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storiesforallfandoms · 6 months

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our next step ~ swaggersouls

word count: 1611

request?: yes!

“hey hey!! i adore your work and was wondering if you could do a swaggerwouls x fem!reader? maybe something along the lines of the reader also being a youtuber and them having a baby together and announcing it to their fans?🥺i’ve been having major baby fever lately lol. super sorry if this goes against any of your rules and it’s totally cool if you’re not comfortable writing it! :)”

description: in which they decide to tell their fans the major update in their lives

pairing: swaggersouls x female!reader

warnings: swearing, two uses of y/n, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

Being content creators with a very small social media presence outside of YouTube and Twitch made it incredibly easy to hide my pregnancy.

It’s not that we didn’t want to tell our fans. The majority of mine and Swagger’s relationship was online for everyone to see since we vlogged and gamed with each other regularly. If anything, it made more sense to tell everyone when I found out I was pregnant. And I had actually filmed most of my pregnancy to make one big vlog once the baby came.

But, like I said, the majority of our relationship was online. Not only that, but most of my life since I was in my late teens was online for the world to see. We decided that we wanted something for just ourselves, even just for a little while.

Neither of us posted on social media enough for it to be suspicious if we were suddenly MIA for months, and my face cam when I was streaming was always positioned in a way that showed me from my shoulders up, so my bump wasn’t on camera. The only thing my fans would notice was some weight gain in my face, which was easy to just say was because I had gained weight in general.

The other Misfits knew, of course. We told them shortly after we found out. Tobi was ecstatic that her son was going to have a Misfits friend. The guys were all happy for us, too, but Cam teased Swagger about being the last person in the group any of them expected to become a father.

“So, you’re giving up weed then?” Cam asked after we told him.

“Fuck no! I’ll go smoke outside instead.”

After nine long months, plus roughly six hours of labor, our baby girl came into the world and our family was complete.

She had Swagger wrapped around her tiny fingers from the second he laid his eyes on her. He loved her almost more than he loved our cats, which is definitely saying something. But, I did say almost.

A month or so after our daughter, Daisy, was born, Swagger and I were laid in bed together. I was reading while Swagger was watching stuff on his phone with little Daisy asleep on his chest. I kept glancing over at them and smiling at the sight. I couldn’t help it, seeing Swagger as a dad just made me happy. Especially seeing him with the little human that we made. It was hard to explain the level of joy I felt.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Swagger said, giving me a playful smile.

I hadn’t even realized I was staring until that moment. I shook myself out of my thoughts and retorted, “That’s not as insulting as you think it is. If I could reach my phone, I’d take so many pictures of you right now.”

“Oh, I am well aware.” He reached out to hold my hand while trying to move very little as to not wake Daisy. “What had you thinking so hard anyways?”

I looked at Daisy again, another smile involuntarily tugging at the corners of my mouth. I just couldn’t help it.

Instead of telling him what I had actually been thinking about, I found myself saying, “Should we tell our viewers about Daisy soon?”

“We did say we’d announce it after she was born,” he said. “And they’ve definitely noticed that you haven’t vlogged in months.”

“Do you think it’s time?”

