#pickle whiskey shots

[everydaymandalei]

"what do you want to do for your birthday?"

"PICKLEPALOOZA AT INDIAN LADDER FARMS"

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ PRETTY LITTLE BIRDS (2)

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

2k. you play darts.

You can feel a warmth in your cheeks as you follow closely behind Simon. He parts the crowd easily, and you notice multiple pairs of eyes on you as you walk by. You do a small smile and wave to the table of your coworkers, most of them looking at you bug eyed. The girl who approached him earlier has her jaw on the floor. Hopefully she doesn’t take it personally.

He stops when he approaches the table he was sitting at earlier. “This is Johnny, Gaz and Price.” You smile at them and give a soft hello. Simon tells them your first name, and you assume he knew it from your badge the other day.

“Aye, Doc!” Johnny exclaims. His energy is contagious and you can’t help but return his smile.

“Nice to see you again, how’s the knee holding up?”

“Ach, fine. No issue,” he swats his hand, as if to swat your concern away.

“I’m not actually a doctor, y’know,” you add softly.

He shrugs his shoulders and Simon pulls out a chair for you to sit on, thanking him as you do. He silently walks the short distance to the dartboards and starts talking to a group of guys standing there.

“So, LT invite ye to our dart game?” Johnny asks, pulling your attention from Simon’s broad back.

“Oh, I don’t mean to impose on you guys…”

“Nonsense,” Johnny cuts you off, again waving his hand in the air. “Cap’s leavin’ anyway, so we could use a fourth.”

Simon walks back over to the table and places his hand on the back of your chair. You almost shiver as his fingers make contact with your back, knuckles brushing the fabric of your shirt. “Board’s ours.”

Johnny gets up and claps his hands together. “Let’s do this. Gaz, on me. Doc with Simon.”

Simon offers a hand to you and you use it to help yourself stand up. Price stands up, downs the rest of his whiskey and bids everyone a goodnight. The four of you do the same. “Don’t have too much fun you lot,” he calls out behind him as he walks toward the door.

The ghost of Simon’s fingers trail on your lower back as the group makes its way to the dartboards. The guys Simon talked to earlier clear out when they see your companions and Simon nods at them in return. Johnny pulls the darts out of the board as a waitress stops by to grab your drink order.

“Round a Jamo shots,” Gaz says to the waitress. Johnny laughs as he walks back to the table — darts in hand — noticing that you pulled a face. “Not a fan, bonnie?”

“Erm, not entirely… what about a compromise? Picklebacks?!” you suggest.

“Dinnae know what that is,” he admits. Gaz shakes his head. Simon stays behind you, silent. Observing.

“Shot of Jameson, followed by a chaser of pickle juice.”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to pull a face. “Alright lass, if that's what ya want.” He nods to the waitress and she makes her way back to the bar. Johnny and Gaz argue over which game to play while you and Simon settle up to the high top. It’s chairless, like the rest of the high tops at the bar. Simon’s broad leg brushes against yours.

“So, how long you been working on base for?”

“Not long,” you admit. “A few months now.”

“Mmm. What convinced ya to join up?”

“My grandpa actually. He was medic and I would beg him to tell me his stories growing up… when I finished P.A. school, this job kind of fell into my lap and well… I took it as a sign.”

Johnny dumped the red set of darts in front of you and Simon when he walked back to the table. Gaz was firmly clutching the blue set in his hands. Right on cue, the waitress brings by four shots of Jameson and another four shot glasses full of pickle juice on a serving tray and places each in front of everyone. You bite your lower lip and try to look at Simon from your periphery. Is he gonna take off the mask?

“Cheers,” Gaz holds up his Jameson shot and Johnny follows. You join in, Jameson in one hand and pickle juice in the other. Simon lifts his large hand, the shot of Jameson engulfed in it, and you all clink glasses. Simon's hand brushes up against you, and you feel a spark run through your fingertips down to your toes. You visibly shiver from the minimal contact. What am I? A nun?!

You tap the bottom of your Jameson shot on the table before taking both the Jameson and then the pickle juice back in one breath hold. Johnny hoots in approval before him and Gaz take both shots right after. “Good call bonnie, kills the burn right off.”

When Simon lifts the bottom of his mask up from his chin and takes both shots, you swear you really must be a nun with how little of his face showing suddenly soaks your panties through. You see the strong outline of his jaw, and a very old, muted scar that runs slanted down his chin. A smattering of blonde 5 o’clock shadow is the last thing you notice before he pulls his mask back down. You quickly look away before someone can notice you drooling.

“Gaz, you’re up,” Johnny announces.

You have a tell when you’re about to shoot. You do this little side to side sway with you hips that Simon can’t help but watch. The soft noises you make after each throw that have him wondering if he can provoke those same sounds from you in bed.

He noticed you studying him with the mask pulled up from under his chin, your shiver as he brushed his hand against yours. Touch starved little bird.

He imagines what he could make you do with the promise of seeing all of him. Wonders if you would let him mark you as his, teeth meeting soft pillowy flesh.

He isn’t sure why you haven't asked about the mask yet. He’s never met a woman interested in him who hasn’t. He’s sure you’re curious — and it’s clear you were trying to get a peek of him earlier from the corner of your eye — but here you are, respecting that it’s just a part of him. That alone serves to make him a little hard.

Simon holds his breath when you stand too close to him. Your perfume threatens to send him over the edge, a soft floral and citrusy scent that has his muscles tightening.

You’re shit at darts. Absolutely horrible — although you do get a few lucky shots in every once in a while. He wants to teach you — the rough pads of his fingers caressing your silky smooth center while he breathes in your ear how to shoot. He wants you dripping down his fingers as you aim the dart, wiggling your hips just slightly before you throw it, him slipping two fingers inside of you and…

“It's your turn, Simon!” you exclaim, slight buzz coloring your cheeks as you hand the darts to him.

Fuck. He’s got a massive hard on right now. No way he can come out from behind the table.

“You take my turn for me, dove.”

“Wha.. really?! But… you’re the only reason we have a shot at winning.”

It’s true, Simon hasn’t missed a single shot all night. Not that Gaz and Soap aren't sharpshooters, but their talent has an inverse relationship with the amount of booze they consume, and right now the two of them combined are about neck and neck with the two of you.

“Absolutely. You got this.”

His praise warms your cheeks even further. He’s happy you haven’t drank much, unlike Gaz and Johnny. You’re still aware, cognizant. He doesn’t want to lose you to a drunken stupor, even though he’d be happy to hold your hair and then punish you for it in the morning with a few good spanks.

After a few lucky shots from you, he hears Gaz and Johnny moan something about hustling the two of them. Johnny pats you on the shoulder as you pass him and head straight for the table with Simon.

“Good work little dove.”

You beam, but blow it off by shrugging your shoulders before bumping one against his arm. “I have a good partner.”

Johnny and Gaz come up to the table. “Who’s up for ‘nother round? Ay, what were those shots we took earlier Doc?” Gaz asks.

Simon watches you closely as you put your small hands up and wave them around in front of your face. “Oh… no more shots for me, thank you.”

Gaz and Johnny both groan but Simon cuts them a look that has them backing off. “We’re gonna grab a quick one at the bar then, be right back,” Johnny says, practically pulling Gaz with him.

“Alright?” Simon asks you once they've left.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. This is… fun. I haven’t had much lately.”

Simon’s fingertips trace the wood grain of the table. “Why not?”

You shrug. “Self inflicted, really. Once I moved here, I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t exactly force myself to go out. Plus, I went on one really terrible date the first week I was here. After that, I figured I would just take the time to get my bearings first.”

Simon chuckles a little. “How terrible?”

You sigh slightly. “Well… to be honest… he was dreadfully boring and self absorbed. Some guy who works in… finance?” You waved one of your hands around. “He only talked about himself and how good he was at his job, then when we were about to leave he asked if he could ‘pencil me in’,” you make air quotations with your fingers “for a lunch date back on base. I lied and told him lunches are too hard for me to get away and have been avoiding him ever since.”

“Wait, he works on base? A suit?”

You shrug your shoulders, not knowing his terminology. “Lucky for me, we must not work near each other, otherwise he’d see I take most of my lunches outside under the trees by the track.”

You couldn’t know this, but Simon makes a mental checklist in his head to not only see if he can figure out who this suit is, but to scope the trees near the running track on Monday. He can’t have his little bird in harm’s way. He can only imagine which soldier’s eyes you’ve caught while sitting and enjoying your lunch. That track gets a fair amount of use considering there are more people stationed on base than there is room in the gym, and spring has just rolled around.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon mutters under his breath. You whip your head in his direction in time to see Johnny trying to stand on the bar, shirtless, and to the dismay of the bartenders. Gaz is cheering him on. Simon spins off the table and walks to the bar with swift intent. He barks something you can't hear at Johnny, who’s color drains from his face and gets down from the bartop. Simon flicks him on the nose and you can hear Johnny yelp. Gaz looks terrified in the corner. He drags both of them by the ear back to the high top.

“Should get these two idiots home. Let me give you a ride to your flat.”

You shake your head. “That’s okay, thank you though.”

Now it’s Simon’s turn to shake his head. “Look, your friends are gone. Let me give you a ride home so I know you make it safe.”

“Please hen, maybe he’ll take it easy on us if ye ride wit!” Johnny pleads and his brow scrunches more after he speaks, Simon pinching down harder on his ear.

Simon hears your hearty laugh before you turn around and notice that indeed your coworkers have all left for the evening. “Almost bar close, anway,” Simon adds.

You bite that damn lip again and look around for a second before speaking. “Well if you’re sure…”

[talesfromsiteredacted]

How Various Members of Site Command React to Sudden Hugs

Okay, this is by no means at complete list of who's huggable on site and who isn't, and HR would have maid-waifuless kittens if they found out I even made this list. That being said... it's a lot safer to hug some staffers than others.

First, no one on record has tried hugging Dr. Gears. But, should someone be brave or crazy enough to try it... he might get to tolerate it with repeated attempts.

Second, hugging Dr. Bright is just encouraging him to be a perv. Stick to pats on the head. On second though... just don't touch Dr. Bright.

Third, Dr. Glass gives the warmest hugs, next to Cain, 999, and 343 themselves. 10/10, highly recommend hugging him if you had a bad day.

Fourth, Dr. Iceberg. Yeah... Sadly, I think only his partner Quinn can get away with that one. Anyone else would wind up with at least a literal cold shoulder.

Clef is most likely to just ninja hug the crap out of you in retaliation if you do this to him first. My ribs still hurt from this morning's clingy ambush. More likely to happen if he's hungover.

Dr. Rights is a hugger. Do not hug unless you're free for ten minutes at least.

Do not ninja hug Dr. Gerald. He likes hugs, but... exaggerated startle responses are not fun. Approach slowly from the front once consent is given, do not squeeze.

Cain will turn terracotta red if hugged off guard. Agent Nordstrom thinks it's adorable.

It is nearly impossible to ninja hug 343. He still loves hugs, so feel free to try. Just... not with whiskey in hand. It's a sin to waste good alcohol.

Dr. Light is fond of hugs. For the record, if she really likes you, she squeezes.

Ninja hugging 999 means you sink into him a tiny bit, like jumping onto a huge Jello lump. Just don't build up too much speed. I recommend this on those really crap days.

Assuming you locate him, hugging Dr. Kondraki will have one of two results: him either shouting at you or dragging you down to the local karaoke bar to get smashed and sing 90's heavy metal off key with him. If he's already half pickled with booze first, it's the latter. There is no in between.

Dr. Shaw will also blush if hugged. It's sweet. Also gives very gentle hugs.

Dr. Myriad, however... be prepared for a rib-bruising hug in return.

Iris is not a hugger. Only family and Agent Markovich can hug her and live.

Do not attempt to hug Dr. Mann. He's not a touchy feely guy, you will be shot at.

Agent Strelnikof likes hugs, believe it or not. Bonus if the hugger is a pretty woman.

Do not hug Agent Dimitriov around 076-2, unless Abel agrees. Agent Okame was just trying to help, you didn't need to kill her, Big Brother! No GTA5 for three weeks.

There was one intern who actually hugged 294 after it produced "a perfect duplicate of my nan's hot chocolate, right down to the correct color of marshmallow Peep". The machine did seem to perform better for the rest of the day, but the test was never duplicated.

Dr. Kain Pathos-Crow is hit and miss on hugging. But... he loves a good ear scratch, like most canine lifeforms.

Dr. Cimmerian gives great hugs, at a dollar a piece. If you're good at something, never do it for free.

Hugging Agent Lombardi will get you punched. Don't.

No hugging Lieutenant Tori. She will shoot you. In the knee. With buckshot. Twice for repeat offenders.

No surprise hugs with Dr. Sherman, lest you get a lecture on consent. Best to just bring him a coffee. He's nice, just a stickler for decorum on site.

I myself welcome hugs from almost anyone except Agent O'Hare for obvious reasons, and Dr. Bright, again for obvious reasons. Just mind my teacup, please.

[lady-bess]

LadyBess' Masterlist 📖

Hello, and welcome to my Masterlist! Grab a snack, two fingers of whiskey, and take a look at what I've got to offer! 🥃

I write predominantly for Pedro Pascal characters at the moment, but this is a multi-fandom blog, so characters in and out of the 'Pedro-verse' are featured here too!

