#or she’ll shoot u first before i can

[5t4r5and5uch01]

What i did for that one trend on twt. My fave Blue sillies. 💙💙💙

[misserabella]

would u be able to write like another enemies to lovers ellie williams fic?? or like a part two to just pretend bc i loved that sm 🙌🙌

a/n; of course i will honey

jealousy, jealousy

ellie williams x fem! reader

enemies to lovers!

pt2!!

summary; ellie and you hated each other, until the bottle chooses you and she can’t take it anymore. the game has started, and she’ll leave the pieces for you to make the next move.

cw; mean! ellie (but like really mean), mean! reader, fighting, blood, knifes and weapons, alcohol, drinking, drug mentions and usage (weed), jealousy, possessiveness, public sexual actions (they don’t get caught), making out, choking, hair pulling, kissing, hickeys, fingering, cum eating, teasing, degradation and praise, edging (??)… +18 CONTENT, MINORS DON’T INTERACT OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN!

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

-

you and ellie didn’t get along. she was rude, always bickering and punching the words out of your guts with her hurtful snaps.

you two couldn’t spend more than a minute together before you’d wish you could choke her with your own hands. she was infuriating.

but who could’ve thought that the day in which you’d need her would come? in which you would pull her close to never let go?

it was funny really, how a little game could change everything.

ellie’s little remarks, ellie rolling her eyes when you’d hunted a bigger deer than her, ellie making you trip on the snow and then laughing at you when you fell head first, snow covering your whole face…

she was a bitch, really. always picking at something. you hadn’t hit the bulls eye of the target while training shooting? she’d laugh and show you how good her aim could be.

“why don’t you do it with your eyes closed then, hm? since you’re so good at it.”

“that’s such a nice idea, then i won’t have to stare at your face anymore!” she smirked, before putting a hand over her eyes and aiming. you scoffed when she perfectly hit the heart.

“yeah sure, i can do that too if i peek through my fingers…” you said, and she laughed.

“are you sure about that?” she arched her eyebrows, nodding at your failed shots.

“fuck you.” you spat, and she smirked.

“you wish.” she whispered.

she would win at a drinking game in jesse’s party? you wouldn’t have the end of it.

“woah, careful princess, try not to fall for me.” she mocked you when she watched you slightly trip.

“call me princess one more time and i’ll fucking choke you.” you threatened and she smirked.

“kinky… i like it.” she winked, and you’d throw her your drink, making her emerald eyes widen as she dodged it the best she could, still getting some on her jeans.

“getting wet for me so easy, williams?” that would be your moment to mock her. and she’d scoff.

“at least i’m not the one dripping.”

and before you knew it, you’d be shivering on your way back home, fully drenched on alcohol. let’s say she ended up the same way.

your fights were so normal that your friends had started to ignore them.

“oh sure, as if i didn’t kick your ass this morning…” you rolled your eyes, taking a hit of your blunt.

“you really think you won? i slipped due to the snow.” she smirked, and you scoffed.

“sure, williams, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“you surely don’t. you have me getting nightmares about your face, waking up drenched in sweat.” she mocked you, and you rose your eyebrows.

“drenched in sweat, sure… you sure about that?” you teased her, taking a peek to her thighs and she hissed. “hey, i’m not the one dreaming about me. but who could blame you. the thing i wanna know is…, do you touch yourself thinking about me too?” her whole face turned red in anger—and maybe something else—, and jesse certainly had to get into it to try and calm the two of you down before you could throw hands at each other.

of course, sometimes that would be impossible to achieve —mostly while you were training combat with Maria—, and the two of you would end up returning home with a brown lip or new bruises.

“one word and i’ll kill you.” ellie would mutter as joel wouldn’t stop staring at her, a smirk on his lips.

“she really has a good right hook.” he’d say before disappearing, and ellie would groan.

but lately things had changed, and ellie had become meaner, rougher… her words were more hurtful, and she definitely was ignoring you more. she seemed on edge lately, jaw always gritted and hands fisted.

“move.” you stopped talking to jack when her voice came from your right. the cafeteria was busy, busting with people from town to get something to eat, and you were catching up with one of your friends, with who you’d grown really close the last couple of weeks.

your eyes found ellie’s and you frowned.

“i said fucking move.” she pushed you away, harshly to make her way in between the two of you, her trolley in between her hands. you were supposedly ‘in the way’ to her spot.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked her, anger in your voice.

“for starters, the mere fact that you’re still breathing.” you scoffed, and in a quick swift of your hand you took your knife, sending it flying across the room and towards her. she was quick enough to dodge it, and the silence filled the cafeteria when the knife harshly dug itself on the wood of the wall on her back.

she was always quick, but this time you had been quicker, and the cut on her cheek was the proof. one of her hands came up to it and swiped away the blood dribbling from it, staining her fingertips in crimson.

“do that again and i’ll fucking kill you.” she threatened.

“i’d like to see you try.” you said, and she was ready to jump, but joel was quick to get in the middle of it.

“ellie.” he said, and she looked at him, harshly dropping her food tray onto one of the tables to pass by him, completely ignoring him and towards the door. but of course, you received a hard bump on your shoulder before she disappeared.

tonight was no different.

the alcohol was bitter and burned her throat, and the blunt on her hand was dying off way too quickly for her taste. the music was loud, and jesse’s house was filled with people dancing and drinking.

it was summer, and jesse had promised a good party. who would say no on their right mind?

you couldn’t, either.

you were laughing, sharing a blunt with dina on the sofa in front of her, cheeks flushed in pink and hazy eyes. jesse was talking to her, but she wasn’t really paying attention, not anymore. he had been talking for 30 fucking minutes and she was done.

suddenly, somebody hummed and smirked. “why don’t we… play the bottle?” people groaned, other laughed and cheered.

ellie huffed. “what are we, fucking thirteen?”

it was a stupid game, so stupid that in less than five minutes a large group of people was sitting on the floor in a circle, a bottle sitting in the middle. and of course, dina had dragged you into it. jesse had done the same with ellie, even though he had feared that she would choke him in any moment. she almost did.

you were having fun, ‘cause the game was so stupid that it was actually funny, and dina was only making it funnier with how drunk and high she was.

the whole crowd let out screams of excitement and cheers when the bottle landed on you. you rolled your eyes when dina shook you, excited, even more when it landed on jack. he was laughing, amused. you two were shaking your heads, you were friends, you didn’t look at the other that way. but people were eager, trying to get what they wanted.

ellie’s blood was boiling. you were blushing. you were fucking blushing. blushing for that douchebag who probably wouldn’t know how to treat you good, how you deserved.

the next thing she did? she would blame it on the alcohol, and probably the weed.

the crowd fell silent as she suddenly stood up, and your eyes widened when she stomped towards you, taking your hand in a harsh grip that wasn’t enough to hurt you, but enough to make you stand up as she dragged you away from the group and out the house. the summer breeze hit you, and you stopped her tracks by freeing yourself from her grip.

“what the fuck?” you asked her, and she turned around to face you, her emerald eyes looked angry, and her jaw was clenched. “what’s wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you!” she screamed and you scoffed. “you were going to kiss that asshole!”

“i was not!” you yell back. “and even if i were, why would that matter!?”

“it matters. he probably doesn’t even know how to french kiss!”

“oh, and you do?!”

“yes! i do actually!”

“yeah, of course you do…” you scoffed, and she arched her eyebrows.

“what? need me to show you?” before you knew it, you had been cornered against the house’s wall, her breath hitting your face. a shiver went down your spine at her harsh tone. “tell me. would that shut you the fuck up?” she inquired, and you looked at her with hatred.

“try me.”

she looked at you, emerald eyes shining in the dark, and in a harsh tug of your shirt’s collar, she was smashing her lips against yours. you grunted in pain when she harshly pushed you against the wall, your hands finding her hair to tug, making her groan. one of her legs pushed in between your own and up, making you grind down on her, her right hand keeping you in place by surrounding your neck.

it was dizzying, the feeling of her lips, and her body heat, the roughness of her touch and her tongue pushing inside your mouth. she tasted like weed and alcohol, and you found yourself getting addicted to the mix.

you opened your mouth for her, leaned on her touch, pulled her closer. you moaned when one of her hands cupped your tit, harshly gripping it and pinching your nipples, which could be seen through your white tank top.

“fuck ellie…” you sighed, her lips now on your neck, sucking to leave marks that you were too gone to care about. you couldn’t understand. why she was kissing you. why you were kissing back. but did it really matter when it felt this good?

“what? you thought he would make you feel this way? that he’ll kiss you like i do? touch you like i do?” her thigh pushed up to your core, making your clit catch with the seam of your shorts. “you bitch. you’re supposed to be mine, you’re supposed to have nothing more but me in your mind.” she growled, and you gasped for air when she pulled from you so you could ground down on her thigh.

anyone could come out looking for you two and find ellie unbuttoning your pants, her hand slowly pushing into them and under your underwear. your back arched and your lips parted in a moan when her fingers dipped in your folds, she moaned as well when she felt just how wet you were, and just for her.

“teasing me about getting wet for you when you’re the one dripping under my fingers, hm?” she mocked you, and you gasped.

“fuck you.”

“i’m already at it.” she smirked, a whimper ripping your throat when her fingers found your clit, but you muffled it by biting down on your lip. “atta girl. nice and quiet. just how i like it.” you moaned, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “let me help with that.” she said, leaning in to kiss you. it was sloppy, and dirty. she kissed you as if you were hers to take, as if your cunt was hers to fuck. her fingers were thick stretching your pussy. she hummed. “so fucking tight.” you couldn’t stop moaning and letting out little pleased sounds that had her dripping on her underwear. “that feels good, hm? i bet it does. look at you, you’re dribbling baby.” she mocked you, her thumb cleaning the corner of your mouth and your spit. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she curled them, hitting your g spot. you wanted to scream. ‘cause it felt so fucking good you were melting. “that’s it. that’s the spot, huh? look at you. getting all dumb and fucked out on my fingers. been wanting to have you like this since the first fucking day, shit. been wanting to fuck the attitude of yours out of you for months.” you moaned.

“ellie, fuck, please…” you whimpered, eyes trickling with tears. you were so close it was almost embarrassing, how fast and easy she had pulled you to the edge, how fast your orgasm was approaching. she could feel it. feel the way your walls were tightening and your thighs had started to shake. she could see the way your breathing had become more ragged and you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“you gonna cum, pretty girl? gonna cum for me?” you nodded, whining, teetering the edge. “go ahead baby, soak my fingers.” and with that you were falling apart, gushing around her fingers just like she had asked, moaning her name and being muffled by her lips. you couldn’t follow the kiss, too drunk on the pleasure. she helped you rode it out, kissing you messily, pumping her finger in and out of your drooling cunt.

your knees wobbled, and she pulled out her fingers to suck them clean. you moaned at the sight, eyes glassy and rosy cheeks. she looked at you, and her heart stopped. ‘cause you looked like a fucking mess, but you looked so fucking hot that her pussy was aching for attention.

but she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. ‘cause she had to make a point. and now that she had, she just needed to wait.

you leaned in to kiss her, hand tugging on his auburn hair, but she pushed against it, making you whine and later gasp when her hand held your throat to keep you in place.