Swagger looked at Daisy and asked, “What do you think, Daisy? Should we tell the world you exist?” The baby let out a heavy sigh, but otherwise didn’t move or wake up. “I think that was a yes.”

~~~~~~

The next day, I broke out the old vlog camera that I hadn’t used since before I developed my baby bump. Surprisingly, the battery hadn’t died even from lack of use.

“This feels foreign,” I said as I turned the camera on. “I haven’t vlogged in ages. I wonder if I’ll even remember how to do it.”

“You’re just setting it up to sit in front of it,” Swagger teased.

“Hey, that’s hard to do when you haven’t worked a camera in, like, a year.” I set the camera up on the tripod and turned to him. “Sit your ass down, knight boy.”

“That was a terrible insult.”

Swagger sat down on the couch, wearing his ski mask and holding Daisy in his arms. He had her positioned in a way that her face was hidden from the camera. We both agreed that we would not be showing her face on camera while she was a kid, but we also thought it would be hilarious to start the video with Swagger just holding our baby that no one knew even existed.

“She’s going to be terrified if she wakes up and sees the mask,” I said as I sat next to him.

“She’ll have to get used to it eventually,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just walk around the house with it on.”

“Do not do that. I know you would use that as an excuse to just scare me.”

He gave me a look, and I could tell from his eyes that he was smirking under his mask.

“Anyways,” I said, turning away from him. “Hello. I know you guys are all wondering, what is this thing.” I gestured to Daisy.

“Thing,” Swagger snickered.

“This is our baby,” I said, ignoring him. “It is the bun I baked for nine months, and now here she is. And I know you’re also all wondering, (Y/N) and Swagger, when did you guys have a baby?”

“About a month ago,” Swagger responded. “And technically, (Y/N) had the baby. I just put the baby in her.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” To the camera, I said, “We know you guys have so many questions. The short story is, we weren’t trying for a baby. It was definitely a shock to us both, but it was a good shock. Announcing my pregnancy wasn’t the first thing we thought of. Actually, it took, like, a week for us to realize we hadn’t said anything online about it, and at that point we kind of came to the conclusion that we wanted the pregnancy to be an us thing instead of a shared internet thing.”

“We were being very selfish,” Swagger said.

“But we’re not sorry,” I added.

“Oh, not at all. We love you guys, but sometimes we do need some privacy, and this was definitely one of those times.” He glanced down at Daisy, his eyes lighting up just looking at her. I decided against teasing him in that moment because it was just too cute. He continued, “And I’m going to answer the important question, which is no, not even becoming a father will stop me from smoking weed.”

I playfully rolled my eyes.

“Everyone was thinking it!” Swagger argued. “Obviously I’m not smoking 24/7, or around the baby, but I’m not giving it up all together. I’m not becoming a square just because I have a kid.”

“Should we tell everyone her name, or are we just going to keep calling her ‘the baby’?”

“I don’t see a problem with telling everyone her name.”

“Her name is Daisy.”

As if hearing her name, Daisy made a soft cooing noise and opened her eyes. Swagger moved her so she would look at me first. We were joking for the video before, but we were actually a little nervous about her reaction to seeing Swagger in his ski mask for the first time. It was something we’d have to ease her into when she was much older.

“Hey baby,” I said, taking her from Swagger. “Woke up to be in your first ever video, huh? You’re ready to be a star.”

She looked up at me with her big, brown eyes. Ever since she was born, everyone said she looked exactly like me, but not her eyes. She definitely had Swagger’s eyes.

“That’s it, I guess,” I said. “We’re going to take some time to take care of this one and get used to having a baby, then we’ll be back to regular streams and uploads eventually. Uh...yeah. Bye, I guess?” I looked over to Swagger. “Can you turn the camera off? I’m holding Daisy.”

He got up and did as I asked. Once the camera was off, he pulled off the ski mask and tossed it off to the side. “That went well.”

“I’m weirdly nervous about it,” I admitted. “My heart is pounding. Daisy can definitely feel it.”

“You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t think anyone is going to react poorly to us announcing we’re parents now.”

“I’d doubt it, but weirdly I still am.”

Swagger sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him, stretching my legs out and resting Daisy on them so she could look at the both of us. She was very interested in her surroundings. According to my mom, babies can only see so far when they’re first born, and their vision increases as time goes on. I’m not sure if that’s completely true, but it was adorable to think that she was just now seeing everything for the first time.

“I can’t believe we made this,” I said. “We made a whole human being.”

“We can make another one, if you want.”

I shot him a look. “No way. My body does not need to go through that ever again. We can practice, though.”

“Deal.” He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.

#swaggersouls #swaggersouls imagine #swaggersouls x reader #misfits #misfits imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #rpf

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cloveroctobers · 3 months

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HAMMER TO THE HEART — THE FINAL CHAPTER: DANTE TORRES [Summer Writings]

A/N: We made it to the final part of this mini series that had no plans of being a series, which is still mind-blowing for me since I’ve nicknamed myself as “NeverWriteAPart2ESS.” 🤭 This is for the readers who asked if i had any more Dante on my list and here it is but I’m sure it won’t be the last! Thanks for all of your support. Also hope you have either a fun, safe, or chill holiday 💥 I originally had this planned to drop Saturday or Sunday but I’ve been in my writing bag lately so enjoy this (mostly) angst gift ✨

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz as always thanks for tuning in, I love reading your responses ❤️

S/N: Seraphina now has a face readers but ofc you’re always welcome to imagine whomever! + rewatched the last two episodes to refresh my noggin—I’m still new to PD and debating if I want to get into it from the beginning due to past ICKS so if some things are/have been inaccurate that’s why lol.

WARNINGS: language, tweaked the original plot just a little, light? discussion of deceased bodies, bodily injury, triggering flashbacks, & a LENGTHY read!

<- read part two here.

𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐

There’s an unknown number that stands out on Dante’s phone screen. He came to the bar with Atwater and Ruzek, Ruzek briefly disappeared to the bathroom after telling Dante he was ready to kick his ass in some pool and Atwater struck up a conversation with a very flirtatious woman that Dante had to point out to him. It was funny how the taller man tried to get updates on what was going on with him and Seraphina but was being oblivious to the attractive woman that wanted his attention.

Dante’s sipping at his beer when he feels his phone vibrating. Shifting a bit he manages to pull the phone from his pocket, peering at it he swallows the alcholic beverage before swiping across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, man thanks for picking up! Uh, sorry to bother you.”

Dante turns his eyes into slits, picking up on the familiar voice, “…Manny? How’d you get my number?”

“Remember my dad who I mentioned weeks ago?”

How could Dante forget? That day on his thirty-first birthday has been on his mind since and after everything that went down, added more disdain for his “special,” day.

Dante felt his eye twitch, “The old cop?”

“Uh huh…I guess you guys still have some type of pull even if you’re retired.”

Dante rubs at his face, slightly irked. Resting his elbows onto the counter he exhales as he thinks about what he should do about this situation. Somehow he chose to brush that off for now and get back to the point of this call.

Dante presses, “…is there something you need?”

It’s not as loud on Manny’s side of the line besides the barking that he scolds before it’s quiet again compared to Dante’s but the buzzed haired cop is focused on nothing but the intent of this call right now. “it might not be anything but my last call with Phina-Mena ended kinda abruptly. And I’ve been trying to reach out to her since and it seems like the call keeps dropping? I was just wondering if you heard from her?”

Dante feels his jaw tighten at this, it hasn’t been easy for him to process that Seraphina’s been keeping this from him at all. Which of course added to the mountains of tension between the two and it’s actually been two weeks since his birthday. Once Voight realized that Dante had a deeper connection to Seraphina than what this case is and felt a way about him getting her involved, Voight made sure to carry out visits to the lab without him.

Which further pissed Dante off.

“You gave me shit about not only becoming a cop but kept giving me shit about the situation with Gloria…and you think it’s okay getting yourself involved in this kind of danger when you already stepped away from it?” Dante felt like his brows were touching, the aggravation burned through his veins as he tossed Seraphina’s front door shut behind him.

The short haired woman continues her walk to the back of her home, to the kitchen, “Nothing about this case is okay and I have valid reasons just like you do with your career and Gloria. I may not fully ever get that second half but it happened and it is what it is.”

Which was ironic to hear since Seraphina was the one who said that she was done taking things for what they were with Dante. Was this all to get back underneath his skin because honestly it felt like she was kinda trying him?

“Yeah somehow I don’t think you’re gonna be saying that if you get yourself killed.” Dante’s usual gentle tone feels like frostbite, making Seraphina freeze in her tracks right in the center of her kitchen.

Relaxing her shoulders she turns to face Dante. His doe eyes are wide and he looks as if he wants to start pacing the floor but Seraphina isn’t in the mood to soothe him, not when his attitude’s been ugly since she made herself comfortable down at the district.

“You’re worried, that’s fine.” Seraphina shrugs, “I can understand that but you’re acting as if Voight handed me a gun—

Dante scoffs, “He might as well have!”

Seraphina argues as if it was so simple, “Tay, I’m working on the chemical end, not the physical. That’s your guy’s area. What you all signed up for.”

It wasn’t only PD’s job. She allowed herself to get thrown back into the true forensics of things. The amount of bodies that ranged from young kids to teens months ago to current time—still children was insane. At first the cases Seraphina’s dealt with, didn’t seem connected to her until she found something in common with each of the youngest children, that high traces of Librium contributed to their death along with specific wounds that ultimately caused them to bleed out.

The darkness was falling and Seraphina did not seem like she was ready to dodge it.

“What we’re dealing with is a serial killer.” Dante states while the woman nods her head being full aware from what she’s seen and before what made headlines, “They’re smart and have been steps ahead of us lately. If they find out that someone else is onto them…then there’s no telling what they have up their sleeve next.”

Seraphina inhaled and exhaled, “Which is why we’re doing everything to catch them and why Voight brought me on. He knows I can help so why can’t you?”

Dante shakes his head, “I never said that. You’re outstanding at anything you do…I just can’t go through having you in harm’s way again.”

She gets close to him now, hand going to grab the side of his neck and he thinks she’s going to embrace him but she just brings her chin above his shoulder, making sure her lips are near his ear, “Well, that’s not up for you to decide.”

And she goes to exit the kitchen, forgetting her appetite but Dante’s not finished as he also whips around, stalking after her, ready to follow her all around the house to get his feelings out about the path Seraphina was throwing herself back into.

The battle was just beginning.

Dante ignores Manny’s question and decides to ask his own, “when was this?”

“Last night.” Manny answers, “l called to see what she thought about the lastest MasterChef episode and we were just about to get off the phone after she took the trash out but there was some…shuffling? I guess and then the call dropped.”

At that moment, Dante felt as if all the air was just punched out of lungs. His head drops and he’s rubbing at his face now, eyes clenched while trying to find some air to bring back into his body. “time.”

“Pardon?”

“What,” Dante tries to keep his tone leveled but his gut was telling him that something was wrong and his stomach’s been funny since he last left his person’s house two weeks ago, “What time did this happen last night?”

Manny blew out a breath, “It was late…some time after 10pm my time and 9 for you guys.”

“You said you heard scuffling—

“Shuffling,” Manny corrected, “but now that you mention it, maybe it was more of a scuffle.”

“Did you try to call back?”

“Course. What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t check on a lady to make sure she made it safely into her home?” Manny says if it Dante offended him but it’s not like he cared, “There was a text sent ten minutes later saying that she dropped her phone, cracked her screen and would probably have to take it to a repair shop or get a new one but I haven’t heard from her all day today and we usually send morning affirmation texts or checking in texts during the day…it’s after 9pm now and there’s still nada. White noise.”

Dante can see that Ruzek’s made his way back out of his peripheral view, “Alright, I’ll get back to you.”

“Great, keep me posted. You now have my number—

Dante ends the call.

When his eyes meet Ruzek’s, his smirk vanishes as Ruzek gets rid of the teasing that’s sitting on his tongue, watching Atwater trying to spit game once he takes in Dante’s facial expression.

“Dante, what’s up?”

Dante’s rapid blinking makes Ruzek further concerned as he lets the words slip from his lips, explaining, “We have to do a wellness check on Nina.”

And Adam doesn’t need to hear anymore, with Dante making his exit before getting on the phone again, leaving Ruzek to toss some money on the counter in thanks to the bartender and calls out to interrupt whatever Kevin and his potential love interest of the night had going on.

When the trio make it to Seraphina’s brick home, Dante only pauses for a short time, his eyes scanning all over the exterior that was basically his first safe space once she brought it and second home. Kevin and Adam both share a look on either side of Dante, tempted to ease his worries but they were loud enough as they stood beside him.

It was a silent conversation between Kevin and Adam, both eyes widening to push the other to say something first but soon they realized Dante whisking by them as he jogged up the steep steps. He stops at the front door and gives a quiet signal for one of the men to check around the back while Atwater chose to follow after Dante.

The door was closed shut but not locked and that was something she did not do. With a twist of the door followed by his foot, he pushes the door open and calls out, “Nina…are you home?”

The home doesn’t feel warmed by her spirit so his mind already told him what he needed to know. Atwater does the honors of going up the first set of stairs to the right while Dante is checking closets, scanning the living room and there’s a closed laptop sitting on the coffee table, before heading down the hall. He passes the second set of stairs, checks the half bathroom, and continues to the kitchen. The house looks as it should and there’s a carton of raspberry chocolate chip Talenti ice cream soaking in the sink, perhaps it’s something she forgot to toss into the trash being too wrapped up in a conversation with Manny…but it reminds Dante of a dark time back in July when they were kids.

That July where their scars got fresh ones.

There’s a snapping that irks Seraphina’s ears, a light so bright that shines against the skin of her closed eyelids. She can feel her neck beginning to ache right at the spinal cord, the weight being too much to bare as she struggles to get the pressure off. It takes time but the light that keeps flickering is supposed to be encouraging and it does get her to focus.

Leaning back against the hard chair, her eyes peel open but the one on the left feels tight and more than sore. Swollen. She tries to blink it away but that feeling is prominent and it makes the space above her brow experience a sensation that radiates to the center of her forehead, leaving her skull to throb. She had been hit with something when she turned away from her trash out back and now she was sitting face to face with the man the entire city was searching for.

“You don’t realize how fascinating you are.” He starts, “At first I thought my one more would only be Hank but then…I started watching you too.”

That unsettling feeling that sunk in was not pleasant. The woman winces as she feels the ties chaffing into her wrists and her ankles, “…this isn’t going to end well for you.”

“I could say the exact same to you.” The bearded man says, emotionless, “But I’ll do you a favor and let you get one last call.”

Seraphina huffs, knowing what that means but slowly let’s the determination kick in trying to buy herself some more time, “Did you really catch me off guard and hit me in the face?”

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” He answers honestly, “Like I said, you originally weren’t my target but I figured a two for one special wouldn’t hurt, much.”

Seraphina licks her dry lips, “tell me…are you married? Children? You should know, hitting women is a punk move but you got bigger problems than that. Kids? I hear the slammer doesn’t play with those that are kid killers.”

He scoffs out some laughter, “I won’t be there. I’ll be reborn, new by then and as for you…that’s to be determined. Are you a Phoenix or a scared duck hiding from the rainstorm like you’ve been doing over Dante?”

Seraphina clears her throat, “does that make you feel better? Speaking on things you think you know?”

He stands in front of the dark haired woman, hands clasped behind his back as he trailed his eyes all over her features, that alone made her skin crawl. It was as if he imagining all the ways to disfigure her face. There was a strong detachment in his eyes that would leave anyone shook.

“I think I know enough. I’ve watched all of you but the most intriguing happened to be: Hank, Hailey, Dante, and you.” He informs, “I needed Hank and I wanted you.”

“For what?” Seraphina quizzes.

He doesn’t miss a beat, “for new beginnings. We can’t take the easy way out but at least the comfort of a loved one in your final moments will make it seem that way. Which is why, you’re going to give me what I want and call.”

Seraphina shakes her head but stops as the pain follows her movements, “sounds like it’s more to give you a piece of mind. You think you provided all these people with peace as you tortured them for nothing?”

He has a cool blade underneath her chin so that their eyes are locked, “is anything really for nothing? Nothing is ever truly senseless. Look at yourself for an example. You’ve been here all your life, wishing on a star for Dante to love you back but maybe it’s a fever dream. Everything that you’ve been through, where you could have been, if only he took the romantic love you have for him serious—is all in your head.”

He’s squatting now, dry hands on Seraphina’s bare thighs. Her breathing hitches as the deranged man pulls the waistband of her Terry cloth shorts forward, “there it is.”

He’s in amazement and she wants nothing more than to spit in his face at him showing her vulnerability in this dark room.

Seraphina doesn’t look at him as he runs the point of the blade along her lengthy scar, “Stop touching me!”

She grits out but the killer can see that she was swallowing the rising tears down.

“Dante does love you beneath his own problems but he won’t allow it because he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. You know that. He chose someone else because that’s a life he’s known. You could have been a new life. Always have been which is why he keeps you close. He’s scared to have a life with you past friendship because of all of the things that happened when you were kids but most importantly he took a piece of life from you.”

The exposed air is cold against Seraphina’s old scar and she can feel her eyes burn; she just wanted this man to shut up and rot.

[July, 2009]

The horn from the opposite car is deafening.

A sixteen year old Dante is stunned on what he’s seeing. The classic mustang rammed into the back of Dante’s new low-rider, which was given to him by the exact man who decided to ram his car into the back of his. Dante’s leaning on his elbows on the hot gravel, trying to find his voice since his car was just totaled but that didn’t matter. What mattered was Seraphina happened to be in the passenger side eating her signature raspberry chocolate chip ice cream while he was outside of it, vibing to, “Forever,” by BBL Drizzy, Lil Wayne, Kanye West, and Eminem.

Although this was his first car through being involved with the gang, he took pride in it because he knew what he had to do to get it. He had to hide it up the street from his mother but she was no dummy, she sensed the change her in son the moment he returned the favor to his step-father, nearly beating the man to death. He looked up to, “Sad Eyes,” as almost an older brother with methods that gave him the potential to be a powerful man. However he wasn’t sure what this method was? And he scrambled to his feet as he heard the creaking of Sad Eyes’ car, he fell onto his shoulder out of the car, his eyes settling on Dante as he lay on his side.

“Why?! What was this for?!” Dante called out to him.

Sad Eyes just blinked as he spluttered around the blood that escaped his mouth, “Good Luck.” Were his final words.

Dante didn’t have time to process that right now as he circled around the car. His hands go right through the rolled down window to press a shaky hand into Seraphina’s pulse point. It’s moving but it’s too slow. She’s not conscious but the horrors were already settling in as Dante’s green hues followed the path of the crushed car and the iron fence that pierced through her abdomen.

There was blood everywhere. Dripping from the iron fence while pooling into the lap of her white jeans. His heart was hammering against his chest at the sight, she looked dead and that alone felt unbearable. He snapped out of it, hands moving to the handle of the door trying to pull it open but it was obviously jammed shut.

The sirens were squealing through the summer air in the distance and Dante just knew there had to be some sort of motive. There always was with this gang. Carefully he leaned into the window, pressing a kiss to her temple, breathing her in as he whispers, “I’m sorry, Nina.”

That wouldn’t be the last of his apologies. He went into hiding around the empty parking lot, just to make sure that the firefighters got her out and the paramedics got her into the ambulance. Dante was aware that the police would start searching the area but he couldn’t just fully leave his best friend behind. Not when their relationship shifted weeks prior.

Sure he’s thought about it, asking Seraphina to be his girl but he let the members of the gang get into his head. He only told the other youngest member of the gang, who went and ran his mouth to the main two in command: Sad Eyes and Joker about it. Rico aways had diarrhea of the mouth and sometimes Dante felt bad at how hard everyone was on him, until Rico told his business with Seraphina.