My works are often 18+ and each fic comes with its own content tags and warning. Minors, please DNI ✨

For ease of navigation, I have used a Traffic Light System to rate these works 🚦

💚 Green is for General/Teen rated content 🧡 Orange is for more Mature works 💋 Red is for anything rated Explicit

My writing is mainly reader-insert content, but I have a mix of Female, AFAB, and Gender Neutral (GN) reader inserts 💜

Not all of these works are on Tumblr yet, but feel free to check out my A03 profile for all works!

Please enjoy, and come back regularly to see what's new!

Current Series: Fallout (Jack Daniels x F!Reader) Most Recent One-Shot Release: "Breaking the Barrier" - (Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader)

One-Shots

"Petals" - Jack Daniels x F!OC (Tumblr Ask/Prompt) "Something Sweet" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Departure" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "After Hours" - Jack Daniels x GN!Reader (A03) "Fright" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Swing" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "The Perfect Fit" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "A Preposterous Thing" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "Homeward Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "Restless" - young! Jack Daniels x F!Reader "The Lodger" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "Dessert" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Chasing The Sun" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Afternoon Intrusions" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "A Lesson Learned" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Closing Time" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Disciplinary" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Jack-mas Christmas Drabbles" - Jack Daniels x AFAB/ F!Reader (A03) "Fallout" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader

One-Shots

"Birthday Wishes" - Joel Miller x F!Reader "The Headache" - Joel Miller x GN!Reader (A03) "Foolish" - Joel Miller x F!Reader

One-Shots

"Getting In A Pickle" - Javier Peña x F!Reader "Take A Seat" - Javier Peña x F!Reader "Hot Nights in Colombia" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03) "My, Oh My" - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Monday Morning" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03) - collaboration with @joels-darlin 💕

One-Shots

"Drive Me Wild" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03) "Return To Me" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03) "Longing" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03) "Sundress" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)

One-Shots

"Birthday Boy" - Javi G x F!Reader (A03) "Behave Yourself" - Javi G x AFAB!Reader (No pronouns used)

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Heist" - Javi G x F!Reader - COMING SOON

One-Shots

"Three's A Crowd" - Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader "Breaking the Barrier" - Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader "Watch & Learn" - Dave York x Javi Gutierrez x AFAB!Reader

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Just A Date" - Multiple Pedro Character fic x GN!Reader "Mutually Beneficial" - Javier Peña x Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)

Much loved characters, but so far only 1-2 fics to their name 💜

One-Shots

"Understanding" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03) "Now You See Me" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03) "Clean Up" - Max Phillips x F!Reader (A03) "Hypercharged In Hyperspace" - Din Djarin x F!Reader (A03) "Trust" - Din Djarin x F!Reader "On The Nature of Daylight" - Din Djarin x F!Reader "Rookie Mistake" - Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"A Brand New Start" - Agent Ortega x F!Reader (A03)

One-Shots

"Salvation" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Clara Oswald (A03) "Run" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03) "Rose Petals Blossom" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Rose Tyler (A03) "Precious Moments With You" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03)

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Paint The Town Red" - Ginger Ale (Kingsman) x F!Reader

[mistydeyes]

Some very American (and asshole) things about Graves

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summary: Phillip Graves is 1. an asshole and 2. very American so here's some headcanons about him.

pairing: Phillip Graves x himself (fucking narcissist)

warnings: SWEARING

a/n: lol I have a love hate relationship with Graves so this was fun to write (like I wanna kiss him but also punch him in his stupid pretty face)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

He was on the Homecoming and Prom Court in high school and he ATE THAT SHIT UP

He also was voted “Most Handsome” in his yearbook

Joined the Army purely because of the glory he saw in Top Gun (he picked a different branch because he couldn’t handle the Navy training)

Was pissed when he saw Glen Powell in Top Gun: Maverick

For weeks his Shadows heard him complain that they based the character off of him

Loves pickle back shots (whiskey followed immediately with pickle juice)—something Price finds revolting

One time, made his Shadows get him Chik-Fil-A because he was craving it abroad

Speaking of which, he’s such a pussy when trying new foods—any spice will immediately put this man on the toliet

Always smothers his food in ranch dressing

Cool ranch Doritos? RANCH. Pizza? EXTRA RANCH. Mac and cheese? RANCH MIXED IN!

“Happy Independence day, you colonizing fuckers!” he exclaims whenever he works with soldiers over the seas (and it just happens to be the 4th of July)

If he’s at home, just know he’ll be chilling in an American flag tank top from Walmart and drinking a Natty Light

Plus he’ll be launching fireworks all night long so hide your dogs

His home? You might ask. Well, picture a mansion tucked away in either Texas or Wyoming with that Western Cowboy aesthetic

Even though he’s very Mr. Americana, he secretly buys French perfumes and Italian suits (but will always stand by a “Made in America” tag)

Just looks like he has a good face routine but DOES NOT moisturize his body (if he does it’s because he’s getting laid and is ashy)

He heats up hot water in the microwave and uses one of those Lipton tea bags Ghost almost shoots him

Definitely competed in one of those “All you can eat hot dog” contests

Also proudly shows off his award winning “Wet T-Shirt contest” photos

“Sweet Home Alabama” can never be played for the 141, they get war flashbacks of Grave’s playing it prior to the Dark Water mission

Confident that he could’ve played a better Ken than Chris Evan’s in the new Barbie movie

Got one of those terrible barbed wire tattoos when he was fresh out of bootcamp to look cool to his new army brothers

Also just know if he wasn’t in the Army, he’d be going to the University of South Carolina and be in one of their top frats

But while in the Army, he used the fact that he would be deployed oversees to bring women (and his Tinder dates) in

Reusable bags? HAHA never for Graves, he doesn’t get why he has to bring one in or buy one for ¢15

Will either buy the stupid bag or carry everything in his arms like an idiot

I also just KNOW this man doesn’t recycle

When he goes to New England, he makes a big fuss on how they can’t make sweet tea

Finally, he just RADIATES Ford F-150 or a Jeep with no doors energy

[junkh3ad]

Dethklok as different types of alcoholic beverages

Toki- Lemon Drop Shots! they’re so good and taste like alcoholic sunshine in your mouth.

Murderface- Whiskey on the rocks, specifically Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey. It’s an acquired taste but good either way.

Skwisgaar- Empress Gin and Blueberry cocktail. It just feels…royal.

Nathan- there’s 2 for Nathan, just a pint of beer (budweiser maybe, it’s between that and Corona) or an Irish Car Bomb (because heh…that’s brutal.)

Pickles- Irish Car Bomb (for obvious reasons) and a long island iced tea.

Added bonuses!

Charles- Scotch on the rocks! simple and sophisticated like that gorgeous man

Dick- Malibu Bay breeze

Magnus- Rum and Coke!

Abigail- Jameson and Gingerale

[slocumjoe]

do you think any of the companions drink? what would their habits be?

how the companions booze it 🍻

Cait; Hard drinker who, surprisingly, can't hold her liquor. She gets drunk quickly, but takes some time to drop out of the race, so to speak. Obviously, she used drink out of trauma response, but having gotten clean from the drug addiction, Cait drinks sparingly and rarely. Like, actually eats as she does so. Doesn't drink water because Cait isn't a water drinker. Her drunkenness depends heavily on her mood pre-boozing. Her booze of choice is beer.

Curie; does not drink. However, did try wine. Did not like it. She just makes sure there's water and food available for the local alcoholics, and badgers them to partake in such necessities. The worst days at the clinic are days after a party and she likes to lessen that load as much as possible.

Danse; Alcoholic. One of the alcoholics Curie is always after. Danse drinks when he doesn't have work, to sleep. No exception. And he drinks a fucking LOT. Like...opposite to Cait, he takes a lot to get drunk, and even more to fall down. He chugs vodka, whiskey, tequila...basically, if even one shot isn't for the faint of heart, Danse takes swigs right from the bottle. It impresses some people, but he isn't doing it to impress. Danse isn't that kind of person who takes pride in his alcoholism. This problem gets worse after BB, but he gradually gets better as time goes on.

Deacon; used to have a problem, so now alcohol is kind of a...soft no. He'll have a drink. A drink. And it won't be anything too crazy. A glass of wine, a beer or two, maybe a shot. He drinks as a social thing, just to be polite. Customs, yknow? Besides, he wants to keep his head clear. Also suffers from bad hangovers. The type to spend the whole morning puking even if he didn't have that much.

Gage: Also used to have a problem. He wasn't an alcoholic, but rather, weak to peer pressure. He wanted to impress all the big tough raiders by putting away as much crap as they could. And for the most part, Gage very much could outdrink most people. But being that drunk that often is not safe for a young man in his position, and he learned real quick that its better to the smart stick in the mud than the fun, cool, vulnerable target.

Hancock; the type of guy to think his problem makes him cool and fun. Im sorry, but he is. Hancock is the kind of person who's like "yeah man I was barely walking and shit, I had like, 30 shots or something? Haha I forget dude! So I'm like half crawling back to my place and its fucking...what, 10 in the morning? And I got work in 2 hours man, and everyone on the streets looking at me weird, ahah, shit was crazy!" Hancock drinks whatever he has, with no preference or complaint. However, there's a specific brand of whiskey that burns like a mother fucker that he likes to drink to show off. Doesn't eat or drink water. Curie has yet to give up on him in all but spirit.

MacCready; the most normal, healthy drinker. He likes the occasional beer, but his soft spot is a margarita. Or a sangria. Not into alcohol on its own. He doesn't want to taste it. He'll rarely have a drink without food. Drinking water is his weakness here, as he also isn't a water person. Mac will have a beer with dinner, and maybe another, and maybe another if the vibe is right, and if he doesn't catch himself, will end up tipsy. If he doesn't catch himself at tipsy, homeboy is getting pickled.

Nick; Used to enjoy a martini, a brandy, a wine, a rum. A gentleman of refined taste. At least, thats what he'll say. OG Nick bought his alcohol based on coupons or whatever was cheap. This man drinks bud light. Now, Nick mostly just babysits people who can get drunk. But he used to have his alcohol in accordance to whatever he was eating. Sub from the shop down the corner? Donuts? Afformentioned bud light. Dinner with Jenny, homemade seafood pasta? A wine. He's big on the idea that certain drinks have rules.

Piper; wine bitch. Drinks out of a coffee mug if ones clean. If not...girly gets a straw. She doesn't have a problem, but you wouldn't know it if you saw her while she enjoyed a drink. Wine is pretty much the only drink she likes. Beer is gross, moonshine has done enough to her, vodka is too strong to be enjoyed. She likes wine because it tastes good to her. Her taste sways towards the dry ones. Because she drinks for the taste, she isn't keen on getting drunk, so Piper is good about staying fed and hydrated. When she isn't, her hangovers are...demonic.

Preston; drinks occasionally, and never wants to get drunk. He doesn't like the feeling of being drunk, though he doesn't get hangovers. Even when inebriated, Preston mama-hens and keeps everyone eating and chugging water, so he ends up taking care of himself as well. His taste is both broad and limited. He'll drink anything—provided its local. Preston will not drink a name brand. He doesn't want Heineken, he wants Craig's magic wheat poison. He doesn't want Franzia, he wants a bottle of whatever the twitchy lesbian living in a boat house has fermenting amongst the seaweed and barnacles.

X6-88; the only alcohol you could get this man to drink is alcohol disguised as dessert. Ole Smokey banana cream moonshine comes to mind. He'll know its alcohol, you can't hide it from him, but provided its tasty enough...you might get him to indulge a little. If only for the fact that its basically candy. Otherwise, he isn't drinking. He probably can't even get drunk, not without causing a shortage.

[angelicvee]

anyone else but you

chapter 2: fade into you wc: 2.6 k never wear makeup to a sleepover

Annie forced herself to breathe despite every ounce of her being just wanting to keel over and never wake again “It’s nice to meet you” she managed to hum in a somewhat regular tone, extending her hand.

Victoria took it, her grip firm and cool. “Please call me victoria.. No need to be so formal, we’re basically friends”

The handshake lasted just a moment too long, a silent acknowledgment of the past. As they released each other’s hands, Annie could feel the weight of unspoken words between them, the tension crackling like static electricity. It felt so strange.. So difficult to just pretend nothing had ever happened between them.

Victoria’s eyes locked with Annie’s for a brief moment, a silent exchange of memories and words that begged to be heard.

“I hope you’re enjoying the evening,” Victoria said, her tone polite.

Annie nodded. “It’s a wonderful event. Very impressive.”

“Thank you,” Victoria replied, her smile unwavering.

“Can i get you anything to drink, champagne.. Whiskey?”

—------

There was very little to choose from in Annie's fridge. Her mother hadn’t exactly planned on having guests over but did Vicky even count as a guest anymore? The two girls were practically conjoined at the hip, spending every possible moment together.

The brunette snooped around looking for anything even a little promising, her dark brown eyes illuminated by the flickering yellow of the fridge which seemed to melt over every small detail in its wake. The fridge door was deemed useless, housing nothing but old lemon juice which lay dormant in those tall green bottles, the glass ones though because Annie always broke the plastic. Homemade raspberry jam was probably the most exciting thing, poking out amongst the sea of pickled vegetables which Donna had been insistent on buying. She had convinced her daughter they were the key to all diet issues.. Which Victoria found utterly ridiculous because Annie really didn't need to diet. She was perfect as is.

Sadly the fridge was unhelpful in Victoria's quest to find drinks, although one place did seem a little promising when she stopped to look around the family kitchen. One little cabinet sat hidden away from everything else. It looked so regular and mundane.. Like nothing could possibly be tucked away inside. With a gentle tug the doors opened, it was relatively empty inside except for one, quite large bottle. Amber liquid sat pretty inside the glass cage. Beaming at her discovery, the brunette sauntered out of the kitchen after carefully closing the cabinet. Donna would kill them both if she found out.

