#pia writes ?!

[doeeyeseddie]

Piaaaaaa "brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close" please, we already know they constantly brush arms anyway!

fridaaaa this took me, once again, many months to get to and i sort of only vaguely filled the actual prompt, but i hope you still enjoy it <3

5+1 things, rated t, wc: 4k

[read on ao3]

I.

Eddie’s first day as a probationary firefighter is…interesting. Captain Nash welcomes him with the same warm smile he gave him the first time they talked, then leads him inside and shows him around the app bay.

“We’ll give you the full tour later,” he promises, “after you’ve met the rest of the team. You’re the first one here, if you want, you can change into your uniform now.”

He points towards the locker room – which has glass walls for some reason – and Eddie nods.

He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when Captain Nash ushers a group of firefighters inside. Eddie runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s tidy and smiles as Hen and Chimney introduce themselves to him with warm smiles and handshakes, welcoming him to the team.

There’s a third person with them, hovering in the background and glowering at Eddie. He’s young, probably around Eddie’s age, tall and very built, and despite his hostile expression, he doesn’t give Eddie the impression of being an asshole. It’s like the expression doesn’t fit on his face, like he’s not used to wearing it.

Chim grabs him by the arm and pushes him forward, giving Eddie a commiserating smile.

“And this guy is Buck,” he says. “He was our probie before you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie says politely, stretching a hand out to offer a handshake. “You’ll have to show me how things work around here, then.”

Buck glowers down at his hand, and when he finally grabs it, he squeezes it too tightly, like he’s trying to prove something. Eddie squeezes back, amused by the pretense this guy is clearly putting on.

Behind Buck’s back, Hen rolls her eyes, but she’s also wearing a fond look, which only confirms Eddie’s assumption that Buck isn’t half as bad as he’s pretending to be.

From Captain Nash, he knows that they’re supposed to work together a lot of the time, so that’s gonna be interesting. He doesn’t know why Buck is acting like this, but he’s gonna find out, and then he’s gonna figure out a way to work with Buck anyway.

He didn’t come here to make friends, but he’ll be spending 50 hours a week with these people, and he has to trust them with his life for a lot of that time, so they at the very least need to bury whatever hatchet Buck is carrying right now.

Eddie lets go of his hand with a nod and a polite smile, and gives himself a week to figure Buck out.

II.

The days between the accident and the funeral are kind of a blur.

There’s too much to do and think about, too many decisions to make, too many people to call, too much to organize. He has help – Abuela, Pepa, the entire 118, but it still feels too much.

Shannon was 27, she didn’t have a will, they never talked about any of this. How is Eddie supposed to know how she would like to be buried, or if she’d rather be cremated? What kind of music she would want them to play at her funeral? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for a very, very long time.

But it did happen, and now Eddie is somehow supposed to know all this about her, his wife, the woman he’s only just let back into his and Christopher’s lives, the woman who asked him for a divorce and completely pulled the rug from under his feet just a day before she died.

Sometimes, he feels like he didn’t know her at all.

His parents are here “to help”, which should be a relief but really isn’t. They never liked Shannon and aren’t making a secret of it, even now that– now that she’s gone. So Eddie can’t involve them in the funeral planning, and he can’t even leave Christopher with them because he’s scared that they’re gonna take the opportunity to grab him and run, and someone needs to make sure that Shannon’s memory is honored, but she didn’t have any family except him and Christopher, and Chris is seven, so Eddie has to be the one to make this funeral beautiful, something she’d deserve, but he doesn’t know– there’s so much–

“Eddie,” someone says next to him, snapping him out of his spiral. “Come on, breathe with me.”

Eddie stares at Buck’s chest as it rises and falls with exaggerated breaths, trying to match him. When did Buck get here? He doesn’t remember letting him in, doesn’t really remember what he was doing before he started hyperventilating on his couch.

“Chris,” he gasps when he realizes that also means he’s not sure where his kid is. And of course he’s the kind of father who would do that only days after his kid lost his mom, maybe his parents are–

“Is with Hen and Karen,” Buck says firmly, grabbing his forearm. “He’s gonna spend the day with them and Denny, probably getting spoiled rotten. I borrowed Pepa’s key when we went over there so they could pick him up, she told me you might not open – sorry for barging in here, but I’m glad I did. I know you– I wanted to– Bobby and Athena are running interference with your parents. And I’m here to help you with all that.” He gestures towards the couch table that’s covered in forms, leaflets from funeral homes, and cards from grief counselors. “After Abby’s mom– I helped plan her funeral. So I’ve got some experience.”

Eddie just stares at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying. He trusts Buck, but he still doesn’t want to cry in front of him, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone. But he does think that maybe he should give Buck his own copy of a key, so he won’t have to borrow Pepa’s next time.

Buck squeezes his forearm and gives him a small, sad smile. “We’re all here for you, Eddie. I got your back, remember?”

Eddie blinks against the tears in his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat that’s keeping him from saying anything.

Instead, he twists his arm from Buck’s grip and grabs his hand instead, squeezing it in a silent thank you.

Buck squeezes back and keeps holding on.

III.

Buck gets to go home earlier than anyone expected, but Eddie has been to his new apartment, so he isn’t surprised when Buck texts him a picture of his couch with a sad face. It’s not ideal, but at least he has a bathroom downstairs and a girlfriend who can help if he struggles with anything.

Until he doesn’t have that girlfriend anymore.

Eddie doesn’t find out until after his shield ceremony, days after, actually, once his parents have finally gone home to Texas.

Buck says he’s fine, obviously, but Eddie starts going over every day he doesn’t have a shift anyway, because he knows Buck and can see how much he’s struggling with the whole situation, with the uncertainty of when and how he can return to work.

He brings Christopher most of the time. They’re not having the best summer either, Eddie still worries that he’s not doing enough to help Christopher deal with his grief, when he can barely keep his own head above the water of grief, guilt and fear.

Carla is doing what she can, watching Christopher whenever Eddie’s working, she found him a grief counselor and is even looking into more permanent therapists.

None of it changes the fact that they’re grieving. 

But when Christopher gets to hang out with Buck, he lights up every time, and so does Buck, which makes this a two birds with one stone kind of situation. Hanging out with Buck helps them both, too, makes their grief not the first thing on their minds for a little while.

Buck can’t move much, so they play board games and try to find one they all enjoy equally – it’s not easy, since Eddie likes luck-based games (he plays poker with his abuela and tía whenever he can), Buck prefers trivia and games relying on knowledge, while Christopher likes strategic games most.

But everyone gets to pick sometimes, and when they don’t want to play board games, they switch to video games instead.

Eddie knew that Buck and Chris get along well, they have ever since the first time they met, when Buck drove Eddie to Chris’ school after the earthquake during Eddie’s second week at the 118. But with how much time the three of them are spending together now, he can see them growing closer every day – and he loves it.