A meaningful intimate night that they all clowned him for. That she wasn’t anything different or even special because she didn’t choose to get passed around by them. Seraphina didn’t even want to be around the gang after they disrespected her, especially with most of the members being much older than the both of them. She would never be just some, “bitch,” and they told Dante that he would find plenty more along the way in this life. That did not sit right with Dante so he cut his time short with them that day (plus some days after that but they always came to him when he didn’t want to bothered) and gave Rico a nice busted lip on his way home. He felt bad about it later since the fourteen year old struggled to find his place in the gang and just wanted to be part of something but in that moment? A sixteen year old Dante stood on business, which the gang got another laugh at.

When Dante and his mother, Catalina made it to the hospital Seraphina’s father was just finishing talking to the doctor. It had been hours since Dante watched them take Seraphina away. He waited for his mother to get home from work, keeping his gun nearby just in case any other members dared came to his door, telling her what happened and she didn’t bother putting her things down. She waved him along, mind racing with a million and one thoughts as they left their home to catch the bus to the hospital.

Catalina prayed the entire way, rosary held in both her and Dante’s hands but the younger boy kept his eyes on the city lights that blurred by.

He couldn’t lose Seraphina.

“You piece of shit!” The boulder of a man hissed while yanking Dante up by the collar, “I told her to stay about from you countless of times but she continues to be hardheaded—must of been something you taught her. You bring nothing but poison, you started this. I know you convinced her to hide those pills that got my wife caught out. I know my daughter.”

Dante was breathing hard but out of anger, “you think you do, sir. You think you have the answers to everything but you don’t. You’re the definition of neglect. You neglected your wife when anybody can take one look at her and see that she was about to lose her shit. And Seraphina? The only time you paid attention to her is when you’re looking to point the finger for your miserable life. Tell me, do you really think I’m the only piece of shit here when you tried to drown your so called daughter the night they took Mrs. Coty away?”

“Dante!” His mother’s voice cuts through, knowing her son crossed a line but she never appreciated the way Mr. Coty spoke of her son, and she also wasn’t aware of what he did to Seraphina.

Her hand was resting right on Mr. Coty’s bicep tightly and she noticed the nurses looking, hands probably waiting on the phone to call security to throw them out. Seraphina didn’t need to be alone like this, this much Catalina knew and just needed these two to put their egos aside for the sake of Seraphina.

Mr. Coty huffed as he shoved Dante against the wall one last time, his head hitting the wall as he tells him, “You think you’re so much better? You’ve done nothing but break her and that’s all you’ll ever be, a scared little boy that brings nothing but damage. You think you saved your mother by beating that coward of a man down? You only ended up hurting her just as much and as for my daughter? Two broken ribs, neck sprain, and that fence went right through her pelvis. Do you know what that means? There’s a high chance that she’ll never be able to create life in the future and sure she won’t have to worry about that now but you’ll always be the reminder of what you took from her. That’s all you are, a good for nothing taker. So you remember that when you want to shit on my parenting skills.”

And Mr. Coty fixes Dante’s shirt, condescendingly patting his cheek as he stalked off in the opposite direction of where Seraphina lay. A sixteen year old Dante thought about many things in that moment, one of those being the act of swinging on the older man, there was a familiar look in his eyes that his mother saw so she sat beside him on the floor and brought him into her chest while he clenched his fists, holding back tears.

There was a time back when Dante was in the academy, where he and Seraphina slipped up back in their early twenties. The age of sixteen was the first time but as they grew, it happened again. She slipped into a bookstore while Dante was eyeing a new boba shop that was across the street. He had a tough day the day before and agreed to hang out that Saturday to get his mind off it. Dante knew that he had what it takes but the instructor was a Grade-A asshole and that only pushed him even harder. He easily pinned out what type of cop he would be dealing with and heard the gossip, so he showed his ass just exactly what he was capable of.

It did get tiring and he was exhausted but wanted to be around Seraphina to ease his mind. Seraphina stood across the street, a bright smile on her lips as she had a tote bag full of new purchases that her bank account would give her shit for later when she went over her finances like she commonly did every reset Sunday. She didn’t like what she saw, another woman, with bright copper hair, clearly flirting and being too close to Dante for her liking.

Did she not see that he had two drinks in his hand? It wasn’t Dante’s fault, he was a single good looking man and could do whatever he wanted. Seraphina just messed up her previous date that Seán set her up with because she was too hung up on Dante. It was ridiculous considering that they weren’t children anymore but constantly bringing him up to other contenders was a red flag. She saw that, had to understand how that was off putting because she wouldn’t put up with it herself honestly.

So she took the risk, not wanting anyone else to have Dante as they got into an argument over her shift in moods after their outing uptown. She walked right up to him, grasping his face and planted one right on him. He wasn’t expecting that as he pulled back, silently questioning what that was with curiosity in his light eyes but that curiosity is exactly what led to him connecting their lips again, picking her up and leading her through her apartment at the time to her bedroom.

She’d like to call it a true false positive, taking two tests after the third time. Her OBGYN confirmed it with a blood test and she was happy but scared. Seraphina and Dante were friends, the best anyone could have but they discussed that it couldn’t be more until she ended up wanting it to be more. No one else matched up to him. They were careful—not enough—and she imagined what children would look in their friendship and automatically knew Dante would be a great dad. Just when she worked up the nerve to tell him, waiting days after the news…she suffered a miscarriage alone because of that terrifying injury when she was fifteen going on sixteen.

Asherman's syndrome is what they call it.

“Somewhere around all of it, you still love him and he cares for you immensely. It’s twisted because anyone would have called it quits but there’s something…enchanting about you two.” The killer is back to standing up straight, “I want to hear how much up close so…call.”

Seraphina slowly blinks while she stares at the device the killer is holding out to her, “No.”

The bearded man deeply inhales, putting the burner phone back into his pocket, “tell me something…when you went through your miscarriage…when that abdominal pain almost ripped you apart from the inside out, did you dig your nails into the palms of your hands hoping that would help?”

She exhales, closing her eyes and knows what’s about to happen next. She doesn’t grant the monster with a response as she feels the blade pressing underneath her nail. Her screams did not go unheard in the room close by which contained a non-coherent Hank Voight and once satisfied, the killer whispers as he enjoys the drips of blood that hits the floor, “Take all the time you need but I’ll be back. It’s time to see Hank.”

The state of Dante Torres’ heart felt as if someone took a meat tenderizer right to it. He was right on Hailey’s tail despite Petrovic telling her to stand down. This case quickly became personal for the both of them and it didn’t take long to realize that Voight got snatched as well. The team all knew it was a matter of time and that was not something they wanted to continue to give to Matson.

He wished Upton stood on her stance of shooting Matson in the kneecaps and had his own finger on the trigger to fire. The next moments he blacked out on after seeing Hailey climb in the trunk of Matson’s stolen car.

Eventually he’s heading down the steps, eyes immediately picking up on Matson’s mutaliated body, eyes gaugeed out, brain matter surrounding him, and a knife sticking right out of his abdomen that Seraphina was still holding onto. Dante lowered his gun after putting in the call for the paramedics to make their way down.

“Nina,” Dante gently speaks as he gets down on his knees beside a sitting Seraphina.

He carefully reaches out to touch her bleeding hands but she pulls them back from holding the blade, curling her hands into herself numb to her missing fingernails. “Hey, hey, it’s me, Tay. I’m here, Nina.”

It’s like she’s not here, eyes glossed over but she hears him. “Dante?”

He nods and there’s a sob that rattles from her chest as a bloody hand tries to silence it. Dante springs into action, bringing her right into his arms. His face tightens as he glances at Matson’s body and back to Ruzek who’s tending to Hailey and Voight, he dips his head for him to get Seraphina out of here.

“I’ve got you,” he says to her after repeating a nod to Ruzek, “let me get you out of here, alright?”

Scooping her into his arms, he spins around taking her away from the violence that was inflicted. Hating that he didn’t try harder enough to keep her out of this. Kim nods her head at them on their way by, empathy was heavy in her large eyes as she watched her team member take the love of his life as far as he could.

“I wouldn’t call.” She whispers to Dante in the ambulance, one hand holding his while the paramedic is bandaging her right hand.

Dante hums as he brings her in tact hand to his lips, “I know Mi Corazón…you’re the toughest person I know, next to mi ma.”

Seraphina snorts before her eyes widen, “…you didn’t tell her anything did you?”

“She’s knows we’re going through our bullshit again,” he mocks his mother, knowing that Seraphina’s reaction was valid because as soon as Momma Catalina found out that her babies were up to some bullshit, she was ready to bring out the chancla after embracing them and making sure they were okay first, “but not the specifics.”

“Good.”

Dante scoffs, “good? Not good. I know what happened and you should be more concerned with that than anything else.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Seraphina closes her eyes but Dante nudges her with their clasped hands, “…can we do this later? I’m tired.”

Dante peeks at the paramedic who shakes their head, which lets Dante know that there could be signs of a concussion. “How about this? Let’s talk about the rest of our summer plans?”

“Are you sure you even want to spend the summer with me?” Seraphina wiggles around trying to get comfortable on the stretcher, “I know you’re going to beat yourself up over this and it’s not necessary. I’m a big girl and made myself part of this, not you.”

He exhales through his nostrils, laughing internally that she knew him so well. How could he not beat himself up over this? It was his job to look after her, something they both vowed once they became friends at thirteen. Once he got into the gang in juvi, he made sure he had people on the outside looking out; not only for Seraphina but also his mother until he got out.

“Yeah it is necessary,” he starts but Seraphina doesn’t want to hear it.

“I’m tired of Chicago, Tay.” She shifts the conversation, although the green-eyed man knows he can bring it right back there if he wanted to but he decides to listen on their ride to the hospital, “My parents went to Kansas City as soon as I moved out full time to get rid of all the bad memories so why can’t I do the same…even if it’s for a little bit? My cousin Behati’s been begging me to visit the New England area with her husband and two year old daughter.”

Dante is quiet at this but he shows he’s listening as he lightly squeezes her hand.

“B and Makari always extended the invitation to you too, you know?” She’s hinting as Dante leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

He’s met Seraphina’s cousin Behati and cousin-in-law Makari many of times over video calls and the pair seems so full of joy. So positive and compassionate with the intentions of showing that they were good people. Seraphina’s always talked about Behati and hated that she always lived far and cant remember the last time she’s seen her in person.

“You should go.” Is all Dante says, sending a small smile to Seraphina who goes silent at that.

Dante lets out a long exhale after cutting the engine. He knows they’re pressed for time as he’s in the line up, and glances over at Seraphina who peers out the window in excitement. Dante dips his head as they both move to exit the car, she’s fixing the carry-on that’s on her shoulder while Dante pulls out the hard-cover suitcase from the trunk. Reaching out for the handle, they both meet each other’s eyes.

Seraphina offers Dante a smile and he takes it, a soft grin splitting over his lips that she gets a view of the tiny gap in between his front two teeth before he’s pulling her into his arms. He always loved holding her. The feathered haired woman rubs at his back in his embrace as he holds onto her like he’s going to lose her forever.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you and I’m gonna miss you, Nina.” He says as their heads rest side by side.

She laughs, “I know.”

Dante snorts as he pulls back to look at the amusement in her eyes. It’s been a tough time after the events with the serial killer but Seraphina always knew how to keep going and this trip was part of that. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to relocate but she kept talking it over with her therapist—something new she was trying—and with Dante. What kind of friend would he be if he told her to stay after everything?

“How sweet of you.” Dante is sarcastic as he gently rubs the sides of her arms while Seraphina winks.

“I’ll be back after Labor Day.”

Dante nods.

Seraphina uses her pointer fingers to lift the corner of Dante’s mouth who rolls his eyes in return, a smile breaking through on its own, “And if you change your mind or want a little break from this…from Chicago, you know where to find me.”

He places a lingering kiss on both cheeks before hugging her again, lifting her off her feet, “yeah, I do. I love you, have a great flight. Now get out of here.”

She kisses one of his cheek’s back, “I love you more and I’ll text you when I land!”

“You better.” He puts her down on her feet, letting her take her things and watching as she makes her way into the airport.

Once she sends another wave and he can’t see her anymore, Dante circles back around his car to get into the drivers seat. The hammering starts in his chest as he starts the engine, pulling away from the curb and he’s struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.

See Dante wouldn’t blame Seraphina if she decided that she didn’t want to come back. They always talked about seeing what the world had to offer but Chicago was all that they knew. He was glad that she was getting out, although she claimed it was only for a little while, the back of his mind was saying something different.

His eyes flicked to the new ornament that he hung from his mirror. It was a old Polaroid photo, on Seraphina’s fifteenth birthday during a late December, she held up a deck of cards which shielded the lower half of her face, arm tossed over Dante’s shoulder as he appeared unimpressed wearing a red headdress that was Vegas themed and forced on his head for the photo.

Written on the white space in Seraphina’s chicken scratch of handwriting she always had it says: I’ll always celebrate my bday and ur bday enough for the both of us! —Forever your road dog, Nina :)

Dante sucks in some air after glancing at it, blocking his mouth with a shaky hand in attempt to quit the cry that wants to burst out as he puts on a smile.

He really was happy that Seraphina got out, for real this time.

This didn’t have to be goodbye but it was certainly feeling like it and Dante would be lying if he said it wasn’t breaking him.

Guess he’s a sucker for pain and evolving it into something better, which he’s competent of.

When Dante truly sinks into this new found emptiness, a separate shade of darkness, he comes to terms with: not having the reassurance of Seraphina by his side or a simple drive across town where she resides, he’s not entirely sure how this will all play out and that petrified him.

“Torres,” he answers his phone, after realizing that it’s been ringing for a while.

The familiar gruff voice replies, “I need you down at the district.”

Crime was never ending as Dante put his foot to the pedal, flying down the highway to dive into the life he’s built for himself.

And continues to buries the rest.

For now.

𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐ 𓂃 ࿐ 𓂃࿐

FIN.

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

#Spotify #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #dante torres #Dante Torres x reader #chicago pd fanfic #kevin atwater #adam ruzek #summer writing #benjamin levy aguilar

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concreteburialplot · 11 months

Text

VIRALITY // 10

10 - Maybe Both, Maybe Neither

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc [vallie]

masterlist/intro: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5.8k

summary: after waking up next to each other vallie & nicholas go their separate ways. vallie goes to visit an old friend who may be more than friendly. nicholas goes to sober up noah but doesn’t expect him to pull the curtain back on his resentment.

warnings: mentions about alcoholism/AA meetings/cheating, arguing, noah being annoying but what's new, tea is spilled !!, vallie is vulnerable for once in her life, lots of dialogue, alternating POVs sorry 🥲

A/N: Sorry it's been like 2 months since I’ve updated, it literally did not feel like it 🥲 school & life are kicking my ass lol + this chapter ended up being so complicated / difficult

Also! This chapter introduces a very mild crossover with Christian 'Kras' Anthony from the band Chase Atlantic - he's being used as a fun little temporary reoccurring side character. Don't worry, knowing who he is isn't necessary to understand his character lol i just think he's cute🥰

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

-NICHOLAS-

A jarring buzzing jolts me awake. I sit up a bit with scrunched eyes trying to follow the noise with a wandering patting hand. The noise leads to Vallie’s phone rattling on my bedside table next to her. I grab it and sleepily ignore the call out of habit.

In my still half-sleep state, I don’t want to be anywhere else besides where my body was curled up against her. I return to my spot with my arm around the brunette, tugging her closer. Her scent fills my nostrils when I nuzzle into her neck. The smell of her hair is peppermint-y and the scent on her skin reminds me of marshmallows and… matcha?

Whatever it is, it’s warm, cozy, and smells so yummy it makes me want to eat her again.

Before I have the pleasure of manifesting that thought into reality, her phone goes off vibrating again, this time making me significantly more aggravated.

I snatch the phone looking at her caller ID – the name plastered across the screen:

Christian

with some emojis I’m far too sleepy to decipher.

Christian?

I decide not to ignore her phone call from an evidently urgent caller.

“Hey, Hey.” I gently nudge her shoulder. “Your phone has been going off.”

She lets out a sleepy groan that is probably the cutest noise I’ve ever heard.

She takes one look at the ID and immediately ignores it and shoves it under the pillow.

Odd.

She yawns and rubs her eye, “What time is it?”

“I’m not sure.” I try to look at the edges of my window covered with blackout curtains trying to gauge even the time of day. “You have your phone, check it?”

Her fingers tap against the mattress. “It’s not that important.”

“Who’s Christian?” I blurt out without thinking.

From the angle I’m at, I can see her eyes widen a bit at the question.

She clears her throat. “What?”

“The person who kept calling you. It was someone named Christian?”

“Oh um,” She bites down on my lip, seemingly contemplating her answer. “He’s a friend.”

I’m filled with a feeling I’m not sure I enjoy nor one I should be feeling.

“A friend?” I ask, unconvinced.

It’s none of my business. It doesn’t matter who he is.

“Yeah, a friend.” She scrunches her brows at the wall. “Why do you care who’s calling me?”

“I-I don’t.” I reply but I know I’m a shit liar and I probably don’t sound very convinced. “I was just wondering.”

“Right.” She yawns then gets up in a panic like she just realized where she is. “Oh my god we fell asleep.”

“Yeah…I figured you gathered that by now.” I said falling down flat beside her.

“Fuck Nick, how am I gonna get out of here?” She scrambles for her phone beneath the pillow to finally check the time. “Fuck, fuck, I have to leave.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. Let me just check out the house, I can take you to get your car.” I pull myself out of bed and let myself stretch out my arms above my head.

“Fuck.” She mutters, readjusting her entire torso in her tight top. “Remind me to never sleep in a corset ever again. I need to get out of this, can I borrow something?”

Her attention lands on me and at first, her forest greens are inquisitive and calm but when she actually looks at me, they widen. Her eyes slowly trail down my body and land where my shirt hangs above the exposed skin of my hips.

Watching her tongue slide between her lips makes my heart thump in my ear drums so loud I can barely hear what she’s saying.

“Also, can you um,” She clears her throat and looks back up at me, “Help me get this off?”

“Sure.” I nod and drop my arms back down.

She shifts in the bed so the zipper in the back of the faux-corset faces me. My fingers delicately gather her dark chocolate locks and drape them over her shoulder to get them out of my way. Her tan skin curves so beautifully from her neck to her shoulder that I feel as though if I don’t kiss her there it would somehow be insulting.

The need to kiss her there feels as necessary as air, so lean down and press a hesitant kiss to the crook of her neck as I begin unzipping her top.

She doesn’t stop me, which I was sure she would stop me now in the daylight.

Another kiss up, I linger more there.

Then another in the same spot, then another, and another, and another – until I am fully peppering her skin with open mouth kisses and my hands roam her curves.

She lets out little noises the closer I get to her ear that remind me of the ones she gave me when my tongue was inside her.

It’s not until I’m nipping and sucking at her skin that she speaks.

“Nick…” She whines in a tone that says ‘you know better’.

I tug down the rest of her zipper.

My lips still lazily drag up her neck.

I hum against her and let my hands wander down her sides to her hips. “Let me make you feel good.”

She lets out a shuddered whine but not a red or green light.

My hands round her hips giving them a gentle back and forth rub, “I need to taste you again.” I press another kiss against the sensitive skin below her ear and I can feel goosebumps erupt all over her skin.

My fingers burn everywhere they meet her skin and beg to be everywhere they shouldn’t be.

She closes her eyes and lets herself breathe for a second.

“Nicholas.” She repeats, more sternly this time. “I have to leave before anyone sees me.”

“I know.” I say simply and pull away, strategically resting both hands over my semi.

I know I shouldn’t press more. I know shouldn’t try to convince more. But god do I want to. All I’m thinking about is fucking her senseless.

She keeps a hand on the front of the corset to keep it flush on her skin. “Could I please borrow something?” She reminds me of her original request.

“Oh yeah sure, sorry.” I quickly scan the room for the closest item.

I spot a barely worn Deftones shirt and hand it to her.

