head so they must have been there since a long time ago but it’s just his damned fault for avoiding the issue and running away instead of facing it heads-on and maybe solve the problem instead of losing sleep and making shitty evil art and making other people worry about him and probably not being able to be a good father for his child in the morning because of sleep deprivation and -

The tablet is taken out of his hands with its screen turned off, suddenly leaving his hands empty and flexing and scrambling for something to hold onto, and the next thing he knows is that there is a warm body pressing against his own and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, grounding him and giving him very little choice on where his hands should go apart from winding them around the android’s waist as well. He inhales deeply, smells the detergent on Simon’s shirt and the body wash that they share, and the chain of thoughts slows down and turns itself down until the thud of their hearts overwhelm it. He suddenly feels restless, his hands twitchy and itching for things to do, but he’s lost, his brain isn’t working, and his eyes refuse to close even though he’s suddenly so, so tired.

Simon stills, and that is when Louis realises that the android has been rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to further calm him down. ‘Let’s get back in bed, shall we?’ he asks, his voice soft and barely audible, but the way he phrases it makes it sound more like a command than a question, so Louis lets himself be guided down the attic and back into their bedroom under the covers, the two of them lying on their sides and facing each other. ‘Do you want me to stay awake with you, or may I go into stasis for now?’

‘Stasis,’ Louis answers immediately. ‘You need it.’

‘And so do you, but here we are.’

‘You are aware that you will most likely take over most of the childcare, aren’t you?’

A soft smile appears on Simon’s lips. With a hand on Louis’ cheek, he leans forward to kiss the human chastely and then pulls back. ‘We’ll figure that out when we wake up again. For now, try to go to sleep, okay? And don’t leave the bed even if you can’t; it’s better than getting up and working.’

Louis nods, and Simon’s eyes slip shut and his body relaxes immediately as he goes into stasis. He scoots close and holds him to feel his breath on his skin and his chest rise and fall against his hand again, and even though the images pull him away from slumber whenever he nearly falls asleep, everything remains relatively peaceful compared to the overwhelming barrage from before. Head now clearer, he thinks of what he will do after both Simon and Shub are awake, recalling bits and pieces of information that he gathered from his surroundings and his work to help himself make decisions: tomorrow is a weekday and has a high chance of being sunny for the whole day on top of being his day off. There are no appointments for Shub and neither does Simon need to report back to a CyberLife store for check-ups anymore, there are enough ingredients in the kitchen and the fridge to make a light meal for himself and Shub, the parks will also be relatively quiet because all other children are at school; maybe he and Simon can bring them there, have a picnic together, let their child have their fun without being harassed or bullied by other children because of their cybernetics and prosthetics that extends all the way from their face to their feet. He might need some strong tea to keep himself awake or a nap in the park to recharge halfway through the day, but it will be another day when the family can spend the whole day together and relax, another happy memory for Shub before their inevitable… no, he has faith in his sister and her people. They will figure out a way to make sure that Shub has many happy years to live before old age takes them. They have to.

Dawn comes with light alongside the grumbles of a hungry child rousing but not quite awakening yet, and Louis feels more than sees Simon’s smile against his neck as the two of them slide out of bed and begin their usual morning rituals with practised fluidity. He forgoes going to the gym in favour of spending a slow morning smelling of tea and warm breakfast at home with his family, knowing that it won’t matter much if he only skips it for a day and doesn’t let it become his habit. Ah well. Not like staying up all night is something he is planning to do often.

‘Picnic, Shub?’ he asks after swallowing a mouthful of pancakes. ‘Just you, me, and Daddy. How does that sound?’

Shub’s wide green eyes and her flailing limbs are answers enough, and as Louis’ own eyes meet Simon’s sky blue ones, it is as if one gaze is enough to communicate everything between them, Louis moving to prepare for the upcoming trip to the park that may seem insignificant to most children but is certainly a big thing for their child while Simon coaxes Shub to finish the last of their breakfast and swipe the plate away from grabby hands before loading it into the dishwasher. 

It is another day.