Annie on the other hand had been blissfully searching through her pretty large CD collection. She liked to burn them, make special little mixes for Vicky or just gather the albums from random indie artists she found on myspace. There were a few religious bands weaved in, she couldn't help it..

The blonde eventually decided on a mix of songs that she had burned recently, smiling to herself with that sweet little grin she always put on. Nestling back into the soft embrace of her bed as the startling sound of glass hitting the wooden floor shattered through her peace.

“It's fine.. I'm fine!” The gentle echo of victoria giggling settled the nerves that had briefly formed inside annie. She looked so proud of herself, setting the whiskey bottle in front of Annie before lazily settling on the floor by the girl’s bed.

“Score!! Your mom had this hidden away somewhere.. I'm sure she won't notice if we have just a little”

“Vic.. she’s gonna kill me.. But I'm sure a little isnt going to make too big of a difference right?”

the blonde hummed, the corners of her mouth lifting into a subtle smile. Little dimples peeked through but disappeared just as fast when glass hit plush lips. That beautiful liquid gold ran quickly down Annie's throat sending shots of fire on its way down. A string of pained coughs and laughs followed as her face retorted into a slightly disgusted expression

“That's my girl! Look at you.. Such a rule breaker” the brunette teased, taking a swig and placing the bottle on the floor.

—--

The blonde looked up at Hughie out of instinct. How was it that such a small question brought back so many memories? “I would love champagne, wouldn't you?” her voice was surprisingly calm, sweet even as she held her boyfriend’s arm.

“Interesting, i always assumed you were a whiskey kinda girl” the congresswoman smiled, a knowing tilt to her words. It was torture. How Annie managed to smile through it was a mystery to all people involved. Especially sweet little Hughie who just smiled along, completely oblivious to everything going on.

“Hughie, you can’t go around telling people about me and whisky.. I cant have people catching on to my drinking habits. I'm supposed to be classy” the blonde laughed, forcing a smile.

Hughie chuckled, oblivious to the subtle weight to each line. Honestly he was more caught up in the endless hum of conversation and clinking of glasses that filled the room. It was a little distracting. He had never really adjusted to these events.to the cosy buzz that threaded through each group. The dim lighting cast warm shadows on the walls, the crowd a mixture of familiar faces and strangers. It was all a bit much.

“I didn't expect Vicky to remember every detail I spewed over our lunches. She’s always too busy stealing my bagels to really pay attention”

God he was perfect right? Most girls practically beg the lord for a man like hughie.. Well maybe not exactly like him. He talked about her at lunch practically everyday, kept track of events for her, made peace with the fact she wasn't exactly perfect either. The man even sat through the endless threats from homelander… what more could she ask for.

Maybe.. Longer, darker hair that cascaded so gently down her..sorry his back.

“Well maybe you should stop buying them? Sounds like a good fix to me "Victoria teased, her voice carrying that same sarcastic tilt it used to.

Annie let out a soft chuckle at the two, watching them bicker despite the professional setting. That laugh could charm millions. It did, starlight was America's sweetheart. Annie january had a joy around her that sparkled like the golden light she created. Victoria and Hughie exchanged a look, the kind of look that spoke volumes without a single word. They both held so much love for that girl.. Even if only one of them realised.

—---

The January family home was lovely, a little too.. Holy for some people. It definitely screamed southern baptist but it was lovely nonetheless. But hidden away near the back of the house sat Annie's room. A soft haven, the kind of space that felt lived in and loved, filled with touches of her personality in every corner. The walls, painted a delicate shade of cream, dotted with posters of her favourite vought heroes.. Well mainly the deep and queen maeve. There were bands too though, the paper edges slightly curling from the warmth that filled the room. A pale, woven blanket was draped over her bed, the one her grandmother had made her, and a few stuffed animals sat near the headboard, her own much cooler version of the seven. The air was tinged with a faint scent of vanilla and something floral, a sweet and subtle fragrance that was uniquely Annie.

Victoria sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against Annie's bed, her eyes wandering around the room as if she hadn’t been here a thousand times before. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder, a stark contrast to the softness around her, but somehow, she fit into the space like she belonged. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, caught every detail, but her expression held that familiar veil of sarcasm that she wielded so effortlessly.

Annie had always been beautiful in a way that felt effortless, like the first rays of sunlight after a long winter night. Victoria Neuman couldn’t help but notice it every time they hung out. It was the kind of beauty that crept up on you, not blinding or in-your-face, but warm and soft, like the way Annie’s laugh lit up the room or the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

Annie had shifted around a little, leaning back against her silk pillows, one arm draped over her stomach, the other playing idly with the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. Her blonde hair spilled out over the pillow in messy waves, and her brown eyes were fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought. Vicky couldn't help but glance over at her, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary, taking in the small details that always seemed to catch her off guard—the way the light caught the faint freckles on Annie’s nose, the way her lashes curled up at the ends.

And then she noticed it. The slight shimmer on Annie’s eyelids, the faint pink gloss on her lips. Victoria’s eyes narrowed, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Wait a minute…” Victoria rested her head against the mattress propping herself up on one elbow as she turned to face Annie more fully. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Y-yeah, why?” the question completely broke through whatever little haze she had drifted away into. Shooting up and practically squeaking back to her friend. although it was unclear whether that was due to victoria acting so surprised due to her little revelation.. Or because the girl actually paid enough attention to notice the subtle change.

Vicky laughed subtly, her deep brown eyes scanning over the soft features set out so perfectly on her friend’s face. That cute little grin widened, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I thought you hated makeup. ‘It’s sticky and gross,’” she mimicked Annie’s voice, exaggerating her words in a playful, sing-song tone.

Annie let out a breathy laugh, her eyes finally meeting Victoria’s. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s nice to feel a little different, you know?”

Victoria’s heart did a little flip at the way Annie’s voice softened on the last word, the way her eyes seemed to shine just a bit more under the warm light. She wanted to say something, to joke a little more, but the words caught in her throat. “Oh totally, you just love different”

“Whatever- i felt like it” the girl laughed back awkwardly, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "I, um, made this for you," delicate hands grabbed the little CD from beside her, the tone of her voice returning back to its softer less defensive tune. She was looking down, not at Victoria, the CD case now held between them like a fragile offering.

Victoria arched an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "A mix CD? What is this, the early 2000s?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth behind it, a softness that only came out when they were alone like this.

Annie's cheeks flushed pink, and she gave a small shrug. "I know it’s kind of old-school, but... the songs made me think of you." Her voice was quieter still, the words almost swallowed up by the room, but they hung in the air between them.

Victoria took the CD, her fingers brushing against the blonde’s for just a second longer than necessary. There was something electric in that brief contact, a spark that made Annie's heart skip a beat, but Victoria didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned the case over in her hands, examining it like it held some great secret.

"Well, now I’m curious," Victoria said, her smile widening, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes that wasn’t quite the usual teasing. "What songs made you think of me? Am I going to have to suffer through an hour of Taylor Swift?"

Annie let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as she moved to sit down next to Victoria on the floor, close enough that their knees almost touched. "No Taylor… I promise. Though... there might be some Coldplay."

Victoria rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the affection in her gaze. "Of course there is."

Annie reached over to her small, portable CD player, the one with a few stickers on it that were beginning to peel at the edges. She clicked open the lid and placed the CD inside to replace her myspace mix. hands shaking just the tiniest bit. The player whirred softly as it started up, and then the room filled with the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar, a sound so familiar and comforting it felt like a friend.

Annie leaned back against the side of her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest, her eyes drifting to the window. The late evening sun was filtering through the curtains, casting a golden light across the room, turning everything it touched into something magical. Dust motes danced lazily in the air, floating through the sunbeams, giving the room a dreamy, almost unreal quality. Outside, the world was quiet, the sounds of summer muted as if even nature itself knew this moment was too delicate to disturb.

Victoria listened in silence as the music played, her expression unreadable. But Annie noticed the way her fingers tapped lightly against her knee, the way her lips curved into a softer smile with each new song that played. It was as if the music was speaking for her, saying all the things she couldn’t find the words for.

Annie's heart was pounding, her thoughts a jumble of what-ifs and maybes. She had spent hours choosing these songs, each one carefully picked because it held a piece of how she felt, all the things she couldn’t say out loud. She wanted Victoria to understand, to hear the words she was too scared to speak, but she also feared what might happen if she did.

Victoria turned to look at her then, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was something searching in Victoria's gaze, something that made Annie feel like she was being seen in a way she hadn’t been before. It was a look that made her stomach flip, that made her want to reach out and close the distance between them, to see if the warmth she felt in her chest was real.

But instead, she just smiled, a small, shy thing that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Do you like it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a breath, as if she was afraid the answer might shatter her.

Victoria didn’t answer right away. She looked back at the CD player, at the music that was filling the room with something almost tangible, and then back at Annie. Her smile was softer now, the sarcasm in her eyes replaced with something gentler, something more vulnerable.

"These made you think of me?" she said finally, her voice was so unserious it was stupid. “Mazzy star, the cranberries and lana del rey… interesting”

“Hey.. there was a little bit of the smiths and coldplay too” she giggled. Annie felt a rush of warmth, a mixture of relief and something else that she couldn’t quite name. But before she could say anything, before she could let herself hope, Victoria reached out and touched her hand, just a light brush of her fingers, almost too quick to catch.

“Its cute..”

Annie’s breath hitched, her heart racing as she looked down at their hands. But then Victoria was pulling away, her expression shifting, the moment slipping through her fingers like sand.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us - Part 6

A/N: read part 1 ! read part 2 ! read part 3 ! read part 4! read part 5! Taglist: @midgetpottermills @casssiopeia @flyingmushroomss @amethystwonders11 @hiphopdancer101universe @kiszkawagnerwhore @littleshadow17 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @alm0501 @ch4rcuterie @lodeddiperrodrick @amandalove1355 @laurathefahrradsattel @moshpot24x @middleof-thenight @kettlechips3 @happymakercollectorsworld @alainabooks143 @mikariell95 @superbreadsoul @twd-rocks-blog @livmadsen11 @sage-bun @emmy626 @somenerdyuser @vitavenio

Warnings: dark themes; substance abuse; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 1824 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

----

Joel brought the radio closer to him, studying the frayed wires and noting the burnt out coil at the top. His brows furrowed in confusion as he tilted the radio to get a clearer angle in the morning sun. After trying to fall back to sleep for hours, Joel had finally succumbed to the sunshine and risen from the bed he shared with Tessa an hour or two after sunrise. It was the earliest morning he’d seen in weeks, and it reminded him of why he so often slept in. The sun was too bright, too warm and carefree to match the shades of gray he lived in. 

With a heavy sigh, Joel took another healthy swig of coffee mixed with whiskey. He felt the heat of the liquid and the burn of alcohol all the way down his throat. He put his mug back down on the workbench in the old mechanics shop below where he and Tessa slept.

“Where the fuck have you been all morning?”

Tessa entered the shop in a swarm of anger, the door to the street outside slamming open and slamming shut again behind her. She’d left shortly after he’d awoken, presumably to organize whatever smuggling run she had planned for later that night.  

“Right here, where I always am,” he drawled back. The whiskey in his morning coffee took just enough of an edge off his anger to keep him from taking Tessa’s bait.

“Yeah, well, I could’ve really used your help. Shit’s going fucking sideways around here and all you’re doing is holed up, drinking yourself til you’re pickled and playing around with a fucking radio!”

Joel shot Tessa a dark look, but didn’t move from his seat in front of the workbench. 

“Aren’t you going to say something? Anything?!”

He shrugged, swapping out the screwdriver for a pair of needle-nosed pliers and keeping his face a mask of indifference.

“What do you want me to say?”

In truth, Joel didn’t care what Tessa wanted him to say. Between the terrible sleep he’d gotten last night and the hangover that he was now layering with a new buzz, he wasn’t sure he could name anything that he did care about at that moment.

“Fuck, Joel. You can be a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”

Tessa’s anger was beginning to deflate, bitterness taking its place. 

“Look around you, Tessa. It’s the end of the goddamn world. What do you want me to do, make you breakfast in bed and fuck you on our granite kitchen counter while the kids are at soccer?” 

Tessa didn’t reply. He could feel her eyes boring holes in the side of his head. A very distant part of Joel knew he should hate himself for taking out his own misery on someone else. But mostly, he didn’t care. He felt hollow like an empty well, and even drinking didn’t hit the bottom anymore. 

A few moments of hateful silence stretched between them, the only sound was the soft metallic clink of Joel’s pliers at work on the radio’s wires.

“That explosion last night? That was Marlene and her crew. They got held up in a showdown with a horde of infected and blew up a propane truck.” 

Joel couldn’t imagine why Tessa imagined he’d care. Marlene and the Fireflies were always taking unimaginable risks “for the cause”. Joel knew Marlene the way anyone who lived on the fringes of QZ society knew her. He didn’t care for the woman, although he had to admire her grit. The Fireflies were a losing cause if ever he’d seen one, but she’d kept their ill-fated rebellion limping along for years longer than he’d ever thought possible. She probably could have been someone worth a damn before the outbreak. 

Tessa’s eyes were still glued to him, analyzing him the way a torturer would watch a prisoner during an interrogation. Joel tried to see the connection between what she’d just told him and whatever reaction she was watching for. 

He turned to her, dropping the radio and his pliers in irritation.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” he challenged, his tone flat. He couldn’t even feign interest; he only wanted her to leave. The quiet and his broken radio were better companions.