Buck is his best friend, and he genuinely cares about Christopher in a way that feels completely independent from Eddie.

One evening, while they’re playing a few rounds of Christopher’s current favorite video game after dinner, the kid falls asleep between them on the couch.

Buck smiles down at him and lowers the volume of the TV, which means he loses even more clearly to Eddie, but he had the win in the bag anyway, he’s sure.

Buck rolls his eyes at him when Eddie celebrates his victory with big, silent gestures, but he’s smiling, too.

Eddie grins at him, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind Chris, and Buck twists a little to face him. His leg, resting outstretched on the couch table in front of them, moves with him, and Eddie slides Christopher’s glass of water out of the way in a practiced move.

“I know you’re here to keep an eye on me,” Buck says, “and I should probably be annoyed. I– I was kind of annoyed, at first. But it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s here, right?” He nods down at Christopher. “And I guess you’re okay, too.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie says, but he knows his glare isn’t convincing. “To be clear, we’re all keeping an eye on each other.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, still on the backrest between them, and squeezes it – just for a moment, like he’s trying to get Eddie’s attention, like he doesn’t already have it anyway. “Thanks.”

IV.

Everything sucks.

It’s the uncertainty that gets to Eddie most, the not knowing how to help, how to stay safe, how to keep his loved ones safe. How long this is gonna last.

Every day, they have to see people die from a virus they know nothing about, and can’t do anything against.

And afterwards, they can’t even go home.

Christopher is part of a high risk group, and Eddie risks exposure at work every day, so obviously, he can’t endanger him by living with him. Chimney feels the same way about Maddie, and Hen also wants to keep her family safe, which is how the three of them ended up at Buck’s apartment, where they’ve been camped out for the past three weeks.

It’s generous of Buck to let them all stay with him, but the loft is not made for four people to live there, and they’re all feeling it.

Eddie loves his friends, but spending every minute of every day with them is starting to wear on him. They all try to give each other space, using the balcony as an extra room or going for runs outside, but there’s only so much they can do. 

He hates being separated from Chris, it makes him feel like he’s breaking his promise to never leave him behind again. Christopher says he understands, but Eddie worries anyway. He trusts Pepa, who’s working fully remote and offered to stay with Chris, and they talk every day, but it’s not the same as being there.

Whenever he talks to Chris on the phone, he feels better in the moment, but worse the second they hang up. While they’re talking, he can almost pretend that things are normal, but it all comes crashing down afterwards.

He hasn’t hugged his son in weeks, and he has no idea when he’s even gonna see him in person again.

Buck joins their calls most of the time, at least for a few minutes, and he sits next to Eddie on the bed now, shoulders slumped where they’re touching Eddie’s. In a world where he has to keep his distance from almost everyone, except the patients he’s treating and the people he’s living with, touching and being touched by Buck is a real comfort.

“This won’t be forever, Eddie,” he says, almost desperately. 

“But for how long?” Eddie asks, and it comes out sounding a little wobbly.

He’s not embarrassed by it anymore – Buck’s seen him in all kinds of situations, and they’re currently sharing a bed, so he’s seen him cry anyway.

“I–I wish I knew,” Buck says. “I wish I could– fix this.”

Eddie wipes at his eye and laughs a little. “The whole pandemic?”

“If I could, yeah.” Buck shrugs.

Eddie presses even closer to him for a moment, a gentle pressure of their shoulders, arms and thighs against each other. “I wish you could, too. But even if you can’t – I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course.” Buck smiles at him and places his hand on Eddie’s thigh, palm up.

Eddie smiles back and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s our turn to make dinner tonight – you ready?”

“Ready when you are,” Buck says, but he doesn’t let go until Eddie does.

V.

After Chris has gone to sleep, after Eddie has finally stopped crying, after Buck has wrapped his knuckles and cleaned up the worst of the mess in Eddie’s bedroom – the shards, the pieces of drywall, the fallen furniture, he makes up the couch for Eddie to sleep on. Eddie wants to help him, to tell him that he’ll just sleep in his room, but he can’t seem to move from his seat at the dining table.

Everything feels like too much, his hands hurt and his head worse, and he can’t stand the thought of Buck leaving. He’s exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep if Buck goes home now.

But he can’t ask him to stay, not after Buck already dropped everything because Eddie couldn’t keep it together. He probably had plans, and Eddie ruined those too.

He can already feel the hot burn of tears behind his eyes again and drops his forehead onto his arms, folded on the table in front of him.

Buck’s hand lands on his back, warm, then travels up to squeeze the back of his neck gently.

“You ready to sleep?” he murmurs, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

Eddie shrugs and Buck’s thumb brushes along his hairline.

“You don’t have to go in there, I can get you anything you need,” Buck says quietly. “And I’ll be right next to you in case you have a nightmare.”

“You’re staying?” Eddie asks, lifting his head. Buck’s hand stays where it is.

“Of course, Eddie,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

And maybe it is that easy, Eddie thinks when they settle in next to each other in the living room, Eddie on the couch and Buck on a makeshift bed next to it. He’s pushed the couch table to the side to make room for it and it looks like he’s dragged Eddie’s mattress here, so at least Eddie doesn’t need to worry about him sleeping on the floor.

They’ve been by each other’s side through so much shit, maybe it’s not such a surprise that Buck wants to be here now too. He’s just not sure he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Buck. “You had plans– I’m sure you didn’t want to–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Buck says firmly. “Of course I’ll come whenever Christopher calls. O–or if you need me. I’m here, okay?”

“I keep thinking about her,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands to his burning eyes. “Mills. Last August– I should’ve– if I’d picked up the phone earlier–”

“This isn’t on you.” There’s rustling and then Buck is gripping Eddie’s forearms, trying to gently pull his hands away from his face. “I d-don’t know what Mills was going through, but I know that you couldn’t have known how bad it was. It’s sad, and it’s unfair, but it’s not your fault. And I know you’re feeling all these things now, but Eddie– I’m so happy you’re still here. I need you to– know that. Okay?”

Eddie finally lowers his arms, but instead of letting go fully, Buck just grabs his right hand and holds on. His eyes are wide and scared, and Eddie has scared too many people he loves tonight.

“Okay,” he says, even though– well. What makes him special? Why should he be the only one to get out? He’s not a better person than any of them, he doesn’t have a right to happiness or whatever he’s been deluding himself into believing he could have. 

But he knows that he can’t tell Buck that now (or ever), knows that it’s a dark road to go down.

Maybe for tonight, with Buck by his side, he can keep the thoughts at bay for a little bit longer. After that– he has no idea. But Buck is still holding his hand, and Eddie may not deserve him, but he trusts him.

He thinks it may just give him enough hope to get through this night.

+ I

“This was nice,” Buck says, holding the door for Eddie as they leave the restaurant. “You, uh, you really didn’t have to pay, though.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie says with a smile, glancing right towards their cars and then left to where the beach is only a short walk away, and finally back to Buck’s face, finding him already looking back. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”

Buck grins, turning left. “Let’s go.”