“Thanks.”

She just sort of stares at me then makes a ‘turn-around’ motion with her hand.

“Oh, sorry.” I shift away from her. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Shut up.”

I hear her let out a sigh of relief, probably from finally being freed from the constricting top.

“Okay you can turn around now.”

I turn back to her and find what I expected: her in my shirt.

What I didn’t expect was to somehow find her even more attractive in my shirt than even a lace corset.

As much as I’d like for her to stay, I fear that if I don’t get her out now, I’ll devour her whole.

“I’ll just… go scope out the area.” I thumb over my shoulder towards the door.

“Good idea.” She nods.

I very quietly sneak out of my room into the empty hallway, gently closing the bedroom door behind me.

After tiptoeing around the house, I find everyone asleep as it seems still quite early, at least for them.

The drive back to the bar is quiet and somewhat awkward. I’m not sure if it’s because of what we did or if I crossed some sort of invisible line and made her upset.

Or maybe both,

Maybe neither.

Maybe I’m over thinking it.

We haven’t talked about anything, no rules, no boundaries. I don’t know how I would bring that up to begin with. What the hell are we doing? And how do I feel about it. How do I want to feel about it?

We say goodbye and it’s stiff and odd. I’m not sure if I should kiss her? Or treat her like my colleague?

Maybe both,

Maybe neither.

That one feels more like a maybe neither.

The way she acted this morning makes me think that whatever… this is, is over.

I know it should be done, but there is a part of me that doesn’t want to stop. At least not yet. Maybe if I got one more fix.

Regardless how I feel about it, it was a mistake. I knew that the first time, I knew it last night and I know it now.

Why did I let this happen. How did I let this happen?

I tap my fingers anxiously against the steering wheel once I’ve parked at home.

I know Folio wouldn’t really care but if Noah or Jolly found out about this?

Oh my god.

I don’t even want to think about what would happen.

All I know is two things.

One, I can’t keep fucking thinking about this – I can’t keep thinking about her.

Two, I unfortunately know what I need to do when I walk back through our front door.

-VALLIE-

As soon as my car door shuts behind me, I let out a long sigh that I wasn’t aware I was holding.

I fold my arms around my steering wheel and rest my forehead against it.

“Fuck.”

The entire ride home there was this nausea festering in the pit of my stomach.

I like being with Nicholas.

I like being with Nicholas too much.

And this stupid fucking Deftones shirt is too comfortable and smells too much like him – and I like it more than I should. And I need to get home as soon as possible to get it off me.

This is absolutely the last thing I needed – catching feelings or whatever the fuck is filling my chest with butterflies from someone I’m representing.

This is the band that I shouldn’t have even taken on in the first place, and now I’m here on the verge of vomiting because I miss the way his bed feels. This was not the plan.

I shake my head from the the thoughts as I walk through my front door. It’s just the dickmatization talking. That’s it. I like his dick and that’s all.

His huge fucking…

No.

And god his fucking tongue...

No.

This absolutely cannot be happening.

I won’t let this happen.

I need to nip this in the bud before it goes any further.

I chuck my phone and keys on my dresser and use my palms to lean against the edge.

An abrupt buzzing of my iPhone against the hard wood shocks me from my dissociation.

Christian

…could be exactly what I need.

I slide the answer bar across the screen and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hey Kras.” I smile, using his nickname.

“Val!” He chimes cheerfully on the other line. “I’ve been trying to get ya all day!”

“I’m busy Kras, you know that.” I roll my eyes playfully. “What’s up, what do you want so badly?”

“Tour ended last week and I’m staying in LA for a bit for some band stuff before I head back home to Sydney.” He pauses. “I wanna see you. I need to talk to you about something.”

I press my lips together and take a deep breath, suddenly stressed about what exactly that meant.

“Okay. When and where do you wanna meet up?”

“Today? My place?”

“Okay, see you then.”

After a much-needed shower I’m finally at the door of his temporary apartment. I smooth out my outfit, which wasn’t much really, just some sweats with a cropped tank. With as long as I’ve known Kras, it didn’t really matter what I looked like, but I still wanted to look cute. I use my hand to flatten my tied up hair to make sure there’s no ridges before I knock on his door. It doesn’t take long for him to answer it.

“Val.” He greets with his signature big goofy smile.

The tall, long-haired blonde envelopes me into giant hug and I embrace it. His scent fills my nose with memories; it’s soft, comforting, and most of all, fun.

Christian and I have always been close, he’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. Our friendship has always been…interesting to say the least. I think most people would consider our dynamic complicated, but to us it’s quite simple.

I give him a good, hard squeeze around his midsection. “Augh, Kras I’ve missed you.”

He reciprocates the squeeze and places a kiss atop my head. “I missed you too.”

I pull away with a smile and smack his arm, “You don’t text me enough! I didn’t even know your tour ended.”

“Me? The phone works both ways Miss ‘You know I’m busy’” He mocks me jokingly.

“God, I forget how strong your Aussie accent is in person.” I chuckle, diverting the conversation.

I shiver at the ice-cold chill I get from his AC and rub my arms for warmth.

“Fuck it’s cold as shit in here.” It’s so frigid even my teeth chatter.

“Yeah, sorry I like it freezing. You want a jacket or something?” He offers then crosses the room when I nod.

He picks through some clothes in an open suitcase and hands me a multicolored flannel. I pull the flannel over my arms letting the material engulf my body.

After a brief catching up about tour and life, I lean against the wall and cross my arms.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk about.” I cut straight to it.

He bites down on his lip, and I can’t tell if he’s excited or nervous.

Maybe both, maybe neither.

“We need a manager.” He blurts out.

“Oh? I thought you were working with-”

“We want you Val.”

I laugh, because surely, he can’t be serious. I don’t belong to an agency and work my two clients freelance, all on my own. There’s no way I could take on another band, especially one as successful as Chase on top of the other two.

“What? No, no, I absolutely couldn’t manage you guys…”

He steps towards me and trails his fingers down my arms and hooks onto my hands. “Sure you can. You used to, remember?”

I shake my head, “Oh, you know that doesn’t count Christian. We were nobodies – you were nobodies. Of course I could manage your measly little 10,000 Instagram followers.”

He squeezes my hands and tugs on my arms. “C’mon Val. It’ll be like the good old days. It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know about you, but living in a tiny LA apartment with three men struggling to afford food wasn’t really that good or fun.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs on my arms again. “For old times’ sake?”

I shake my head, “No, no, I already have enough on my plate. I just took on another band not that long ago.”

“Please Val, for us?” His brows curve up, and he gives me the biggest hazel puppy dog eyes that he knows I can’t say no to. “For me?”

I groan and rest my head back against the wall. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

His hands leave mine and find their way to my hips, slipping under the flannel so his hands are holding onto bare skin between my tank and my sweats. His forehead presses against mine.

“Is there anything I can do to help change that answer?” He asks between the small space separating us while his finger traces my jaw line tilting my chin up a bit.

I tug at my lip – this is partially why I came here right? To nip my Nick problem in the bud, to break the dickmatization spell.

“I don’t know, maybe.” I tease up at him with round eyes.

“Hm.” He hums and leans in, pressing a kiss to my lips and I freeze.

Even though we’ve done this a million times before, it just feels wrong now. Nicholas and I aren’t even… anything, we’re just fucking, right? But it still feels odd.

I know this feeling.

And I know what it means.

Fuck.

I pull away and give a little head shake.

“Plum?” He asks using our code word for when we’re interested in or dating someone else.

I groan loudly, shuffle past him to his bed in the studio apartment and dramatically fall flat, face down onto it. Then let out an even louder, longer groan.

He walks over and gently sits criss-cross on the bed next to me.

“Must be a pretty good Plum to have you like this.”

Our friendship was simple. We’re the rare example that a friends-with-benefits can be truly, purely platonic and casual. Kras is a generally affectionate guy, even with his bandmates. And he is one of the only people I feel comfortable being affectionate with, so I let myself be affectionate with him.

We are platonically affectionate best friends who fuck when we’re single. It sounds impossible but it’s who we are and who we have been for almost 10 years.

It’s nice, cozy, and convenient. Easy.

He’s safe, familiar, and reliable.

Which is more than I can say for any friendship or relationship I’ve ever had.

I turn my head towards him still flat against the bed.

“It’s bad Kras.”

“How bad?”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I work with him.”

His eyes widen. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“…In the band you were talking about?”

I turn back to hide my face in his duvet. “Oh yeah.”

“Val noooo.”

I chuckle at how his ‘no’s sound like ‘naaauur’s.

“I knooow.” I whine into the sheets.

“Singer?”

I shake my head against the duvet.

“Guitarist?”

“Bassist.” I reply muffled in bedding.

“Oof.”

A laugh escapes me at his reaction. I pop my head up at him, “Stop, I know.”

I pull myself up and cross the bed to sit next to him and lay my head on his shoulder.

“Maybe I just really like his dick.” I state confidently staring out the large window across the room. I blankly watch the daytime city lights flicker across the highrise-littered skyline.

“You think so?” He asks looking down at me a little. “I’ve never seen you get like this over just good dick. You’re pretty cut and dry about like…emotions. You’re good at separating sex from feelings.” He laughs and nudges me. “That’s why we work so well.”

I groan and hide my face in his shoulder because I know he’s right. He’s always right when it comes to shit like this.

“He sang to me Kras.”

“Oh god…was he any good?”

I feel my cheeks heat up and I nod against his arm, “It was so pretty.”

He laughs and tickles my side, “Look at you! You’re smitten! I never thought I’d see the day.”

I grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it, “Shut up!” then fall back flat and cover my face with it.

There’s a silence between us for a bit, a million things running through my mind, but Kras speaks for me.

“You know you can’t love him, right?” He says gently.

My brows furrow immediately, I slam the pillow down and shoot straight up.

“WHOA, whoa whoa.” I cut through the air with my hand. “Nobody ever said anything about…the L word. I do not…love him.” I can barely get the word out as if it’s something forbidden. “I barely fucking know him. I just like his dick.”

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in defense. “You can’t like him. You know that right?”

“I don’t even know if I like him. We’re just fucking. That’s all.”

He glares at me with a face that screams, ‘yeah right’. “Well, fine, you know you can’t keep fucking him.”

I let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I thought coming here to fuck you would help.”

He laughs then tapers off in thought.

“Maybe we don’t actually have to fuck in order to help.” He suggests.

I raise a brow at him, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean… guys normally don’t just sing to girls they’re casually hooking up with.”

“Okay…?” I motion for him to keep going.

“So, if it comes up or anything, you could just lie.” He shrugs.

“Lie about what?”

“About like, fucking someone else. If he likes you enough to sing to you, he probably won’t be happy if you tell him you’re fucking someone else. So, he’ll stop trying to fuck you.”

I chew on my thumbnail in thought, he’s right. Like always.

“Maybe. I don’t really know if he’d even care. We never really talking about anything… I thought we just had a silent agreement about just fucking, he never said anything about-”

“He sang to you Val.”

I anxiously twirl the ends of my ponytail and chew on my bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

He gives me the most ‘are you for real’ glare.

“Okay, okay.” I deflate. “IF it comes up, I’ll mention something.”

“Just don’t say who I am. I don’t know him, he could beat my ass." He laughs. "Plus, it would be pretty awkward for him to find out that you’re fucking a hot guitarist from your other band.” He smirks cheekily.

“Shut up.” I elbow his side playfully, “I never said yes.”

“But you will.”

I chew on my lip thinking it over.

On one hand, I’m already insanely busy and overworked with the two artists I’m already managing.

On the other hand, as odd as they are, they are old and close friends of mine. It wouldn’t be like managing strangers or learning a whole new fanbase, I helped build the foundation of the one they have now back in 2014.

And it would be a good distraction.

If this plan works out with Nick, maybe I could move on from Plum status and I can actually focus on my job.

“Fine. I’ll do it. BUT,” I hold a finger pointed towards him menacingly, “ONLY temporarily.”

“Ah yes! I knew you would!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around me and tackling me to the bed, pressing various ‘thank you’ kisses to my cheek.

“Okay, okay enough.” I chuckle trying to escape his grasp.

-NICHOLAS-

I let a long sigh at the bottom of the stairs, shifting my weight between both feet. I tap my fingers on the wooden railing anxiously. I probably shouldn’t be this rattled over something I’ve done a million times before. But it doesn’t get any easier.

I push myself up the stairs in one driving force knowing that it has to be me. It’s always me.

Never Folio. Never Jolly.

It’s always been my job.

There’s no response when I knock on Noah’s bedroom door.

I knock again, no answer.

So, I let myself in.

As expected, Noah’s passed out with a fresh bottle of whiskey half drank on his nightstand. His room still in as much filth as it’s been for a while. For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen his room even remotely messy a handful of times, and this is the worst I’ve ever seen it. In the past I’ve known the reasons behind the mess or the drinking – usually over a breakup or some depression spell – but this time he kept me in the dark. I have no fucking clue what's going on with him.

If I wasn’t so aggravated with him already, the mess of the room would worry me even more than I already am.

I cross the threshold of garbage between the door and his bed and pat his cheek awake.

“Noah.”

Sleepy snores tumble from his mouth and while one might find them endearing, right now, they’re pissing me the fuck off.

“Noah.” I say more sternly, nudging him more. No luck.

I try various other ways, and nothing works. He’s out cold.

So, I try a tried-and-true classic.

I climb on top of him and straddle his waist over the duvet, one knee at each side of his hips. His boney exposed shoulders offer a great anchor so I grab them, shaking him awake.

He comes-to slowly, droopy heavy lids struggling to open. His fist goes to rub his tired eye but winces when he’s reminded of the swollen black and blue that surrounds it.

“The fuck are you doing?” He groans, stealing a pillow from beside him to cover his face. “Get off of me.”

I snatch the pillow from his grasp and toss it across the room. “No. You’re going to get up. You’re going to shower. And I’m taking you to a meeting.”

He shields his eyes with his arm. “I’m-I’m fine Nick, don’t need a meeting.” His words slurring together.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” I correct.

“I don’t need a meeting.” He hiccups and I can smell the alcohol radiating off him, seeping through his skin. “I’m not going. I'm just gonna sleep.”

I grab his wrists, pin them to the bed and get low to his face. “Oh you’re going. We’re gonna sober you up, starting with a shower.” I pull off him and stand beside the bed.

“Let’s go. C’mon.”

“No.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way has the same result. Let’s go.”

“No.”

I sigh, even though I knew it would end up like this. “Fine. Hard way it is.”

I yank the sheets off him and use two arms to scoop up his body by his midsection and throw him over my shoulder. He’s thin enough to where even I can lift and carry him easily – or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the weight of him in my arms.

“Nick let me fucking go.” He whines but doesn’t try to wiggle out of my grasp, probably too hungover to move that much.

With every bit of my strength, I carry his thin body to his guest bathroom.

I all but toss him into the shower, start the water, and fling the curtain closed.

“Hey! What the fuck!” He yells and shuts off the water immediately.

He slings the curtain open and snatches a towel off the nearest rack, wrapping it around his shirtless torso.

“What the fuck is your problem, Nicholas!” His hands frantically wipe the water from his face.

I let out a frustrated groan and turn to leave. "Stop being a baby."

He steps out of the tub and calls after me, “Hey, I’m not fucking done talking to you!”

The shower shock did exactly what I needed it to do, sober him up, but now I regret even waking him up.

“My problem is that you’re a fucking drunk Noah.” I snap turning back to him.

“I’m not a fucking drunk, I have it under control. You’re just fucking paranoid!” He steps into the hallway dripping water all over the carpet.

“I’m not fucking paranoid, Noah. I’m not letting you drink yourself to oblivion.”

His brows lift in offense, “Let me? What the fuck are you, my fucking keeper?”

“Sometimes it sure fucking feels like I am!” The words escape me before I can stop them.

He chuckles in disbelief, “Well, nobody fucking asked you to be.”

“It doesn’t matter if anyone asked me to, I have to because who the fuck else is gonna pick your sorry, bruised ass off a bar floor in the middle of the fucking day?” My hand helps exaggerate each word.

“Jolly or Folio would’ve.” He sasses, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah? And how long you think they’d put up with that?” I step closer to him. “Not for as long as I have, that’s for fucking sure.”

His eyes scrunch together like he’s hurt or offended.

Maybe both,

Maybe neither.

“I won’t let you push out everyone in our lives Noah.”

His eyes land on me and he cocks his head to the right a bit like a dog processing a foreign noise.

“‘Push out everyone in our lives’ is that what this is actually about? Alice?”

My gaze locks on him and my hands curl into tight fists at my sides. There are many words I want to say but none seem able to leave my tongue.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious.” He steps back and points defensively at me. "I didn't push her out, you did!"

My blood boils and burns as it courses through my veins. My eyes narrow at him.

“I know you fucked her Noah.” I shove my finger so hard into his chest that it nearly knocks him back.

“I didn’t even like her Nick! Why the fuck would I fuck her?” He immediately denies.

“Because you always have to have everything you want, including the things that aren’t yours.”

“‘Things’” He scoffs. “Funny how you’re so upset about someone you only see as a thing.”

My teeth grind so hard it makes my jaw clench, “You know she was never a thing to me until you fucked her.”

“Oh, give it a break Nicholas! Stop blaming me for her leaving.” His hands exaggerate his words then points straight at me. “You are the reason your relationship failed. You are the reason she left.”

My eyes narrow as I step closer to his soaked body. “I would really watch what you fucking say if I were you.”

“Or what?” He asks but I have no answer. “When are you going to stop punishing me for something I never fucking did?”

I watch his eyes: dark brown, heavy, bloodshot, and one lined with a dark bruise from the bar fight. His words sound genuine, but I know his eyes, I know them like the back of my hand.

I know when he’s lying, and he’s lying to me right now. I can’t prove it, I haven’t been able to, but I know he’s been lying to me for the past year.

“For the love of god Noah, can you just stop fucking lying?” I snap. "You don't even have enough respect for me to tell me the truth?"

“Wow.” He presses his lips together for a moment. “You must think so low of me to really believe that I would do something like that.”

“I don’t have to think low of you to believe the truth.” I hiss, stepping towards him. “But you’re going to keep denying it so it’s irrelevant what I believe did or didn’t happen. What I do know, is that you have a fucking problem, and you need help.”

He steps towards me with low brows and narrow beady eyes, “I didn’t fuck Alice and I don’t need a fucking alcohol anonymous meeting just because I still like to get drunk sometimes. I am a fucking adult, and I don’t need you to ‘save me’.” He scoffs and runs his tongue across his teeth. “You know? Maybe that’s what actually drove Alice away, you and your fucking high-and-mighty, savior complex bullshit.”

Every inch of skin on my body feels like its burning and my heart races so loud I can barely even think clearly. I tighten my fists so tight that my nails dig into my palms painfully. I know that if I do anything, it will make me look like the villain.

“I can’t fucking hit you because if I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” I growl lowly. “Get sober or don’t, I don’t fucking care anymore – but we have a chance, a real chance at making it now and if you ruin this for us Noah, I will never fucking forgive you. Do you understand me? I will fucking destroy you if you fuck this up for us.”

His brows curve up and he looks at me like I’m insane for insinuating that he would. “I won’t.” He replies through gritted teeth.

I glance over the railing when I hear the house beginning to stir with Jolly and Folio starting to wake up, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I don’t need them getting involved.

“Just,” I lower my voice between us. “Make it to rehearsals, meetings, shows – the rest I don’t give a fuck. Just make it to work. Sober.”

“Fine.” He says quickly, "If that will keep you out of my fucking business and leave me the fuck alone."

"Fine."

"Fine." He repeats, because of course he has to have the last word, before storming off to his room and slamming the door behind him.

I mirror him, making it to my room and slamming the door.

Once alone, the feeling that courses through my body is nauseating, painful and overwhelming. It is a visceral ache, I feel it twisting in my chest first, in my ribs, then flows and pools in the pit of my stomach.

I thought I moved on from the Alice situation. I tried to force myself to believe him, I tried to forget and push it so far down that it wouldn’t hurt. Tried to rationalize, maybe he didn’t sleep with her. Maybe he didn’t betray me. Maybe it really is just me projecting the weaknesses of our relationship onto him. But no matter how hard I push it down, it always bubbles back up.

And in my gut, I know he did it. Everything adds up, the timelines, the behavior, all of it.

I was just never prepared for a girlfriend to cheat on me with my best friend. I was never prepared to have him sleep with my girlfriend. Not after everything we’ve been through.

I was never prepared to have my heart broken by the two people I trusted and loved more than anything in my life.