“ellie… please…” you begged, in need of more. in need of her.

and she smirked.

“you poor thing.” she mocked you, getting away from you. “if you so badly need to be fucked… jack is inside.” she spat, and before you could say anything, she was walking away, leaving you there on the porch of the house in the middle of the fucking night, with ringing ears and wobbly legs… and as much as you hated to admit it… aching for more.

-

a/n; pt.2? 👀

ellie williams masterlist! <3

xxx

[biibini]

Hiii! I love your hcs! Can I request a scenario of going on a date to an arcade with Mizu? (and possibly winning her a Snoopy plushie??)

fluff modern!mizu x reader at an arcade date (request)

tags: fluff, arcade date, modern!mizu, reader & mizu are already dating, date nights, snoopy reference, sweet kisses, author loves love, author wishes that was her with mizu

a/n: thank YOU for reading my hcs! that one mizu & snoopy post is so adorable i just want my girl to be happy :,) also i’m starting school AGAIN i can never catch a break w this damned quarter system

modern!mizu & u are already dating in this scenario

but every other week would be a date night

it didn’t matter if it was a simple or extravagant date

it was always a designated time to catch up, spend quality time together, and experience new things

even with the busyness of college and classes and homework, it was still a night to look forward to

this upcoming friday was a night at the arcade

u had been there with friends before but it had been a couple months since ur last visit

it was also mizu’s first time going to the arcade w u as a date

u had already talked ab the games u wanted to try together such as the mario kart, a few shooting games, airhockey

modern!mizu would def let her competitive side come out with some games

she already gets competitive with taigen when it comes to sports

she totally doesnt rock his shit in basketball

if she’s against you, she’ll go easy on you

doesn’t mean she won’t back down from a fight

You and Mizu were hand in hand, checking out the games available at the arcade. Going down one of the aisles, you found yourselves at the some of the newer arcade games. Skimming at some of them, you hear a familiar sound.

Hadoken!

It was soon followed with a grunt and fighting groans. You turn back to find a Super Street Fighter game, patiently waiting to be played. Your eyes widen as they found the perfect challenge.

You playfully tugged at Mizu’s hand, pointing at the retro machine.

“I bet I can beat you at the Street Fighter.” you said, lightly jabbing at her competitive spirit. You knew she would put her all in it. However, you wondered of its limit.

Mizu glanced at you, and then looked back to spot the machine. Her eyes ignited, seeing the challenge put right in front of her by her

“You in?” you say, defying her in a playful tone.

“You bet.”

so um

turns out that was the WORSE POSSIBLE GAME YOU COULD CHALLENGE MIZU TO

u played a little bit with friends and family but mizu was on another level

how exactly did mizu beat ur ass for 5 rounds straight???

old man eiji.

he was a retro arcade go-er during his prime

even had the game console to continue his practice at home

if he wasn’t welding or fixing up someone’s bike, he was definitely spending his time grinding on the game

so modern!mizu end up playing games with him bc he got sick and tired of the computer bots

Player 2 Wins blinks again on the screen while her character, Ryu, celebrates another round of victory. You slowly turn to face Mizu to find a grin forming on her face.

“Wanna go again, baby?”, she taunts, hugging your hips closer to her.

You blankly stare into her eyes, your orbs empty from defeat. Mizu already knew your answer.

“Let’s find one we can both do.”, she said as she gave you a quick peck on the cheek. Her arm wrapped around your shoulder, beginning your hunt for the next game to win together.

modern!mizu would def try to win u a prize

actually no not one

all of them. yes she will try.

do not let her in a round1

iykyk

that is plushie heaven and credit/debit hell

her poor card will be spent trying to win u a prize

she wouldn’t outright announce her achievements

but she would attempt to sneak away from u, hoping to get lucky and win a plushie or two

u loved and appreciated the sweet thought

but

there was no room on the bed, the bookshelves, the desk, the couch

mizu even brought a couple plushies back home but her old man started to complain about mizu and u coming by just to drop off plushies and not see him

(he likes the plushies but bro is alone with his craft and misses his girl sometimes)

if u eyed any specific prize, modern!mizu would stop for nothing to earn it for u

at the arcade, u eyed a snoopy plushie, stuck in a claw game (for a little too long) and pouted at how cute it was

like cmon it was rlly cute

he had a puffer and a lil hat

mizu immediately saw ur reaction and locked in

Mizu’s arm slides off your shoulder. You look back, hoping to find the missing arm. No arm, no Mizu.

Instead, you find her striding over to the claw machine you just stared at with a goal in mind. Snoopy was coming with you, one way or another. The thought of Snoopy being in your arms was nice, but there was no way she was going to get it.

First off, your bedroom was already filled with plushies. Peace and love to all of them. They were practically your babies. However, every flat surface or shelf had a plushie. Every. Single. Surface.

The bed was crowded as well. No way there would be space for another plushie. There was also no way that she would go back home to drop off more plushies. Eiji was at his limit with the amount she dropped off during the last time.

Secondly, she had already spent so much money trying to get twinning plushies for the both of you. Her poor credit card was taking hit after hit after hit. Mizu drastically failed after every attempt and you had to basically pull her away from the machine after her 11th time.

Third of all, the both of you were getting ready to leave the arcade for dinner. After getting demolished by Mizu 5 rounds in a row at Super Street Fighter, you didn't have much energy in you to play more games.

But once Mizu gets set on something, it's hard to pull her away from it. It was already difficult separating her from her failed claw games earlier. You just decided to accept the outcomes of this claw machine this time around.

On the other hand, Mizu was in the zone. She studied the position of the plushie, focusing on how far back Snoopy sat. She slid the arcade card, starting her future attempts to retrieve the plushie. She bit the inside of her cheek as her hand carefully held the joystick. The machine jingled, starting its countdown.

0:30

Mizu took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Focus Mizu.

0:29

You can get this for Y/N.

0:28

Mizu opens her eyes, pushing the joystick to the right in hopes of aligning the claw with Snoopy. She then pushes the joystick forward, nudging it as it gains proximity to the dog plushie.

0:23

The claw seemed right above Snoopy. Although it made you satisfied, Mizu couldn't agree. Something felt off.

0:21

She nudged the joystick to the left once.

0:20

Still unsatisfied, she pushed the claw back. Her eyes squinted, hoping to gain a clearer view of the claw and its alignment.

0:18

She continues to stare at the placement, studying it. Almost watching it like prey.

You watch from behind as you hear the faint sounds of laughing and other arcade games being played go off. In front of you is complete silence and concentration.

0:10

Mizu nudges the joystick forward.

0:09

She gets closer to the game. At this point, her face is practically smudging her view.

0:07

She nudges the joystick to the right once again. She sees the claw fully aligned with the plushie.

0:06

Should I press the button?

0:05

Mizu's eyes glance up and down, hoping to draw the line between the claw and your future prize.

0:04

You watch as her right hand is sitting on top of the collect button. Her fingers are so close to pushing it, practically edging the top of the button. They're ready to take the chance yet her hands refuse to commit.

0:02

"Drop it, Mizu."

0:01

She nudges the joystick one more time, bringing it slightly forward.

0:00

You come up next to her, watching the claw machine slowly descend down to the gigantic pile of plushies, a mix of Snoopy merchandise. Yet only one got your heart.

The claw extends, closing in on the plushie you stared at earlier. Its thin, metal arms wrap around Snoopy's head. It tightened its grip, securing Snoopy in the arm.

You watch the plushie slowly ascend. The both of you carefully watch the claw bring the prize. As the claw continued its journey to the drop-off corner, it slightly swung back and forth. You grab Mizu's right hand, holding it in anticipation and fear. She squeezes it once.

You look up to meet her gaze only to find a reassuring smile. You mirror her, giving her one back. You hear a small thud below. Mizu bends down to find your beloved Snoopy, handing him to you.

Your eyes widen. Snoopy was much cuter up close, especially with his little hat and baby blue puffer jacket. Looking up, you spot a proud Mizu. You simply get closer to her and give her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Thank you, baby."

"Of course," she answers. "Anything for you, my dear."

She backs away and extends her hand out: an invitation to lunch.

You smile, accepting the invitation. With intertwined hands, you leave the arcade with another plushie in hand.

[crying-wolves]

🪻 ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛʀᴇ ᴇᴍᴘʟᴏʏᴇᴇ!ᴀʙʙʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ 🪻

cw: 18+ MDNI!!! little bit of richgirl!abby, anxious!abby, little bit of loser!abby but i’ll let you be the judge of that, alt!reader, reader w/ tattoos + piercings, reader doesn’t care about their job, abby and reader are, like, 18 - 20, mostly fluff, petty theft, minor drug use (abby and reader get a teensy bit high), nsfw under the cut!

a/n: this is ENTIRELY self-indulgent cause i work at the movies and i think i would've liked my job better if Abby was there with me :) thank u so much for reading i love u so much i hope u enjoy &lt;3

wc: 1.3k (a lot longer than i was expecting pls forgive me)

not proofread! im so eepy

dividers by @cafekitsune !

🪻movie theater employee!abby whose family is, as she likes to put it, ‘relatively well off’, so she’s never had to get a summer job before… 

…but when her father emails her an application from their local theater, going on and on and on about how she could manage to learn a thing or two about responsibility and time management and a hundred other things she’s apparently lacking in, she doesn’t see any other option but to piece together a meager resume and send it in.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a response back almost immediately, because they’re just that desperate for new hires.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who shows up to her interview the next week in pressed black dress slacks and a perfectly ironed blue button-up, only to be met with the hiring manager’s tattered black jeans and stained work shirt.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s nervous as fuck during the interview and thinks that she’s taking too long to answer simple questions and tripping over her words, but the manager hires her on the spot, in like, 10 minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who calls her dad on the ride back home to tell him the good news, is met with balloons that say ‘congrats!’ in big sparkly letters on the front and her favorite take-out when she steps through the front door.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who arrives on her first day on the job 20 minutes early. Spotless, bustling with excitement, and so, so unprepared to deal with all that’ll happen in the day.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is introduced to you, after you arrive 10 minutes late, fruity energy drink in hand and sunglasses still hanging on the tip of your nose as your new trainee.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who initially thinks she’ll evaporate in the stuffy heat behind the concessions counter, suddenly feels an icy-cool wave move through her body when you shoot her a lopsided smile.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can hardly hear a word you say as you explain what all the buttons on the register screen do… 

…‘cause she’s too focused on the way your work pants cling to your thighs and flare out at the bottom. on the pretty tattoos sneaking up and down your right arm. on the shiny lip ring that a part of her strangely wants to lick at–

🪻movie theater employee!abby who squeaks out a “yep, yeah! uh, got it!” when you ask her if she has any questions.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who definitely does not got it. Not one fuckin’ bit.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who fucks up a whole lot, at first, and manages to oversalt a batch of popcorn, stock too much of the same candy, overcharge 3 separate customers, spill a strawberry soda all over the counter, get scolded by 2 old men, and burn herself on the hotdog grill.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who smells like butter and exhaustion by the end of her 4 hour shift, but brightens up when you tap a star-shaped sticker onto her shirt and mumble out an amused “see you tomorrow, trainee.”