A glimmer of triumph sparked in Tessa’s eyes. She smirked softly.

“Apparently your old bed warmer was with them.”

Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he didn’t register her meaning for a few breaths. That self-satisfied glint in Tessa’s eyes didn’t dim.

“Y/N. She was out with Marlene last night. Didn’t make it back, so I heard.”

The bottom of Joel’s stomach fell out as his understanding clicked into place. He felt his fingers dig into the skin of his palms as he struggled to maintain a semblance of composure under Tessa’s gloating gaze. 

“K.”

It was all Joel could manage. His grip on himself was slipping fast. 

“Choke on that, asshole.” 

Tessa left, the door slamming on her way out. Joel barely heard her walk away, his addled thoughts coalescing on one and only one thing.

Marlene. 

He had to find her. If you had been out there… if you were still out there, or worse… Joel would pull Boston apart brick by brick with his bare fucking hands if he had to. It’d be easier - and faster - if he knew where to start. If something had happened to you, god forbid…

He stumbled up from the workbench, careening out into the street, his body moving faster than he could stitch his thoughts together. He had a pretty good idea where to find Marlene, and he hoped for her sake that she could tell him where you were. He didn’t trust himself to hear anything other than news of your safety. 

*****

Marlene slumped sideways against the concrete wall of the old subway tunnel they called the T in Boston. Bending over, she emptied her guts into the trickling water running down the center of the tunnel. At this point, she was throwing up blanks, just sour-tasting stomach acid. She wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline from last night’s narrow escape or if there was something more serious going on. She didn’t have time to stop and wonder.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she willed herself forward, hugging the wall. She’d been walking - a generous term for the limping shuffle she’d been forced to do by a broken ankle - for what had to be close to eight hours at this point. Her body was weak from dehydration, shock, and hunger. But she hadn’t stopped, knowing that was a death sentence. And finally, mercifully, she saw it. An old maintenance ladder hanging down into the empty space in the tunnel. Right above that ladder was the old MBTA garage. Firefly territory. She’d made it home. 

Ignoring the pain ripping up her leg from her swollen ankle, she shuffled forward, arms outstretched greedily for the ladder. She fell against it, the steel rattling and echoing in the cement tunnel that the Fireflies used to sneak in and out of the QZ. 

She gasped a few breaths, wondering if she was simply imagining that the air tasted a little fresher here than the rest of the dank tunnel. Looking up, she calculated at least eighteen feet of ladder before it disappeared into darkness just above the ceiling of the T tunnel. Up there was the garage. The Fireflies. Salvation. 

As close as she was, Marlene knew her ankle wouldn’t handle the climb, not alone. She was worried that she’d pass out halfway up and fall off. There wouldn’t be any soft landing for her. No, the only option for her was to hope and pray that someone would hear her down here. She couldn’t go back - the entry was blocked by what remained of the horde - and she couldn’t go forward. She’d memorized the old T maps of Boston: she knew this tube dead-ended a half mile farther up, with no exits. This was it. It was now or never. 

“Hey! HEY! Is anybody up there? HELP!” Mustering what little remained of her strength, she rattled on the ladder, projecting her parched voice into the darkness above. 

“DOWN HERE! SOMEBODY!” 

Marlene wasn’t sure how long she yelled for. Her voice was almost gone before she saw a fluorescent light flick on at the top of the ladder. Weak with relief, she felt tears stream down her cheeks. 

“Thank God! Please, you’ve gotta help me. I can’t climb.”

Before she could finish, Marlene saw a dark shape blot out the light from above. It took her a second to realize it was someone climbing down to her. Looking up from underneath, all she could make out were the soles of boots - men’s boots, she thought - and a sturdy pack on the person’s back. The kind of gear you wore when you went out into the open city. 

Marlene took a few halting steps back from the ladder to give the man enough space to climb down. He did, skipping the last few rungs and landing hard on his feet. He was agile, strong. Marlene couldn’t place his silhouette in her mind, couldn’t think of a face that matched the thick, salt-and-pepper hair. 

“Where is she, Marlene?” 

His voice was dark and familiar. 

Joel Miller turned to face her, his expression hard like black granite. It had been almost a year since she’d last seen him at a buy she’d arranged with Tessa. He’d changed, something darker in the back of his eyes. It almost frightened her.

“Where is she,” he repeated, snapping Marlene out of her own thoughts.

“Who?” she replied. 

“Y/N.”

Marlene didn’t know how Joel Miller knew you. She thought better of asking him. 

“I don’t know, Joel. We got split up. It was… it was fucking chaos last night.” 

Joel’s jaw tightened, his fingers squeezing the barrel of the rifle he had slung across his chest.

“Last place you saw her.” 

Marlene heard voices above her. Someone called out her name in recognition. She longed to call back, but something in Joel’s eyes seemed to catch her words in her throat.

“You’ll never make it.”

“Like hell I won’t.”

“Joel, it’s a fucking horde, the biggest I’ve ever seen. You’ll never get through, it’s a suicide mission.” 

“Marlene, I won’t fucking ask again.”

His patience was wearing thin. Marlene didn’t miss the subtle way he angled the muzzle of his gun in her direction. 

“Take this tunnel three blocks south. You’ll come to a five-way tunnel crossing. Take the southeast branch and walk another six blocks. You’ll see a ventilation shaft. Right past it, there’s an emergency access door. Take that exit. It’ll spit you out eight blocks north of where I lost her.” 

Without a word, Joel Miller turned on his heels and walked off into the dark.

read part 7 here **let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters! ty to everyone showing this series so much love! <;33

[kneeslapworthy]

inspired by this post by @mbspolls i wanna go into what kind of drinks (non-alcoholic for the kiddos of course) all of the characters like

When it comes to the adults in the society you could definitely argue that they’re all sober and I would agree with you. But for the sake of a fun tumblr post, let’s play around with both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks: 

Number Two makes cocktails that are borderline science experiments. She also makes her own kombucha (that she drinks out of a huge jar like with the pickle juice).

Rhonda and Miss Perumal occasionally take shots of tequila when they have a girls night. Apart from that Rhonda drinks STRONG coffee and Miss Perumal is more of a tea-girly. 

Milligan OBVIOUSLY drinks whiskey and maybe like... idk a white russian? Something gross lmao. Other than that, my guy drinks egg creams. He’s classy like that. 

Mr Benedict is the least likely to drink alcohol in my opinion (ngl in the aforementioned poll i voted for hot cocoa), but if he does drink he’s a fruity cocktail girly (just like me fr). 

Curtain drinks sparkling water or milk (like a psychopath) and of course green tea because Helth (but make it really fancy loose leaf green tea with a very sharp taste that honestly tastes like paint water). We do see him drink alcohol in the show which i kind of think is out of character because he wants to always be in control and drinking alcohol sort of has the opposite effect?? But if he does drink, you can bet your ass it’s expensive and gross. 

SQ doesn’t drink a lot because the amount of times he’s accidentally drank paintwater has left him traumatized. But Mr Benedict introduces him to hot chocolate with marshmallows and his life changes forever. 

Reynie has a huge tea collection thanks to Ms Perumal. He pretends to like Classy Teas like Early Grey when in actuality he loves fruity teas.

Sticky is a weirdo that likes hot lemon water or something because he read that it’s good for brain activity or something. But like the intellectual he is he also loves hot chocolate. 

Constance drinks the most disgusting sugary sodas you can imagine. Reynie accidentally takes a sip of it once thinking it’s lemonade and nearly throws up. 

Kate drinks Bang Energy and spins around violently like a washing machine for 48+ hours. 

(feel free to add your own suggestions. i am constantly dehydrated so i am therefore not well versed in the world of beverages.) 

[deada55]

Kloktober 2024 day 3: Horror movie crossover

I also did Carrie because I forgot that role was legit made for Toki, but have a Murderface spin on it. Because why not!

They’re all gonna laugh at you!

The gym was silent. Glitter’s bright stars on the curtains lining the walls continued to flutter unfettered. A blob of pig shit rolled off of Willy’s head and landed on the toe of his shoe.

They’re all gonna laugh at you!

Stampingston snickered first, and so did the rest of the team of volunteers, then the gym erupted in giggles. Throaty heuh-heuh-heuhing rose out of the cheer team, with half a dozen acrylic fingernails pointing towards the stage.

They’re all gonna laugh at you!

Nathan and the whole football team pounded their fists on the table and laughed until their surround stank of cheap body spray and fireball whiskey. Pickles looked up from the punchbowl and suffocated a snicker with a black cocktail napkin. Some punch dripped out of the tiny cup and onto his ruffled shirt

They’re all… laughing at me!

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?!” Dick shouted, but that was almost it. He waved his hands once or twice before the bucket came down from the rafters, with a couple more chunks left inside. It hit him on the head hard enough to bring Dick to the floor, knocked out cold.

They’re all gonna laugh at you!

Lost in the cacophony of laughter, Toki Wartooth looked through reinforced glass in a metal double door in shock and shame that Crozier’s plan had worked, and that Toki was powerless to stop him. By now, Mr. Offdensen was sure to have figured out why Toki tried to stop the announcement of the prom royalty… Mr. Offdensen slowly elbowed through the crowd toward the stage–

They’re all gonna laugh at you!

All of the doors locked with a satisfying metal clunk. As Willy’s eyes shed tears, he looked down into the crowd and all the glass centerpieces shattered and scattered their pieces. The tablecloths bowed down then up like gym class parachutes and flung broken glass and liquid just in time for every chair in the gym to collapse, and the tables, too. While students rolled and cut their palms trying to pry their legs free from the furniture, the bleachers unfolded and shoved tables of refreshments into some of the fallen crowd, and others were impinged or moved by the structure itself.

The right halves of two athletic championship banners broke free from the ceiling. The flag fell, but the pole followed, conveniently through Nathan’s jaw and Skwisgaar’s chest. Not quite writhing and not quite choking, Nathan squirmed until he’d lost enough blood to pass. Meanwhile, Skwisgaar tried to move around it, but all the squad around him could do was scream and run towards the back of the gym. One girl was trampled underneath the fallen banner itself after she’d slipped trying to untangle herself from it.

The sprinklers ove the gym floor went off: black liquid shot out of them over the crowd and soon everyone was slipping.  However, the stage remained dryer than the rest. Power strips shorted and sparked until the dust bunnies and spare butcher paper crumpled up by a trash can went up in flames by the entrance and caught the photo-op area. Wet oil paint behind the stage caught a light and erupted into flames behind Willy. Slowly, fire traveled through the crepe paper. It was an old school: the sprinkler system didn’t keep up.

The crowd started to scramble up the bleachers to get out of the wet below and the fire spreading by the doors, then Willy snapped them back together, leaving people hanging upside-down by their trapped, mangled legs.

Mr. Offdensen was almost frozen. Just when he started to thaw and reach for the stage, Willy looked over and a speaker on a stand came toppling down on top of Mr. Offdensen, smashing his head against the floor.

Willy stepped down from the stage slowly, chunks of shit rolling off of him. Under the sprinkler, it sank into his suit. Slowly, he walked to the door to the parking lot.

Toki prayed until his father’s truck turned on and put it in gear: It was time to leave.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Current WIPS

The James Potter Affair (WIP - 3/? - Rated M - Jily): Modern Muggle AU. Insurance investigator Lily Evans races to recover priceless artefacts stolen in a daring museum heist. Her chief suspect? Billionaire philanthropist James Potter...

Bahramdipity (WIP - 1/? - Rated M - Jily): Canon-Divergent AU. Ilvermorny potions professor Lily Evans, on a year-long teacher exchange programme to Hogwarts, is horrified to discover her one-night-stand is one of her new colleagues.

Hunted (WIP - 0/28 - Rated M - Hinny): Modern Muggle AU. Newly promoted Detective Inspector Harry Potter lands the case that will make or break his career. Can he catch notorious serial killer Tom Riddle? Nothing posted yet! Watch this space!

Completed Works

Multi-Chapter Fics

Evolution (Complete - 47 chapters, 279k words - Rated M - Hinny/Romione): Canon-compliant post-DH. Harry, Ginny, Ron & Hermione navigate life after the Battle of Hogwarts. Angst, romance & mystery

The Loyal Companion: A Tale of Bad Dates and Good Whiskey (Complete - 6 chapters, 28k words - Rated M - Jily): Modern Muggle AU. Lily Evans endures a series of disastrous dates at her new favourite bar. At least the bartender is cute.

The Grapevine (Complete - 6 chapters, 15k words - Rated T - Various): Canon-compliant Next Gen. A rumour as it spreads through the extended Potter/Weasley family, helped on its way by Albus, Lily, Audrey, Molly, Victoire and Teddy.

Into the Hinnyverse (Complete - 14 chapters, 16k words - Rated M - Hinny): Various Canon-compliant. A collection of various Hinny microfics and one-shots written for the Ginny Lovers Discord server's 5-Year Ginniversary Bingo game - which I (somehow, miraculously) won!

One-Shots

Hearts & Arrows (5.7k words - Rated Gen - Romione): Canon-compliant Hogwarts. Ron & Hermione's relationship gets a helping hand (well, sort of!) from Hogwarts resident cupids

Enigma (2.4k words - Rated Gen): Canon-compliant Hogwarts. Hermione character study, examining her childhood friendships - or rather, the lack of them.

The Pink Bedroom on the First Floor (2k words - Rated Gen - Hinny): Canon-compliant post-DH. Ginny reflects on the importance of her childhood bedroom as she starts a new chapter of her life.