They’re not on a date, or at least they haven’t called it that, but Eddie has been thinking that it feels like one all night. Technically, they’re two friends trying out a new restaurant together. They drove here separately, no one pulled anyone’s chair out, they talked the same way they always do.

But Eddie spent half an hour picking something to wear tonight, Buck is wearing a shirt that looks new and gorgeous and fit for a date, and every time their eyes caught across the table, Eddie thought that maybe, Buck wouldn’t pull away if he reached out and took his hand.

It’s not the first time Eddie has thought that. Ever since Buck and Tommy broke up, it’s felt like maybe they’re heading towards something, familiar touches lingering and turning into something new, gazes catching and then holding instead of looking away.

Buck was upset for a little while afterwards, but he admitted to Eddie that it was more about another failed relationship – and his first one with a man, after he thought he’d finally figured out what was missing, than about Tommy as a person.

He went on a couple of dates, with men and women, but nothing ever stuck.

Eddie was going through his own stuff at the time – he eventually came out to Buck a week before Chris finally came home, and Buck hasn’t been on a date since.

Sometimes, Eddie wonders (hopes), if the two things are related.

Still, neither of them has called tonight a date – yet.

Eddie glances at Buck’s profile while they’re walking, and wonders what he’s waiting for.

Yes, it’s scary because Buck is the most important person in his life right after Christopher, but it’s also not, because this is Buck. Who has been by Eddie’s side through the worst, most painful, most humiliating times of his life, and is still here. Buck, who Eddie trusts with his life, and his son, and his heart.

Buck smiles at him and Eddie smiles back, heartbeat picking up. He’s doing this, he’s gonna tell Buck how he feels. Any minute now, he’s gonna be brave enough.

“Hey,” Buck says, “it’s just me.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and his heart thumps against his ribs. He lets his fingers brush against Buck’s on their next swing and watches as Buck bites his lip, smiling down at the ground. Hushed, like a confession, he adds, “Are you nervous, too?”

Buck looks back up at him then, eyes glittering in the dark. “Y-yeah. I am.”

They’ve reached the edge of the beach by now and bend down to take off their shoes without having to talk about it.

When they start walking again, they’re even closer than before, the backs of their hands, their elbows and shoulders all brushing with every step.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck, and almost every time, Buck is already looking back.

There aren’t many people at the beach at this time of day, so they don’t come close to anyone else, and all they hear is the sand beneath their feet and the waves crashing a few feet away. The moon is big enough to be reflected on the sea, a beautiful sight, but Eddie still can’t look away from Buck for long.

“So, this is, uh, kind of romantic,” Buck blurts out after a few quiet minutes. “Right? I–I’m not misreading that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “I mean– you’re not misreading it.”

“But you’re nervous.”

When their knuckles brush again, Eddie stretches out his fingers and catches Buck’s, holding on. Buck’s own fingers tighten immediately, and it gives Eddie the last bit of courage he needs.

“Well, yeah. Buck–” He stops walking, and Buck follows, turning so he’s facing Eddie. He’s close enough that Eddie can see his expression despite the dark, and he looks terrified, hopeful, nervous and excited at the same time, all of which Eddie feels, too. Eddie takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous because– nothing…no one’s ever been this important.”

A smile spreads out across Buck’s face, slowly deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “So this was a date?”

“Did it feel like one to you, too?”

Buck’s smile widens. “Yeah, i–it did. And I’m–I’m nervous too, of course. Eddie, if we do this, there’s no going back for me. I can’t– lose you. You and Christopher, you’re too important.”

He pulls on Eddie’s hand a little, and Eddie takes another step closer, drops his shoes in the sand and places his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting against his collarbone.

“It’s the same for me,” he says quietly. He shivers when Buck grabs his waist, the warmth of his hand seeping through Eddie’s shirt. “I– We don’t know what’s gonna happen. But, Buck– I love you. I love you so much, I have for…way longer than I was aware of it, and I just don’t see that going away. And I don’t think it’s fair to us to deny ourselves when I really think we could make each other– so happy. I know I can make you happy, and I want to prove it to you every day of my life, Buck.”

Buck is just staring at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly parted, and Eddie suddenly can’t stand not kissing him for a second longer.

He slides his hand from Buck’s shoulder to the back of his neck, watches Buck’s eyes flutter shut and feels his fingers tighten on his waist, and then he’s finally, finally closing the distance between them.

Buck makes a soft sound against his mouth, like he’s still somehow surprised this is happening, but he gets on board very quickly, and Eddie stops thinking entirely.

When they pull back breathlessly, Eddie’s hair is a mess – he can feel the loose strands on his forehead – his lips are still tingling, and Buck’s got both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Buck gasps, and lifts a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s chin and caresses his lower lip, and Eddie presses a kiss to the pad of it. “I love you, too.”

[fierytrash]

[controlledhues]

he do be smelling like wet dog rn

[pia-writes-things]

Dearly beloved followers and mutuals gathered here to follow my nonsense,

I thank you very much for partaking in this humble gathering of opinion. If need be, I can provide more information on the writing project associated.

I bid you all a very good day <3

[blooberry-bagel]

lil something

i wanted to try slowly writing again so here goes! + a happiest birthday to @suugarbabe , one of the greatest writers on this whole site 😁⭐

"is this for me?" + prefects' bathroom + present/gift

apart from schoolwork, there's nothing that you take more seriously than your rest. after all, the saying goes work hard, play hard. or in this case, look-after-yourself hard. usually, time with friends and those closest to you does the trick. but isolation to really focus on getting your mind back on track is the icing. whether that's spending your evening listening to music through your headphones, unwinding in front of the black lake, or taking extra long in the bath, you're virtually untouchable during Me Time.

your boyfriend knows the importance of this time all too well. sweet lorenzo has learned the hard way, often having hangout offers turned down in order for you to spend the night alone. and don't get me wrong - you spend plenty of time with your boyfriend. from library dates to snuggling in front of the slytherin common room fireplace, yall hang out a normal amount of time that any couple would. so it goes without saying that it took a while for enzo to figure out how to give you space. and yet, he also finds a way to wiggle himself in.

one shimmery evening by the lake, the two of you are sitting on a blanket in the early autumn sunset lighting.

you're hard at work on the history of magic paper due in a few days when you notice the sun dipping below the horizon, "enz we should pack up soon."

he glances from his parchment, eyes scanning the view, and hums in agreement before going back to work.

u gently breathe in and let out a soft sigh.

"anyway, i better get my bath running," you add, starting to close your books and stuffing them into your bag.

"wait. love, i have something for you. don't go yet," enzo butts in.

looking over to him, your boyfriend pulls out a little bag with the handles tied together by a ribbon.

you're surprised before remembering to respond, "is this for me?" eyes gleaming, you reach over for a hug.

embracing his arms around you, lorenzo rubs your back and smiles to himself at your flustered state.