🪻movie theater employee!abby who realizes she has to do this all tomorrow again and lets out a shaky sigh on the way back to her car

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s slowly getting the hang of it after a few weeks at the theater…

…getting compliments from customers, multitasking between different orders, knowing the back room as well as she does the flavors of the drinks you silently sip during your shifts.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s a little enthralled by you, even if you don’t really notice it.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s too afraid to ask for your number, so scours instagram for your contact instead.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who throws her phone across her bedroom when you finally follow her back one night.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who super smoothly asks you when you’re working so she can try to arrive at her shifts when you go on break.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who freezes up when you invite her over to the park bench in front of the theater and offer her some cajun fries and a hit from your cart.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes you up on both offers, because she’s starving and she wants you to think she’s cool.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes a bigger hit than you were expecting and is a little confused when you giggle at her sudden coughing.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who spends the next 7 hours of her shift trying to act normal, but sees you trying not to bust out laughing in the corner of her eye every few minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a lot closer to you after that…

…who watches you undercharge a frazzled mother on her kid’s birthday, and doesn’t say anything to the supervisor. who sees you swipe a few chocolate bars from the candy cart to give to a group of kids in the arcade. who is certain of your favorite slushie flavor because your lips are always some different color everytime you come back from your too-long bathroom breaks.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who argues about which book-to-movie adaptation is the absolute best when the day’s going by slowly.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who sneaks into different showrooms where the movie has already been playing for a while with you so you guys can guess what’s happened in the plot before.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hides with you in the stockroom to take a break from the yelling customers and screaming kids every once in a while.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who traces the outlines of your tattoos, all heart-eyed while she’s listening to you talk about the new superhero movie that just came out a week ago.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who places a hand at the small of your back when she has to squeeze by you to grab a bucket of popcorn for a customer.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a little green with jealousy when a customer compliments your piercings or makes a joke that really isn’t that funny to begin with, but you laugh anyways cause you’re required to be cordial with them.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s so stupidly thrilled when you kiss her after a rough closing shift and can hardly breath when she climbs into her car to drive herself home.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is so very happy that her dad convinced her to get this stupid job in the first place.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT ! 18+ MDNI!

🪻movie theater employee!abby who lets you eat her out in the tiny bathroom stall in the women’s room on nights when the theater is dead… 

…your left hand squeezing at her tits, your right stretching her left leg over your shoulder. She looks down at you, panting, shuddering, trying and failing to conceal the little huffs and content sighs that fall from her lips every time your tongue swipes against a particularly sensitive spot.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who makes out with you in the backseat of her car when your breaks coincide, and whines in pleasure as you grind your clothed cunt against her covered thigh.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can feel her hand start to shake and her throat go dry as she scurries to the back when you call her from your bedroom, voice all pitched-up and needy, while on your day off. Words strained and quickening wet sounds coming from your background.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who almost gasps when you two are the only ones working the concessions counter and she feels your hand slide from her lower back to squeeze her ass.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s obsessed with the way you watch her expressions as you slowly finger her in the empty break room.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hates that she won’t see you until next summer, but has a million different secret pictures and texts from you that she has saved in a locked file on her phone to get her through the year <3

[philtstone]

Shawn/Juliet, "holding hands under the table"

i cant actually find which number it is from this list of prompts but that could just be my brain being fried from the week. also, everyone can feel free to send me more prompts lol. strike while the iron is hot, etc. this might be the most sedate tone i've ever hit with a psych fic. set immediately after the s5 finale -- like, hours after -- and hopefully the characters are all at the right place, emotionally. theres definitely a bit of a grey zone there in s5-6 where a lot is left unsaid but kind of known but also kind of not known. oh, jules.

She asks Lassiter to give her a ride because she probably shouldn’t be driving with a recent head injury. EMTs said no concussion, which is a good thing, but Juliet feels shaken enough that she’s going to do the intelligent, grown up woman thing and ask a friend for a favor.

She can’t help but wonder if maybe she does have a concussion after all, because Carlton behaves extremely fucking weirdly for pretty much the entirety of the drive.

Considering it’s Carlton, that’s really saying something.

“Vick gave me Shawn and Gus’s check,” she says as smoothly as she can, as they get in the car. It’s not entirely a lie, but it does feel oddly duplicitous in a way that holding hands with Shawn under the briefing table earlier didn’t. “Can you drop me off at the house?”

“House?” says her usually gruff partner, high-pitched. She’d caught him at the last second and kind of serendipitously, right as he was making his way out of the station, looking spooked, his jacket only half-on. At the time Juliet felt relieved, but now she’s wondering if maybe he’d needed some time to decompress before being made responsible for another person’s safety again. “What house? Spencer’s house? Doesn’t he live in a laundromat?”

“Henry’s house,” Juliet says, giving him a weird look while he turns the car on. His right eye is twitching. It’s possible that the evening’s events shook him more than he’s willing to admit; wouldn’t be the first time. “Gus told me they headed over there for the night. Carlton, are you alright?”

“I’m just spiffy,” he says through oddly gritted teeth, and sounds the opposite of. “One drop off, coming right up.”

Juliet decides she’ll figure it out in the morning. Her head kind of hurts, as does her elbow, and the catharsis she’d hoped to achieve through finally putting her signature down on that paper has left her a little bit shaky.

It feels good, though. She’ll probably have a good cry in the shower later on.

We did it, says Shawn’s voice in her head, so firm and final and confident. Her stomach and chest and general person are suddenly overcome with a slamming wave of affection she definitely was not prepared for. Swallowing, Juliet tucks her phone between her legs and shoots him a quick text. Wrapped up at the station.

Incoming text from SHAWN SPENCER:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABE WITH THE POWER!!!!!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

u gonna go home & rest?

Shawn’s texts were exuberant before they started dating, too, but the million heart emojis are a recent development. Something about their introduction makes Juliet want to clench her hands together, melt into the ground, and laugh hysterically at the same time. Shawn turns being a walking contradiction into an art form sometimes. So terrified of facing all the love he’s got to give head-on, but so reckless and sloppy about leaving a trail of it around.

Maybe that’s why she’s fallen so hard for him, Juliet thinks; it matches her inexplicable combination of extreme trust and extreme caution.

Okay. Woah. Too much. Chill out, Juliet; now’s not really the time.

Not with Carlton showing all the signs of working through a hernia in the driver’s seat beside her, mere hours after Serial Killer Takedown.

Yeah, Juliet replies to her boyfriend, then lays her head against the cool car window, closing her eyes before she can notice Carlton’s alarmed glances at her phone.

When they pull up, half the house lights are on. Clearly no one is sleeping, despite the horribly late hour. Juliet glances down at her phone again and realizes it’s pushing three in the morning. She winces. 

“Are you going to be okay driving home?” she asks, one hand on the door handle. Carlton’s staring directly out of the windshield at the house, looking aggrieved in that way that gives him the general look and demeanor of a wet cat. She really hopes he’s okay.

“Fine,” he says. Juliet holds her phone against her lap and sighs. 

“Alright.”

“O’Hara –” he begins, pained, as she opens the door.

“Yeah?”

“I …” A beat. “Nothing. I’m – you get some rest tonight. And – and stay safe.”

“I will,” Juliet replies, surprised by how sincerely the words come out.

Given everything that’s happened, she didn’t expect her own confidence on the subject to be so strong.

Juliet steps out onto the front lawn and watches her partner drive away. Behind her the house silhouettes itself in its own lit glow and the quiet sounds and salty smell of the ocean close by begin to properly filter into her consciousness. She stands still for a few long moments in the dark, which is less threatening now than it was a few hours ago. The humidity thickens her hair and her breath fogs in front of her. When she got Shawn’s text that he and Gus were crashing at his dad’s house instead of the Psych office, call if u need anything jules, she’d been yearning for a shower a bit too much to really think about it. Once her paperwork was out of the way, though, a shower became less important than – whatever feeling brought her here.

Shawn would say it was the idea of pancakes. She likes to think she’s capable of marginally more emotional vulnerability than he is.

She bites her lip, then presses send on the text.

Home.

The response is an immediate string of emojis, mainly the heart bubbles but with the addition of a few inexplicable inanimate objects too. She’s not sure what the megaphone or candelabra or pineapple are supposed to represent, but she’s smiling when she knocks on the kitchen door, which is meaning enough for her.

Henry opens it. He looks — exhausted, about the same as Juliet feels, despite the lack of head injury or general bodily trauma. The lines in his face immediately soften at the sight of her. Juliet refuses point blank to allow her eyes to well up.

“In you come,” Henry sighs, making way. Dr. Spencer — Maddie, Juliet supposes — is at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. Muffled sounds of a television come from the next room. Juliet vaguely recognizes them as Phineas and Ferb.

At her entrance, Madeline raises an interested eyebrow and glances at Henry, but beyond that moment of silent communication says nothing.

“Do you want some tea?” she asks simply.

“Please.”

Henry squeezes her shoulder, gently enough that she realizes he somehow noticed and filed away all her injuries earlier. Henry Spencer the detective still surprises her sometimes. “Boys are in the living room,” he says, and goes back to the table while his ex-wife putters around the kitchen more comfortably than is probably wise.

Juliet chews on her lip again. An amused smile fights its way to the surface, coupled with an odd twang of yearning that doesn’t really make much sense. Poor Shawn, she thinks, and it's almost a laugh in the same way she’s almost about to cry. But that’s been true all evening. Henry pulls out another old photograph from the box they seemed to be sorting through before her arrival and peers over the top of his reading glasses.

“Oh God, can you believe I used to wear this stuff in public? You hated this thing.”

“If by this thing you mean that horrible yellow suit …”

“See, it wasn’t the yellow that was the problem. The cut did nothing to flatter my physique.”

Madeline is laughing when Juliet slips out, chamomile tea in hand, to the living room.

At the entrance she stops and takes her heels off. Phineas and Ferb is playing, and loudly at that. As promised, Shawn and Gus are huddled on the couch nursing their empty pancake containers, smelling like sugar and more or less dressed in PJs; she spots what’s surely one of Henry’s old fishing t-shirts, cartoonish in the logo and slightly too baggy on Shawn. She knows any old clothes he keeps in the closet here probably don’t fit him anymore. Juliet wonders if Gus went home to change or if he, too, borrowed clothes. Shawn’s hair has flattened a bit where he must have yanked his shirt down over his head, floofy the way it can be in the mornings sometimes. He’s holding a pillow against his chest. Gus’s sock has a hole in the big toe. Every so often one or both of them will giggle at the TV. 

Her eyes do well up, then. 

Of course Shawn picks that exact second to notice her.

He notices a lot of things, Juliet has come to observe, few of which fit congruously with the many things he forgets or overlooks or can’t be bothered over. She wonders if that’s just an extension of how the spirits work, and if he’d explain it to her if she asked him. There’s a resigned part of her that doesn’t think he will, and a practical part of her that guesses at an attention deficit diagnosis that probably gave him some grief growing up and doesn’t really pair well with psychic visions or an enduring fear of being too vulnerable.