Body Positive (9k words - Rated M - Hinny): Canon-compliant Hogwarts & post-DH. Eight lessons that Ginny Weasley learns about her body, and her changing relationship with it, throughout her life.

Electric (Blue) (3.5k words - Rated E - Hinny): Canon-compliant post-DH. Ginny is contractually obliged to attend the Q.U.A.B.B.L.E.'s annual charity ball, so Harry is obliged to go with her. Luckily, she's happy to make it worth his while!

More Action Than The Western Front (2.5k words - Rated M - Various): Canon-compliant post-DH. What's a red-blooded wizard like Bill Weasley to do when he needs a little privacy? He gets creative! Unfortunately, he isn't the only one...

The Wedding Dress (1.3k words - Rated M - Hinny): Canon-compliant post-DH. On the day of her wedding to Harry, Ginny's conversation with Aunt Muriel is rather more awkward than she's letting on.

Not Even A Little Bit, Not Even At All (6.8k words - Rated E - Jily): Canon-divergent AU. A late night argument between James and Lily spirals out of control, with unexpected consequences.

Restraint (2.4k words - Rated M - Romione): Canon-compliant post-DH. Ron and Hermione get themselves into a bit of a pickle when they attempt to spice things up in the bedroom!

Like Water (1.9k words - Rated T - Jily): Marauders at Hogwarts. When James won't shut up and Sirius finally loses his patience, there are unfortunate consequences for more than one person.

The Changing Room (1.9k words - Rated T - Jily): Marauders at Hogwarts. Head Girl Lily has an epiphany when she tracks down her Head Boy in the changing room after Quidditch practice.

What I Think Of When I Think Of You (2.1k words - Rated T - Hinny): Canon-compliant post-DH. Harry Potter isn't impressed with his fiancee's choice of Halloween costume.

Microfics

Hinny Microfics Series (Ongoing - various ratings/warnings - Hinny): A series of the various Hinny Microfics I've written, all together in one place. Mix of Hogwarts, post-DH, Canon-compliant, Muggle & Magical AUs

Jily Microfics Series (Ongoing - various ratings/warnings - Jily): A series of the various Jily Microfics I've written, all together in one place. Mix of Hogwarts, post-DH, Canon-compliant, Muggle & Magical AUs

[smalls-words]

Chapter Eight: Palmetto

Summary: Natasha experiences jealousy, Palmetto reveals it's darkest secret, and your questioning your sexuality. What the fuck happened?

Pairings: Devil!Natasha x Fem!Detective!Reader, Natasha x Wanda, Reader x Steve (exes, co-parents), Yelena x Natasha (sisters).

Warnings: Mentions/attempt of suicide, knives, jealousy, sexual suggestion (is there ever going to be a chapter without it? probably not). Read at your own discretion.

A/N: WHO SHOT MALCOLM? :o find out in this chapter along with some other bombshells, cheeky.

Series Masterlist

*not my gif*

Lux was pumping with people as Natasha walked through it, a stunning satin blue dress reflecting light to show off the entire dark to light range of the shade. She cheered on many drinks with her patrons, even taunting some of them with a playful smack and grab of the ass or a fleeting touch on their back.

But her favourite demon came up to the bar dressed in a stunning gold dress, held against her body to show it off. Messy hair made Natasha grin, knowing that a few hands had given the demon what she wanted.

“Wanda! You haven't wished me a happy birthday.” Natasha grinned as Wanda stood in front of her, drink in hand.

“The Devil doesn't have a birthday.” 

“Well, I do now. I burned my wings, I feel reborn - it's my re-birthday party.” She chuckled.

“Reborn? As who?” The brunette snickered.

“Whoever the hell I want to be. It's exciting, isn't it?” She took a deep breath in as she examined her party.

Your ruby red lips catching her eyes instantly. 

“Happy birthday to me.” Natasha giggled to herself, letting Wanda lean into her ear. 

“How sweet. She brought a date.” She smirked before leaving, watching Natasha’s eyes fly to see Steve before your laughter made her come back. 

“You said ‘drinks with a few friends’, you liar.” You teased. 

Natasha admired the black suit against your body - of course, if she really desired, she could go back up and change into a matching one. She also wondered what hers would look like on you, giving her a hot flash over her body before she smirked.

“Well, you know, things got out of hand. Just the way I like it.” 

“We brought you a birthday gift.” Steve spoke suddenly as you poured some shots, holding a jar of bright green liquid. 

“Is that the royal ‘we’?” She asked.

“Whiskey with a pickle juice chaser. It's our station's birthday tradition.” You took the jar of pickle juice chaser and poured shots for all of you.

Her nose scrunched in disgust. “Lovely! How can I refuse? Can I refuse?” 

Steve snickered at her antics. “Of course you can. And we'll always think less of you.” 

You handed Natasha her shot glasses, whiskey in the left and pickle juice in the right before you lifted yours. “Here's to another trip around the sun.” 

“Cheers.” She clinked her glasses with yours, watching you down the liquor and chaser with skill. 

You smirked at her surprise expression, looking between the whiskey and pickle juice. “It's not bad, is it?” You asked. 

“Briny! Let's find Wanda. She needs to try this bizarre concoction. She loves a salty aftertaste.” Natasha smirked at you, watching you shake your head in both laughter and disgust at her innuendo and dismay. 

“I’m sorry, we're just stopping by. We have a department thing to go to.” 

“Some of us work for a living.” Steve remarked.

“Well, that's your bad luck, isn't it? Come on, the party's barely started.” Natasha whined at you, watching you come towards her in a hug. 

She leaned down slightly to hold you in the embrace whilst you went on your tippy toes. “Happy birthday, Natasha.” You murmured in her ear, kissing her cheek as you stepped back.

“Thank you, malyshka.” She replied.

Steve placed his hand on your back and led you out of the club, yet you were comforted by Natasha’s gaze on you until you were outside. You sank into the passenger seat of the car as Steve drove to the Paddock Lounge, almost the entire precinct inside. 

“Are you sure you want to be here?” Steve asked. 

“We can't be the only ones missing Malcolm's welcome back party. If we want to find a dirty cop, we have to look like team players.” You replied.

“Y/N Valeria!” A voice came from the crowd.

“Here we go.” You grumbled to yourself, turning around. 

You easily recognised the man in the wheelchair as Malcolm Graham, his thick moustache clashing with his thin beard, the off-set parting of his dark auburn hair matching the colour of his facial hair. “You and I need to talk.” He remarked.

The bar went quiet. 

“Sure, Malcolm.” 

He pointed at Steve. “You back with this guy? Hmm? How-how, how long was I out? What, you get the sense knocked out of you, Valeria?” 

“We're just, we're just, uh…” 

Malcolm laughed at Steve’s attempt to ease the tension. “Just relax, guys. I'm just… just giving you a hard time.”

The rest of the bar went back to their business, some even laughing at his first joke. 

“You finally got your sense of humour back, huh?” Steve snickered. 

“Yeah, he's healing fast. Doc said he should be able to get rid of this chair in a couple days.” Paolucci patted Malcolm on the back.

You watched Malcolm groan as he stood from his wheelchair, guessing it was an aid rather than a necessity. “You tired of pushing me around, Paolucci?” 

The partner chuckled. “Look at that, huh? The partner who will not die. Guess Heaven didn't want him and Hell couldn't keep him.” 

The four of you laughed at Paolucci’s joke, Malcolm’s eyes meeting your own. “You got no idea.” 

At his wink, you tilted your head slightly. Could he know about…?

Nah…

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“So I, I may have been... out of line last time I was here. But I did send flowers. And chocolates. And now myself, so, save the best gift till last.” Natasha chuckled nervously as she sat across from Kate. 

The therapist wore a simple long sleeve with her trench coat draped over the chair behind her desk, her legs crossed in their jeans. She simply watched Natasha as her nerves played up, hands fidgeting and humour anxious. 

“Not enough? No? You can invite a friend.” 

“Why did you think I'd be mad? Was it because of this?” Kate stood, walking over to the wall to take a painting off, revealing the patchwork of the hole Natasha punched. 

“I've found women, generally, don't like a person punching holes in things, yes.” The redhead smiled sheepishly.

“Natasha, our last session was a breakthrough.” The doctor sat back down in her chair. 

“It was?” 

She nodded. “You're finally getting in touch with your emotions. Letting your barriers down.” 

Natasha leaned forward. “You see, that's part of the problem. I'd like them back up, thank you.”

“Why?” 

“Well, because these emotions are… really inconvenient, that's why.” 

“What's bothering you right now?” 

“Well… As of late, I'm experiencing a very odd feeling. It's-it's like a... it's like a fat man sitting on my chest. But not in a fun way.” She stammered along, smirking at the end.

“And when is that happening?” 

“Well, um…” 

“When you're with the detective?” Kate asked.

“Yes. Well, actually, lately, when she's been with Steve. Her ex. Well, sort of. Uh... I don't know what she sees in that oaf.” Natasha clarified.

Kate chuckled. “Natasha… you're jealous.” 

Natasha scoffed. “The Devil doesn't get jealous. I'm the one who inspires passion in others. I mean… you know that.” 

“Mm, don't I ever.” 

“Thank you. That's the appropriate response.” The devil thought for a moment, a light bulb going off. “Hold on, maybe it's not me. Maybe it's her.” Another light bulb. “You could fix the detective!”

“And how would I do that?” Kate sighed in defeat, knowing she couldn’t take Natasha off of this pathway even if she tried.

“Well, heal her douche fixation, obviously. Then she stays away from her ex, and then I get my partner back.” She smiled proudly. 

The therapist sighed. “Natasha. That's not how therapy works. We deal with your issues. Not someone else's.” 

Natasha scoffed, grumpy until she got a text from you.

Malyshka

-come here-

-dropped pin-

“Well, see ya next time, Katie.” Natasha blew her a kiss before walking out of the door.

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Natasha walked through the building to find the dead body surrounded by police. “Oh, dear! Someone's session went poorly.” 

“Mm. Thanks for gracing us with your presence.” 

Natasha looked over your tired form, a stripey black and white t-shirt covered by a beige trench coat, black jeans held up by your belt consisting of your gun and badge. 

She smirked. “Yes, I had a previous engagement. Therapy twice in one day - so LA of me.” 

“Dr. Bernie Shaw. Killed last night. No forced entry. Killer most likely knew the vic. The weapon was improvised. Seems like a crime of passion.” You reported to her, having already analysed the crime scene.

“Right. Yeah. Have you ever seen a therapist?”

You looked at Natasha incredulously at her random and slightly intruding question. 

“You know, for your pent-up anger and your trust issues. And your attraction to very dull men.” She clarified.

“Let's just focus on the case, shall we?” You offered her a department-issued Surface tablet, a website already up.

“Well, I will, once it's interesting.” Natasha took it, looking at it with one glance before her eyes lit up and she looked back. “Oh! It is interesting. ‘The Cheater Therapist’?”

“Yeah, he encouraged couples to cheat to save their marriages. You can imagine how many people want to kill him.” You sighed, shaking your head.

“I can't, actually. Sounds like a great idea.” 

“You don't save a marriage by sleeping with other people.” 

“It can't hurt to try.” 

“Pretty sure it can.” You stepped past the redhead, leading her to follow you out to a seating room where a man and a woman.

“That's the wife Alexandra. She was out of town and just got back to find her husband dead.” You murmured.

“Poor woman. Excuse me!” She yelled out, giving you the tablet. 

“Your husband was the Cheater Therapist.” She pointed at the sniffling woman.

The man beside her stepped in front of her. “Hey, I'm not sure who you are, but this is not the time for judgement.” 

Natasha scoffed with a smirk. “What? No judgement here, Tissue Lad. I think her husband's work was bang on!” 

“I'm Detective Valeria. This is my associate, Ms. Romanoff.” You shook the man’s hand, but Natasha didn’t.

“Jonathan Medina. Colleague of Dr. Shaw's.” He introduced himself.

Natasha knelt before the crying woman. “Desire shouldn't be contained, it's unnatural. Your husband recognised that.” 

“Bernie, h-he just wanted to help people. He dedicated his life to others. Who would do this?” She asked her, whimpering and sniffling. 

“We'll find out, Mrs. Shaw.” You promised, gently tugging on Natasha’s shoulder to make her follow you.

“Yes?” The redhead grinned as she looked down at you. 

“Every one of her husband's patients is a suspect.” You sighed in annoyance, but strangely, it wasn’t at her.

“Oh! Does that mean we get to dive into patient files? Read the deepest, darkest secrets of L.A.'s most unfaithful?” She rubbed her hands together sadistically.

“No.” You warned her, smacking her hands apart. “We can't look at them without a psychologist to protect patient confidentiality.” 

“Perfect! I have just the psychologist!”

You frowned. 

“Dr. Kate Bishop, from our first investigation together? Ringing any bells up there?” She playfully tapped your temple. 

“The one that wanted to jump your bones? No. Not happening.” You shook your head. 

“No, I really think she'd bring some impressive insight into the issues that you're dealing with. Uh, in the case, obviously.” She quickly added.

“I really don't. Plus, it's out of our hands. Court-appointed. A judge needs to sign off.” You explained, walking towards the exit.

She chased after you. “Do you, uh… do you know who will appoint the psychologist?” 

“I think her name is Judge Tourvel. She’s our precinct’s normal judge for cases like this. Why?” 

You really shouldn’t have told her that.

The next day, you scoffed at the note on your case file before driving to the psychologist office, seeing Natasha and Kate conversing over papers. You knocked on the door, still wanting to be polite to the doctor, but you glared at Natasha.

“Natasha…” You growled.