In retrospect, I guess, I should’ve expected it. For as long as I can remember Noah always had girls fawning all over him. He always had that lead singer charm even though he never planned on being a frontman. Girls were never an issue for him, he seemed to get anyone he ever wanted.

Is it really that far-fetched that the one I had wanted him too?

Is that all that this is going to be from now on? Any girl the rest of us want, would just want Noah first?

I never pictured that this would be our future.

I never pictured my best friend of over a decade fucking my girlfriend then lying about it to my face.

I never pictured having to drag said lying, alcoholic best friend out of bed trying to get him to an AA meeting just so he could be sober enough for rehearsals.

I never imagined that out of the four of us, it would be me having to hold it all together. I never signed up for that. I signed up to play an instrument, to sign CDs, sleep in busses and sit in interviews. I never signed up to play manager, I never signed up to secretly scrape Noah off bar floors, be his personal caretaker and tentative AA sponsor. Doing all of that just to have it thrown in my face, to stand next to him – every day in rehearsals, in photoshoots, on stage, across the fucking dining table – knowing what he did and pretending that I’m okay with it.

I never thought I’d feel stuck in this band, this thing Noah and I have worked on and dreamed about since we were 15. I’ve poured so much of my life into this fucking band.

I can’t just up and leave. I’d have nothing left. I’d be nothing without them and I can’t be the bomb to blow us up. Especially not now when everything is just starting to take off. All this work would’ve been for nothing.

It’s not just my livelihood and dream, but theirs as well. I can’t do that to them.

And as much as I want to, as much as I’ve tried, I can’t leave Noah. We both know I’m right whether he wants to admit it or not. Nobody else would do what I do, nobody knows what I do, and nobody knows how to take care of him the way I do. He’s stubborn and stupid and won’t let anyone else in the way he’s let me in.

I don’t know why I’m the only one who has gotten the curse of his trust, but I have it and I can’t hand it off or set it down – no matter how heavy or suffocating it is.

Next Chapter -> 11 - Peak Fashion

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo @thebadchic @the-hell-i-overcame @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @cncohshit @dominuslunae [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: The love for this story has honestly been so overwhelming (in a good way obv) and I couldn't be more grateful. I really thought this would flop lol so, thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 🥺)

#2 POVs bc i was feeling SILLY #& by silly i mean the characters were not cooperating with the assignment #sorry if this chapter is all over the place i was having so much trouble with this one #this is the first time i’ve ever had multiple POVs in one chapter & i can’t tell if i like it or not #vallie wears princess by kilian perfume #i love how vallie's character is developing #i think vallie & kras' friendship came out so cute 😭#nicholas ruffilo fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo fanfic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo x oc #nick ruffilo x oc #nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc #bad omens x oc #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian x fem!oc #virality series #virality #christian anthony #christian kras anthony #christian anthony fanfic #kras anthony fanfic #chase atlantic #chase atlantic fanfic #concreteburialplot works

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1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam · 6 months

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I desperately want oblivious!Buddie to play out for just a LITTLE longer so we get some “off-screen” gems. As in, absolutely bonkers events and quirks that we don’t currently know, but slowly find out before the boys figure THEM out. Such as Buddie grocery shopping together, Buck knowing Chris’ (AND Eddie’s) SSN, Chris having Buck’s phone number memorized because he didn’t have a phone when they first met and would call him on the house phone like for the Hildy prank, Chris has called Buck his dad to one of the firefam or Carla, Buck and Abuela have weekly phone calls now that she lives in Texas, Eddie is Buck’s POA (and vice versa), Eddie has a second pair of keys to Buck’s Jeep (Buck doesn’t for Eddie’s truck ONLY because Eddie is a passenger princess and if he’s not the one driving his truck then he just hands his keys off to Buck anyway), as early as late season 3 Christopher was drawing Buck into his family portraits (bonus points if it’s before the well happened), Buck has Christopher’s drawings on his loft fridge, Buck uses the family calendar on Eddie’s fridge too, Eddie specifically doesn’t buy certain foods because Buck has a food restriction that the Diazes do NOT also have (canon vegan Buck anyone?), Buck picks Christopher up from school enough to be known to both the teachers AND administration, they have a shared google calendar that Eddie hates (technophobe) but Buck updates regularly, there hasn’t been a week where Buck hasn’t stayed the night at least once at the Diazes since the lawsuit (yes, even through the divorce arc idc, let me live).

The whole “didn’t know they were dating” thing is becoming more and more appealing to me for Buddie with every passing minute, and I just think it would be funny if we got Hen or Maddie or even Christopher to call them out on little things like this that they do that they didn’t really think hard enough about to realize it was partner shit, not best friend shit. Plus, I know a lot of people want Buddie NOW because of Buck being canonically bi, but I’m still happy to wait a little longer if it means giving both characters the patience and care their stories deserve. ABC making them canon the very first season after the network switch WOULD be iconic, but given that I’ve been both ecstatic and nervous about Buddie after last Thursday’s episode, I think they should pace it. Give them both full realizations about their sexualities, a lil crisis about it for each too, maybe a different man or two before each other, the jealousy they’re BOTH now famous for, just a pinch more therapy about the shock of it all, and then somebody or something to knock their heads together and make them realize that their partner has been right there all along.

Honestly, I won’t lie and say that some of these aren’t based off of fics I’ve read, but they’re also so basic to Buddie that I couldn’t tell you specific fics, and I also definitely tried to come up with some that aren’t from fics in my memory, but claim them if you want lol, I don’t mind

#buddiepher #buddie #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buckley #Buck is bi!!!#buckley diaz family #this is canon to me #oblivious buddie my BELOVED #oblivious buddie #Chris come get your dads #buddie is endgame #buddie is coming #911 abc #911 s7 #9 1 1 abc

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theesteemedladydebourgh · 1 year

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hi hi! i got my shit together (theoretically), and TFTDC is returning for semi-regular updates this summer! 🥳 starting with chapter 8! 🧳🐺🦌🌼🌅🕰⚖️💘 (emojis in no particular order, though perhaps with some hints)

i embarked on a thorough reread of JHF and TFTDC last week, which made me realize 3 things:

1. I can never read my own smut again. once it’s written down, it’s out of my hands and my eyes can never take it in ever.

2. Chapter 5 (March II: and we fall into each other) of TFTDC is by far my favorite chapter of the fic, and entirely responsible for re-igniting my passion for writing.

3. i’ve missed this world and these characters, and there’s a whole new basket of mysteries, emotions, themes, and past issues 👀 to get into for the summer months of the fic.

***little addendum on thematic pacing, because it just occurred to me that i should probably explain it lol. January-March II was thematically Act I of Part I of TFTDC, and April-May was Act II. (By Part I, I mean that in my head the fic is split into two halves). June starts off Part II of the fic, with Act I being the summer, June-August. And then theoretically September-December is Act II of Part II, but that has potential to change if I add anything new!

hopefully that made sense and wasn’t just vague rambling haha. the emotional arcs of this fic are extremely important to how it’s structured, because where Lily and James are emotionally is almost more important than the plot. and there are some fun arcs coming up!

i will be popping on and off of tumblr over the next week (and constantly tip-tapping away in my little writing cave), but i’m very happy and excited to get back into posting fic again, and especially to work on this story!

xx ange 💕

P.S. if anyone wants to get in the mood for Chapter 8, I highly recommend the entirety of Luke Hemmings ‘When Facing the Things We Turn Away From’! perfect James-headspace for this one 😌

#the first time divorcees club #updates about updates #SHES BACK YALL #tftdc #jily #fic #james potter #lily evans

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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

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keeping secrets -

chapter three

series masterlist / chapter four

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: this is an +18 only series. this chapter is really just backstory. slight angst.

words: 3.4k

notes: i know what you’re thinking. isn’t that a gif of nick fowler? why yes it is. that’s bc i caught myself picturing artem as nick and bucky is in this for like .5 seconds so i thought it fit better than a bucky gif would have lol. also, i didn’t check the timeline i’ve vaguely set up so if it doesn’t track let’s just pretend it does, okay? thanks 🥰 as i posted yesterday, what i had planned for ch three is now ch four because i wrote more than i thought i would for the backstory and decided to split it up. but i swear we’re gonna get to the good stuff soon 😙 as always, feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated. thank you for reading 🖤

All of Tuesday was spent in your room. You never received an updated mission brief, so you had begrudgingly accepted the fact that Bucky would be accompanying you. It was shitty and you felt embarrassed when you thought back to his clear rejection of you in the gym, but you were a professional. You could set it aside to get your job done. It’d be fine. That’s what you kept telling yourself. You made sure you had what you needed packed and worked on as many different plans for all the scenarios you could imagine taking place once you were back in Belarus.

The quinjet was scheduled to take off late tonight and you’d arrive in Minsk sometime around 8pm Thursday. The Ivanov family was having some phony charity gala Friday and the plan was for you to infiltrate their estate while they would be at the gala and retrieve the files and records you needed to finally put Sergey, the patriarch of the family, away for good. SHIELD would come in during the scramble that was sure to ensue once they had him in custody and be able to put most of, if not all, the rest of them away, too. They were ill prepared for a change in power and the organizations they controlled would fall easily in the chaos.

You knew the layout of their home intimately so you knew exactly where to hit and how to get in and out as easily as possible. It should go smoothly.

Get in, get the files, get out.

Simple.

But something was warning you it might not be as easy as it sounded. You knew you’d have to be on high alert the second you got to their estate, and you knew you’d have to trust Bucky to keep an eye on your movements should anything unexpected go down. Trust didn’t really come easily to you, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

Sergey was the guest of honor for the event, so you knew his private security would be with him, meaning his office should be unattended. You felt confident that his wife and his son, Artem, would be in attendance with him. The only people you had to get around would be the perimeter security, whoever the two guards they’d have inside the house would be, and the house staff. In your experience, the in-house security would most likely be hanging around in the main living room in the main house of the estate and the staff would be in their living quarters, the house off the back side of the grounds. They were really only in the main house mornings getting their work done and at nights when the family was home, preparing dinner and then cleaning up once they went to bed. Since they’d be gone Friday night, you were positive they’d keep to their quarters. You’d just need to get into the estate without being detected and enter through the back house to avoid whoever would be on guard. Once you were in, you’d make your way to Sergey’s office, get the files transferred, and get out. You’d be headed back to the safe house before 11pm and on your way home, hopefully, not long after.

You focused on replaying the plan over and over in your mind as you rechecked your luggage and gear. And again, repeatedly as you boarded the quinjet nearly an hour early. You were anxious to get this mission over with, for more reason than one. You hadn’t even given yourself permission to think back on the last month you had spent in Belarus and the memories that would be waiting there for you. There was no point. That life was gone. That woman was gone. Hell, she never really existed.

None of those relationships did, you reminded yourself. It was designed by you, you knew exactly what you were getting into. Maybe you just hadn’t expected your players to play their part as well as they had. You were set to betray them from the beginning, you had done it many times over to many bad people without blinking an eye. But Artem was different. This was different. And all too personal.

You knew you screwed up the night it happened, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking back, you were pathetic. And weak. And stupid. You knew better. You knew who he was and you knew who you were.

Yet you still wound up in his bed. Night after night. You had never felt so enchanted by someone. Now you weren’t the first spy to sleep with a target undercover before, you did what you had to do to get the job done, but you knew you couldn’t excuse it as that. You could have found a way around it if you had really tried.

You can’t help but think now, if you hadn’t been so desperate, so love starved, you never would have given into his charms to begin with. You had only yourself to blame, but in the same vein, you were only human. Tough to believe at times, but you were. As on top of your game as you always were, you just fell weak. There was no other way to put it. It just felt easy, and you felt wanted. You wanted to believe he was different, better. You tried to tell yourself that if you could just explain to him, he’d understand. He’d be on your side. He wasn’t a bad man, you told yourself. But that wasn’t the case, of course.

You were found out. You still weren’t sure exactly how, but you were. You were set to meet up with Artem for a date night at one of the many restaurants Sergey owned. Though when you showed up, you knew immediately something was off. There was an alarm bell ringing in your head, but as you sat in the back of the chauffeured ride, you knew you had to play it cool. Scanning every exit and making notes of possible escape routes, you stepped out of the car and slowly made your way inside. You could tell the place was empty before you walked in the door and that realization made your stomach drop. You worked to maintain your breathing and assured yourself you’d get out of there fine. Keeping your head held high as you strode in, silently grateful you had opted for the black bodysuit under your dress tonight despite originally having wanted to wear a matching two piece set. If you needed to get out of the tight dress you were wearing to make a run for it, it wouldn’t be too exposing.

You gripped your small purse concealing your pistol, reaffirming it was still there. At least you had that. You weren’t necessarily prepared for this tonight, but you wouldn’t be as good as you were if you arrived anywhere completely unprepared. You didn’t have much in the way of weapons on you, but you doubted you’d be able to utilize them if you had. The black heels you wore would do the trick if they had to.

As you approached Artem, sitting alone at a table set for two, you realized that there really was no one else there. Just him. You walked up behind him and saw the pistol he had in his lap, poorly hidden beneath the table. You continued around him and took the seat across from him. The plates were clear and the glasses still empty.

“Tatyana,” he said solemnly.

“Artem,” you returned, his clear blue eyes watching your form with an intensity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was a darker look when his eyes met yours, harsher. Angry, though the rest of his demeanor appeared cool.

It was tensely silent for a minute as you sat across from him, just staring at one another. You weren’t going to speak first, and so only the sounds of your breathing could be heard until he finally spoke again.

“Tell me it’s not true,” he said. You didn’t answer immediately, waiting for just a moment.

“Tell you what’s not true?” you asked, instantly causing him to lose his feigned calm. His fist, the one not holding his gun, hit the table, causing the still empty glasses to shake with the vibration.

“Don’t play stupid with me,” he roared.

You clutched your purse in your lap, but didn’t move to pull your weapon, not just yet, as he kept his in his lap as well. His eyes burning into yours, neither one of you wanting to move first.

“I trusted you,” he nearly whispered. “I gave you everything. And this whole time, all of… it’s been a lie?”

You took a moment, trying to decide which way to go with this conversation, finally opting for the truth.

“I had a job to do,” you began quietly, but were cut off by Artem hitting the glasses and dishes off the table in his fury, along with a string of curses in Russian flying from his mouth.

“You had a job!?” he said, disgruntled and disgusted. “Well, so do I.”

He raised his pistol up pointing it at your face and you fought the impulse you had to disarm him. His hold on his gun was weak and flimsy, it’d be easy enough to do. But the light quiver of his lip and the almost imperceptible shaking of his hand gave you pause. You looked to the safety and saw it was still in place. You swallowed the small lump in your throat and took a breath.

He may have been told to kill you, but there was no way he was going to. You put your hands up slowly as he looked at you, hurt and anger clear on his face as you slowly rose from your seat, him following your every move.

“You’re a good man, Artem,” you began gently. “You’re not like them, I know it. I know you,” you tried to placate.

“If you think I’m a good man, you don’t know me at all,” he argued, voice tight.

“I do. You think all of it’s been a lie, but that’s not the truth. Getting this close to you, it was never part of the plan,” you explained, his dry laugh interrupting you. “I should have never let it happen. You were innocent in all of this. You still are,” you tried to remind him, only earning you a sneer in response. “I just needed an in, and you-”

“I what?! Was an easy target?” he accused, offended. “Is that it?!”

You didn’t know what to say, a knot reforming in your throat. It was never supposed to go down like this. But the second you got too close, you should have known it would be inevitable. You had been slowly stepping back, getting yourself closer to the exit as he continued aiming the gun at you.

“You’re family,-” you started, again being cut off by him,

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about my family,” he warned you. You had known deep down, since the start, despite what you wanted to believe, Artem would always choose his family. And that exclamation just solidified that fact. There was no reason to try and win him over, there would be no changing his mind. You might get out of here tonight, but you knew that didn’t mean you were safe. If he couldn’t do it himself, his father would surely send someone else to.

“How could you do this to me?” he asked, pained.

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “But it’s not about you,” you said, shaking your head. “It was never about you.”

“You just switch it off so easily, don’t you,” he grimaced, almost dejected. Like he thought maybe you cared enough about him to make things okay. As if he thought you’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness and you could put this all behind you. That couldn’t happen, though. It wouldn’t.

You had no response to his accusation. You stood across from him, eyes bearing into one another’s. Eventually, he gave up. He threw his pistol on the table, appearing exhausted, his eyes never leaving you. You stayed where you were as he moved toward you, approached you closer until he was standing right in front of you. You let him take hold of your chin as he tilted your face up gently. Like he was trying to save to memory your face and the feeling of your soft skin beneath his touch as he caressed your cheek. He leaned down, getting nose to nose with you before he took your lips in his. It was almost like an apology. You to him and him to you. He pulled away slightly and spoke against your lips.

“You’ve broken my heart Tatyana,” he told you, the name he called you by was another reminder of the endless lies you had fed him since the day you met. Just another part of the job. He pulled away from you completely, his hands slipping from you as he walked further away before he turned around, dragging his hand down his face before he looked back at you. “We both know I can’t do it. I can’t kill you,” he admitted aloud. Then suddenly his resentment was back in full force as his face hardened once again. As if his resolve to do right by his family had returned. “But I won’t stop anyone from doing what I’m too weak to do,” he nearly seethed.

You held eye contact for a moment longer, wanting to say something, but thinking better of it as you walked backward to the exit, your eyes still trained on one another. One last look and you were gone. Once you were out in the cool night air, your only focus was on getting out of the city without being seen or running into anyone from their operations. You couldn’t dwell on what happened. Couldn’t dwell on all the mistakes you’d made that led you there. You acted on instinct alone.

You knew you didn’t have much time, if any, to get out. Your apartment was a no go, seeing as you were staying there under your alias, Tatyana Volkova. The carefully crafted identity you had taken on months ago. You got yourself out of the city that very night, your head on a swivel everywhere you went. The second you had left the restaurant, you knew there would be a bounty on your head. And you were right. You had stupidly left your passport and fake ID in the apartment you had been living, and your contact couldn’t seem to get you out of Belarus without hitting every snag he possibly could have. It took way too long to get another passport and ID, longer to get a flight out of the country, and no safehouse or transport available.

You had been staying in cheap rooms under fake names, constantly on the go, but that didn’t put you in the clear. You knew you should have been more prepared for the reality that you'd have a hit on you, but you didn’t realize how high a reward the Ivanov’s had set. The payday had quite a few highly skilled assassins after you. Luckily for you, you weren’t too shabby yourself on that front. You knew all the tricks and saw them coming from a mile away every time. Each attempt made on your life only served to piss you off more. They were relentless. None of them nearly as skilled as you, but still. You soon realized you didn’t have much of a choice left. You were alone, no one to have your back in the encounters you faced, not that that was new to you, but it was getting wearisome mentally. You weren’t sure how long you could stay on top of your game like this. But you knew they wouldn’t stop until Tatyana was dead. So…you’d just have to kill her.