Three in the morning is too late to be mulling any of this stuff over, Juliet thinks. Besides which, most of it becomes suddenly irrelevant as she’s hit with the expression that takes over his face at the sight of her.  

Three in the morning, she reminds herself. Near death experience. Don’t read into it.

Shawn doesn’t say anything, only looks at her with all that throat-closing tenderness Juliet has ignored so many times before. I think you’re swell, he’d said. In some ways, she’s always been able to see right through him without even trying. 

Gus is wedged right beside him, hogging the blankets. There’s enough room on the couch for Juliet to fit on the other side of them. 

She walks over, hands Shawn her tea, and climbs into his lap. Her knees bend over his right leg, her shoulder sinks into his chest and her head settles against his neck. Shawn still doesn’t say anything. He just sets the mug down carefully on the floor, takes a deep, relieving breath, and wraps his arms around her. She hadn’t really worried that Gus might complain, but when he reaches over unprompted and squeezes Juliet’s unhurt elbow, the last little knot in her chest dissolves fully. She gropes her hand over the upholstery and squeezes his arm back.

“... latest in my brilliant line of ‘Inators, I call it the Unlikely-Inator! She pairs beautifully with the Likeli-Inator 2000. Together, Perry the Platypus, I shall use them to somehow take over the Tri-State area, and then the world!”

“You wanna change?” Shawn murmurs into her hair after a moment. 

“Later,” Juliet says.

“Mmmkay.”

The old t-shirt is soft against the skin of her cheek and smells like laundry detergent. The rest of the house smells like a family lives in it, even though Juliet knows that’s not really true, and it also smells like Shawn, a little bit. Shawn smells like Shawn, too. His chest rumbles beneath her with every soft laugh the cartoon pulls out of him. 

“Oh – oh, remember this, this next bit is really funny,” Gus says. His voice is just as soft as Shawn’s.

“Man, you know I have this whole show memorized.”

“I’ve never really seen it,” Juliet says quietly. They watch as the little platypus karate kicks Dr. Doofenshmirtz in the head.

“I know,” says Shawn. “But that’s being rectified. Ha! Gus, we should turn the Psych office into a funhouse next week. Just to see if we can.”

He pats her thigh and Juliet feels a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth against Shawn’s neck.

“Shawn, I am not stepping foot in another amusement park since that crazy-ass chick and her boyfriend tried murdering everyone last month. We can try turning it into a bunny sanctuary instead.”

“I like the way you think, hermano. Wait wait, here comes the explosion. Classic!”

She falls asleep slowly, lulled by the comfortable heat of Shawn’s body and the muted, silly sounds from the television. 

When Juliet wakes up, her cheek is pressed against an actual pillow, she’s horizontal, and she has no idea what day it is. She blinks against the grit in her eyes and the fact that her whole body is sore before realizing she slept on a couch. Someone put a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body and took the time to change her out of her gross work clothes. She looks down, only mildly discombobulated. She’s wearing the old fishing t-shirt Shawn had on last night and what must be a pair of Madeline’s pajama pants. They’re a pretty purple color and silky against her legs. She definitely still has her underwear on. A soft snore comes from the ground below her and Juliet realizes she’s still in the living room at Shawn’s dad’s house; Shawn himself is burritoed in an ancient sleeping bag on the ground directly beneath her and Gus is sprawled on a camp bed that’s a bit too small for him on the other side of the coffee table. They’re both still fast asleep. The light coming from the window is light enough that it’s properly morning, but the rest of the house is still dead quiet. A soft blue light appears suddenly on the coffee table; her phone is vibrating, which she realizes must have been the thing that woke her up in the first place.

She reaches carefully over Shawn to grab it. The home screen shows a text from Carlton, received minutes ago.

Got home alright?

She could say that Gus gave her a ride; it would be another easy lie, and he’d happily corroborate it. She hates the idea, though. She looks down at Shawn’s sleeping form, the unruly tuft of hair poking out from beneath the blankets and the drool on his pillow. Telling Carlton would be a bad idea, she knows.

Juliet types, for a second time trying not to think too hard about it, Yes, home. Safe and sound.

She sinks back into the surprisingly comfortable couch cushions, instinctively curling into herself, full of feeling she can’t quite articulate. After a moment of staring silently at the wall, Juliet turns onto her back and reaches one quiet arm down. The tips of her fingers meet the soft warm skin of Shawn’s ear, and when he doesn’t wake up, she keeps her knuckles there, barely moving, only rubbing her thumb up and down every so often. 

Everything else can be a problem for tomorrow. Slowly, she falls asleep again. 

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!’

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ‘tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ‘text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god’s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

[thehistoriccemetery]

Heem.... to do... do platonic hc...? If u do (and I'm sorry if your requests are closed), could you write about Jaheira and minthara being Subtlety motherly/material to a Tav who opened up about their crappy relationship with their mother? Like, kind of, being sure they ate something, being sure they go to bed on time (busting into their tent and taking whatever their working on, reading/fixing a weapon or whatnot, like a parent catching their child on their phone at midnight), or like helping them do their hair in the morning and praising them a little more than normal? Please than thank you~

Motherly Jaheira

First of all I love this prompt so thank you anon. Second of all, as much as I love Minthara, I can’t see that woman having a maternal bone in her body. So, I hope it’s alright that I just did Jaheira!

Jaheira could smell the mommy issues coming off of you before you ever even mentioned your mother.

Even she didn’t really know what about you gave it away. Maybe it was in the way you over eagerly tried to please her. Or how your hair was done with all the elegance of someone who never really learned how to braid.

It didn’t matter though, because it only took a matter of days fighting by her side for you to open up to her about your maternal woes one night over wine at Last Light Inn.

You felt so compelled to share your story that you had half a mind to check the wine for Klauthgrass. Aside from a terribly high alcohol content, it was clean.

The night ended with your head in her lap, crying so hard you could hardly get your words out. All while Jaheira listened intently and stroked your hair. Not your best moment, you admit.

After that night though, she is sure to put a little extra attention into you, shooting you an extra look of approval when you did something particularly impressive or taking on the task of teaching you proper hair care.

She does her best not to treat you like a child, yet she sees this little child in you that’s begging to be loved and cared for.

She started calling you cub pretty much as soon as she met you, but now it seemed to slip off her tongue more often than even she intended it to. She also started to subconsciously add complimentary adjectives in front of the nickname. You were “little cub” or “clever cub.”

One night, she noticed you had a particular affinity for tucking an extra bedroll to your chest just so you’d have something to hold on to. The next night you find a small stuffed blue owlbear sitting next to your bedroll.

On nights you can’t sleep, she’ll tell you old Harper tales of days past. Karlach is always all too happy to move her bedroll closer so she can listen in too.

You notice there are patches in your clothes where there used to be holes. Your armor is nicely laid out rather than haphazardly strewn across the dirt.

She knows you are just as capable of taking a hit as anyone else in the party, but she pays careful attention to heal and dress your wounds. She’s much gentler with you than she is with anyone else.

And she insists on checking in on wounds every day. Even when they are minor it is good practice to clean and rebandage regularly.

When it’s just the two of you, she’s sure to be extra affectionate. She knows it embarrasses you a little when you’re around the others, but sometimes you just need to rest your head on her shoulder while she pulls you into a tight hug.

She loves to do your hair for you. She always says her girls were never ones for sitting still, and Jord never let her do anything more brush it and slick it back behind his ears.

She really struggles to be complimentary, but she tries to highlight your finer moments when she can.

And if ever there comes another night with slightly too much wine and a slightly too heavy burden, she will be there with listening ears once again.

[jinlias]

a/n: how could i post a month of blurbs and no angst? sike u thought bitch.

you can tell the exact moment she breaks. you’ve been trying to tell her you’ve noticed it all, but you always missed her.

“hey, wheres mina?” the last group arrives at the dorm, but instead of four, it’s only sana, jihyo and momo.

“practicing” momo responds absentmindedly, her mind completely on the cold noodles they picked up on the way.

“again?” jihyo shares your concern, both your eyes speaking for themselves. she almost stops eating to come with you, but you reassure her it’s better you go alone.

if this wasn’t your partner’s breaking point, it was yours.

you couldn’t believe you were, but in your head, silently, you were weighing out whether this or her anxiety break had been worse.

from a while back, you noticed mina had been spending way too much time practicing than normal, dancing, singing, all of the above. for some reason, her diet was much stricter than yours or the others and her scheduled was way more packed all of the sudden.

come to think of it, you never heard her say no anymore.

“mina, elle wants you for their july-“ “yes”

“after the shoot, do you think you can take a couple of picture at the grand opening-“ “sure”

“do you have any free time slots tomorrow” “i’ll make the time”

but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it either. and trust, the sex was there and so were the loving kisses and whispers, it’s just, her eyes, mina isn’t there anymore.

“okay. i hear you” jihyo rubbed your back up and down as she listened the first time. you felt so bad you had woken her up in the middle of the night to complain, but more than your leader she was your best friend, if anything she could possibly get through mina. “not me, i can try, but there’s no way she’ll hear me out before you”

“she’s killing herself” jihyo wipes your tears and takes a deep breath to hold some of her own.

“i know it’s hard to think about but y/n- i need you to break her-” the entire time the words came from her mouth, she can see the denial in your eyes and how the pout on your lips deepened.

that was then, now, you’re angry.

“oh, this again. awesome, i’m kind of rusty myself” you drop your gym bag on the floor and begin to tie your hair as you get in position.

you can’t lie and say you willingly got out of bed at almost ten at night to practice. you willingly got out of bed this late because of her. one more night feeling the bed deepen with her body at some much late hour than you tried going to sleep was going to drive you off a cliff.

“y/n? what are you doing here baby?” your eyes press shut and you turn your head to the side when she pauses the music, arms crossed as a tactic to not let her in this time.

“what are you doing here mina?” you never did what jihyo asked, it hurt you to hurt her, but now you had to, because you love her, and you want her to love herself again too.

“i’m.. rehearsing” she replies as if it were obvious.

“i can see that, but why? do you know what time it is?”

“no?”

“it’s late, if we don’t go home we’re going to have trouble waking up tomorrow” her chest stings at all the ‘we’s, and you can see her now usual facade start to lessen. she’s heard you before, she just never listened.

“go home. i’ll be there soon” she tries to shake all the red blaring sirens telling her she’s tired, that you’re right and that she should go home with you, try to sleep more than four hours tonight.

“i’m not going anywhere without you mina” your hands fall at your sides and you begin to walk towards her, stopping only a couple of steps apart. “you can’t tell me you don’t know what you’re doing”

“i’m just practicing babe, i’ll be there soon. i promise”

“you’ve broken a lot of promises lately, you know that right?” you watch her swallow, turn around to fidget with something at the radio station instead of looking at you. “if you know exactly what i’m talking about, why tip toe?”

“i don’t know y/n” her voice raises higher than the usual whisper, and you don’t know whether to be upset at her or put yourself in her shoes. “it’s working. i’ll be home soon”

“what’s working?”