"a lil something that can go towards your Me Time"

pecking his lips with a small kiss, you pry open a corner of the bag to peek in.

"i think the shop owner said it was a bomb bath?"

"a bath bomb?" you snicker.

"yes that," he shies.

now in the prefects' bathroom, your bath is drawn to the perfect temperature and the bath bomb has produced the prettiest swirls across the surface of the water.

you dip in, sitting with your head over the rim, relaxing into the steamy air and quiet peace.

"enjoying yourself?" enzo creeps up to the tub, placing a kiss on your cheek.

you hum and turn towards him, who is now sitting on the outside of the bath.

"very much so," you grin.

"thank you for letting me join your Me Time, love," returning the smile.

"don't get too comfortable, pretty boy. this is a one-time thing."

closing words: this came out so short despite how long it took to write😭i hope somebody enjoys it tho ... n a v happy birthday again to sab<33

dividers by @toastray 🤞

[pavedinashes-if]

Demo Snippet (around 4.2k words)

You voted for the following scenario: D x wet MC.

The following part shows a D (gn) in a crushing stage. The scene is written from D's POV. [They, them = D; You = MC]

Beware SPOILER:

This scene will be IN THE FINAL GAME. Slight changes may be applied. The scene in the game will be a bit different as it will have MCs POV and also include choices.

If you don't want to be spoilered then please do NOT read below the cut. If you wish to proceed, enjoy.

[Wednesday, November 5th, 00:46,

- Hamburg, Germany]

The storm began suddenly, half an hour ago, and relentless it still is. The windshield wipers worked diligently but struggled to keep up with the deluge, transforming the lights outside into a rare spectacle of colors against the endless darkness.

“I don’t care. They will do as I demand.” 

“Mx. Petrov, I doubt this will work. They…”

“They what? Will say they don’t have the money? We both know they do. Let them play coy if they wish.”

“But…” a sigh, “what do you want me to do?”

A familiar silhouette on the other side of the street, a light lilac appearance against the mix of lights and the all so dark shadows of the night. Could it be? At this time of the night? Here?

“Mx. Petrov?”

Yes, it is you. Or are their eyes betraying them? Walking through the pouring rain. What are you doing here?

“Wait until I tell you otherwise. Don’t act.”

“Understood.”

D presses the red phone button. Their focus on a more important matter now. They speed up, passing between two other cars. The street lights in front of them change from orange to red the moment their dark limousine crosses the intersection to turn.

D’s eyes are fixed on the person walking towards them, in the neon light of the billboard, struggling against the strong wind, the full force of this disastrous weather making the familiar shadow pull their lilac beanie further down into their face. As D's car approaches further, they are now finally able to verify it is indeed you.

They stop around 20m before you, their fingers tapping against the steering wheel for a moment - just a moment to consider. Then they press the seat heating button of the passenger side, grab the umbrella behind their seat and step out of the car, the engine still running.

You almost run into them. It takes a few moments, a few blinks to see clearly what, or better, who you nearly bumped into. Once you recognize the face in front of you, your expression changes.

“Mx. Petrov?” your eyes widened, water running down your forehead, lashes kissed by drops hanging on them and your mouth…slightly open in surprise. What a sight.

Without another word, there is a firm grip on your arm, and they pull you along. It’s not forceful but determined, and so you follow along now safe from the pouring rain as they lower the umbrella over your head, shielding you as much as possible. Stopping in front of a dark luxury car, they hold the umbrella over your head while opening the door on the passenger side. You seem to hesitate about entering their car, from what it looks due to your soaking wet clothes as your eyes wander from your clothing to the inside of the car and finally up to them. 

“Get in.”

And you follow suit and sit down. Good. When you pull your legs in, the door closes softly. D exhales, their hands resting for a moment on the door frame before they turn and proceed to the back of the car; the trunk opens automatically, and they toss the umbrella inside. A few steps in the rain, then they open the driver’s door.

They catch you looking around, sitting there stiffly on the soft leather seat. With a loud thud, they close the door. They run their hand through their wet hair and wipe the water from their face. Turning around, they take a dark cloth from the center console, handing it to you. With a shaking hand, you take it, making their eyes rise to yours. You’re cold. They hope the seat heating warmed up a bit for you meanwhile and will grant you the tiniest bit of comfort soon.

They push themselves up from the seat and crawl to the back. With a quick grab, they pick up their neatly folded long coat from the back seat, and return to the front. Your cheeks are a bit blushed once they look back at you. Hmm, you’re warming up quickly. Good. Without any further comment, they unfold the coat and place it on you.

“W-what? No, please, this will ruin your coat,” you try to intervene. But D ignores you and instead continues to drape the coat around you. 

They are close, very close, as they carefully place the collar of the coat around you, their fingers brushing against your cold skin. You tense up, making them once more catch your eye. Slowly D sits back down in the driver seat, their eyes never leaving yours.

“What happened?” they ask in the most neutral tone they manage.

You swallow, then take a deep breath before you respond. “My bag got stolen, with all my things. My keys, my phone, my purse. I was on my way to Pat, when, well, when I ran into you.”

A moment of silence.

“Pat is not in town tonight.” 

“She’s what?” you say, surprised. “Is today the 5th already?”

D nods. Then they check the mirrors before stepping on the gas.

“Where are we going?” you ask them. You seem nervous, your voice betraying your nonchalant attempt of normality for this situation.

“To my place.”

“W-why?” you stutter.

They don’t spare you a look as they maneuver through the lanes “You’ll get sick.” 

“No, this is not necessary. I’ll just…” Then you sneeze.

A short, unintentional low chuckle leaves their lips. At least that should keep you from arguing. 

From the corner of their eye, they see how you slide further into the seat, sinking into their coat. An unknown tension finally falls from their shoulders, and they manage to shift their attention fully towards driving. Ten more minutes. A small turn on the volume, and the music is humming like a forbidden whisper between you two. The streets are less busy right now, and even the rain has decreased a bit.

When your head falls to one side, D immediately turns to check if you are ok. And you seem to be. Actually, you’ve seemingly fallen asleep. Your breathing calmed, visible by the raise and drop of your chest. The street light in front of you switches to red, and they halt, a moment to study you, welcomed very much right now. You look so peaceful, a strand of hair clinging to your forehead, following the natural curve of your cheek and further caressing your jaw. They catch their own breath deepening as their eyes roam down your face, then to your body, hidden under their coat. Unconsciously, their thumb rubs the soft leather of the steering. The corners of their lips curl up at the little snore which leaves you when you move slightly. As the light turns back green, they carefully press the gas pedal down, to not wake you. Not far anymore.

Several streets later, they notice that you stir awake, looking around, yet they don’t spare you a glance. You seem to be confused as you probably try to figure where you are right now. The last tight turns have been a more delicate matter, but finally, they arrived at the harbor, the light of the underground parking shining ahead. Slowly they approach it, the wheels rolling for a bit as they step off the gas and finally come to a halt. They can feel your eyes on them, but this is not the time. There will be enough chances to talk later. If you wish.