For whatever reason, you and your contact, Walt, had a way easier time faking your death than you’d had on simply getting out of the country. Walt pretended to be taking on your hit and you and him easily followed through on their instructions. Three days and one anonymous wire transfer later saw Tatyana Volkova deceased and you on your way back to London, where you had been based for the past few years.

When you got back to your apartment, your real apartment, that was when everything started to sink in. Your body was sore and your mind was reeling. You felt utterly alone. You were alone. If you hadn’t kept yourself so closed off all of your life, maybe you wouldn’t have been so susceptible to the advances of Artem. It’s not like you were in love with him, you just… needed someone. And he had been there. You were loath to admit it, but you were starting to realize that maybe being as alone as you kept yourself for so long was more detrimental than you thought it could be. You needed to reevaluate your life. You needed to get your head on straight and reorient yourself. You had fucked up on this mission and it wasn’t like you. Maybe it was time for a change. Reintroduce yourself to the world of people around you.

That sounded absolutely terrible. And honestly, made you a little anxious.

You didn’t know where you’d even start.

After some time trying to figure things out, plan your next steps, you just so happened to see some of the world’s mightiest heros on the news. You’d remembered what Kate and Yelena had said the day you’d met, they talked to you about joining the Avengers. Being part of a team.. Without thinking much, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, and choosing to trust your gut and follow your intuition, you found yourself getting into contact with Tony Stark. You were in New York a week later. And now here you are. As anxious as you were to get this mission over with, you were grateful for the opportunity in the first place. You were looking for a fresh start here. You needed to finish what you began before you could really move into your future, whatever it might be. No regrets holding you down. Working on forgiving yourself for your past mistakes and making up for them now. You were damn good at your job, and you refused to let this one mission make you think otherwise. It was time to redeem yourself in your own eyes, and finally put an end to this one.

The plan you made had been replaying in your mind over and over once again until the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the door of the quinjet caught your ear. Bucky entered, throwing his luggage down as he did. Scowl maring his beautiful face as usual. He didn’t so much as glance at you, and you didn’t acknowledge him either. Was it your pride or embarrassment? Didn’t really matter, they were two sides of the same ego driven coin. You recognized your lack of maturity, but told yourself it was merely a reflection of Bucky rather than you. You were simply avoiding him in the same way he was doing to you. You stayed where you were seated as he went to the controls, taking the pilot’s seat. Within no time, he had the jet set to take off.

“Are you ready?” Bucky asked, his voice breaking the silence between you, while his eyes stayed fixed on the controls. You took a breath before you answered.

“Yeah.”

With that, you and Bucky were on your way to Belarus. It’d be an enjoyable, not at all awkward or tense 15 hour flight, you were sure.

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bettsfic · 1 year

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Hi Betts!

I recently read your newsletter on your drafting process (I actually read multiple updates in your newsletter…. But I digress). I have a question about updrafts. Can you explain (maybe with a fake example) the difference between the updrafts and down drafts? I get the core difference. But I’ve been trying this approach, first, getting the words down. And then me being the constant editor that I am, when I can, I go to tweak my work and I’m not sure if I should then label it an updraft. I’m not necessarily proud of the edits or at least not a hundred percent sold on them. So would that particular chapter still be a down draft? Or am I overthinking this? Lol.

(anon is referring to this issue of my newsletter.)

if you're editing while you're writing, then you're skipping straight to the up draft. sometimes that can happen if you have a scene very clearly rendered in your head and manage to write it in a way you're happy with off the bat. for me, that's somewhat rare, but it happens.

where that becomes a problem is when you force yourself to up draft by being unable to stop self-editing. a lot of writers have this problem, because many people only understand writing as rough draft and final draft, where the final draft is more or less a proofread. you have to train yourself out of that by learning how to write in different ways. down drafting is its own skill, the ability to tell yourself, DON'T THINK JUST WRITE AAAAAAAA.

an activity you can do to develop that skill is what i call the No Backspace Freewrite. to do this, you need to set a timer for 3 minutes. during those 3 minutes your goal is to type constantly the entire time (no pausing! none!) without hitting the backspace key, even if what you type ends up being "i don't know what to type i'm just figuring out what to say what i want to say is..." then you take a break and set the timer for 5 minutes. the first few times you do this activity, you probably won't come up with anything good. but as you do it more, you'll start to find sentences and phrases that make you go, "oh that's pretty good, i can keep that."

and once you get really comfortable finding a single sentence or phrase amid hundreds of useless words, it becomes a lot easier to turn your self-editor off and down draft without skipping immediately to the up draft. basically, you have to teach yourself how to flip the switch of your inner self-editor.

i'm hoping to write part 3 of my "how to write a novel" series on revision soon, which will hopefully offer more insight. the SFD process is only how you get to a first draft. my revision process (which involves discrete, actionable tasks and activities because in my heart i am and will always be an english teacher) will help give a greater scope so that the distance between down-up-dental isn't as wide as it seems to be.

#writing advice #sfd #process

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dutchvanwinkle · 1 year

Text

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 5 - Dutch x Reader

Hello again darlings! I hope those of you celebrating Easter / Ramadam / Passover are having a wonderful weekend, did you know this overlap only happens three times every century? How cool is that!! Whether you're observing a holiday or not, it's now time for us to all come together and fantasize about daddy Dutch :)

I would apologise for the wait between this chapter and the last, but I did say this fic would be relatively slow in updates. I wrote a good chuck of this chapter then decided I hated it, took some time away from it, came back, then realised it wasn't as bad as I'd made out in my head lol. It's a pretty fluffy one tbh, and even if it's not as long as the previous one I hope you still enjoy!

It's on ao3, too!

Summary: Your relationship with Dutch deepens when you spend more time with him after a stressful week.

Word count: 6,471

Content warnings: smut, mildly creepy dutch

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Despite everyone’s knowledge of the end of the academic year, not one of your group of friends took the responsibility of arranging the flat for you to all live in together for second year. So, once again, you and Karen were in the same one - with John, Abigail, Sean, and Javier across the hall in theirs. You didn’t mind much; you were all too deep in the habit of leaving your flats unlocked anyway so the others could wander in should they please. It was dumb, but you hadn’t been robbed yet and imagined that’s what it would take for you to change your ways.

Abigail had made extra dinner and you were the first to claim the portion, skipping across the hall and ambling in with a grin on your face. The two of you ate and chatted with the TV filling the background noise. Karen had joined not long after, and the three of you found yourselves sprawled on the sofa, tired from a full day.

Second year was noticeably harder, no more easing you into university life – the theory and assignments were tough. However, thanks to your hard work in the previous semester it wasn’t an impossible leap. It had been for some, Javier regularly coming around in an attempt to inconspicuously copy your coursework.

Just as you were mentally preparing yourself for the next day, the last before the weekend, your phone buzzed.

Naughty girl.

Dutch. You cleared your throat, pausing a moment before opening his message. He hadn’t taken any liberties with his possession of your phone number, and your inbox had been decidedly empty since the last time you saw him.

Was this the old-person way of flirting? Was it sexting? Hopefully, your response would allow room for clarification.

I was just in my photo gallery.

Oh. You smiled to yourself. Another message.

I almost dropped my phone.

Sorry, won’t happen again.

It better happen again, miss. I’ve already made good use of it, and now I’m in need of more.

Good god, the thought of him pleasuring himself to a photo of you brought heat all over your neck. “I’m just gonna use your bathroom,” you stood up to excuse yourself, getting no response from your friends.

Once inside, you looked around, knowing full well it was empty and quickly flicked the lock on the door, before pulling your top over your head. Glancing over your reflection in the mirror, you tried to figure out the best angle that’d reveal enough but not too much.

Eventually, you got an angle you were happy with, only your jaw in view and your tits on full display. You cropped the photo (including your bottom half was a bit too much, right now at least) when his name appeared in your notification bar again.

Too far?

Bless him, he could see you’d read his message but left him without a response for ten minutes. Without giving yourself time to chicken out, you sent the picture to him.

Sorry, I was distracted.

He read it instantly, and it took a full minute before you could see he was typing. Then the dots disappeared. Then reappeared. Then disappeared again. You smiled to yourself, pulling your top over your head and flushing the toilet for good measure, before venturing back out and returning to the sofa. Dutch finally decided on what to say once you’d made yourself comfy.

Come see me this weekend.

If only. A weekend being fucked repeatedly was just what you needed, exhaustion already settling into your mind thanks to your busy schedule being back in action. Unfortunately, said schedule was exactly why you couldn’t.

Can’t, sorry. I’m working tomorrow and Saturday.

Fuck work. I’ll pay you.

“What are you smiling at?”

You glanced up, Karen looking at you inquisitively, Abigail taking her attention off the TV in turn to see what the fuss was.

“Nothing?” you said casually.

“You’ve been grinning at that phone of yours for five minutes.”

“I have not been grinning.”

She raised a brow, the look on her face turning to intrigue.

“Please tell me it’s a guy. Or a girl. Or anything with a pulse,” Abigail pleaded, and you tutted while Karen cackled.

“I’ve told you I don’t have time for that crap! Besides, I’m perfectly fine as I am,” you said defensively, folding your arms and ignoring the buzz of a message on your phone.

“We all need a good screw now and again,” Karen said plainly, Abigail nodding in agreement.

Don’t we just. “Oh, and Maquire is providing that service well enough for you, is he?”

She shot you a glare, and as she was about to retort the main door opened, the man himself trailed by Javier and John.

“Yeah, alright,” John said, his phone held up against his ear while he set the bag of shopping on the counter.

“Hello ladies,” Javier greeted you all, beginning to put away their communal shop which was pathetically void of nutrients and taken up mostly by cans of beer.

Sean pulled off his boots, hopping a little before it gave and sighing proudly when it did. “Any of you want a drink?”

You shook your head, as did Abigail, but Karen held her hand out.

“Ah, that’s why I love ya,” he grinned, handing a can out to Karen who scoffed in disgust before snatching it from him.

“Okay, fine, yeah. I can do that. See you later,” John said, hanging up his call and letting his phone drop into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Abigail asked while John played tetris stacking the beers in the fridge.

“Yeah, just my dad. He’s coming down this weekend.”

That got your attention. Surely not -

“Says Tilly’s been angling to see the city. He was just checking I was free to spend time with them.”

“Aw,” Abigail sat up, “will we get to see them?”

John shrugged, and your phone buzzed again.

I’m serious. read Dutch’s previous message to you, followed by his most recent one: Looking forward to seeing you.

You neglected to respond just yet, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. That man worked fast.

“Where are you gonna take them?”

“God knows. Knowing Dad,” John sat down beside Abigail, “he’ll have already drafted up a full itinerary.”

You smirked at the thought, a warmth growing in your chest.

Dutch was fond of John’s friends. They were a decent bunch, and he’d been glad to see their familiar faces when he and Tilly arrived in the city the next morning, dropping their bags at the hotel before coming to visit John’s flat. He reminded himself repeatedly not to comment on the lack of cleanliness students seemed to thrive in.

It was nice to see John, along with Javier who he’d watched grow up with his son. Abigail was extra friendly, and thanks to a little birdie he understood why. She was a nice girl. They were all nice. But the one he wanted to see the most was unfortunately yet to descend on the flat despite John’s assurance that everyone swings round all the time.

“I’m going out for a cigarette,” Dutch announced, departing the flat and being met with the doorway to yours opposite him. He tried his luck, finding it unlocked, and mentally chastised you for being careless. He wasn’t sure which room was yours, though he thought it a good enough excuse to have wandered into the wrong flat should anyone ask. Two of the doors were ajar, and after a peek, he found them empty. The flat was quiet, and he decided there was no harm in trying the closed ones. He knocked on the next door, getting no response and so pushing it open.

Dutch smiled to himself as the air entered his nose; it smelled just like you.

Thanks to the strange layout, he could see the end of your bed and a slight bump under the duvet where your feet lay. “Tut tut,” he hummed as he took a couple of steps in, “you really should keep it locked – oh.”

His brows pulled together as his voice died in his mouth at the sight of you fast asleep and bundled up in your bed, completely flat out. He debated waking you but was distracted by seeing the inside of your room for the first time. A little nosy never hurt anybody.

Hands in his pockets, he observed the pictures up on your wall and smiled fondly at the ones including his drunken son. Then, he glanced over the perfume bottles lined up near your small desk mirror, then to the books and paper laid out beside your laptop accompanied by an empty mug from the previous day. It was then that he turned his attention back to you, hair ruffled with one arm out of the covers.

Dutch sat on the edge of your bed and brushed a strand of hair from your peaceful face. It was enough to make you stir, and you cranked your eyes open. He smirked as he observed your expression, going from alarmed to relaxed when you realised it was him, then back to alarmed when you realised it was him.

“You really should lock your flat, and your door,” he greeted.

You rubbed your eyes, wondering if the man had come to visit you in a dream though it felt undeniably real as you remembered your conversation with John the previous day. “Or perhaps,” you said around a yawn, “strange men shouldn’t let themselves in and sit on my bed.”

“Strange men?” Dutch looked mildly offended. “I’d hate to know what you do with familiar men.”

“Very funny,” you grumbled, pulling the covers up to your neck. “What time is it?”

“Ten thirty. I didn’t think you were one to sleep in late.” His hand rested on your lower leg, and the added pressure was soothing and lessened your motivation further for starting your day.

“I’m not. But I’ve got a long day today, so I’m treating myself,” you shut your eyes and felt Dutch shift his weight on the bed. You felt his warmth over you before you felt the kiss he pressed to your cheek, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of it. It awoke other unsavoury sensations that you usually repressed in the morning.

It was as though he sensed it, brushing his hand up your leg and moving to kiss your jaw, an added tenderness compared to its predecessor. You sighed contently, the comfort of Dutch’s soft chuckle reaching your ears. There was no option but to give in, your eyes fluttering open as you shifted onto your back, allowing Dutch to manoeuvre himself on top of you. His face filled with pride, but when he moved in to kiss you, you put your hand up as a barricade.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you explained, and he huffed a laugh.

“I could care less. But, if you insist,” his hand travelled further up the path of your body, cupping your breast as his lips tended to your neck instead, which you bared for him gladly.

“Was it really worth coming all this way?” you asked, lazily watching him trail his lips around your skin.

“Of course,” he said, hardly breaking his path, “need I remind you of my lack of interest in desiring a thing. I prefer -”

“- to have it, right.” Dutch smiled up at you, and the tardy realisation hit you that you were now finishing his sentences. “How was the drive up?” you asked quickly, hoping to alleviate any teasing forming in his mind.

“Just swell,” he answered, trailing his hand underneath your pyjama top to knead your breasts. His fingers moved gently in circles, testing your tenderness as they neared your nipple and lightly tweaking the now erect buds. Then his mouth came down over the fabric, and he sucked one into his mouth, leaving a wet patch behind that he eyed fondly once he was done.

“You know,” you set up on your elbows, craning your neck to look at the door, “I really should lock my door. Just in case.”

Dutch placed his palm on your chest, applying pressure until you lay back down. “No no, you want to leave it unlocked, then you leave it unlocked.”

“I’m serious,” you attempted to sit up again but damn he was strong, “John lets himself in all the time.”

“Does he,” Dutch hummed, moving his head down to suck your nipple in again and released, “I ought to teach the boy some manners.”

“Dutch, it’s not funny. Let me lock the -”

As you tried to sit up Dutch applied his full weight onto you and mouthed at your neck while all the air was knocked from your lungs. Strong and heavy. It would be a comfort if you could only breathe, and grumbled incoherently at your body’s response to being trapped by him despite the danger of the situation.

“Now,” Dutch cooed, lifting his head and running his thumb along your chin, “don’t you worry. I’ve been fit to burst since you sent me those pictures.”

“I thought you -”

“I did, but it’s not the same.” With that, he eased off slightly as you gradually accepted this was a risk you’d just have to take, and wrapped his hand around your inner thigh to shift your legs apart. “Huh, looks like I’m not the only one.”

You frowned down to observe what he was looking at and were met with the moist material of your pyjama shorts. “Goddamnit.”

Dutch chuckled while he trailed his fingers up and down your mound, and it wasn’t long before you were grinding up in time with his movements. He always seemed to know the exact pressure and pace you wanted, and often reigned it back some so as to keep you frustrated. You were about to ask him to get on with it, considering the risk and limited time you had before your day started, when he removed his hand to undo his jeans and pull out his frustrated-looking cock. The man didn’t even look at you, nor give you any warning, before moving your shorts to the side and sliding right in. And curse your body once again, allowing him the smoothest of passages.

A sigh of relief left him, the sort one would make when sinking into a hot bath. He stayed there a moment, nosing at your neck and brushing his palm down your flank to your shorts, the fabric of which he bunched up in his hand. At least you weren’t wearing any underwear he would inevitably steal.

“How could this not be worth the journey,” he mused, and you realised he was in fact talking to himself. Still, you sighed out a laugh.

Dutch moved his torso off yours, straightening up to grab your outer thighs in each hand. His grip was tight, bruising almost, and he held you right where he wanted you as he pulled out and began thrusting in a slow, deep rhythm. His head tipped back, and you stayed watching him, the euphoric pleasure seeping over his face enough to keep you lubricated down below. It truly was nice to know you were the cause of such a response. Well, your body, at least.

“Now,” his heavy gaze met yours, and he leaned forward to plant one hand on your headboard and left the other gripping your hip, “let’s get to it, shall we?”

There was no room to answer before he deepened his thrusts, his thick cock thoroughly filling you. He was perfectly anchored to the bed and you, and being leant forward slightly enabled him to brush over the plush, pulsating spot inside you repeatedly. Swiftly building up your impending orgasm, you thanked your accommodation for not giving you squeaky beds despite their questionable quality.

Dutch’s grunts sounded at the same time as his thrusts, his lips pressed together to limit any other noise and you did the same, quiet gasps leaving you on occasion. “You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he asked through a laboured breath.

“Mhm,” you answered and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him further in and it was the last bit of motivation he needed to fuck you into your mattress until silently you came, back arching and hands gripping the duvet beneath. Dutch continued to fuck into you while your orgasm ebbed away, and you bore through the over-stimulation until he pressed his hips as far forward as he could, filling you up as you felt his cock twitch inside you.

Your breath evened out while he dropped his head forward to run a hand through his hair. “My memory did not do you justice.”

“That right?” you tilted your head in amusement and he hummed his agreement while slowly pulling out and doing a poor job of catching his spend. Guess you’d be changing your sheets today.

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked and you gestured to the door to your ensuite in agreement. While he was there, you pulled some wipes out from your side table and cleaned yourself up.

“What have you got planned for today?” you asked as he ventured back in, doing up the fasten of his belt.

“Probably get some food, walk around and see what we can find,” he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, gesturing to your fire alarm that was tactically covered by a sock. “You really are a naughty girl.”

You snorted a laugh and sat up, while he leaned on your desk and cracked your window open to blow the smoke out. “Are they not going to wonder where you are now?”

“I told them I was going for a cigarette.”

“Huh, smart.”

He raised his brows in agreement as he took another drag. “What time are you working until today?”

“Late,” you shrugged. “I’m on until close.”

Dutch tutted. “Well, my hotel isn’t far from your work, so you may as well stay with me. I’ll wait up.”

“I don’t recall telling you where I worked.”

He smirked, tapping the ash out the window. “You didn’t.”

“Then how -”

“I have my ways. I can be rather resourceful when I want to be.”