“i said-“

“yeah, you said you’ll be home soon. but you’ve told me that the last three nights and it wasn’t true. what’s working?”

“y/n- i-“

“mina, this is not working. nothing is working. im worried about you all the time and you’re not even letting me in. either we go home and talk about proper help or i’ll be joining you.”

“baby. it doesn’t work like that” she’s scared, you can see that much now, she’s finally allowing herself to feel rather than bottle it up and swallow it down with her usual work ethic.

“all these late practices, the crazy diets. cramped schedule? count me in, i’ll do it all if that’s what it takes for you to stop” she looks like she’s been caught, biting her lips and looking down in shame. and you let yourself calm down, soften even as you walk towards her, closer until you’re asking for her hands. “i’m worried mina. let me help you”

“you don’t understand” a single tear falls on your hands, now clasped together with hers as she stares at them.

“then tell me. i’ll listen. if you’re scared, i’m here. mina. i love you, i’m done letting you go through this alone” you squeeze her hands, hoping for some sort of emotion, thankfully she squeezes yours back.

“i don’t want the girls to know” she sniffles, watching you nod and swallow a lump in your throat, hoping no tears came out, because you’ve cried enough. you needed to be there like mina had been for you when you needed, loving you through all your hardships.

[atopvisenyashill]

Are there are asoiaf takes you find so rancid or annoying that you’ll block on the spot?

okay so first of all - i use the block button so loosely on here bc there’s no mute function and blacklisting a url would just bog my blacklist down. once again. pls staff a mute button for when it’s not that serious. but i will block someone, then feel bad because i notice my moots reblog them a lot and i'm like "oh they're not that annoying i was just in a bad mood" and unblock. there's only one (1) take i leave someone on permablock for. every other take i find particularly rancid or annoying is all stuff i just check before i follow rather than blocking over (which is why if u don't have searching on your blog, you'll see me liking your stuff over the span of months before following. i have issues!!! aldjf).

i specifically check for that one gifset that’s like “the direwolves predicting their starkling’s fate” that has sansa getting her head chopped off. if they have it on their blog, it's like 99% likely i'm about to permablock. it’s not only a silly prediction, it’s one made by people who are deeply projecting onto sansa. as she’s my favorite, i think that’s dumb obviously lol. BUT i check for it bc like. U All Know That Group of Arya Stans. i know you know because they’ve commented on at least two of your posts with the most bizarre take you’ve ever seen. i reply when they comment on my stuff (usually just once tho & the people who delete right away are valid) but i’m not out here LOOKING for them lol, i’m actively avoiding it, and That Specific Gifset is a good litmus test for whether a Crazy Stan Groupie just hate followed me or something. also, One Of That Group, as in not just a groupie, has me blocked on this blog AND my main one which i know bc i can’t reblog from half those source blogs they run aksjdj so if i notice someone’s real involved with that group, i just pre-emptivly block bc if i can’t even reblog half of what someone is posting what’s the point there 🤧🤧

but what do i check before following/what opinions have annoyed me enough that it's lead to me "muting" aka blacklisting a url? well-

curtain of light and it’s offshoots which include “targ incest baby will save the world.” lol, lmao. they’re not right but if they’re right i’m deleting my blog and never talking about the series again and i’m so serious. i have my dignity!!

people who go on frequently about rhaenyra being entitled, evil, not worthy, "oh well the LEGALITY," or hyper focus on her violence (esp if they’re also an aemond stan🤧). i absolutely Do block people who say shit like “rhaenyra is unfeminist because she doesn’t want to marry laenor but wants to marry daemon.” tho. why? clearly zero critical thinking skills lol i think u can joke about her having bad taste in men without All Of That.

i avoid people who are hardcore into the belief that dany is the unambiguous hero for obvious reasons. if they think she’ll be queen of westeros, if they actively shoot down criticism of her actions in the bay & towards mmd and irri? nah, and i've muted and blocked people for this one if they're particularly nastie. i DO follow idk three or four dany stans but they're generally not out here actively beefing with people and also they tend to hate emilia’s acting too lol, like they’re not Targ Nation.

(which, related, but people who stan dany but are tg? THEE most obnoxious people in this fandom, i NEVER follow those people).

rhaelya. even my fellow “well i like it BECAUSE it’s toxic” shippers don’t get into this one. it’s like people who swallow dany rewriting drogo/dany in her head to me. no critical thinking skills.

i really am just obsessively reading people’s stark tags before following BUT anything on ned being an enabler, being too honorable to shit, “oh would he even save lyanna from robert if robert started physically abusing her." why? it just annoys me aksjdj , we spend an entire NOVEL rolling around in that man’s psyche and we shouldn’t be missing the point like this.

“dornish people aren’t non white” takes. that’s directly contradicted by the text, i don’t give a shit about any casting, there’s so clearly an ethnic and racial difference at play here with how the rest of Westeros treats Dorne. you either understand that or you’re a moron.

[donutz]

PickyPiggy x reader Valentine's Day special[7♡8]

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

What did they do in the morning on Valentines?

— She had her morning pb & j

— She forgot it was Valentine’s Day

— Didn’t know why everybody was so excited

— She did have gifts though

— Which is your favorite snacks

— She’s only good with gifts, IF it includes food

What did they do for you?

— Spent extra time with you, she didn’t even notice she did

— She just did it naturally

— She actually shared some of her food with you!! She never does that!

— ‘Spent extra time’ meaning that she was around you more and closer to you

— Like she got closer to you whenever she was near you, she also got in your face more often, she does that, is trying not to(if you find it annoying)

— She tucked you in at night, kind of— watched you, to make sure you were asleep…

— She usually tucks you in but not the watching part.

— She gave you pieces of candy the second February started, naturally, she kind of just does things without noticing

What did they get you?

— Candy, snacks, food, she's good with food

— Anything else? She's clueless

— She saw people giving flowers to others for Valentine’s, and was confused

— “Flowers? That's not food though…” Gifts that aren't food is very confusing to her

— Oh yeah, and a cake, your favorite flavor!

What did you give them?

— Also food

— She DOES NOT mind, at all

— She's all about food, literally

— I'd says she likes sweet instead of spicy, so she got more candy than actual food

— You also gave her 5 pb & j's!

— It's not a lot for her

— Probably has fast metabolism too

— Maybe that's why she's always hungry(real)

Did they do anything special? (Extra hugs, kisses, changing their routine etc.)

— She did do extra hugs and kisses, naturally

— I don’t know how she does those things without realizing 

— She’ll give you a kiss and then say she gave you a hug

— Tried to draw for you! She shows barely any interest in art so that was a big whoop!

— You said you were very proud of her doing that

— She got all happy, all jolly ‘n stuff

—  https://www.pinterest.com/pin/42502790227352415/

What activities did you both do?

— You had an eating contest for the first time! She won

— It was an apple eating contest! If you don’t like apples, then…

— You lost

— It can be hard going against a pig who is only about eating when it comes to eating contests

— So don’t expect to win unless you know you have a bigger stomach than hers, somehow

— You two.. Knitted? She found it very boring and wasn’t entertained, but seeing you all pretty while knitting motivated her to do it

— She sometimes purposefully didn’t ‘know’ how to do it just so you can help her with it

— She has the smarts for that!!

Did they seem brighter today?

— She was excited to give you your gifts!(food)

— You could see her jumping repeatedly when it was time to give and receive gifts

— She made little squeals, not pig squeals, happy squeals

— “Eee!” (real)

Anything new about their appearance?

— Nope!

— Nope!

— Nope!

— Nooo ^_^

How many times did they say I love you?

— “Oh yeah, I love you!”

— She said it once

— But the next day she counted and mentally said, “Oh shoot! I should've said it more…”

— Then she said it 7 more times, she tried making it to 10 but kept on forgetting

Did they ask to be your Valentines, or did they ask if you could be their Valentines? There’s a difference!

— “May I be your Valentine’s? I got you food too!” She said with a bright smile on her face

— She was happily tapping her feet, barely being nervous

— She was barely nervous the whole day, other than when she continuously remembered your gifts and kept getting nervous

— She was getting nervous because she was trying not to eat your gifts

What did they do the night before Valentine's Day?

— She checked over the gifts

— Trying to make sure there were no mold, incorrect gifts, aka food you don’t like, the correct flavors you favorited, enough food and candy to last for the next hour

— She went to sleep, happy as ever, because she saw that there were no flaws in her gifts

Were they shy asking to be your Valentines or when they asked if you could be their Valentines?

— Not at all! But not confident!

— She was just cheerful the whole time! Somehow!

— She gladly gave you the food after you said yes(you WILL say yes)

Did they add anything extra to their areas(their little homes)? Or their activities?

— Isn’t one for decorating unless it’s about food

— When the apple eating contest was going on, she stole one of your apples, not to help you, but she just wanted one

What did they do when it was time to sleep?

— She went to sleep like a cat in the warm rays from the sun

[t3mpest98]

FRIEND! I BRING YOU PAIN

Scenario: they are paired off in couples for a high stakes mission. Things go wrong, very wrong.

Person A jumps in front of person B and takes the killing shot in their lover's place.

Cut to person B holding A in their arms while their life fades away.

Who tries to soothe who in the final moments? Do they fly off the handle, do they share a last kiss? Does person B hugs A until they're pried away, in denial that they are gone?

For the sufferers of such fate, dealer's choice on who is in each role: Naji and Vixen, Cyra and Noir (already in a relationship).

Drink water 😌

HHHHHHHHHHHHHH OW OW OW WOW OWWWWWWWWWWW I LOVE IT

Vixen/Naji

At first I was like “Well probably Vixen” but then I decided to be mean

So ya, Vixen is busy trying to get everything under control and doesn’t see it coming. Naji, despite how awful his vision is, does.

He wasn’t expecting it to hurt as much as it did but at least Vixen wasn’t feeling it. Doesn’t stop him from feeling a little scared but hey Vixen’s ok, she’s ok, that what matters. Vixen immediately ignores the rest of what’s going on to get him out of there and somewhere safer, but she can’t go far because moving him just seems to make it worse. She’s running through everything she can to get him out, but nothing prepared her for this.

She’d try to comfort him, probably kiss his forehead and tell him it’ll be alright and she’ll get him out of here. She knows she’s lying but she can’t stand to see him look so uncertain and scared.

Vixen gets him to tell her about the stars again, about all the stories he knows better than anything. So he tells her about the one that reminds him of her. But he’s getting really really tired. He fixes his glasses so he can look at her better, tell her he loves her then he’s gone. Even tho she knew it was coming it still shocks her. He doesn’t have the sparkle in his eyes anymore. He felt even colder than normal.

She thinks she hates the color red now.

Cyra/Noir (do u understand how many times I’ve thought about this??? Do u????? Even before this ask????? That’s why it’s so lengthy too akkdkfk)

Honestly Noir always felt like at some point that would be it for him. He wasn’t sure when or how but he always had a feeling that he might not survive one day. But at least it was his own choice, something he wasn’t sure he would get. He’s no stranger to pain either. So overall he wouldn’t be panicking as he lay dying probably.