The barrier opens and D continues into the underground parking in silence. Not sure why they are tense, they focus on the last meters before they can finally get out of the car - not soon enough. A few more turns and they arrived, 18B. Is the paint a bit off? They turn the ignition off, the silence of the engine almost screaming. Once the seatbelt is off, they open the door and notice your hand moving underneath the coat.

“Wait.” They say, without looking at you. 

Circling the car, they open the passenger door and see that you stayed seated, like asked. Good. Their coat is still tightly wrapped around you and actually… you didn’t move the slightest bit. How... interesting. They lean down and carefully remove the coat from you, placing it over their arm as they offer you a hand to step out of the car. You take it, your doe eyes locked on theirs. 

Once you stand stable, they pull their hand back, letting go of you, noticing how your hand follows their movement for a bit, as if not wanting to lose touch.

“I am sorry.” They whisper as they open the coat once more. 

You look irritated at them, brows knitted “What for?” 

“You’ll have to wear this for a bit longer before you can get out of the wet clothes.” Sincere sympathy is evident in the hum of their voice when they wait for you to slip into the sleeves.

Your face relaxes at those words and you smile at them, catching them off guard for a moment. Their eyes fall to the curve of your lips. As soon as you slipped into the coat, D closes the strap around your waist properly while you stand still and wait for them to finish. One last look into your eyes, and they offer you their arm. They see how you raise your own, but don’t interlock just yet; your hands are still a bit red from the cold, slightly trembling. Is this... still the cold in your bones? Your full focus is on the movement of your arm as you seem to decide whether to take them up on their offer, but then you insert your arm. Together you walk towards the elevator, and they feel how you press your body a bit closer to them.

D presses the button, and the doors open, gesturing for you to enter as they let go of your arm. They stand next to you and are about to pick a floor when an old, unhealthy man approaches, calling out “Stop the elevator!” He laughs hysterically as he struggles to hurry up. Absolutely not. D looks at the console and presses the “Close doors” button. Unfortunately, the elevator takes too long, and the man just manages to push his hand and foot between the closing doors just in time, smiling, and hyperventilating. D takes a large step, stopping the man from entering the cabin.

“Get out.” D says in a calm yet stern tone.

“What? Why?” the man asks flabbergasted, his eyes skipping from D to you.

“I said. Get. Out.” D repeats, their gaze focused on the irritated man standing in the door, while his foot is still inside the elevator. 

“Well this is rude, Don’t you know who I am?” D knows “I will call the securities. I can…” the man protests, but D takes another step towards them, so close they’re almost in their face.

“I won’t repeat myself.” This time a threatening undertone in their voice, they almost wait for the man to make a remark. But he doesn’t, instead he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, quivering as he panicky looks from D to you and back again, before he steps out of the elevator, a bit more white around his nose than seconds before.

D takes a step back, next to you. Eyes still locked on the man who looks like he might throw up any second. Then D holds a card to the sensor of the elevator, and presses the button to the 22th floor. The door closes. 

When the door of the elevator opens again, the floor feels different. D leads the way, the sound of your steps in their ears reassuring them you follow them. Their penthouse is at the end of the floor but somehow the way seems to be longer than normally. It doesn’t help though trying to figure what is off, so they focus on their own steps. And yours.

With one click the door opens and they hold it for you to enter, watching you closely as you do. You had removed your beanie in the elevator and your hair was a wild mess. Just like you. Stepping inside, their eyes follow your figure for a bit as you take a look around, then they lock the doors from the inside, their hand resting on the cold metal as they take a designated breath. You are still roaming around the massive living area, your eyes busy absorbing all details as it seems. And so they let you be as they pass the open kitchen counter and proceed to the bathroom without a word. 

The master bathroom is warm already, a pleasant woody, amber scent in the air. Just like they expect it to be. They let their eyes scan the dimly lit room for anything that might need attention, but everything is perfect to the smallest details. D approaches the shower, the dark tiles polished impeccably, their eyes falling to their soap bar, where they stay for a few heart beats without blinking. A quick image of you carassing their senses. Gone. They remember that they have liquid body wash in their cabinet, so they take it out and place it on the shelf in the shower, turning the bottle so that the label is aligned perfectly straight. You would need a large and a smaller towel probably, together with a bathrobe… Hmm. Their gaze falls to the hook on the stone wall, their own velvet burgundy robe hanging there. Their eyes linger as their mind wanders once again. They quickly dismiss the thought, remembering they should have another unworn black one - and luckily they do, placing it on the chair next to the shower, together with a pair of brand new slippers. Everything seems prepared so they walk towards the door just to stop in the frame. D takes a step back for a last check in the mirror. They look a bit tired. But that’s nothing new. A quick correction of hair and that’s it. This will have to do.

By the time being, you are standing by the large window front, looking down at the harbour. Like a statue out of the movies. They don’t want to startle you, so they announce themselves by softly calling your name, almost purring it. You turn. And smile. Their heart skips a beat at the sight of your smile. 

“Everything is ready.” 

You raise a brow “Oh.”

They wait until you decide to walk towards them and almost catch up before turning around and slowly lead you to their bathroom. As you enter the bathroom you seem… overwhelmed. D looks around, they are not sure why their bathroom has this effect on you. There have been other people in their master bathroom before. But it was rare, and a long while ago. Stepping closer to your rooted body they place their hands on your shoulders and you tense under their touch. More careful now they remove their coat from your shoulders before placing it on their arm. You turn and look at them. You. Stare. Waiting. What for? Oh, well. 

D takes a step back. Their gaze not wavering from yours. Yet, instead of saying anything to you, they turn and leave the bathroom.

Once out of the room D takes their phone out of their pocket and dials a number. 

“Good evening. I need something in 20 minutes. Net. Da. One […] Net, just one. Spasibo my friend.” 

D places their phone down on the counter, turning to the direction of the bathroom, the sound of the running shower barely to hear. They tap their fingers at the stone plate impatiently. Then their phone rings, the name on the display catching their attention. They let it ring, Once. Twice. Then they pick it up. “Plans changed.” Another tap on the display and they hung up. Again a glance to the bathroom. Their finger tapping gets more frequent.

About 18 Minutes later there is a knock at the door. D unlocks and opens it, the girl with the bag wants to enter yet D stops her, shaking their head. 

“I’ll take it from here. Spasibo.”, handing her a hundred Euro bill. 

She casts them a smile “Oh no, my boss told me to not take any money, everything has been paid for.”

“This is not for him.” Is all they add, the bill still in their hand.

She looks shocked at them. “I-I can’t, I am sorry Mx. Petrov.”

“You can. Have a good night.” Insecurely she takes the note from their hand. D closes the door gently in front of her. Leaving her staring at the money in her grip.