“Ah! Speak of the Me.” She smiled gleefully, turning to you. 

“Out here. Now.” You pointed to the lobby, closing the door behind her.

You paced a bit as she stood there patiently in a suit of black on black, her hands in her pockets before you faced her. “What did you do?” 

“Not what, but who, if you must know. But I try not to kiss and tell.” She grinned. 

“I told you I didn't want to go with Dr. Bishop. We need someone impartial, which means not trying to get in your pants. What...?” You trailed off, her eyes just not focused on you which became evident when she walked around you. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

“Not really. Look. A new doctor's moved in. Dr. Belova. How peculiar.” She murmured. 

“What do you mean?” You mumbled, annoyed that she was taking more interest in a name than a case.

“Well, Belova stems from the Russian word Bely, meaning white. It’s just… Never mind.” She turned around to face you.

“Now look, I assure you, Dr. Bishop is excellent. She trained at Stanford, she lectures at USC, she's got stacks of awards…” 

“Since when are you her fangirl?” You asked curiously.

“Since I became a client.” She replied.

“You? You're really in therapy?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“Natasha, don’t take this the wrong way, but… well, you could if you wanted to - but you're the least reflective person I know.” You chuckled.

“I have layers.” She grumbled, a tone of discontent with your light insult. “I'm like an onion. Or an ogre, but if I was to be an ogre, I’d be irresistible. Dr. Kate said we recently made a breakthrough, in fact.”

“Why do I think that's code for sex? And do you still think you're the Devil?” 

“In that particular context, no. And I am the Devil.” 

“Then excuse me if I doubt her skills.” You remarked.

“Look, she's helped me, all right? And I think she can be of help here.” 

“Excuse me.” Kate came from around the corner. “I found something.” 

“Well, hello.” Natasha grinned. 

“What is it?” You asked, ignoring the redhead. 

“A patient named Richard Kester. His wife convinced him to try Dr. Shaw's therapy.” The doctor explained.

“Hmm, let me guess - didn't end well?” 

She nodded. “She had an affair. They got divorced. And then Richard sent Dr. Shaw a death threat. It's been more than a year, but that kind of anger can bubble up when you least expect it.” 

“Add him to the list of angry patients.” You told her. 

“That's just it. Richard's the only one so far. Dr. Shaw's patients seem remarkably happy with him.” She shrugged.

“Oh, do they now? See, cheater therapy works. Maybe you should've tried it with Detective Douche. Or was that what broke you apart?” Natasha feigned realisation.

You turned to face her, ever so slowly as you gave her a deadpan expression. “What is wrong with you lately?”

You then faced Kate. “Would you mind sitting in the back of the car whilst we go investigate?”

“Of course not. I’ll just lock my office and get my phone.” She walked back into the office.

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“So I don't understand all this jealousy talk. I mean, why covet something someone else has? Why not just take it?” Natasha asked, confused as she sat in the passenger seat whilst you drove.

“'Cause it's never that easy.” You chuckled. 

“Well, it is for me. Usually.” She looked at you, watching you roll your eyes again before she fiddled with the rings on her fingers. 

“I, uh… I may have overstepped earlier in regards to Detective Douche.”  

“Yeah. You definitely may have.” You snickered. 

“So why did you two separate anyway?” Natasha asked. 

You gave her a quick glance before turning your eyes back to the road. “Well, there were many aspects. He did sleep with another woman, Sharon, but the job was also more important to him than me and Peggy.” 

You sighed. “But lately something's changed. He... he makes time for me, he makes time for us. He's really putting in an effort. I am gay though…”

Natasha was unsure of why you sounded a bit hesitant. “Yes, if ever anyone deserved a participation trophy, it's Steve.”

You chuckled before your phone rang. “Valeria.”

“Uh, hello, Detective. It's about Richard. I wanted to warn you. He may be unstable. Possibly dangerous.” Kate spoke over the phone.

“I'll handle it, but thanks.”

“I don't mean to you. I mean to himself.”

A siren whooped to your side and you saw people filming above. You looked up and your mouth fell open at the sight of Richard standing at the edge of his apartment complex’s roof. “Yeah, you may be right. Natasha?” 

You turned to face her. But she wasn’t there. 

“Oh, my God. There's another one!” A bystander exclaimed, and you mentally wanted to hit yourself.

*Please, please, please… Fuck’s sake.* You thought to yourself as you saw Natasha standing up there. 

“Hey, Detective! You need your roots done!” Natasha grinned at you from the roof.

“I am going to kill you, Natasha Romanoff.” You muttered under your breath.

Natasha turned to Richard as he stared at the ground below. “I've made up my mind. You can't stop me.” His bald egg-head with a face and glasses spoke, not looking at Natasha.

“What? Oh, no. I'm not here to stop you. If you want to jump, go for it.” She chuckled, waving at you.

Richard was confused. “Is this some kind of reverse psychology?”   

“No, quite serious. Go for it.” She retorted.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes.” 

“I do have one question before you pop off.” She interrupted just as his feet shuffled near the edge, her hand coming in front of the side of his chest to stop him. 

“You see, I'm trying to understand jealousy. It's a new concept to me. And you, dear Ricky, are the perfect person to explain it.” 

“What are you talking about...?” He trailed off as his feet slipped, Natasha’s hand catching his shirt easily. 

“Manners, Ricky. Manners! We're not done talking yet!” She held him out, glancing over his shoulder to see your eyes steeled in a shocked yet slightly angered expression.

“Okay, I'll talk!! Pull me back up, please!” Richard begged.

“Are you sure? 'Cause I could just…” She jolted her hold on him, the crowd below screaming slightly. “Natasha!” You yelled, swearing under your breath. 

“Pull me back up! Pull me up, please! Oh, God.” Richard closed his eyes, holding onto Natasha’s hand and wrist. 

“I'd save your breath if I were you. When it comes to this sort of thing, he's quite judgy.” She grumbled, looking at the sky annoyedly whilst she pulled him to her side. 

“Right, back to the matter in hand. Now, you were so jealous that you murdered Dr. Shaw. Can you help me understand why?” 

“How could you say that? I was about to jump, because he's dead-”

“Don't fib, Rickster. I know about your death threats.” She wagged her finger in his eyes. 

He shook his head. “I was in a bad place. Kara had just dumped me. I made my threats. Then I went to his office-”

“And killed him.” 

“And he talked me down.” Richard corrected her. “And afterwards, he kept seeing me, even though he knew I couldn't afford to pay him. I mean, he'd got me through my divorce, bankruptcy, the death of my parrot.” 

“Oh. I've just realised you're not jealous, are you? You're just sad. Pathetic, really.” Natasha sighed, having now wasted her time. “Well, if you can't tell me what I need to know, what good are you?” 

“Aren't you supposed to tell me that I have a lot to live for?” Richard scoffed. 

“Well, I wish I could, Ricky, but your life sounds incredibly bleak. Ironically, it seems there's nowhere to go but up.” She shrugged. 

“You know what? You're right.” 

“Huh?” 

“Maybe the worst is behind me. Hmm… I think I'm ready to go in now.” Richard decided.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Well, I wasn't asking, but, uh, all right, go on, quick as you can. Come on, chop, chop.”

As Richard stepped off, Natasha gave the firemen and the crowd a thumbs up,from which she earned some cheering and clapping. 

As Natasha stepped out of the building’s foyer, you stood there, shaking your head. “I can't believe you, Natasha.” 

“What? You should be thanking me.” She grinned.

“You put yourself in danger! That’s not how we do things.” You hissed at her, but Natasha simply grinned.

“What?”

“You were worried about me.” She smirked, leaning in slightly.

“I’m alright, malyshka. Don’t you worry about me.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked past her, but you gently tapped her hand for her to follow you. Richard was sitting in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a blanket. 

“All right, Richard, we confirmed your alibi with your neighbour. You're free to go.” You smiled gently.

“How did this happen? Poor Sandy.” He asked. 

“Who's Sandy?” 

“Dr. Shaw's wife, Alexandra. Her friends all call her Sandy.” 

“Okay, and you're friends with your therapist's wife?” You mentally took note of it.

“Yes, how open was his relationship therapy, hmm?” Natasha grinned. 

Richard shook his head. “No, it's nothing like that. That's just how the Shaws are. They go above and beyond. I just ran into her two days ago. Sandy was planning a surprise for Dr. Shaw and everything.” 

“You ran into her two days ago... are you sure about that?” You frowned, to which he nodded.

“Alexandra told us she was in Phoenix. We checked her alibi. She had plane tickets to prove it. What was the surprise?” You asked. 

“I don't know. She just asked me not to tell Dr. Shaw she was in town.” He shrugged.

“Uh-huh.” Natasha nodded, looking at you.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked her, to which she shrugged and followed behind you to your car. 

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Lux was almost empty, save a few customers, as Kate walked down the stairs and towards the bar, eyeing the Romani bartender serving drinks to a biker.

“We're closed.” She grumbled, pouring bourbon in a glass. 

“You must be Wanda.” Kate smiled, watching the demon’s head rise to meet her eyes. “You're just as Natasha described.” 

Wanda sauntered over to the end of the bar, smirking as she eyed the doctor’s body whilst pouring her own drink. “So, you're the doctor.” 

“Oh, call me Kate. Pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand for Wanda to shake, but she just grabbed the glass and sipped her bourbon.

The demon wore a very low cut top that revealed the top of her lace black bra, whilst small spikes poked out onto her shoulders and in two necklaces, jeans hidden below the bar counter.

“I've seen that look in women before. Won't end well.” Wanda commented after finishing her sip. 

“What won't?” Kate frowned, confused. 

“Sleeping with my boss.” The demon clarified. “You'll end up like all the others. Trash left by the side of the road.”

“Interesting.” Kate smiled. 

“What?” 

“Well, I find people who are rude usually feel powerless in their own lives. Terrified of not being in control. But that's not you, I'm sure.” Kate analysed her. 

Wanda simply grinned, tapping her nails on the counter in quick succession. “I like you.”

As Kate was joined by you and Natasha, Wanda moved off to the side, serving the customers once more.  

“Doctor? What a surprise.” Natasha smiled. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked politely. 

Her brows frowned cutely. “I thought you asked me to meet you here.” 

“That-that was me. I felt like it would be good to get your input on ‘the case’.” Natasha looked from the doctor to you quickly, whilst you didn’t notice the wiggling eyebrows and slight inflection in her voice. 

“That's a good idea, actually, especially since our last suspect almost ended up sidewalk art. Turns out Mrs. Shaw flew to Phoenix but rented a car and drove back a couple days early.” You explained to Kate.

“So, dear, sweet Sandy was here just in time for the murder.” Natasha grinned as she collected a drink of her own.

“Wait, Alexandra Shaw goes by ‘Sandy’?” Kate asked, to which you nodded. “The doctor had a female patient who was stalked by someone with the initials S.S.” 

“He used initials in his notes? Mine never did.” You puzzled. 

“I found it odd as well. Why conceal someone's identity in private notes? But I thought it wasn't related, so I just ignored it.” Kate shrugged.

“Unless S.S. stands for Sandy Shaw. If she was stalking one of her husband's female patients…”

“Then maybe Dr. Shaw was engaged in his own open-relationship therapy.” 

“And Sandy found out. So maybe she wasn't okay with it as she claimed.” You finished off your 1-2-1-2 with Kate before your phone rang.

“Excuse me. Valeria. Yeah, this is 831. Oh, yeah, tell him I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay, thank you. That was dispatch. Steve's phone died, and he wants me to meet him at my place. Apparently it's urgent.”

As you were about to take off, however, Natasha’s eyes rolled. “Oh, how convenient. What's next, he spills something on his shirt and he has to take it off? Oh, no, the trousers, too. Whatever will he do about Detective Y/N by his side?”

You looked at her incredulously. “What?” 

“What, so that's it? You just go running as soon as Steve calls? What about the case?”

You sighed. “This could relate to another case I'm working on, Natasha. There's units looking for Sandy now. And once they find her, they'll call me.” 

You gave Kate a simple ‘bye’ with a respectful nod before leaving her and Natasha alone. 

“Unbelievable. You see what I'm dealing with now, don't you?” Natasha scoffed, downing the rest of her bourbon without a flinch in her face. 

“I think I do, actually. It's worse than I realised.” Kate nodded, faking seriousness.

“Thank you.” The devil shook her head. 

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You entered your house quickly, realising you hadn’t drank or eaten anything that day and headed straight to the kitchen. 

Mindless of the threat in your house.

“Hey, Steve. What did you find out?” You asked as you passed a male figure. 

“Surprise.”

You spun to see Malcolm in his leather jacket and jeans with a zip-up hoodie and a green tee. You flicked your jacket back and gripped your holster tightly, your breath shuddering at the sight of the man. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! I just wanted to talk.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“You act all chummy in public, then you break into my home, trick me into meeting you in private? Excuse me if I'm not trusting.” You hissed.

“Hey, I'm not armed. All right?” He stood and flicked his jacket up, showing no belt, badge or gun. 

“All right. Then talk.” 

“I had to meet with you where no one else could hear.” He explained shortly. 

“Hear what, my screams?” You scoffed, making him chuckle.

“Valeria, we're on the same side. And I know you're still looking into Palmetto. Well, guess what? So am I.” 

“I put that to bed a long time ago.”

“That the best you got? God, you're a decent cop, but you are a terrible liar. Come on! Palmetto stinks. I should know. I was there.” He snickered.

“Mm-hmm. Go ahead, say it. I look dirty.” He opened his arms, exposing himself. 