Cyra would though. Because he’s it, she hasn’t had one single good thing in years until he literally crashed into her life. So whoever had even hurt him to begin with was already going to die, she’d shoot them multiple times just to make sure they stayed dead. And then when she gets back over to Noir who hasn’t gotten up, who is barely moving, she’s already overwhelmed with a lot of emotional distress.

She doesn’t say his name often, but this time she’s very serious. She’s desperate. She can’t fix this. Noir would probably just try to curl up in her arms, like it was any other day and they were at her garage. He’d rather not think about how much pain he’s in right now, about how cold he’s getting even tho he’s right there against Cyra.

Cyra trying to talk to him and hopes he can please just hold on for a little bit longer, someone would come help just a little bit longer. But Noir’s losing a bit too much blood too fast and he can feel it. He knows help isn’t coming fast enough. Funny how life always seemed out to get him, but why did it have to be now? Cyra looked really upset and he doesn’t want that. But he also didn’t want her dead.

In the end he’d probably apologize. Man who hates saying sorry finally says it but at the worst time possible. She’d tease him if he weren’t bleeding out. She’d probably start crying at that point, mainly because she’s angry, angry at herself for not seeing that coming and for not stopping him. She doesn’t know how she’s going to tell Spade. She’s too focused about the fact that to one person she let in after everything went to hell is dying.

If he has his lighter on him (very likely) he’ll give it to her. Yk. So she has something else to keep her warm.

And then he’s gone just like that and she has absolutely no clue what to do, she hates this she can’t believe this is actually happening. She knows she won’t recover from this. He’s the one not breathing but she’s dead too.

[damianbugs]

oh also i desperately need ur stephanie related fic recs please hand them over i trust ur judgement

this sudden stephanie appreciation makes me so happy. she is indeed the guy of all time, the best and the greatest forever. no one does it like her ever. i am also so flattered you trust me with this, and so i hope these do not disappoint u anon!

STEPHANIE BROWN CENTRIC FIC RECS ON AO3

Oops by Tiptapricot

Steph wakes up in a dingy Gotham alley, her ears ringing and head pounding like a drum. When she opens her eyes to see a kid in scaly green shorts and a cape, she realizes her mistake on tonight's mission was much bigger than she realized.

MY NOTES: starting off strong with time travel!!! a wonderful fic that focuses on stephs role as a hero and the dynamic between her a dick was so sweet to read. truly a love letter to what spoiler is.

Let Your Clarity Define You by Hinn_River

Five times Stephanie Brown met someone for the first time, and one reunion.

MY NOTES: my life motto is shoot every character you love with the transgender beam. this work is so special to me, especially the entire idea of what being a hero, in any capacity, can mean to someone, and was just a lovely and heartwarming read. (also!!! trans duke!!!!)

What's So Amazing That Keeps Us Stargazing by Cerusee

Jason, the plaque read. Just that. Just…. Jason. There were other cases in the Cave, other costumes on display, but somehow, this one felt different. Stephanie wasn’t stupid; she knew Robin’s colors well as any Gotham kid did. It was Dick’s old costume. (Stephanie knew she wasn’t even supposed to know that name; Batman had had a concussion when he’d called Nightwing by it, and they’d both been cagey with her for months afterwards.) It was the costume he’d worn before he’d grown up and become Nightwing. So why this case, with this costume, but a different name?

MY NOTES: oh this fic!!! the fic of all time!! the conversations had in this fic really dig right into your heart and hit where it hurts, but i just loved every bit of it. stephanie is the balance to a lot of the grief that clouds around bruce, dick and babs and it was just handled marvelously in this. must read!

always for the greener side by chiriklo

Stephanie jumps to action. She hits the ground running, pounding a beat in spry, renewed vigor. There’s nothing holding her back. She’s chasing a string from her heart, burning with desire to make the world a better place. She will climb every wall, jump every fence, leap every hurdle it takes, because nothing can stop Stephanie Brown from fighting for a brighter future. Robin or not, she’ll leave her mark. — Stephanie Brown in first-time meetings, finding purpose, and hard-earned evolution.

MY NOTES: there is just something so special about fics where we follow stephanie throughout her life and watch her grow into the hero she has always been. again, with the loveliest dynamic with dick. a must read!

I'm Your Clone, Your Strange Creation by Sohotthateveryonedied

Fuckin’ crazy, her mother often said. About everything and anyone. The oil prices? Fuckin’ crazy. The corner store employee who refused to let Stephanie purchase a pack of cigarettes for her mother? Fuckin’ crazy. Your father? Fuckin’ crazy. “Why do you do it?” Steph asked him once. Arthur was sat at the coffee table, writing and rewriting a first draft of the note he planned to leave behind after tomorrow’s robbery. “You’re gonna get caught again.” For once, Arthur didn’t tell her off for bugging him. He flipped his pencil around to erase a word, his eraser squeaking on the paper. “Keeps me sane.” Steph considered that, frowning. “Can’t you be sane and not get caught?” “Not how it works, babygirl. Not for people like me.” He rubbed her head. “Go get me another beer, will ya?”

MY NOTES: i think everyone should read this introspection fic simply because the final line is 'Fathers. They never stop cutting.' and it fits just so perfectly into the premise of this work.

to avoid repeating fic recs too many times, you can find more stephanie focused fics here !

[thephantomcasebook]

did u some guy who’s been leaking stuff ab casting said emily beecham was actually cast as alys rivers but they fired her last minute after changing the entire script. and that she allegedly released the tape. and then another actress after emily had to drop out.

i wouldn’t be suprised if the new actress is a last minute casting tbh considering she just started following the cast only two weeks ago, and she certainly doesn’t fit whats been described of alys in the book. although i think she’ll do great

From what I understand of the timeline.

Emily Beecham was the first idea, with the leaked script of the audition. Apparently the studio or the directors didn't like the way Alys was written, and a lot of people found the character unlikeable and off-putting - Arrogant prick girl-boss. So they scrapped the concept and the actress and started again.

Jessica Brown Findlay got the role of Alys Rivers months ago and was waiting to go over and shoot. But some major personal issues - I will not get into it - cropped up and she had to drop out a week before shooting started.

From what I understand Gayle Rankin is a very last minute replacement for Jessica Brown Findlay.

No, I will not post or elaborate publicly the personal issues of JFB. If you really, really, need to know, it's buried on Reddit if you can find it and know what you're looking for.

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Nightingale Chapter Six - Welcome to the Neighborhood

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Six: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Word Count: 5394

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

It had been three days since Jensen sent you on that shopping trip and he hadn’t seen you since. Not in person, anyway. There was evidence that you were still in the apartment, dishes he used for breakfast were always put away clean by the time he got home at night. He heard your shower running one morning and he noticed the laundry was still being done. Life on set kept him busy, but he was still able to text back and forth with you. You always responded. Your answers were pleasant, but brief.

He was certain something was wrong, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. He had his suspicions that something had happened on the day you went to the department store. His bank sent him a text alert when the final charge went through, and it was far less than he expected it to be. Clif told him you’d been fine on the ride home, maybe a little tired. It didn’t make any sense and it was driving him crazy. Which meant he was driving everyone else crazy, especially Jared.

“Something is wrong.”

Jared didn’t look up from his phone, he’d heard the same thing from his co-star for days. “We’ve got a few minutes, why don’t you give her a call?”

“Nah, I want to talk in person. Its just our schedules don’t seem to match up.”

“She’s recovering from a concussion,” Jared pointed out. “She doesn’t have a schedule.”

“She’s got a sleep schedule. You know how hard it is with us, we work all kind of weird hours.” Jensen picked at the edges of his paper coffee cup, a nervous habit. “I never paid it much attention before, you know Dee was never around for filming. I’m sure its nothing, it just feels like she’s avoiding me.”

The mention of the ex-wife broke through Jared’s annoyance. Jensen looked like a dejected puppy and Jared had a soft spot for puppies. “Look, I’ve got a later call time tomorrow. Why don’t we switch some things around, I’ll shoot my stuff first?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m probably making a bigger deal out of it than it is. It just feels weird because we spent so much time together before work started back up.”

Jared’s eyes narrowed in speculation as a sudden thought struck, “You’re avoiding her.”

Jensen scoffed and tossed his cup in the garbage, “What did I just say?”

“Nuh huh, I don’t buy it. You are direct to a fault, if you wanted to talk to her, you would. You’re waiting for her to come to you, why?”

“Because I don’t want to push,” Jensen finally admitted. “Obviously, I’ve done something or misread things. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Talking is not going to make it worse. And if you did do something to piss her off, apologize.” Jared waggled his eyebrows, “Turn on that Winchester charm, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jensen deadpanned.

“We’re switching call times,” Jared retorted. “I can’t take another day of unrequited drama.”

He was in the kitchen when you waltzed in at 7:30 with a duffle bag over your shoulder. The buds were blasting in your ears, so you didn’t hear him say good morning to you three times. When you finally glanced up and saw a figure holding a cup of coffee you let out a scream so loud, they probably heard it in the lobby.

Jensen immediately set down the cup and held up a hand in surrender, “Whoa, easy… hey, it’s just me!”

You rubbed a hand over your racing heart, “Christ on a cracker!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, while silently chiding himself.

You laughed, knowing you must have looked ridiculous. “No, it’s okay. I thought you were already at work.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a later call time today, so I can have a lazy morning.” He said, taking up his coffee again. “Which means I’ve got time to make a real breakfast, pancakes and everything. You game?”

He gave you a dazzling smile and you nearly melted. No one had a right to look that good first thing in the morning. Perhaps it was not seeing him for days that made it so much more apparent. Already showered and shaved, but still in his track pants and t-shirt. He looked much like he did during the week he spent taking care of you. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was curl up with him on the couch. Spend the day wrapped up in his arms, warm and safe from the uncertainties that kept you up at night.

My GOD he smells good! I wonder if he’s as good at kissing in real life as he is on t.v.? He must be, look at his mouth… and his hands.

“Oh no. No thank you, I’ve got a class at the club.”

“Oh,” he tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “The health club downstairs?”

You looked down at your running suit that encased your body in navy blue and pink lycra. “Yeah, I’ve been itching to go to the gym. I think I used to quite a bit before the accident. My body’s been missing it.”

Judging by the way that suit hugged your curves, Jensen doubted your body was missing anything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Actually, I’m taking one of the classes for seniors. I talked with one of the physical therapists down there and he helped me find something low impact.” You laughed a little, “I’m the youngest person by like forty years. Mrs. Hudson keeps trying to set me up with her grandson.”

“Mrs. Hudson?”

“She lives on the fifth floor, has a toy poodle named Mitzi and she is a huge Supernatural fan. Like, obsessed.”

“You don’t say,” he smiled a bit. “She want an autograph?”

“Yeah, but not yours.” You grinned, “Misha’s.”

He rolled his eyes, “Typical.”

“She also offered me a hundred bucks for a sneak peak at the plot for this season. I told her I’d think about it.”

“If she goes up to two hundred let me know, we can split it and go somewhere nice.”

You both laughed softly then fell into an awkward silence.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

Your reply was quick. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“I know with my schedule and everything, we haven’t had much time to talk. It just seems like there’s something bothering you.”