D places everything on the kitchen counter, preparing your favourite food just in time for you to return to the living area. 

You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to, you have their full attention already. They wait for you to take a seat and you do, more relaxed than before you showered. The fact that there is only one plate, for you, seems to irritate you. 

“What about… won’t you eat? With me?” You tilt your head at them.

A slow shake of their head is your answer. In return you give them a slow nod instead.

Your eyes go wide at the sight of your favourite food, you must be starving as you start to eat, your eyes almost rolling back with the first bite. And D - they are hypnotized by how you give in to this pleasure, their knuckles white from the unconscious pressure the adapt to the stone counter. When you bite into a juicy pear you moan in delight, a mouthful of satisfaction not being your tease alone. And of course there has to be some of the juice dripping down the corner of your mouth, kissing your lips so sensually. You try to lick it off with your tongue, the view alone making D swallow. The juice seems to be your enemy though, or D’s as it runs down to your chin and you quickly wipe it with your finger, before slowly sliding it into your mouth. A sharp pain in D’s hand, they grimace shortly before taking their hand from the counter, clenching and unclenching it repeatedly. Maybe that was a bit too much pressure. D’s motion makes you look up, catchin their eyes. You blush deeply. Huh, and here they thought… nevermind.

The next 10 minutes you spend in silence. D having decided to preferably just stick to observing you, especially since you are so engrossed in your meal.

When you are done, the plate is so clean, almost new. After taking a last sip from the glass in front of you, you laugh. What a surprise. You seem so much more relaxed indeed. That’s good. Then, you yawn. Something drops in D’s stomach. They sigh.

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying tonight.” D’s expression turns sober when the words leave their mouth. 

Just like many times before, they lead the way, and just like that you once more follow suit.

With a gentle push D opens the door in front of them and you peek inside the low lit chamber.

“Is this the guest room?” you ask as you step inside, looking around the ambient scenery unfolding around you. 

Their eyes scanning your curves in their bathrobe. Stopping at the seductive shape of your behind, teasing with every step you take.

“I don’t have guests.” Their response making you turn and face them. Confusion on your face as you tilt your head.

“Oh, I thought…” you ask with obvious hesitation but you do not finish your sentence. 

Taking a step into the room themselves, they approach you until they are in arms reach. Even in the dimly lit room the blush of your face is easily visible. Another step. You nervously remove a strand of hair from your face, which just immediately falls back.

Another step.  “What did you think?” their eyes bore into yours. Now they stand only inches away from you. The smell of their soap on your skin rising to their nostrils. A shiver running down their spine, when the image of you using it foamed up or even directly on your skin crosses their mind. You don’t answer, your mouth slightly open. Their eyes fall to it and you lick your lips nervously. 

A moment passes. 

Then they raise their hand to your face, very slowly. You don’t move. Their fingers touching your side, making a breath leave your lips. Focussed on their own hand, they brush the wild strand behind your ear carefully. Then, torturingly slow, their finger runs down your neck. Their heart racing, and by the beating in your veins, yours too. They swallow, brows furrowed, blinking away whatever thought had just crossed their mind. They remove their hand from your skin and drop it to their side, their eyes not focused on you anymore, but on something behind you, something very far away.

“Go to bed.” They hush, very low, barely audible.

Turning around on the spot they leave the room - and you, closing the door behind them silently. D stops a few steps into the living room. A deep breath. What did just happen? They shake their head. Another deep breath, their chest feels tight. A tingling feeling in their fingers. They look at their hands which are trembling. They clinch their fist and try to shake away this lingering sensation that seems to creep up their neck. 

A drink. Yes. That’s exactly what they need now...

Hours have passed since they left you in the bedroom. Their mind wandering to the image of you in their bathrobe, to the smell of you, again and again. Not even the fourth glass did help distracting them from their circling thoughts, the papers in front of them being nothing but a barren try to pass time. Yet all they did was move them around from one side to the other without properly reading them. If anybody asked, they couldn’t even tell what they read a hundred times this night. 

Frustrated, they close their eyes, surrendering to their exhaustion, if only for a moment, allowing their thoughts to drift once more. Your image immediately fills their mind's eye - your wet hair framing your face, the surprise in your wide-open eyes as you looked at them, your mouth slightly agape. They bite their lip, their heart racing, their body tingling with growing excitement. Perhaps just a few more moments of distraction. Fighting it proved futile, so why not give in to their fantasies, if only briefly?

They envision you, the garment accentuating every movement as you emerged from the shower. Their gaze, irresistibly drawn to the most subtle curves, knowing nothing lay beneath the fabric, tantalizingly close. D stretches their neck, exhaling slowly as warmth spreads between their legs. A heavy desire weighs upon them, pulling them down, their head swimming from the alcohol coursing through their veins.

The sound of steps calls their attention and they turn, their eyes once more falling to the view of you in their bathrobe. And here, it hits them as if they see you for the first time. Actually pretty much like it hit them when they first saw you. Their eyes open wide in awe for a moment, their senses awake again, for the fraction of a second they forget to control themselves, but this passes quickly and they hope you didn’t notice, they grit their teeth to keep their mouth shut. Waiting.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Their jaw clenched. They don’t even manage to nod. Just stare and wait for you to say something. Anything. But you don’t, and they gesture for you to take a seat opposite of them. Their eyes glued to you as you stride slowly to the empty spot, the moving fabric allowing for a forbidden glimpse of your thigh, immediately catching their attention. You sit down and cross your legs, your eyes falling to the papers in front of them on the table. Yet all they can look at is the bare skin presented to them from the knee down to the slipper on your delicate feet. Your skin looks so soft, a healthy colour that must’ve returned after the shower you had. You wiggle your toes slightly, which makes them realize they might have stared for too long and once they look back to you face, you are already looking at them with a subtle smile.

“May I?” You ask, pointing at the drink in their hand. They slowly look down at the content of their glass, then at the half full bottle of 50 year old Macallan Lalique at the table. A sly yet lazy smirk on their lips, a pleasant surprise, as you’re most probably not even aware of what you want to try. Without hesitation, they lower the crystal tumbler to place it on the table to pour you one as well, when you stop them mid-move.

 “No.” you say meaningfully, then nod at their glass. They narrow their eyes slightly, tilting their heavy head at your interruption. With a swift and fluent movement, you lean forward, over the table, this position granting them full view to the bare skin not covered by the sumptuous weave. Their eyes scanning every bit of exposed skin as if their life depended on it. A warmth creeping up their neck and twirling in their guts. Then your hand closes in around the glass, the tips of your fingers touching theirs, making them look back at you.

[complementaryhalves]

and the stars, they all aligned

11k | lando/max, lando/oscar, lando & max & oscar

informal post-zandvoort winner's room or, hot sex between friends, uncertain cuckolding and ridiculous safe words

[oopsallmabari]

girl help i can't consider writing a fic about pia when i've already got a longfic to work on and if i did touch veilguard associated w that longfic it should arguably be with jim. girl help. noooooo

[encrucijada]

cattle dog x wolf. consider.