You hesitated before lifting your finger to point at him, angry. “I saw you meet with Nikolas Aoudi. You were laughing. I saw you hand him cash.” 

“I've used him as a CI before. I was buying information. Then we both got sh*t. And I think it was a cop who sh*t me. But you knew that already, didn't you?” He grinned, folding his arms behind his back like a sneaky little shit.

You took a moment to breathe, not wanting your emotions to escalate. “Why do you think it was a cop?” 

“That's what I was paying Aoudi for. Intel on someone crooked at our station. But I think he, or she, got to me first.” 

“That's a great story. I love the ending. It-it really ties up all the loose ends.” You sighed sarcastically.

“Not really. I can't explain how the crooked cop knew I was there. How'd you find me?” He asked.

“I followed the stench.” 

He chuckled annoyedly. “You followed the... You know what? Screw this. I only called you to try and help.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Listen, Valeria, they pulled the plug on me. I was dead.” 

He hit a nerve and the raging woman inside you retreated to lick her guilt-filled wounds. “I-I know.” 

“Made me appreciate the time I've got here. So, personally, I don't think I'm gonna dig any deeper on this one. And I wouldn't if I were you either.” 

“Not sure if that's a warning or a threat.” Your eyebrow raised.

“I'm not the enemy, Y/N. But whoever we were investigating, they're still out there. And they clearly don't have a problem shooting cops.” 

As he retreated out of your house, your phone rang again. “Valeria.” 

“We found Mrs. Shaw in a parking structure. We’re holding her here until you get here, so be quick.” An officer reported before hanging up, to which you called another as you went out to your car.

“Hey, Natasha - meet me outside Lux with Doctor Bishop in three.”

When you arrived, the two were standing outside by the curb. They climbed in, with Kate sitting in the back behind the caged divider whilst Natasha sat in the passenger seat. 

“Unis found Sandy Shaw in her car in a parking structure.” You reported to the Russian woman. 

“Oh, well, I hope our case didn't ruin your kissy-time with Steve.” She rolled her eyes.

“What is with your recent obsession with my love life?” You looked at her briefly.

“Obsession? That's awfully defensive. Probably indicates deeper issues, wouldn't you say?” She instantly turned to face Kate in the back seat.

“I agree. Why are you so defensive, Natasha?” 

Your eyes widened, happy to finally have somebody supporting you against this… unfortunately powerful woman. “Good question.” 

Natasha looked betrayed. “Et tu, Doctor?” 

“Natasha, you asked me to analyse the situation.” Kate replied.

“No, I asked you to help figure out what's wrong with her.” She pointed at you, which wasn’t the best time to admit that because you could give her a stare, given that you were at a red light.

“Did you now?” You raised an eyebrow, which… kind of scared her.

“Nothing's wrong with her. She's a woman balancing a lot on her plate, and, as far as I can tell, doing a fantastic job.” Kate elaborated, making your heart sing.

“Why, thank you. You're right, Natasha, she's amazing.” You teased.

“No, she's verbal Ebola. Where's the button to put the glass up?” Natasha looked around your console, which only controlled GPS, Bluetooth, your sirens, speaker and air-con. 

“This isn't a limo, Natasha. And, Dr. Kate, you should really join us more often.” You chuckled.

“Getting double-teamed is usually much more fun than this.” Natasha grumbled.

That was a mental picture your hindbrain adored and forebrain despised. “Mm. Gross.” ⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖

“So you lied to us. You were in town the day your husband died.” You stood opposite Alexandra - Sandy - as the uniformed officers surrounded the area.

“Yes. But it's not what you think.” She started to explain.

“Okay, then help me understand.” 

“Sandy, I'm on your side.” Natasha lightly pushed you out of the way, getting her mojo to work on the woman whilst she took her hand.

“Not everything stems from jealousy, no matter what these women tell you. You came here driven by some kind of desire, didn't you? Come on. You can tell me. What was it?” 

“It's disgusting.” Sandy sighed.

“Ooh, you naughty girl. Come on, now you have to tell me.” She teased.

“It's... in my car.” She unlocked the boot of it, to which you slowly waited for it to open.

“What is, Sandy?” Natasha grinned.

“Poop. Bags and bags of it.” Sandy admitted.

“Oh, my God.” You resisted the urge to gag, covering your nose with your hand which honestly didn’t do much.

All six foot four of Natasha immediately stepped back, shaking Sandy’s hand out of her own. “I'm not sure whether to be horrified or impressed.” 

“My friend owns a horse.” Sandy added. 

“That's… oddly comforting to know. What were you gonna do with it?” You asked.

“I was going to throw it at Tiffany.” 

“That's the patient you were accused of stalking.” Kate interjected.

Sandy nodded. “Yeah. She's in a group therapy session right now for my husband's clients.” 

“Group cheater therapy. Oh, the imagination runs wild.” Natasha chuckled.

You stepped forward, further into Sandy’s field of view. “So Tiffany was sleeping with your husband. How'd you find out?” 

“My husband's colleague, Dr. Medina, called me. He wanted to see if Bernie wanted to grab a last-minute drink, but Bernie was supposed to already be with Dr. Medina. That's when I knew my husband lied to me.” 

“But he was the cheater therapist. I don't quite see the problem here. I mean, you said yourself-”

Sandy interjected Natasha. “The problem is he fell in love with her. I lied to him about my trip, then I drove back from Phoenix to see what he was doing. I was…” 

Natasha groaned. “Oh, don't say it.” 

“Jealous.” 

The devil growled aloud. “Yes, yes, we all get it! Jealousy makes the world go cuckoo bananas!”

“I loved him. I didn't kill him. I just wanted him back.” Sandy sniffled, tearing up.

Further down in the car park, you spotted Steve’s car pulling up, anger painted clear as day across his face.

“Oh, great. The douche-mobile.” Natasha scoffed, folding her arms across her suit.

“Give me a second.” You asked her quietly, your tone immediately alerting her.

You swung underneath the metal pole and jumped down the metre to the road, walking to Steve. “Hey, I got your text. You okay? Did Malcolm hurt you?” He asked.

“No. I told you, it's-it's fine. Everything's fine.” You replied.

Steve exhaled frustratedly. “I'm gonna punch that son of a bitch right back into a coma.” 

“Oh, come on. No. No.” You pointed at him, making sure he understood your view. “Anything back on the 999 key?” 

“I'm sorry, Y/N. They couldn't get any prints off of it.” He replied.

“Thanks anyway.” You smiled softly.

Once you returned to the car, the uniformed officers now taking her to the station for questioning, you sighed as you stood next to Kate. “And once again, Natasha disappears.” 

“I think the case may have hit a little too close to home.” Kate pursed her lips slightly.

“Maybe things got a little too boring for Ms. Short Attention Span.” You chuckled, looking at Sandy as she sat in the car.

“I don't know. She's grown quite a bit since working with you.” Kate admitted. 

“I'm not sure I'm the reason. I think you've really helped her. I underestimated you before. I'm sorry.” You apologised. 

“Not needed. But thank you.” 

You chuckled softly to yourself as a thought came to your mind. “And I thought... I thought you were sleeping with her.” 

“Oh, I am.” The noirette admitted. 

“Oh. Oh. Is, um... is that...?” 

“Ethical? No. No, it is not.” Kate sighed. “But there's something about her. I can't stop myself. But I think it's time I did. I mean, even I'm starting to feel…” 

You shook your head at her, asking her silently to discontinue that line of conversation. 

“So do you think she did it?” She changed it. 

“Sandy claims she was sitting outside Tiffany's house, waiting for Dr. Shaw to show up. Problem is, no one can corroborate her alibi. But, no, I don't think it was her.” You shook your head. 

You took a few steps forward as you thought, racking your brain for a clue of some sort. “So there's no one in Dr. Shaw's files that looked like a potential suspect?” 

“Not that I can tell, but maybe I missed something.” Kate shrugged.

“Like what?” You pondered aloud.

“The cheater therapist turned out to be terrible at cheating. Why didn't he tell Dr. Medina he was using him as a cover story?” 

“Maybe he did. Maybe he confided in Dr. Medina.” 

“But Mrs. Shaw said that Dr. Medina had no idea about the affair.” 

“Yeah, so he conveniently told her everything she needed to know to figure it out.” A light bulb went off in your head. “We need to talk to Dr. Medina.” 

Natasha was tired of these stupid humans in this stupid grief group therapy session led by Dr. Medina for the death of Dr. Shaw. After twenty minutes of discussion, and even opening it up for debate, she had enough.

“When you say you, uh, b*rned your wings, was that a metaphor...?” 

“Not focusing on the right details here, Alan!” She sighed, annoyed.

Dr. Medina stood. “All right, this is supposed to be a grief therapy session for the patients of Dr. Shaw. And everyone here has a terrible loss to deal with.”

“What, and I don't? I've lost both my therapist and my partner.” She scoffed.

“I'm s... Th-They died?” He stammered. 

“No. No, you blubbering idiot, they turned on me. Some would argue that's worse- have you not been listening at all?” 

“Alright, you need to leave.”   

“No, I'm close to something. I can feel it.” She replied, nibbling lightly on her thumb knuckle.

“This is not about you!” Dr. Medina blurted out.

Her eyes lit up. “You're right. Yes… I should use one of you as a case study. Thank you for volunteering. So what... what makes you jealous? Hmm? What do you desire that you can't have?”

She willed her mojo onto him, staring him in the eyes. “I… I want Sandy.” He replied.

She grinned slightly. “I remember you now. Tissue Lad! Wanted some open relationship therapy of your own, is that it?” 

“That's not what it is like.” He groaned. 

“But she didn't want you, did she? Sandy loved her husband, so you killed him, didn't you?” 

“Shut up!” He yelled. 

She gasped playfully, looking at him like she won the jackpot. “Solved it, haven't I?!”

Dr. Medina spun around to the buffet table and grabbed a sharp knife, walking towards Natasha and holding it to her throat until they stopped at a wall, the other patients scrambling out of the way. 

“So that's a yes.” She muttered to herself. “Do you realise what you've done?” 

“I had to kill him, all right? He lied to her. He cheated on her. And I tried to tip her off, but no matter what he did, she still loved him.” 

“No, no, not that. This. Right here. You've just given me the perfect example of unbridled jealousy.” 

“I'm not jealous. I'm not!” He pleaded, almost begging her to tell him so.

“The woman that you loved was with someone else, someone you thought wasn't worthy of her. But no matter what you did…” She paused, the wires connecting as her winning grin fell sympathetically. 

“She never saw you the way you wanted her to.” 

“That's... That's pretty accurate.”

“Yeah. You've just made me realise something. That my situation and yours are…” And the wires uncrossed again. “Absolutely nothing alike. I was right! Not jealous!” 

“Drop your weapon!” You tackled Medina and threw him to the ground, rolling over him and removing the knife from his grip before he bit your hand, making you pull it back before whacking him point-blank with your elbow. 

You got on top, kneeling on his side whilst you pushed his head away from his arm. “Did you seriously just bite me?” 

Natasha grinned from where she stood. “He's the killer.” 

“Yeah, you think?” You smirked. 

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The night had risen from the sun’s sleep and you walked out of the small banquet room onto the street, smiling gently at Natasha as she leaned against her Corvette with a cigarette in hand.

You watched her carefully. “So you were right about Kate. She helped me figure out the motive. And then I realised Jonathan Medina and Dr. Shaw's offices shared the same security system. So I checked and... You're not listening to me, are you?”

She looked at you apologetically. “Afraid not, Y/N.” 

You came a bit closer to her, holding your arms in front of you with your hand clasped around the other wrist. “You didn't see any similarity between yourself and Jonathan?” 

“So you heard some of that, did you?” She smiled softly. 

“Tail end.” You nodded. 

She sighed, which worried you slightly when it was coupled with the unreadable expression on her face. “I don't know. Did you?” 

You shook your head, lying through your teeth for her comfort. “Mm-mm. No. Completely different.” 

“That's what I thought.” She chuckled lightly, inviting you to stand next to her. “I promise, you won’t scratch her. And even if you do, I can just get it fixed.”

You hesitantly leaned on her car, keeping away from her cigarette smoke. 

“So… how's your secret case with Steve going?” She asked.

“Secretly terrible. Do you remember Malcolm?” 

“Coma boy?” 

You chuckled at her nickname for him, nodding. “He woke up. He claims he's innocent. Something he said bothers me. Whoever shot him knew about Palmetto, but he says that no one should have known he was there.” 

“Well, you found him there.”

“Yeah, I... He pointed that out, too. So, whoever followed him could have done what I did.”

“So how did you track him?” She took a puff. 

“Partners on the force share GPS locators in their gear so that they can find each other in emergencies.” 

“You hacked his partner's locator. I knew you were clever.” She smirked, noticing your realisation expression. 

“Which means… Malcolm's partner knew he was there, too. Tony Paolucci knew.”

Natasha held up her keys before the doors of the car unlocked, popping out slightly. “Get in, gorgeous.”

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You stepped out of Natasha’s car just outside of the Paddock Lounge, looking across the street whilst Natasha knocked on the door. 

“That's Paolucci's car, just like his GPS said.” 

“But the bar's closed.” Natasha grumbled. 

“Maybe he decided to keep the party going.” You stepped up close to the window to look inside, hearing the door creak beside you. 

“You have to stop doing that.” You chastised her. 

“It was unlocked.” She rolled her eyes, watching your hand shoot out to stop her from walking in.

“Me first.” You held up your torch and gun, stepping in front of her to go inside.