“No shit,” you scoffed, ignoring the slight creepiness of him having that knowledge. “But no, thank you, I’ll be too tired.”

“The hotel bed is very comfortable.”

“I said no. Besides, you have Tilly with you,” you said, Dutch shifting his position to be half-seated on your desk.

“She has her own room.” After a final drag, he stubbed out his cigarette and flicked it out your window. He walked over and sat on your bed again, taking your hand in his. “Just consider it?”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, “I will see how I feel after my shift.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, a pleased smile forming on his face and moved in to kiss your cheek before standing. “Be sure to say bye before you head off.”

“Whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes, and with that, he departed, and the urge to shower became urgent.

You had ten minutes to spare after getting washed and dressed, and couldn’t find anything to busy yourself with so you ended up visiting John’s flat after all. Your friends were all there when you entered, Tilly offered you a hug, and Mr Van der Linde greeted you casually when you entered the flat, like he hadn’t been pounding into you less than an hour ago.

“Here she is,” John smiled, “you feeling better?”

Dutch’s expression hardened so fast you could feel it, and you grumbled internally at John once again unintentionally putting his foot in it. “Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, “just needed some sleep.”

“Perhaps you should skip some lectures and catch up some more,” John teased.

“You’re actually going?” Javier scoffed from the sofa, taking his attention away from Tilly’s phone where she appeared to be showing him a video.

“You know I have to,” you deflected, walking over to sit on the arm of the sofa beside him.

“Eighty percent, you can stand to miss a few.”

With a playful tilt of your head, you raised your brows accusingly. “Not worth getting into the habit.”

“Get me a copy of the notes?” he asked sweetly, smiling up at you and taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. As always, you could never resist, nodding your understanding with a smirk. “Ah, Mr Van der Linde -” Javier’s expression dropped as he look at the man in question, “don’t tell my pa, okay?”

Before he could respond, Sean decided to get a word in. “My da doesn’t mind me not going, says it’s better I don’t get my head filled by those pompous academic types. N-no offence, Mr Van der Linde,” he held his arms up placatingly.

“Now, why would I be offended by that?” he asked, genuinely, though Sean visibly began to sweat.

“No reason! No reason at all -”

“And on that note,” you cleared your throat, deciding to save Sean before he inevitably fell further into his self-made hole. “I should get going. Nice to see you both again,” you said, mainly to Tilly, and hoped Dutch’s devious expression in response wasn’t as noticeable to anyone else.

If another person asked you to make a cocktail, you’d scream. It’s a Friday, do these people not know how filled to the brim with students this place was? You weren’t even sure why you offered cocktails at this stupid hour; everyone was too inebriated to even appreciate it, and who needs to spend extra on a drink when they’re out to get as plastered as they can, anyway? Just order a shot and be done with it -

“Whiskey old-fashioned, please.”

You turned, half-ready to lose your job for punching a patron and were met with a smiling Dutch on the other side of the bar.

“Seriously?” you gestured around yourself, both as to why he’d ordered that and why he was there in the first place.

“Why not?”

“It’s busy,” you grumbled, making an exasperated show of preparing the glass.

“Fine,” he chuckled, “just a double on ice will do.”

You offered him a grateful smile, scooping a few ice cubes out of the tray.

“Do you always speak to customers that way?”

“Only the annoying ones,” you shrugged.

“I’m in half a mind to tell your manager,” he raised his brows, leaning on the bar in a way that enhanced his arms as his burgundy shirt stretched around them.

“Do that and I’ll ask you for ID. You forget I also have the power to withhold... other things,” you slid the drink over to him, and as you were about to announce the total, he handed you a twenty. “It doesn’t cost that much.”

“It’s a tip.”

“No,” you lamented, refusing to be his charity case, “it all goes in a pot anyway.”

“Consider it an apology for my being a difficult customer,” he answered immediately. “And as a sweetener, so you don’t withhold your oh so generous offerings.”

You tutted and placed the change to sit stubbornly in front of him on the bar. “I -” your attention was pulled to someone new coming up to the bar, “hold on a second.”

After pouring out two vodka cokes for them, you returned to Dutch. “Where’s John and Tilly?”

“John’s back at his flat, I think, and Tilly’s sleeping at the hotel,” he sipped at his drink, and you smirked as he tried to hide that this whiskey was not as fancy as his palate was used to.

“Will Tilly be alright on her own?” you asked.

“Of course. I plan to return soon anyway; I just need to pick something up first.”

“What do you need to – oh,” you realised what – or rather who – he was referring to. “I haven’t agreed to come back with you. Besides, I’m still working.”

“When do you usually finish?”

“When everyone leaves,” you narrowed your gaze at him accusingly.

“Ah,” he hummed in amusement. “It appears to be quietening down.”

He was right. The crowd was certainly beginning to thin out, and you hoped that in true student fashion, they would all leave to go somewhere busier once they noticed. “I still haven’t agreed.”

Dutch’s response was the inching of his fingers closing to yours, brushing them over your own secretively. “I would really like you to.”

“I’m really, really tired, Dutch.”

“That’s fine, you can go straight to sleep,” at the raise of your brows, he continued with a smile that inched on his face, “I mean it.”

“I could be a while,” you excused yourself further.

He finished the last of his drink, pausing a beat before finishing it. “Just text me when you’re done. Otherwise, I’ll stay here until everyone else has left.”

“Okay, alright,” you rubbed your brow, supposing it couldn’t be too bad if you did just go there to sleep. By now, your trust in him had grown to the point where you believed he would’ve put all the measures in place to ensure the two of you weren’t caught. “I’ll text you.”

“Good,” he said, pleased, and stood. “I’ll be going now, then.”

“You mean you don’t want another one of those?” you pointed to his empty glass.

He gave you an almost weary look, and a laugh slipped from you.

“I’m only kidding.”

He shook his head, and for the briefest of moments your heart skipped as you saw his rare, genuine smile.

“See you later,” you concluded the conversation.

Dutch folded his jacket over the arm and offered you a secretive wink. “I look forward to it.”

It was another hour before the bar closed, and you swiftly grabbed your bag from the back room, pulling your phone out to message Dutch at the earliest opportunity.

You opted for waiting outside, a small way down the street in case any of your colleagues caught you swanning off with an older man who’d visited the bar. He didn’t leave you waiting for long.

“That was sooner than I expected,” he greeted you, and on the short walk to the hotel, you answered his questions about how your shift went.

“This is an expensive hotel,” you slowed on the approach, and Dutch rested his hand comfortably on your lower back. Somehow, you always seemed to forget just how rich he was.

“You think they won’t let you in?” he teased, and you nodded genuinely. “Relax, darling.”

That worked. Your body softened involuntarily, and walking in with him felt natural, easy. What you’d expected otherwise you weren’t sure, still hyper-aware of how you must look to a passer-by at this moment. Or perhaps they didn’t care. Dutch certainly didn’t.

The two of you took the lift, walking down the well-decorated hallway until Dutch stopped and swiped his card on a door. You let out a breath once inside, kicking off your shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed without a second thought.

“You and Javier seem to have an interesting relationship,” he commented, untying his shiny black shoes and placing them neatly by the door.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked defensively.

Dutch shrugged casually, clearly a façade. “You seem close. I wondered if there was anything there.”

You scowled at him, too tired for this line of questioning. “Obviously not -” you paused, remembering yourself despite your newfound anger. “Well, we might’ve had a drunken kiss on our first week, but it didn’t progress beyond that.”

“Hm. I thought as much.”

“What is wrong with you?” you said sharply, “why would you ask that?”

“I was only curious,” he held his hands up before unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t realise it was a crime to ask.”

“It’s not. You’ve no right to be jealous.”

“Who said I was?” he asked, leaning into a chuckle and it only aggravated you even more.

You huffed out some of your anger. “It’s pretty obvious. I’m not stupid. And you’re not as good at hiding things as you think.”

His face altered from unbothered to mildly entertained. “I don’t see why you’re getting so defensive. It was only a question.”

Your mouth opened to let a retort pass through, but none came. The fucker wasn’t wrong, he had only asked. In your exhausted state, you questioned whether you’d read too much into it, and frowned at the ground while rubbing the stress from your brow. Keeping so much contained was a problem in times like this, when emotions escaped out into the world. “I don’t - I just -” you began, feeling yourself getting worked up.

“Okay, alright, darling. Come here,” Dutch sat beside you, opening his arms and you tucked yourself into the warm embrace.

“Sorry,” you sighed quietly, “this is why I didn’t want to come. I get grouchy when I’m tired.”

“I can tell,” he teased, but the kiss placed on the crown of your head balanced it out. “You’ve been sick, John said?”

“Not sick. Just tired this week, that’s all.”

Dutch paused, tightening his arms around you. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to have any time to rest in the near future.”

“I’ll take a weekend off work at something,” you mumbled, almost on autopilot as it wasn’t the first time you’d been berated for being too much of a try-hard.

“Why do I get the impression you’re lying?” he asked gently, and your responding laugh was mirthless. “I like most things about you, except this.”

“Except what?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder to catch his eyes.

“This incessant need you have to work yourself to fatigue. It’s unhealthy.”

“It’s temporary,” you insisted.

“If you would only let me -”

“Don’t you dare offer me money again.” That was a place you’d never go to, a sense of pride far too strong to accept his help. You could do it. You just... need to complain occasionally. And maybe have someone that could help alleviate the stress using tried and true methods. “Wait, you said most. What else don’t you like about me?”

He paused, as though he hadn’t expected that question. “I suppose how little time I get to spend with you.”

“That’s a cop-out.”

Dutch laughed, releasing you from his embrace and standing to continue getting undressed. A feeling resembling awe settled in your body at how proudly he stood, in only his underwear, while finding a pair of joggers to wear for bed. He hooked his thumbs into the band of his pants but paused, slyly looking over his shoulder at you. You swiftly averted your gaze.

“You’re allowed to look, I don’t mind,” he said with amusement, and you only looked back once you’d heard his underwear come off and joggers come on. You were far too tired to go another round, but you feared your body would decide otherwise if you caught a glance of him fully nude. “Here,” he passed a plain t-shirt to you, “I suspect you don’t have anything to wear.” After you took it, his face fell slightly. “Not that I mind you sleeping with nothing on.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, for whatever reason wanting to get dressed where he couldn’t see. “Does the hotel have spare toothbrushes?”

“Sure, in the bathroom,” he pulled back the cover of the bed and got in, clasping his hands over his stomach. “Help yourself to whatever.”

You did, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and changing into Dutch’s t-shirt. It was clean, but it still held his underlying scent. He was in the same position when you re-entered the bedroom and lifted the covers for you to get in. “Thanks,” you said, laying down and marvelling at how soft the bed was, a yawn escaping thanks to your newfound comfort.

Dutch reached over and flicked the switches above the side table, turning off all the lights except the lamp next to him. Then, he brushed the back of his knuckle tenderly over your temple, and it took all you had to fight an immediate descent into sleep. You took the opportunity to shuffle closer to him, and he extended his arm so you could lay on his chest while he was propped up a little against the headboard. “Get some sleep, now,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble in the low light of the room.

As you melted into him some more, the bare skin of his chest warm and soothing, he put on his glasses from the bedside table and picked up his book. “Aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ll sleep better if I read a little first. Don’t mind me, though.”

“Okay.” You pecked his lips, and once you were re-settled on his chest sleep came easier than ever.

The gentle motion of fingertips slowly grazing the middle of your back was the first sensation to greet you upon awakening, and you blinked your eyes open to the hazy filter of morning sun through the window. You were nestled comfortably into Dutch, still using his chest as a pillow and glanced up, finding the man himself in somewhat of a daydream as he looked out the window. He noticed the small movement, though, and offered you a warm smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you half-yawned, stubbornly closing your eyes to nestle further into his chest. How he was more comfortable than the bed itself you weren’t sure.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Like a log. You?”

“Just fine. You’re nice to wake up to.” He placed his palm flat on your back, holding you to him.

“You aren’t so bad yourself. What time are you seeing John today?”

“I think we’re going for a late breakfast; I suppose whenever he’s ready. We have a bit of time, if you want anything brought up to the room?”

“No, no, I’m okay. Thanks though. Actually,” you shifted up onto your elbow, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and internally deciding you preferred Dutch’s hair in the morning, a little messy from the night. “I wouldn’t mind using that shower.”

“Be my guest,” he said politely. It was nice to lay like this with him, you’d expected him to have his hands all over you as soon as you’d awoken, though perhaps he was tired. If anything, he was more reserved than usual, and you hoped he wasn’t beginning to have second thoughts. You knew better than to question him first thing in the morning and moved to a seated position before swinging your legs off the bed.

“Appreciate it.” You picked your clothes up from their crumpled heap on the floor and carried them into the bathroom with you before having the most glorious shower you’d had in some time.

Checking your phone once you were finished, you realised you’d been in the bathroom for a full thirty minutes. Whoops.

“Sorry,” you said as soon as you opened the door, Dutch seated on the bed, now dressed and rolling up his sleeves. “That shower was a little too nice.”

The smile Dutch offered you was warmer, more awake, and more like himself than he had been previously. “Good,” he offered out his hand which you promptly took and pulled you towards him to stand between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around your lower back. “I’d say you’ve earned it.”

You chuckled easily, glad to find out nothing was wrong, and he simply hadn’t woken up yet.

“What time are you working?” he asked, while you ran a hand through his hair and settled it on his shoulder.

“Early afternoon. I’m off tomorrow, but I’ve got work to do – what time are you leaving?”

“About midday. Don’t worry about it,” he placed a kiss on your sternum, “I’d prefer it if you rested instead.”

“I’ll try,” you nodded with a snort.

“I would like,” he stood up, holding your hands in his, “to see you more frequently, if possible.”

“I’d like that,” you looked up at him, and the deal was sealed with a kiss. “I’m not sure exactly when, but -”

“We’ll work something out. I have your number,” he said conspiratorially, an alluring half-smile making him even more irresistible than he already was. “But I fear Tilly will be up soon, I don’t want her catching you on the way out.”

“Good call,” you agreed, breaking out of the embrace to pick up your bag and double-check you hadn’t forgotten anything. “Have a good weekend.”

“We will,” he pulled you in for a kiss, one that was tender and slow and left you a little breathless once you’d parted your lips from his. “Thanks for coming to stay with me.”

“I’ve got to do my part for the community,” you shrugged, and his face dropped into playful annoyance.

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

You laughed, edging towards the door though he managed to pat your ass in reprimand before you were out of reach. “I might add this to my volunteering work on my CV, come to think of it.”

Dutch laughed heartily, pressing his tongue into his cheek and shaking his head. “You truly can be a wicked woman.”

With a proud, final smile, you stepped forward for a kiss goodbye then opened the door, checking the coast was clear before stepping out. At the risk of Tilly hearing you, you offered Dutch a simple nod before departing, which he returned.

It wasn’t a short walk back to your accommodation, but it wasn’t long, either. The weather was good, and you were thankful it’d been nice for Dutch and Tilly’s visit up. It wasn’t lost on you that there was a slight spring in your step, every meeting with Dutch making your heart feel that extra bit lighter, and life feel an extra bit more accommodating. After last time, you’d attributed it to the sex, to the rush and release that was a rarity in your everyday. But perhaps it was him, and while this newfound feeling was a nice one to experience, the low hum of guilt and the prospect of where this avenue of exploration would lead you left a slightly bitter taste in your mouth.

There was a possibility that Dutch’s philosophical suggestions were imprinting on you, but you actively decided not to dwell on the many possibilities and instead focus on that, for now, you had something that made your chest grow warm and your breath seep from your lungs. Perhaps this was what you were missing, a way to dispel your worries and fears even for a short while. And perhaps, on some level, this was something you deserved.

#dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x f!reader #dutch van der linde #dutch x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfiction #my stuff

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try-set-me-on-fire · 5 months

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I read finally going water (i waited to be in the headspace and mood ) and it didn’t disappoint it was so good it made my cry at least once for chapters sometimes more you have a way with writing the emotions so tangible really I love it , you mentioned follow up stories and I’m excited I can see the all possibilities to explore , both buck and Eddie and the trauma , Chris trauma when they both come back to work , what about the Diaz siblings reconnecting and maybe another family Diaz meet up where Eddie brings buck and having to navigate the dynamic with buck officially being his boyfriend so many stuff ! I might have become obsessed with the universe lol sorry for the ramble the main thing is a love it

Thank you!!! Sorry for the distress I’m glad it was enjoyable!!

Ooh I didn’t really have anything with Chris or the Diaz siblings planned but maybe I could work them into my existing ideas… so far I have a little 4 part series of follow ups that I’ve written uh very little of. The general ideas:

- Buck gets hurt at work for the first time post cruise sinking. Eddie’s still off work and is struggling pretty badly with having survived something that should have killed him (again). Buck is really upset at being hurt because he knows it’s going to upset Eddie further. Told from Bobby’s pov going from the station to the call to taking Buck home to Eddie.

- 5 or 6 months after the sinking. Eddie pov. Buck and Eddie are getting married! Except Buck is running himself ragged and compromising on any nice ideas for the wedding he might have because he wants it to happen as fast as possible. Eddie knows its because he’s afraid about what could happen if Eddie were to die again and he wants some more paperwork tying them together and tying him to Chris, but Eddie confides in Bobby that half the time it feels like Buck is planning his funeral. Dont they just get to be in love! Dont they get their happy ending! Bobby says, of course, that he should probably talk to Buck about this. Ends with Eddie actually buying them rings to propose for real (that barely happened, it was almost a business discussion when they decided to go for it), and beyond that asks if Buck wants to go to city hall and get married the next day. Eddie insists it wont actually count, it will be a marriage on paper only, they’re going to have a long engagement and plan their real wedding as big and extravagant as they want it, but he understands Buck’s fear and wants to soothe that in whatever way he can. Buck apologizes for kind of forgetting the being in love part of wanting a wedding, and says he’d love to go not get married to Eddie.

-8? 10? Months after the sinking. Marisol is doing electrical work on her house and would love a firefighter’s guidance to make sure she doesn’t accidentally catch anything on fire or electrocute herself. But she doesn’t really want to talk to Eddie still! She’s still kind of mad at him! So she calls Buck instead (she’s also still a little mad at him but they went through it sort of together for those few awful days so this seemed the better option). Buck looks SO nervous being there like she’s going to suddenly attack or something. She kind of rolls her eyes about it. As they work he tells her they’re starting to do better, and he and Eddie are getting married. He actually admits they are already technically married and swears her to secrecy because literally no one knows except Bobby because they had to update station paperwork. Not really sure where I want this one to go i just wanted Marisol to have a chance to work through things! That all really sucked for her! I think she and buck end up as weird kind of friends.

- Around a year and a half after the sinking. A kind of bachelor party/group vacation to a lake somewhere. Everybody piled in a big rented house. Just a bunch of snippets of everyone finally doing actually okay and Buck and Eddie excited to get married for real.

#the going water and the gone #when will i get these done? who knows! it’ll happen eventually!#asked and answered

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nextinline-if · 1 year

Note

Congratulations on the new update. The chapter is wonderful, it was worth the wait!

I love our new Harbinger duties… some might call it boring, but hey this is fun! My MC was such a Sherlock about those farmers case 🕵️Reading about charities was painful, tho. Everyone needs help, and we can choose only one. How to decide?! 😭

Maximilian and the ambassador are interesting, I can't wait to see more of them in further chapters.

I still don't know what to do with F *sigh* I have totally mixed feelings about them, but it's good that we finally got to know their motives. Same with James, though he didn't say much about... And yet this: “You won’t fuck things up like I’ve managed to do.” Damn, James! Mysterious as always, huh?

You grin and gently tap the carriage wall. Timber opens one eye, then the other, and jumps up, letting out a high-pitched chortle.