When you finally looked up with your big, blue eyes, he knew he was right. He saw the uncertainty in your gaze, and it worried him. There was something you weren’t saying. What could he have done to lose your trust?

“Sweetheart, tell me. Is it me? Did I do something or say something to upset you?”

“No, no.” You sighed. The last thing you wanted was to worry him or anyone else. But Jensen was a persistent man, once he caught wind of something, he wouldn’t just let it go. It never occurred to you that he’d blame himself.

“Did something happen on that shopping trip? Did they not have what you needed?”

“No! They were all great, really. Thank you again, it was lovely.”

He gave a slight shake of his head, there was that slightly cool politeness. Rigid and formal. Not like you at all. “I kinda expected you to spend a little more, I mean… are you sure it was okay?”

“I got all the essentials, Jay. I didn’t need anything extravagant.”

“It was supposed to be fun; you know. A treat. Extravagant is part of the package.”

You didn’t reply to that. You knew he would only feel badly if you told him how that trip made you feel dirty. That you were worried that your presence in his life was being misinterpreted by pretty much everyone. That you were worried that deep down, that you were just not worthy of someone like him. Not as you are. Broken.

Jensen knew he couldn’t force you to confide in him. It wasn’t fair to push you just to satisfy his own doubts. “I don’t want you to be late to your class so, maybe I’ll see you later, okay?”

He was letting you off the hook. Giving you a chance to make a hasty escape. If you had a brain in your head, you’d take it. But you couldn’t just ignore the poorly masked hurt in his eyes. Somehow, he got it into his head that this was his fault, and you couldn’t just let him sit with that.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Jay. You’ve been amazing. I just feel like I should be doing something. I want to contribute.”

“All you need to focus on is recovering. Don’t worry about the money thing, I know people get a little weird about it, but it’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You crossed your arms over your stomach as you leaned against the counter. “I feel this pull to be active, to help people. I don’t know what I used to do for a living or even what I’m good at. I just know I have to try. There must be something I can do to be useful in the world.”

“Y/N, you’ve got a heart the size of Texas. I’m not surprised that you want to help people. And you should follow that feeling, but you gotta walk before you run.”

You gave a small smile, “Why do you think I’m in geriatric aerobics? I still get tired and my stamina is crap. I’m trying to build up my strength. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a forgotten talent.”

“I’m sure you will.” Jensen studied you for a moment, there was still a bit of tension in your posture. Your beautiful eyes were still a little guarded. He was certain there was more to it but decided to drop it for now.

“You should get going, don’t want to be late for class.”

“Yeah,” you picked up the forgotten gym bag and headed for the door. “Hey, um… do you think you’ll have a late night tonight?”

“Actually, I’ve got a light schedule. I’ll probably get out of there at a decent time.”

“Well, maybe we could have supper,” you suggested, chewing on your lower lip. “I saw a Tupperware in the back of the freezer that said Five Alarm.”

Jensen let out low whistle, “Oh, I don’t know Y/N. That’s Grandma Ackles award winning, Five Alarm Chili, it would burn the pants off a little lady like you.”

You scoffed, “If you can take it, I can take it.”

“I’m a Texan. I was born breaking horses and breathing fire.” He laid it on thick, exaggerating his accent. When he added a wink, you turned red.

“Shut up,” you laughed, shaking your head. The man was too cute, and he knew it.

“Alright, alright. I’ll start the crockpot and get the Pepto on standby.”

There was such softness in his green gaze as it flickered over your face. This wasn’t the first time a moment like this stretched out between the two of you. He said so much with those eyes of his, you swore you could feel the caress of them on your soul. Yet, he held back, closing his hands into loose fists at his sides. The warmth in his eyes turned uncertain and in that moment all you wanted to do was reassure him.

Your doubts quieted just long enough for your instincts called the shots. You stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

Jensen immediately reciprocated, his strong arms coming around you, holding you close. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This felt right. You felt right. Every time he had you in his arms, he felt something settle in his heart. You felt like home, it was that simple.

“You should get going,” he breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t want to worry Mrs. Hudson.”

You felt tingly. Warm and fuzzy, all the way down to the soles of your shoes. No wonder Dean Winchester was so popular, the man portraying him was everything a woman could possibly want. Kind, strong, handsome, and funny. Hard working and generous. You had a long way to go if you were going to be worthy of a man like that. Better get started.

“Yeah, you’re right. See you for dinner?”

“It’s a date.”

You were still floating when you stepped into the elevator. You were no closer to answering the million questions you had about yourself, but you felt more centered. More sure of yourself and your path forward. Jensen always managed to help ground you and settle the doubts buzzing in your brain. That was just part of his magic.

The elevator paused after just a couple of floors, stopping to pick up another passenger. The doors slid open to reveal a small child. A little boy with shiny, black hair and a Buzz Lightyear doll clutched in his arms.

“Hey there,” you smiled, looking around for the adult who must be close by. “Are you lost?”

He didn’t say anything, but his big, brown eyes welled with tears as he hugged his doll even tighter.

You stepped out of the elevator and crouched down to his level. Poor little guy’s terrified.

“Is your mom around? Or your dad?” Getting no answer and seeing no worried parent around you tried another approach. “Do you live on this floor?”

This time he shrugged.

“A lot of these hallways look alike, huh? I get a little lost myself… say, do you know that big, fancy fountain downstairs? The one with the lights and the fish?”

His brown eyes grew wide, and he nodded. Jackpot, kids love those koi fish.

“Well, there is a really nice lady at the desk right by that fountain. She knows everyone in this building and knows where we all live. I bet if we ask her really nice, she will help us out.” You stood and held your hand out to him, “What do you say?”

Keeping Buzz in one arm, he grabbed your hand tightly and rode down to the lobby by your side.

His name was Christopher, and his frantic mother was already at the reception desk. The squirming toddler on her hip squealed and reached out when she saw you walking towards them.

“Mama!” Christopher tugged out of your hand and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him across the lobby.

“Christopher!” The mother dropped to her knees, scooping him up along with his sister. From the muffled, relieved scolding, you pieced together that he’d been playing hide and seek with his sibling and got a little too creative.

“You scared me to death!”

“I’m sorry Mama,” he cried into her shoulder.

You picked up the discarded doll and gave the frazzled mother a smile, “There’s no harm done. We just took a little elevator ride. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Maddy,” she replied. She allowed her children to slide to the floor but kept a hold of their hands. “Thank you so much… I swear these two will be the death of me!”

You looked a little more closely at the pair, they were like a matched set. Same height, same facial features, eye color, hair. One boy and one girl. “Twins?”

“Christopher and Casey. When they turned four, they figured out how to bypass the Netflix password and open any locked door. I think they’re bent on world domination.”

You laughed and noticed the tiny paint splatters in Maddy’s clothes and across her face. She wore old overalls with ripped knees, rolled up at the ankle and a faded bandana keeping her hair up. Her bare feet were paint splattered too, she obviously just ran out of her apartment in a hurry.

Middle of a project. Hyper, bored kids. Single mom?

“Would you like some help?”

Turns out you were right. Madison “Maddy” Montgomery was a single mother of five-year-old twins. Christopher and Casey. Her ex, Jake, was a military man who valued his career more than his wife and kids. He still kept in touch, but really had no interest in raising a family. A year ago, she moved to Vancouver to be closer to her sister and have a fresh start.

“So, what happened to your face? You owe money to the mob?”

“Boating accident,” you replied, loading your roller with paint. “I zigged when I should have zagged.”

Maddy rolled out a heavy drop cloth over the hardwood floors of her dining room. “Rookie mistake. So, what do you do when you’re not wrangling wayward toddlers?”

“Well, today I do this.”

“No kids of your own, huh? What do you do for a living?”

“Ah, well, I’m not really sure.”

“Identity crisis?” Maddy guessed.

You kept your attention on applying paint evenly. Part of you wanted to just gloss over the details of your life, keep the conversation light. After all, it was a pretty strange set of circumstances. Instead, you decided to take a leap of faith and be honest.

“Sort of. Amnesia.”

Maddy paused mid-way through taping off the woodwork. “Whoa, seriously?”

Before you knew it, the whole story came tumbling out. It was such a relief to share it with someone. The aerobics group only knew cursory details about your injuries and physical limitations. Jensen and Jared knew and were great, of course. But this was the first time you actually told someone about it. A perfect stranger, until an hour ago.

“Wow. Y/N, that’s… that’s intense. So, you have no idea who you are. Where you’re from, you’re family. Nothing?”

“No. Not really, just my first name and a couple of random memories.”

“That’s…. wow. That must be terrifying.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “Mostly, its frustrating. Thank God for Jensen, he helps keep me from spiraling out of control.”

A look of wide-eyed recognition crossed Maddy’s face. “Wait, Jensen Ackles? Your dashing hero is the super hottie in the penthouse?”

You stole a look over shoulder, “Yes?”

Maddy laughed then, “Girl!”

“Do you know him?” you asked casually.

“Not like you do, obviously,” Maddy teased. “I’ve met him in passing a couple of times, he helped me carry in groceries. Super sweet guy and gorgeous. My sister watches that show of his religiously.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten into it recently myself.”

“You don’t say?”

“Shut up,” you grinned, unable to stop yourself.

“I heard he was back on the market, finally got rid of that ball and chain.”

“He was married?”

“You weren’t kidding about that amnesia, huh?” Maddy took a slender paint brush and started on the edging work. “I only ran into her the once. One of those tight faced, model types, you know. Kinda bitchy, dismissive. I was relived to hear he divorced, a guy like that deserves better.”

Your mind was ticking away. Jensen had never mentioned a wife. Ex or otherwise. With your concussion, you steered clear of computers. Plus, something about looking up information about your friend on the internet seemed sleezy. Mean. Deceitful, even. And Jensen was that, he was your friend. No matter where things went with him, first and most importantly, he was your friend.

“Yeah, he deserves better.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Maddy and the kids. By the end of the day the dining room had received two coats of paint and the kids were successfully fed and down for a nap. Casey fussed a bit, but eventually settled. Maddy said both kids had been down with the flu a couple of weeks ago, but Casey hadn’t been able to shake it completely yet.

“It’s par for the parenting course,” the young mother explained. “The doctor says its because of her allergies. Always worse this time of year. Her father was the same way.”

“Poor kiddo,” you murmured. Something tickled at the back of your mind. You couldn’t quite shake it nor bring it to the surface. God, was that ever frustrating! Your only choice was to leave it be until it decided to let you remember it. Pushing yourself would only bring on a migraine.

You exchanged numbers with Maddy as she saw you to the door and promised to help her tackle the kitchen when the time came. That 70’s style linoleum had to go!

You were happier, lighter as you headed back to the apartment. You felt more normal than you had since waking up in the hospital. Today’s activities hadn’t been what you expected, but they were exactly what you needed. You could feel tentative hope blooming that perhaps you weren’t broken after all. There was a part of you that survived the accident after all. You still had the ability to make friends.

A part of you worried that although he said otherwise, Jensen was only interested in spending time with you because he felt guilty. But the afternoon with Maddy and her kids bolstered your confidence and worked to quiet those doubts.