[doeeyeseddie]

your shoulders brush (no proof, one touch)

“It’s not funny,” Buck whines. “I just thought– we have– were having a good time together. And he’s been so great through the whole figuring myself out, he made me feel so, um, so secure in my sexuality, you know?” “Well, you’re not any less bisexual if you’re not dating him,” Eddie shrugs. “So I guess he didn’t feel the same way, then?” “Kind of?” Buck turns on the couch and pulls one of his legs up. His knee nudges Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie is suddenly very aware that he’s not wearing pants. ~ a coda to 8x06

1.1k, rated G [read on ao3]

[fierytrash]

I could swear I had written next chapter completely but I can't find it????? I'm going to cry

[not-poignant]

Raphael has a very poetic and grandiose way of speaking that is absolutely not the norm for day-to-day life. How do you get in the mindset to come up with his dialogues? They're perfection and I just can't even imagine how long it would take to do one paragraph of the way he talks, but you're writing an entire story with him...

Oh I love this question because I can answer it, lol sadlkjfsda

Okay so, Raphael's character is tough for me.

Normally I do a lot of dialogue research before starting to write a character in fanfiction and original fiction, but Raphael actually gets proportionately very few lines that really show his full emotional range (compared to say, Astarion), and he's got an incredibly specific way of talking that sounds similar to Astarion but at the same time is very different.

They share enough similarities (calling people darling and dear for example) that it's easy to fall into the trap of giving them the same 'voice.'

I find Astarion's voice a lot easier to 'get' and I feel like I can hear him better when I'm writing him. But Raphael I'm taking into emotional spaces we simply never see in the game, and then I have to really guess how he'd sound (like coming up with the idea that the theatricality vanishes when Raphael is genuinely panicking).

I ended up listening to a lot of interviews with Andrew Wincott, the Voice Actor for Raphael who is an incredible actor and extremely articulate. He was very clear in one of his interviews that one of the reasons he was selected to play Raphael was because, in part, he already sounded like him. Obviously there's differences / skill in changing cadence and more, but for the most part, Andrew Wincott uses similar vocabulary and talks in a similar manner to Raphael naturally, so I had an abundance of interviews that I could then listen to in order to get a feel for Raphael's voice. I picked the things that felt more 'Raphael' and added them to my dialogue notes.

I often have to go back and edit Raphael's dialogue. Sometimes it's very simple things, I had him say 'much more' in the chapter I'm editing right now, and I edited it to 'far more' because I think he'd just phrase it like that. Sometimes I expand a sentence into an entire paragraph.

I've also leaned a lot from Korilla's transcripts in the game, which have been super useful. They really cement, more than anything, how much he loves lullabies, nursery rhymes, children's tales and more.

HOW TO DO DIALOGUE RESEARCH:-

If you're new to dialogue research, it mostly involves listening to - and watching a character and then literally taking notes of how they talk. The things you observe are:

The tone of their voice - Fast or slow. Loud or soft. Musical or flat. Theatrical or matter-of-fact. High or low. Questioning or complete statements. Considered or hedging (i.e. very well constructed sentences, or a lot of pauses, ellipses, broken sentences). Rambling or concise.

How often they talk - Some characters actually say a lot with very little. Raphael is actually a lot of observation and facial expressions and eyebrow movements in between his dialogue. Little smirks, hand gestures and more. Do they interrupt or let people finish their sentences? Are they comfortable with silence? I find Raphael oscillates between long theatrical paragraphs, single sentences or words, and then a lot of silence. He's actually not very conversational, in that you can have a conversation with him, but I doubt he'd see the point of two hours of small-talk. (At this point you might be realising that dialogue research is also character research, how a character talks tells you so much about a character.)

The words (and metaphors/subjects) they use - This is a big one and I'm going to break this down a little bit more:

How they pause if they don't know what to say. Is it 'um' 'uh' 'ah' 'hm' 'mm' 'mn' or nothing at all (or something else) because they've mastered self-control over their dialogue? If Raphael says 'ah' he does so on purpose.

Filler words. Things like characters saying 'like' in a sentence. 'He was like, 'I can't believe it'' etc. This is very similar to how they pause, but it's the things people say to get from point A to point B. People who don't do this have often had training or think very hard about what they're going to say before they say it. But people say 'like' or 'and then' or 'well' or 'i realised that' or 'i thought that' etc. to carry them on. Some are more acceptable than others (people do just have realisations for example).

Profanity. How often do they swear, and how intentional is it? Some characters only swear when they get hurt or stub their toe or get angry. Some characters swear all the time for fun. Some characters only use some swear words and not others. Be specific. Be aware that some swear words are cultural! This includes blasphemy. In Faerun they use 'gods' and 'gods damn it' more often than we use 'god' or 'oh my god.'

Vulgarity. This is useful for Raphael (and Astarion) because he's very happy to be vulgar. This is like... how comfortable are they talking about sex, about sexual subjects, being crude, being seductive, flirtatious? And if they use it, do they use vulgarity to shock, seduce, scare, threaten, or for humour?

Salutations and farewells. How do they greet people? Silence? A calm hello? (A lot of greetings are omitted in dialogue but this is still good to know). How do they say hello, goodbye. How does that change between friends and enemies and strangers?

Single word sentences. This might sound weird, but sometimes when a character hears something that shocks them, or needs to acknowledge something, they may say anything from 'huh' to 'yeah' to 'fuck' to 'okay' to 'all right' to 'sure' to 'go on' to 'indeed' to just laughing out loud. The list goes on. Raphael is team 'indeed' lmao.

Sentence structure. Raphael's sentence structure is - when he's most comfortable - gently provoking, teasing, vaguely threatening, and makes liberal use of simile, metaphor, fairy tale, rhyme, sayings, colloquialisms and more. Raphael talks like someone who knows someone could quote him at any moment lmao. But from here, how a character structures their sentences can be helpful to know. Go back to 'the tone of their voice.' Those notes will give you an idea of structure.

Emotionality. How emotional are they? Do they have rage rants? Joyful giggling dialogue? Do they infodump with little emotion? Or with sheer excitement? Does their dialogue feel fake or real? Opaque or transparent? Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves, and others will never be able to say 'I love you' in anything other than actions. Raphael's emotionality in dialogue is more present in his anger and irritation, and also when he feels triumphant and/or turned on.

The symbols, sayings, colloquialisms and metaphors themselves. Not all characters use these. But some people/characters will talk through analogies, colloquialisms. This is actually Raphael's biggest dialogue departure from Astarion, imho, aside from the fact that Astarion is a lot more emotional with his dialogue.