You laugh as he runs to you and crawls up your chest to your shoulder where he places ferret kisses on your cheek.

Aaaaa, I finally got to meet my pet and I'm in love 🥰😘

LOL, I just remembered this picture I made once 😂😂😂

You smirk at James. “Yes, brother, you never should have shown fear. Now my scary little ferret will feast on your fear forevermore.”

You watch amused as a shiver runs down James’ spine. He glares at you… “Ha ha, very funny asshole.”

Timber hisses at James. Your brother’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, behind Constantine.

Really James, are you afraid of a little furry animal? I was laughing so hard at this scene. It's gold!

I liked the funeral scene, it was perfect and I'm glad my MC was able to act according to his personality (that means, quite stoically). Poor James 🥺 he takes it hard... I'm dying to know what happened when the King was killed and what James' role was in it.

I don't know if it's just me but the Queen's POV is a bit disturbing "I will burn this world if it comes to it, she vows." ._.

Ok, that's enough, because this 'ask' got long. One more thing, my MC who uses he/him is often called "Their Highness" ("Their Highness has to visit their charity while we're there"). Bug?

I had so much fun writing the court scene and there will definitely be more scenarios like that where MC has to make decisions. Hopefully, Part 2 of the chapter where you actually go to the charity will show what a difference even a bit of help can make for those who are struggling :)

I still have that Ferret picture saved to my computer. I look at submitted pictures and memes when I need a laugh. :D

Really James, are you afraid of a little furry animal? I was laughing so hard at this scene. It's gold!

I'm really relieved to hear your reaction to the pet introduction scene. I wanted them to be a bit funny without it feeling forced. I'm not good at forced humor, I'm better when I say stuff randomly so I tried to pretend I was the characters for these scenes and imagined how they would react.

I don't know if it's just me but the Queen's POV is a bit disturbing "I will burn this world if it comes to it, she vows." ._.

HAHA no comment

One more thing, my MC who uses he/him is often called "Their Highness" ("Their Highness has to visit their charity while we're there"). Bug?

Yes, it was a bug! I FINALLY figured out the fix and it shouldn't be an issue anymore :) Sorry about that.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts! Putting an update out is so nerve-wracking because you really don't know what people will think. Obviously, you can't please everyone, which is fine, but it's nice to hear feedback and thoughts. As an author, I always wonder what someone's reaction would be as they read a certain scene or if they picked up on small things that aren't obvious. This was a treat to read. Thank you, thank you!!

-Vi

#ch2 spoilers #scheduled #duch-mirach #chapter 2

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dontmindme2600 · 4 months

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Hi again......If you don't mind, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

OH MY GOD I’D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE BECAUSE MY BAD BECAUSE I LEFT THIS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS AND TOTALLY FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS!! Anyways, top 7, in no particular order:

Hunter x Hunter: I’m not as into this as I was in middle school but it’s never left my mind. Definitely my favorite shonen, Togashi’s originality with the series is really refreshing. (I also love Yu Yu Hakusho by him!!) As weird as it gets the characters and story are always a blast to follow. The villains also go hard. I finished the 2011 anime and I have up to volume 13 of the manga! I’d love to catch up fully since it’s being updated again, but haven’t gotten around to it yet. It’s something that I’ve always been inspired by even if I don’t want to make something that’s gonna be EXACTLY like it anymore lol.

Cowboy Bebop: I tried to limit myself to one (1) Shinichiro Watanabe anime for this list, but his other stuff fucks as well. I love Spike. (bet you never would’ve guessed!!) It’s hard to put into words in a way that doesn’t sound incredibly dumb. But. Every character introduced has their own unique worldview, backstory, flaws, etc. It sounds so fucking stupid because yeah, that’s what a character is supposed to have?? But this anime does that REALLY well?? I think what I’m trying to say is that the show does a great job of presenting different lifestyles and perspectives without worrying about making the audience uncomfortable. The anime is all about human connections and how they impact the characters and I LOVE that. It was also pretty moving to me, lots of great emotional moments. The episode where they find Faye’s old cassette recording and the one with Gren’s death will always stay with me. (Also the Andy one, but only because I think it’s funny as hell.) Watanabe is my favorite anime director ever and if you love Bebop I recommend checking out some of his other stuff as well! (Also props to an anime director that isn’t afraid of diversity in his character designs)

Witch Hat Atelier: I’m not nearly as caught up with this as I would like to be but!!! I love the writing, worldbuilding, and characters. I wish more manga were like this. Not like, aesthetically, but like quality wise. Everything is done really well and the art and paneling is GORGEOUS omfg. Also Kamome Shirahama is a very cool and progressive person and it’s just nice to read a manga by someone like her. I’m hyped as hell for the anime and can’t wait to see WHA reach a larger audience!! (Even with all the bad stuff it may bring, lmao)

Invader Zim: This one is probably the most different from the rest of the list lol. I’ll rewatch a few episodes of this every once in a while. It’s one of the only shows I watch that actually makes me laugh out loud. I also don’t think I’ve really seen anything else like it??? Sure there’s stuff that’s it’s pretty similar to but you cant really say, “wow, this is exactly like ____!” which is super cool. There’s not a major character in the show that I can say I hate or even just am neutral on, I love them all. I’m not usually a fan of stuff the gross-out humor it does, especially in the first season, but just about everything else about it just lives in my brain rent free. I think it’s a really unique and funny show and I just vibe with it stylistically as well. Seriously, I love the art style and just overall,,, edgy vibe. I absolutely do not care that it’s a kid’s show and I unironically think it’s super cool lmao. I know should probably check out some of Jhonen’s other stuff but I haven’t done that yet…

The Ace Attorney Trilogy: This one is more so just Shu Takumi in general. It’s a hard choice because I love Apollo Justice as well, and I also considered Ghost Trick (also by Takumi) but Agh!! The trilogy is the most iconic to me so I’m going with that. I just love seeing and interacting with all the unique characters the series has to offer. I’ve always liked how Takumi isn’t afraid to stray away from the generic skinny anime designs for his characters, it makes his characters feel very unique and memorable. He seems to be against having most of his characters be one dimensional, giving them their own struggles and aspirations, regardless of if they’re a “silly” character or not. I love it! It makes them more memorable and enjoyable than many other visual novel characters to me. (Please remember that I also love Ghost Trick holy fuck it’s so good)

Yakuza 0: I’m going to be 100% for real and admit that I discovered this series because of a bunch of stupid clips I saw of it on YouTube. It wasn’t the dame da ne memes, this was before that. But like, clips of all the silly stuff you can do in game like dance, receive a chicken as a gift for winning at bowling, assign said chicken a position at your real estate business, etc. So I bought it on a whim looking for a laugh. And. Holy FUCK. I did not expect the actual real serious story of this game to hit me as hard as it did. Just a good, moving story. I was THOROUGHLY emotionally invested in both Majima and Kiryu’s storylines by like, chapter 2 for both of them. I think it made me cry?? The fact that you can experience both that and the stupid shit, on top of the fun combat, makes it an S tier game for me. I plan to continue with the rest of the series (so far I’ve gotten through Kiwami 1 and 2 and loved them) but 0 has so far been my absolute favorite.

Pokemon: It’s not a perfect series but I always find myself getting back into it for a while every year. I’ve been a fan since I was just old enough to read, what can else can I say? I don’t have a super deep reason for this it’s just something that’s always been comfortable and fun!! The worldbuilding, story, music, and characters, really shine through in some of my favorite games in the series. And regardless of story, the gameplay is always fun.

It’s hard for me to determine my favorite anything but for this I tried to go by:

-How often I ended up going back to these

-How much each work made an emotional impact on me (not just the deep stuff, can also include things like making me laugh)

-How much each of these inspired me (like as in inspired my art or made me think “I want to make something like that!!!”) I think I’ve thought to that at least once for everything in here! It’s actually kind of scary because they’re all so different-

I’m probably missing something here but this should give you an idea!! If I spend any longer on this I’m just gonna keep changing it lolllll

#ask #I’ve been chipping away at this for like 5 mins every once in a while for like. months #so apologies if I wrote a lot lolll #but this person asked me to yap and yap I shall #literally how did I end up writing so much about invader zim

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foxcort · 8 months

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2023 AO3 Year-End Fic Review

thank you for tagging me @praetorqueenreyna 💚🤗

What is your AO3 account?

foxcort @ ao3, but im also gonna link my account on squideworld (which has nothing rn but im going to start posting there instead and its got about the same vibe as ao3)

2. How many words did you write total in 2023?

i wrote 10773 words and it was all for acotar!

3. How many fics did you publish in 2023? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

i wrote 6 fics for the entire year (which is surprisingly more than i originally thought!), 5 of which were oneshots and 1 of which was a collection of drabbles. im hoping to start writing at least 1 multichapter in 2024

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

my longest was a heart of scales and storms at 2785 words, which was a feylin mermay oneshot and my shortest was spring memories at 714 words, which was the first fic i contributed to this fandom (and one that has a very special place in my heart)

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

comforter was my most popular fic at 447 hits and my least popular was a court of ice and fire at 43 hits, which is completely understandable considering its an oddly specific au and the only chapter i have posted is tamlin-centric, but i still love the idea and hope my muse can come around to contributing more to it this year!

6. What fic didn't perform as well as you thought it would?

hmm maybe a heart of scales and storms? the statistics show that it only got 53 hits, but i still remember the comments i got for that fic and @haniaaaaaaaaaaa drew ✨this✨ beautiful art piece inspired by it! so from the reception the fic garnered it feels like it should have more than 53 hits but honestly i had so much fun writing it and i remember smiling so wide my face hurt for days after bc of the comments/artwork that it didn’t feel like it didn’t perform well (as far as hits go)!

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

oh wildfire at 192 hits (this is a lot for me lol), which was an erisweek entry and the first time i ever attempted writing from his pov. honestly i don’t expect any of my character-centric stuff to take off, so i was pleasantly surprised at how it performed!

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote in 2023?

most probably comforter, more specifically the neslin chapter. i’ve had this super angsty, acosf divergence multichaptered neslin idea in my head for a while now, but i suck at long term fic planning and like most people i want to jump right into writing the interesting parts of it, so the neslin chapter was a scene from that idea and i felt so happy writing it and getting into the mindsets of nesta and tamlin in that au.

9. What was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2023?

definitely rosemary by @bittermuire (thank god for this survey because in my effort to link the fic i realized ITS BEEN UPDATED!!! and as i read through it, i became even more convinced this was 100% my most favorite fic of 2023 💚) honestly, anything muire writes has me immediately hooked, but its the characterizations of the archeron sisters in particular that are so special to me. especially in rosemary. it also happens to be an october/fall fic, which are bonuses and pluses as far as im concerned. if you love the archeron sisters, give rosemary a read. if you need more convincing, allow me to provide one of my favorite quotes from the fic—

Lucien Vanserra watched her leave, his heart threatening to give out, and cursed himself a thousand times. Then another thousand times. Then, drowning in table salt, dreaming of her hair, thinking of getting himself a few sessions of therapy, he decided he would not, could not possibly, let her go. / rosemary (ch.1) by iriy @ ao3

honorable mention to plus 4 by firenaition @ ao3, because this is a fic i read at least once every month, a fic that i've shown and begged my rl siblings to read and quite possibly my favorite azulaang/atla fic of all time

10. Tag your friends to have them do this year-end fic review as well!!

if you haven’t done it already and you want to, do it! and tag me too, i love reading these!

#dash games

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dark-side-blog3 · 1 year

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I’ve never heard of your OCs!!! If you’re feeling it, can you tell me ab them? Like, what’s their type, what kind of yandere are they, etc. I tried to search em but nothing came up so I guess they’re from the old blog lol

-Jojo

They are from the old blog, that is right! I've still got to update my tag post I've been using for searches on there-- but I'll post that and it should make it easier to read up on them! I'll reblog some stuff too!

I have two OC's and a third bastard child I never developed past like a couple of concept posts, and their names are Cyril and Dalton!

I thought it would be funny to name the idiot character "Dalton" Because of the insult 'dolt' -> 'dolt one' -> 'Dalton'.

And Cyril is named as such: 'see, here's eel' -> 'see, e're eel' -> 'Cyril'

Dalton came first, and he is a jellyfish merman based off the pink meanie jellyfish found of the gulf of Mexico. He has translucent pink skin that can change colours depending on what he has eaten, long messy hair, human hands, and a massive skirtlike membrane at his waist that acts as the natural fleshy cover for his thousands of thin tendrils-- each loaded with extremely painful toxin.

The venom is fast acting and makes your skin slough off from chemical burn damage, and if you don't treat the stings, you could potentially die from blood loss (not the venom itself). Dalton is dumb as a sack of bricks (inspired by the fact that jellyfish don't have brains), obsessive, delusional, and sadly for you: extremely affectionate, with a touchy disposition. He'll cling to you every chance he gets.

Dalton is so stupid that he cannot feel pain-- for most merfolk, walking on land is agonizing. Dalton can't fathom this, and just continues to beach himself until he can crawl, his fragile membrane and tendrils drying out and ripping, spilling vital goop as they shift into legs. Each step would be extremely painful, but Dalton can't understand what he's feeling, or what's causing it. And because he doesn't know walking is what's causing it, he'll continue to walk, searching for his "best friends" who must have gotten lost. Dalton believes that Cyril, and you, are his best friends. And you must have gotten lost on your way to find him again. So he'll go out and find you, and everything will work out in the end.

Cyril is a smarter, yet sadistic merfolk, based off of the electric eel found in South America's Amazon River and Oronocio basin. Cyril, unlike Dalton, is a freshwater merfolk, and is capable of being drowned in the brackish water Dalton prefers. And unlike Dalton, Cyril can comprehend the pain in drowning. As well as the pain in being stung by venomous tendrils, and walking. Cyril has chronic pain (as most merfolk do). If he can avoid walking, he will.

He has long, greasy black hair-- washing it does him no good, as getting wet just turns his body back into his natural form, which causes him to secrete slick mucus. His skin is opaque, unlike a jellymer. If he doesn't show you his true form, you might just assume he's a lazy but bougie guy, adorned in gold jewelry he's stolen from other's homes before having to flee the scene. Despite his inactivity, Cyrils' body is on the leaner side due to his high metabolism. He has no visible muscle, but who really needs that when you're an ambush predator that can stun others anyways?

Cyril has worked many odd jobs that helped him live a more lavish life than just hunting and eating whatever got close enough to the river bank. He's acquired a taste for grapes, sliced and microwaved. Any hot fruit would do, but grapes are his favourite. This has become an integral part of his lore, because once Cyril learns of fruit, and then heating the fruit up, and all the devices you can use to heat food up (not just fruit, though he thinks its the height of luxury), and where those devices are stored... It's how Cyril ends up breaking into his darling's home in the first place. They have shelter, water, and all sorts of devices with which to make hot meals. And he needs for this to be perfect is someone who he can force to fetch him things from other rooms once he finds the couch.

He probably doesn't even like you at first. You're just someone he's bluffing out of his ass to let stay here. Cyril will use whatever tactics needed to make you let him stay. He'll go the pity route-- he's a poor misunderstood man, kicked out of housing, turned down everywhere because people don't agree with his life choices... He just wanted to crash here for the night, he didn't know you were here, he thought you were on vacation and he could squat here.

If that doesn't work, he'll resort to threats. He doesn't want to hurt you, he wants to mind his own business here, but if you call for help or tell anyone he's here against your will, he will kill them and you, before eating you. As much as it pains him to walk, he'll trudge over to your bathroom with you in tow, to show you his transformation in your shower/tub. He's a dangerous monster, and you don't know what he can do! His long tail wraps around you, slime secreted from his skin soaking through your clothes, constricting your ribs as he slowly crushes you, before you get hit with a painful shock-- knocking you to the ground and convulsing with painful spasms. Life for you will be easier if you just do what he says. It's not like he's asking for much anyways.

And at first, he's not. He's just asking you to fetch him some food every now and again, or to refill the cup he's been using for water. To buy him a laptop so he can work from home-- this way he'll pay for his own food, and you're not against that are you? Unless you like him mooching off your budget.

Cyril slowly gets more possessive as time goes on. It's not that he likes you; he likes your things, and he likes making you serve him, and he likes hurting you when you do something wrong. That's completely different than liking you. And you were three hours late coming home the other day. Cyril had to get himself a glass of water. Scandalous.

And while he thinks of it, he's not really a good threat if you start thinking you can stay out of the house, and avoid him. How is he supposed to hurt you if you're not around?

He should add a new rule: You have to start staying home with him more, and you have to be in the same room. And if you don't... Then he's going to start breaking your things, changing your password on everything, texting everyone your compromising photos and destroying relationships...

And if you refuse to come home... Then he's just going to have to get up and go hunt you down. You may have forgotten he can actually walk from how little he does it, but if need be he can track you down to the ends of the earth. Eel merfolk have a heightened sense of smell, so Cyril can track you down.

Dalton may stumble upon either you or Cyril one day-- a terrible mix of fate, because the idiot has just been wandering following Cyril, and you know Cyril, which means you're going to all be best friends.

Dalton doesn't mind you doing your own thing, he just wants to watch. He follows you everywhere, forcing himself through doors that you'd closed until they bust down so he can watch whatever you're doing, holding your hand, a grip on your legs, or resting his chin on your shoulder. If you leave the house before he can know where you are, there's a chance he'll go out to look for you-- you must have gotten lost again!

But if he has faith you'll come back, then Dalton will spend his days exploring your home. What happens when he sticks his hand or face in your oven? In the freezer? Through the window? What if he puts your sheets in his mouth? What does your soap smell like? Taste like? Dalton wants to know. And he'll find out everything about you.

Including you. Dalton is clingy, but he's exceptionally touchy. It's not enough to have you next to him, he needs to constantly touch you. Holding your hand is a large part of his day. But his fingers will find their way to your gums to inspect your blunt teeth and bumps on your tongue. Your eyebrows. Dalton opens your eyes with his fingers as he stares at how your pupils shrink and grow in response to light or the air he blows onto them. Bending your fingers and legs as far back as they can. He doesn't mean to hurt you, Dalton is just curious.

Dalton and Cyril can maintain human forms if they stay dry, but if they get significantly wet, their body shifts back into their true forms. A full shower will have Cyril a writhing mass of a slimy tail. And getting caught in a thunderstorm will have Dalton crawling around, ripping his fragile bell membrane, ripping out his tendrils. And while Cyril can intentionally use his ability to shock you regardless of if he's in his true form or not, Dalton's tendrils are only a danger to you if he's soaked and in his true form... Something he rarely thinks to do. All he cares about is following his favourite people around and being close to them. But if Dalton ever gets in a body of water and you're in arms reach, he will drag you into the water, wrapping his tendrils around you, the pain making you pass out in the bloody water...

When you wake up, perched on top of his bell membrane, Dalton apologizes-- he didn't mean to hurt you! He just wanted to swim with you! He doesn't even know how you got hurt! Maybe you just need to be held tighter? A cracked rib is a small price to pay if it keeps you awake, and in his mind, happy.

As far as merfolk go, they're both disasters. As far as yandere's go, they're completely useless. You'd be better off with literal leeches than these two bleeding you dry.

#keep in mind my rules for how monster biology work may be different than other established canon. So like how I see cyril working is #not how the tweels from twst work. they aren't displayed to experience chronic pain. But I wanted one of my characters to have chronic pain #yandere mermaid #yandere merfolk #cyril my oc #dalton my oc #my writing!#yandere exophilia #jojo anon

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