The whole bar was surrounded in darkness. Your torch scanned over the place as you called for Paolucci, but there was no voice back. By the bar on the right, were glasses splattered with blood.

And Paolucci’s dead body sat in a chair, with a TV screen running statically behind him. 

“At least you can see what he was thinking.” Natasha murmured by your shoulder, making you scoff.

You called the cops and they swarmed the place, placing evidence pointers and taking many photos. You sighed in relief as you saw Steve come through the door, Natasha hanging back with a flask in hand.

You walked up to your ex-husband. “I found a suicide note.” You showed it to him in an evidence packet.

“In his handwriting?” He asked.

“Sure looks like it. Apparently, he was on the take. Malcolm was onto him, so Paolucci shot him. When Malcolm woke up, Paolucci couldn't take the guilt anymore.”

You saw no emotion in his eyes, yet tears lightly pricked them. “You okay?” 

“Paolucci was an ass, but this... I can't imagine this.” Steve muttered. 

“I know. I know.” You hugged him tightly.

As you exited the bar, you stood on the curb silently. Everything that had happened over the last few days was catching up. Your hand at your side began to tap along your fingers methodically until a warm hand took them gently.

“Hey now, what’s going on in that beautiful mind?” Natasha cooed, leading you towards her car.

You didn’t speak until you were buckled into the passenger seat. “Malcolm came to my house this morning. He pretended to be Steve and called to meet me there.”

Natasha’s eyes would have lit up in flames if you were not in a fragile state of mind. “He did what?”

“He explained what he thought about Palmetto. He has his suspicions of who it could be. Some low-level cops, wanting to get their first big break and make detective.” You mumbled, noticing how she played with her rings.

“I will put him back in that coma in a heartbeat if he threatens you or tricks you again.” She seethed.

You gently put your hand on top of hers, calming her immensely. “I just… I need to go home and let the babysitter go. Could you take me?”

She nodded, immediately starting the engine. Funnily enough, however, neither of you moved away from your small contact until you got out of the car and she walked you to your door.

“Thank you.” You murmured.

“For what, malyshka?” She asked quietly.

“For being my partner. You give me a perspective I never imagined I would have thought of.” You smiled softly.

She gently pushed a few hairs back over your ear, hearing your breath hitch as she moved to pull you into a hug. “You’re always welcome, Y/N.” 

She kissed your temple sweetly before going back to her car, giving you a wink before she sped off towards the city.

However, had she taken a left turn earlier, she would have happened upon the scene of Malcolm and Steve secretly meeting, the two talking between their cars.

“Evening, Steve.” Malcolm greeted him. 

“I got your text. What do you want?” He asked.

“Just wanted to congratulate you on closing Palmetto. You and that smart, sexy lady of yours caught the guy who shot me.” 

Steve looked… nervous. Fidgety. “That's what the confession said, right?”

He looked around briefly before speaking lower. “How long did it take you to write it?”

Malcolm held a straight face for about three seconds before laughing out loud. “Forever! I mean, I'm so not a word guy.” 

Steve looked confused. “What? You should be thanking me.” Malcolm scoffed. 

“Why is that?” 

“Well, I could have told everyone the truth... that you shot me.” 

“Well why didn't you?” 

Malcolm came closer to him. “Cause I like you. And I can't imagine what would happen to your life if people found out the truth. Your colleagues, your ex…” 

Steve seethed slightly, grabbing Malcolm by the collar and throwing him up against his car. “I swear to God, I will-”

“What? shoot me? Ah, been there, done that. Big fail. Besides, you wouldn't want anything to mess with your pretty little family now that you're working to fix things, right?” 

“Whatever you want to do to me, you keep them out of it.” 

Malcolm gestured for the blonde to put him down. “Steve. Come on. I'm not gonna hurt anyone. No. No, no, no, no, no. You... you and I... we're gonna be best friends. Yeah. Because I got big plans for you. Big plans.”

Steve grimaced as Malcolm put him in a playful headlock. Fun, right? We're having fun now.”

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Lux was pumping with music as Natasha came in, but she didn’t greet anybody playfully, oh no - Natasha was on a mission, as pointed out to her main demon as she used a single finger to beckon her.

Wanda walked over in nothing but a bra-like top and skirt, smirking unknowingly. “Yes, My Queen?”

“I just learned the strangest thing. Spoiler alert, Yelena found Dr. Kate. She was an angel on her shoulder, trying to control me. I wonder how my dear, angelic sister got such a wickedly clever idea.”

Natasha stared daggers into Wanda’s eyes, the demon lifting her chin up slightly as she tried to defend herself. “I did it to protect you. I told you, whatever the danger, I'll be there to stop it. Whether you see it coming or not.”

“You betrayed me, Wanda. And not for my own good. You did it for yourself. Who is this human world really rubbing off on, hey? Me? Or you?”

“Natasha, I…” 

Natasha lifted her finger, the demon silencing by her quiet order. “Ah. Don't want to hear it. 'Cause you and me, we're done.”

The devil walked off with Wanda's drink in hand, putting on a smile as she now began to greet guests like normal whilst Wanda was left sulking behind the bar.

[crispbeigepages]

~Little Lovin' Under the Stars~

CW|Swearing, Drug & alcohol use

Little surprise gift for my fren @neohart!! Feeding ur brainworms homie

Lewis had found himself in a pickle.

There he was, sitting at a giant fancy-shmancy party held by his ex, a party he couldn't seem to weasle his way out of.

To chase some of the pain, he decided he was gonna get drunk off his ass for some semblance of a good time. His other savior was his partner in crime, Warren Glass.

Warren was as bright and eccentric as his striking ginger hair and quite playful to boot.

Both men looked extremely out of place amongst the highfalutin upperclassmen they were surrounded by. They felt just as much out of place themselves, given all the glares and whispered remarks about their dingy cowboy getup.

Lewis was currently on his third glass of whiskey, plain and neat, just as he liked it. Warren, on the other hand, was busy with snatching up his cigar.

He had quite the habit of taking Lewis's cigars and never once buying his own.

The redhead took a long drag of the stolen cigar with a grin on his face.

"Y'know Lewis, I sweat yer cigars are the best ones I ever had."

Lewis quirked a brow at the comment before sighing lowly.

"Y'aint had any other ones, smartass."

Warren let out a snort, his face scrunching as he snickered.

He took another drag before snuffing the cigar out, leaving the last half of it for Lewis to smoke later. The cowboy's eyes then landed on Lewis with a sly grin.

He was definitely plotting something.

"Heey Pardner~"

Warren's playful drawl was nearly lost in the sea of awful rich people music, the kind you couldn't stand unless you had a million bucks to shove into your ears to cover it.

Lewis shot Warren a glare.

"No."

"I ain't even said anythin' yet!"

"I know what yer gonna ask, no."

Warren's pout was a common sight to Lewis. Trying to look like a kicked puppy was his attempt at swaying Lewis in his favor.

It only worked some of the time.

"C'moon! Just one lil' dance wit yer precious pardner, Darlin'~?"

Lewis felt his face heat up at that nickname. Damn him and his flattery..

"Go find some other sorry sucker t'dance with, I ain't interested."

He crossed his arms and turned his head away from Warren lest that pout actually tug his heartstrings enough for him to cave.

Warren let out a whine.

"But none o' these stuck-up asshats are purdy enough t'dance with!"

Lewis made a mental note to not sit next to Warren in the future because he didn't think he could handle the way the other leaned against him, the feel of his soft hair brushing against his jaw gave him goosebumps.

"... If I say yes will ya shut the hell up?"

The way Warren's face lit up was a clear indication of his answer.

Much to his surprise though, Warren was dragging him away from the dance floor.

The redhead must've caught his confused look, judging by the grin on his face.

"I got a good spot away from these hoity-toity suckasses."

That seemed to be the only clarification Lewis was gonna get.

Soon the two cowboys snuck through a foliage filled hallway and out to a small balcony. There was a complete view of the whole town just below them, all the lights from the windows shining like the stars above.

Warren turned around to face Lewis with a playfully lopsided smirk on his face, holding out his hand.

"Care to dance with yer pardner under the stars?"

Lewis felt his heart flutter, practically trying to jump out of his chest. He knew Warren was a flirt by nature but this was a new level!

He hesitantly took the other's hand, feeling himself get swept away into a slow dance that encapsulated Warren as a person. It was sloppy, playful, and full of life just as the sunny cowboy was.

Their dance was in tune with the faint sound of the music inside to give it some semblance of rhythm between them. At the climax of the song, Warren dipped Lewis down with a smug look, fitting a deep red rose onto the blonde's hat.

"That blush o' yers looks real purdy with this here rose, Darlin'~"

Lewis was a lawful man, straight as a signpost, but damn if Warren's flirtation didn't give him the jitters.

"D-Don't butter me up now.."

Warren brought Lewis back up before twirling him close to his chest, merely inches apart.

"Now look atcha, I gotcha stutterin'!"

He looked way too smug for Lewis's liking.

Any further protest was silenced by the sudden weight of Warren's head on his shoulder, their dance now switching to a slow, romantic rhythm.

Their newfound silence was content and warm, finally giving Lewis a chance to breathe.

They continued to sway into the night to the tune of Warren's humming as if nothing else existed.

Lewis wondered when and where Warren had learned to dance like that.

That didn't matter, though, as Lewis began to come to a realization. Warren had managed to sweep him off his feet and now he'd finally found the word to describe it.

Love. It was love.

A smile etched itself onto his scruffy face, a rare sight that Warren was missing out on.

His quiet chuckle was the thing to finally break the silence between them, his breath dangerously close to the other's ear.

"What didja say 'fore about savin' too many horses?"

The playful whisper caught Warren off guard, turning his face bright as his hair. He whined out a protest that Lewis only laughed at.

Maybe this party wasn't so miserable after all..

[bumblewarden]

Also in case you feel like expanding on lore, please tell me how good Novhen, Radka and Pavle are at dealing with a cold. I am seeking reference for I too have been struck by the malady

Oh nooo. The malady will not do at all! I hope you get better soon 🤞 Sleep, soup, and acetaminophen 🥣

Now, i'm no doctor, but i do know my ocs. Equivalent levels of knowledge involved.

While Novhen is normally grateful for any chance for a break, if he has any pre-established obligations, he'll still try to attend those as long for as he's able to move around. It's one thing to skip on reviewing some documents and another to postpone a meeting with someone's traveled from the other side of the arling because he's feeling a little down

Also of note:

Novhen would definitely profess the healing properties of pickled eggs. He would be less enthused about the whiskey method, but there was one time when he was sick that Kader made him take shots of it. He was out and about again by the next day, yes, but he swears it was the eggs that did it

Pavle demands a "me day" at the slightest sign of illness. He will be curling up in bed with a never ending supply of hot chicken paprika soup, thank you very much! He hasn't forgotten his pedigree, that much is for sure...

Radka will bitch and moan. She'll also continue to work through the cold for better or worse. (Worse. It's usually worse. Don't be like Radka. Kvetching is good. Typhoid Mary Simulator is not. Take care of yourself.)

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday/Thursday

This week has been a busy week, even though it doesn't feel like I haven't got much done. 😒 I was tagged by @trulybetty and @tinytinymenace

Dieter is still on the brain, I'm going to have a poll up soon for chapter 4 of my "Weddings 101 with Dieter" because it might be fun to have ya'll choose something that will go into the next chapter.

I'll have two samples for WIPs. The first one is from the Pickled Pena challenge. I've met one of the parameters, I have pickles. 🥒 🤣 Maybe I can fit the other ones in. Details for the challenge are here: Pickled Peña 2024

“Hey old man! I’m here. You alright in there?” Javier walked into his father’s home, heading to the kitchen first to put the dish in the fridge and then went to the living room. He watched as his father had his hand in a jar of pickles, removing one and gave it a loud crunch.  “Hey hijo (son)! In here!” Chucho waved with his free hand and continued to chew the pickle before swallowing it and washing it down with some whiskey. “You can’t be drinking that. It’s the middle of the day and didn’t the doctor tell you to back off a bit?” Javier chides him and takes the glass, downing the remainder of it. Chucho frowns. “I’m an old man. Leave me be. It cleans out the pipes. Plus the pickles will wash it out too. Want one?” He offered and Javier declined, going back into the kitchen and pouring two glasses of water. He set one next to his father and sat in the chair across from him.

Sample two is from pending chapter 4 of “Weddings 101 with Dieter”

Oscar was in the Medical tent laying on his side with an ice pack on his ass cheek. He needed a way to get back at Dieter Bravo for this and his stupid goat because on top of being painful, it was humiliating. He asked his assistant to see if they could find where Bravo was staying and what he was up to while he was in Hawaii. He was gonna make sure at least to show up somewhere to freak him the fuck out and maybe fine some sort of animal to bite him too. He knew it wouldn’t be a hippo or maybe he could just hit him with his guitar. Oscar wasn’t quite sure at this point, he just knew he was angry as hell and his ass hurt. Fucking Dieter Bravo messing up his money maker like that. This is bullshit.

I also was listening Donna Summer for Dieter because maybe a one shot for that idea I popped out with Dieter brain rot. 👀 May get it done next week.

I was thinking this song:

No pressure tags: @musings-of-a-rose @laurfilijames @for-a-longlongtime @frenchiereading @megamindsecretlair @saturn-rings-writes @sp00kymulderr @morallyinept @fhatbhabie @rhoorl @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @perotovar

As a note, no actual Oscar Isaacs were harmed in the writing of this fic. 🤣🤣🤣

His assets are safe. 😘 I would never!

Look at them! 👀 🥵❤️❤️