Take into account their culture, ethnicity, conceits, upbringing, education and the people they're close to:

This one is vital. Firstly, some people tend to 'absorb' elements of those around them. A person raised by affluent people will often 'sound affluent' and a person raised in poverty will often have dialogue that reflects this and if they don't there will be reasons for that. It might be a conceit (some people self-teach themselves different accents), it might be education, it might be training, it might be the subculture/s they've entered into, and so on.

~

When doing this research, you'll end up with a kind of master-list of actual words and probably some sentences you've written down, along with a lot of notes. You can also do this for any original characters you're making at all, you're just then making it up based on the character, and this research will also give in many ways the shape of the character.

It's a fun exercise and I highly recommend everyone tries it literally for people who don't exist and also observe your friends and family, and do a dialogue cheat sheet for some of them. It's pretty eye-opening! Even one page will teach you more than nothing at all. You can go deep and write many pages, or you can do what I do and keep it lean at 2 pages. Anyone who struggles with characterisation I suggest at least try this exercise, because anyone can put on a YouTube video and/or streaming service or even a favourite Tiktoker and start doing dialogue research! It's a way of building a character from the top down while also getting information about their foundations.

[croissant-enthusiast]

Wollsocken und Zigaretten (und warme Umarmungen im Abendlicht)

Hey besties, es ist fanfiction Zeit!

Ich hab eine Pia/Esther fanfiction aus meinen Docs gekramt, die ich letztes Jahr im März geschrieben habe, love here, please read her!

Danke @starlighnes für's beta lesen und pressuren, I needed that! <3

5.6k Wörter, T-rated, keine Warnungen.

Esthers Augen sind wieder auf Pia gerichtet, wie sie da mit ihrer Kaffeetasse steht, das Gesicht voller Sommersprosse, die Augenlider schon schwer, obwohl es erst kurz vor eins ist. Sie muss aufpassen, dass ihr Blick nicht zu liebevoll wird. “Was ist denn hier los?” fragt Leo dann. Esther schaut zu ihm und sieht, dass er die Akte runter genommen hat und die beiden anblinzelt. “Wieso, was soll sein?” fragt Pia zurück. “Ihr steht da so,” erklärt Leo und gestikuliert mit der Akte in ihre Richtung, als ob das irgendwas erklärt. Esthers Mundwinkel zuckt. “Wie denn?” *** Esther und Pia sind zusammen, Adam und Leo spekulieren.

Den Link findet ihr im Reblog!

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Day 6: Conditioning / Mind control / Forced to hurt someone else Characters: The Psychic 7 Warnings: Brief mention of animal death Summary: Everyone was giving their all, and yet Ford could hardly bring himself to move.

His shaking hand was outstretched before him.

Otto had frozen the water; it hadn't given them the advantage they'd hoped for. Somehow L--Mal--she was stronger than they could have ever imagined.

Please, Ford thought. I can't.

She was cackling as she destroyed Cassie's book, striking her in the face with the water that moved through it.

Ford's heart wrenched, distantly. While some small part of him remembered the hours she had poured into that speech, his eyes were still on her.

Don't make me do this, please.

There was Helmut's monologue, which had brought all of them--including Helmut himself--to tears when they'd all first heard it. It nearly brought her back, and Ford's heart had leaped, but then something snapped within her, and she lashed out even harder.

Ford's hands still shook.

Compton's animals were taken out in a flood. He'd spent all his energy rallying them, all for naught. The animals washed out over the frozen lake, some fleeing, some lying still and quiet.

Why did it have to come to this?

"Ford!" Otto cried out over the wind and raging water. "Do something!"

His hands were shaking.

In the absence of his actions, Bob threw his everything into the fight, summoning plants from beneath the depths. He fought hard, but she fought harder, and a giant, angry wave and watery claw swept at him.

Ford stopped breathing.

"BOB!" "NO!" "DO SOMETHING!"

Before he could think, Helmut flung himself in the way of the watery forms, which sent him crashing clear through the ice.

Ford remembered reaching down with telekinesis, and bringing up nothing. The next thing he knew, the air was full of noise that he could not hear--shouting and screaming and wailing all crashing together into a hellish radio static as he stared into the hole in the ice.

But the fighting had stopped.

Slowly Ford looked up, and he met her eyes, and he could see it--that fleeting flash of horror, regret, agony.

It was gone in an instant, like a raindrop in the sea.

And then she was grinning, eyes wide and manic, rushing toward them on an icy wave.

As much as his heart ached, he knew what he had to do.

I'm sorry, Lucretia.

Charging an agonized psi-blast, Ford ran to fight her.

[pia-writes-things]

Nano day 3 :

I wrote 1744 words,

Today felt soooo much more fluid than the two previous days, which is so great!

I finally feel like I'm getting a grasp on who my MC is, and it feels so good,

We're moving along in the story, and I feel more confident in what I'm doing and where I'm going.

Today was a great day, I really hope it will continue to feel like this as I have to start reconciling uni, work and writing 1667 words a day (:

[blooberry-bagel]

enchanted

spontaneously wrote this in like 20min based off this post i just saw from @narkissistikos . anyway, sorry for any repetitive use of words hehe enjoy

the rising sun rays shone into the bakery that luke's family owned. it's transitioning to later on be his but today is his second week of opening on his own. taking a rag across the work bench, he hums along to mine by taylor swift, playing through the bakery speakers. a bell jingles, signalling the front door being opened.

"sorry we open in like 5 minutes" he says, continuing to clean the place of flour.

"oh my apologies," you say. "i can come back then."

looking up to see who the sweet voice belongs to, your frame is backlit from the many windows, lighting up the bakery. the music almost pauses in his head due to his surprise. there's almost an angelic aura to you, perfectly matching the moment enchanted starts to play. but yet, luke can still see your beauty emanating brighter than any suns.

"oh i feel bad," he interrupts your exit. "im sure my parents won't mind me making an exception. what can i get you?"

turning around, you shoot him a bashful smile, "thanks!"

scanning your eyes across the beautifully arranged display of baked goods, the selection appears almost endless with a variety of bread loaves, cakes, tarts, and the treat that catches your eye - a vibrant red velvet cupcake, contrasted by the white icing.

"just that, please," you say, pointing to the cupcake.

your mouth is drooling while u watch him pack it into a little box and ring the order into the register.

after paying, luke slides the box toward you, "enjoy!"

sharing a smile, you wish each other a good day before you head out the door.

opening the box, you take a picture of what you hope to be a memorable treat before taking a generous bite. it just looked too good - you couldn't help yourself! and memorable, it was.

you're so lost in the richness and decadent euphoria of this cupcake you barely noticed the jingle of the bakery's bell.

"hey wait! you might need this!"

opening your eyes, you see the cute baker running toward you with a napkin in hand.

smiling to yourself, you take it from his hands and go to wipe your nose and mouth from the icing smeared all over your face.

that's until you notice something written on the napkin.

"that's my number," he explains. "i hope it's not too forward... im luke"

he smiles shyly toward you, scratching the back of his neck.

you beam toward him, "enchanté."