There was a spring in your step by the time you got home. The smell of Grandma Ackles chili had your mouth watering the minute you opened the door. No wonder it was award winning. Your phone buzzed with a text from Jensen saying he’d be home in an hour. That left you just enough time to shower and change out of your rumpled clothes before dinner.

“Looks like someone’s in a good mood,” Jensen said, shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it on a one of the bar stools.

There was music flowing from the sound system and the kitchen table was set for two. You were wearing an outfit he had never seen before. A simple, soft sweater in light blue and a dark, denim skirt that hit mid-thigh. Those incredible legs of yours were encased in thermal tights that several of the ladies on set favored. You turned to him with a smile, your long hair was unbound and swung freely around your shoulders as you moved.

“I am in a good mood, had a good day.”

“Yeah?” he asked, as you handed him a beer.

You opened a bottle of water for yourself, “Yeah. It was a great day.”

And so the evening went. Lovely, normal, warm, homey. The two of you exchanged stories of how you spent your days. Jensen was thrilled to hear you’d made a new friend. He could see the difference in your posture, you were hopeful. And your laugh was back.

Sitting there with you, having dinner at the end of the day, fulfilled a fantasy that he’d kept buried deep down. It was so simple; most people took it for granted. It was the feeling of family. He was close to his family growing up, and still was in a lot of ways. But he wanted one of his own. A best friend to go through life with, a partner. Danneel was supposed to be that for him. It looked like it on the surface, but it never felt like it. Never felt like this.

Y/N listened intently as he told her mundane details of his day on set. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as it could be. No fight scenes, no big speeches. Pretty boring from his perspective. His ex-wife certainly would have thought so, but not you. You were fascinated. Maybe it was because you didn’t come from a Hollywood background like Danneel did. You thought it was the most magical thing you’d ever heard. It reminded Jensen of his first trip to a television set. He thought it was magical too. He’d forgotten that until now, and it felt good to be reminded of it. To be reminded of why he fell in love with the film industry to begin with.

The two of you had loaded the dishwasher and moved to the living room to unwind when the doorbell rang, followed by frantic knocking.

Jensen got to his feet and signaled for you to stay put when you went to follow him. It was late and no one ever came to the door without at least texting first. There was a flash of Dean in him at that moment, protective.

He looked through the peephole, then unlocked and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

From your place on the couch, you could hear familiar voices and you were quickly at his side, “Maddy? What’s wrong?”

Your new friend was frantic. Christopher was beside her, hiding behind her legs, while his sister wailed in her mother’s arms. “Y/N, hey I’m sorry to bother you. It’s Casey, her fever spiked, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Do you need to go to the E.R.? We’ll give you a ride,” Jensen offered, concern written all over his face.

“No, my sister is on her way. I’m know its short notice, but would you watch Chrissy?” Maddy asked, shifting Casey on her hip. “I have no idea how long this is going to take; I could be there all night and that’s torture on a five-year-old.”

“Yeah, of course,” you were already grabbing your shoes to head up to Maddy’s apartment.

“He can stay with us,” Jensen said without hesitation. “We’ve got it covered, no problem.”

The relief on Maddy’s face was instantaneous. “Really?! Oh, God, thank you so much! I owe you.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” you assured her and held out a hand to Christopher who threw himself into your arms. “Keep us posted, okay?”

“I will, thank you again!”

Jensen closed the door as Maddy disappeared down the hall and you stood with the toddler clinging to you.

“So…. Nintendo?” he suggested.

If you weren’t already completely charmed by Jensen Ackles before, you certainly were now. The man loved kids and it was adorable. He quickly won over the little boy with chocolate milk and his collection of remote-control cars. You had a suspicion that they weren’t meant for rough play, but Jensen didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was having a ball! He set up the living room and foyer as an elaborate racetrack and the three of you stood on the couch in your stocking feet while cars zipped around the floor. The floor, which was lava, of course.

After an hour or so, they moved on to the world of video games, which was housed in Jensen’s bedroom. You let the two of them hash it out, since your head was beginning to ache. Video games had that effect on concussions, so you sat back on the bed and watched with great amusement as Christopher beat Jensen at Mario cart.

After a few minutes, the bright colors and movement made the headache bad enough that you decided to go grab a couple of pain pills. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your skull.

“Oh!” Your hand went to your temple, then it was gone. As suddenly as it had started, the pain left and in its place was a memory. The thought that had been tugging at you all afternoon finally broke through.

You didn’t notice Jensen was by your side until he touched your shoulder. “Y/N? You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you processed the new information that had just shaken loose. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just remembered something. I’ll be right back.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and went out into the hallway, leaving Jensen to keep an eye on your houseguest.

“Y/N?” Maddy answered, her voice slightly muffled by background noise from the hospital. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

“He’s fine, I just thought of something. Have you seen the doctor yet?”

“They just took us back to one of the exam rooms now. This place is packed!”

“Okay listen, I noticed something about Casey earlier today, but it didn’t click with me until now. There is a dark ring around the iris of her eye, it’s called a Kayser-Fleischer ring. It’s caused by a buildup of copper deposits.”

Maddy was looking her child over on the other end of the line, after a moment she responded. “Yeah. Yeah, I see it.”

“Tell the doctor to check for Wilson’s disease. It’s a liver disorder. It’s rare, but treatable.”

“Wilson’s disease, got it. How are you so sure about this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, wishing you’d gotten more than just a flash of a magazine article to go on. “I don’t know. Call it instinct.”

Jensen looked up when you slipped back into the bedroom, “Everything alright?”

You returned to your spot on the bed and Christopher came up to cuddle beside you. You ran your hand over his hair in soothing gesture as your turned over the new information in your mind. You were relived and excited that something useful had broken through. Hopefully, it would help. You remembered that article word for word, if caught early on and monitored closely, people could live quite easily with it. Your gut said that would be the case for Casey.

“I was just checking in with Maddy. They’re fine, just waiting for the doctor.”

He nodded and looked down at the child who was snuggled into your side. Obviously, he had chosen his place to hunker down for the night and Jensen was more than okay with sharing his space. “Good. How about we wind down with a movie?”

“Toy Story,” Christopher piped up.

“Excellent choice,” you agreed.

A couple of hours later, the credits were rolling and the three of you were cuddled together in the center of the massive, king-sized bed. The kid conked out early on and you followed not long after. Jensen didn’t realize he had nodded off himself until the sound of your phone vibrating against the side table jolted him awake. He extracted himself from the cocoon of blankets and pillows and reached over you to grab the phone. You were a heavy sleeper and never even moved when he answered in a hushed tone.

“Maddy?”

“Jensen, hi. Sorry, I know its late.”

“No, it’s okay. Y/N and Chrissy are asleep, but I’m up. How’s Casey?”

“Better,” the young mother breathed, relief clear in her voice. “We’re on our way home now. Y/N was right. I still have to bring Casey back for tests in a few days just to be sure but, Y/N was on the money. The doctor didn’t even want to check, thought I was out of my mind. Thank god she saw it, I never even noticed!”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmured, looking down at your peaceful face. “Thank god.”

“Seriously though, how did she know about that disease? The doctor in the E.R. wasn’t even familiar with it.”

“I don’t know… she’s full of surprises. Listen, Chrissy is pretty comfortable here and you’ve had a hell of a night. Why don’t we keep him over-night and bring him home in the morning?”

“Oh my god, are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no problem, he’s a great kid.”

“It’s official, you are my new favorite neighbor! Thank you, Jensen. Seriously, you’ve been great. And tell Y/N thanks, I’m so grateful I met her today!”

Jensen smiled as he hung up the phone and put it back on the charger. He settled back down into the bed and pulled the covers over the three of you. God, he’d had fun with you and the kid tonight. Until you came into his life, he was never around long enough to get to know any of his neighbors. It felt incredibly good to be a part of the community, even in this small way and he had you to thank for it. Maddy had it right. Grateful was exactly how he felt as he drifted off to sleep. Grateful he’d met you. Grateful you’d stuck around. Grateful you were curled up beside him, even with a child sandwiched in the middle.

The mystery of who you were was slowly unfolding as more fragments of your memories came through. And he was grateful to be at your side, witnessing the slow reveal of the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

[animasend]

wow mistified really is the rerun after olga went through the Most of Most canon point updates! anyways this is going to be an info post mostly as a ref for myself so warnings for vague spoilers.

RESIDUAL DATA IMPRINTS.

spirale memories. though olga’s memories of her time in the city are fuzzy currently, they still can show up as data imprints, ranging from everyday mundane things to past events (except the first run of mistified) and the like.there’s also a chance of future moments that will come to happen showing up in the mists though these will involve olga as she is now rather than before

subject e. olga herself holds some memories of being tortured and experimented on by humanity for 100 years, though the hatred for them mostly went with her heart when it was taken but just because the vast degree of her hate left doesn’t mean the memories did.  the way this will show up is like what was shown in the lostroom: long white limbs holding her down in place inside a black void and the only sound would be her screams and pleas.

lostbelt 7. so much so much happened in the lostbelt for her that there is a vast variety to choose from. from playing xoccer with the deinos, her outing with wak-chan, the battles, her remembering what she forgot, all the way up to her sacrifice to stop ort (which ALSO will be included). it’s a wide variety of fun and silly to sad to happy to calm so there’s a lot to choose from!

memories of chaldea. aka everything olga forgot, her time as the director from arriving to chaldea all the way through singularity f.

FRIENDLY SENTIENT DATA IMPRINTS

human olga. basically olga before her canon point update, back when she was just an axnious human mess trying to live up to her fater’s name. as an added bonus (pain), she’ll also hold some of olga’s spirale memories. she’s not a threat to anyone and as this was before everything, her appearance will be like before and she’ll look just like your regular everyday person

child olga. same as above, but olga as a child, a bit younger than her case files self. this data imprint won’t...really talk. she’s mostly quiet, choosing to say nothing and merely observe. again, she’s no threat but it can be a little unnerving when she’s around because it’s as if she’s seeing right through you to your very soul. however if olga is around, she gets a little bit less intense and sticks close to her

nemo marine. [loud crying] anyways yes i’m bringing in nemo marine! the one that befriended olga and was her little buddy in lb7 before izcali chose death! he absolutely will be following olga around and olga herself will also probably be protective of the little marine to a high degree due to what happened so it’s not you if she’s extremely wary of anyone that gets close to marine

LETHAL SENTIENT DATA IMPRINTS.

just a little note that, if said data imprints show up in threads, i most likely won’t use icons of them but then again i know me so that could always change!

tezcatlipoca. because why wouldn’t i bring in the servant that stole olga’s heart after backstabbing her and shooting her (((: anyways! yes tezca will be out and about looking for our favorite u-chan to, as guessed, kill her. he doesn’t really have beef with anyone else but if you do try and get in his way you may become a target next

the seven grands. you really think an uncapped Beast gets to roam free??? not in this economy! anyways yes the seven grands, which count tezca, will be out as shadow servants with the sole purpose of also hunting down olga and killing her. it’s like a recreation of that battle in lostbelt 7! just. more. they’ll be friendly as long as you don’t stand between them and olga

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."