#so i need you to picture like strung out has already raised at least one (in my hc multiple) kids manfred von karma

[bizarrelittlemew]

ok what's trope smoothie???

"trope smoothie" is a fic where i started by writing down a list of a bunch of my own favorite tropes and strung together a plot from there ✌️

so these are a few of the smoothie ingredients:

fake dating, pining while fucking, friends (with benefits) to lovers, jealous Ed, disowned Stede/rich Ed, domestic fluff, sex lessons, fucking away the tension, Edward “Down Bad” Teach/oblivious Stede, both vers + dom/sub dynamics both ways, there was only one bed apartment, Stede has great sex one time and turns into a sex fiend, free use, lots of cuddling, it’s Stede’s turn with the piercings

and, importantly, they watch The Room on their first "date" (snippet under the cut):

“Have you ever seen The Room?” Ed asked, watching for Stede’s reaction to the name of the movie. There was none other than slight confusion, which confirmed Ed’s suspicions. “No, what’s that?” “It’s the best worst movie ever made.” “Best worst—?” “So bad it’s hilarious. I’ve watched it dozens of times, there’s tons of stuff you do, like, when you watch it in the theater.” Ed was starting to really, really hope he could rope Stede into this—there was nothing better than witnessing someone’s first reaction to this enigma of disastrous movie making and its rituals. “Oh, like the Rocky Horror Picture Show?” “Yes!” Ed pointed at him with excitement. “Except this movie is bad. Wanna go?” “Uhm—yeah, why not? But where?” Stede looked around like the movie theater might appear out of nowhere. Ed was already on his phone, checking for last-minute tickets. “It’s close by, but we need to buy spoons on the way.” “Spoons? Why—” “Yeah, I’ll explain. Yes, a few tickets left! I’ll get them.” “Hey, wait, you already paid for dinner, at least let me—” “No.” Ed raised his eyebrows with a cool expression, and there’s nothing you can do about it, holding back a smile when he saw Stede getting huffy about it. “It’s hardly fair.” “Tell you what, you pay for spoons and beer.” “We can drink in the movie theater?” “Oh, we’ll need to.”

[ghostgothgeek]

Chaos.

Another for the Phic Phight! This one kinda combines two prompts and I had so much fun writing it! In this, Danny and Tucker don’t know Sam plays video games yet. 5,063 words.

"What do you mean you don’t feel the same way? We´ve had a mutual crush on each other for years." Sam says angrily after finally confessing her love to him. But Danny´s heart was beating hard for someone else entirely. Prompt by phantomfana. 

Danny wants to ask his crush to the upcoming school dance. Prompt by Rikaleeta.

-----

It was another long night of ghost hunting for Danny. Technus took up the first part of the night, trying to take over the park’s new security system. Tucker was fortunately still awake to help him out with that. Then Johnny and Kitty rolled in, but they weren’t looking for trouble, they just wanted a date night and swore they wouldn’t be a problem. Apparently Fridays were their days off for “everything but each other”. Danny was a romantic, but he didn’t know if this was sweet or nauseating. Ember had put up a good fight, though. He was proud he only had one injury to tend to. He had dodged most of her attacks, but she was still a pretty advanced ghost. And, of course, Danny had caught the Box Ghost six, count them, SIX times. How did he always manage to get out?! He wasn’t difficult to take down, he was just a pest. 

Danny sighed as he sat down at his computer chair. It was only 12:30 am, and it was a Friday. He could sleep in tomorrow and he deserved at least a couple hours of fun. He logged into his online gaming account and saw Tucker was online. Figures. He pulled up the chat anyway. 

Astrohaunt: Hey Tuck. Still up?

Technopedia: You know it. Chaos signed on about a half hour ago and I’m not passing up the opportunity.

Astrohaunt: Dude is so good it’s unreal!

Technopedia: He goes to our school, I tracked one of his IP addresses and he logged in at school a few times.

Astrohaunt: Tucker wtf. That’s creepy!

Technopedia: I just want to make sure Chaos is actually a kid and not Lancer again!

Astrohaunt: I still can’t wrap my mind around Lancer playing Doomed…

Technopedia: Same. But Chaos IP is different from Lancer, so we good. Unless more teachers play Doomed.

Astrohaunt: I hate you for putting that image into my brain.

Technopedia: Sorry dude. But quick come join before someone else gets Chaos.

Danny, Tucker, and Chaos had made a great team. Whenever Chaos was around, they were actually able to progress through the game. They played several rounds until Tucker was caught by his mom and was forced to sign off, but Danny and Chaos kept playing. 

TeamChaos: Hey, what’s up?

Astrohaunt: Omg dude you’re so awesome. 

TeamChaos: Ha, thanks. Gotta blow off steam somehow. 

Astrohaunt: Tell me about it! Between Lancer’s three projects and midterms and...other stuff...this is my only time to actually chill. I’ve been so stressed!

TeamChaos: Same. I did finish one of the projects though. I’m always here if you need to talk, you know. 

Astrohaunt: Wow, I may just take you up on that offer. I’ve had a rough night.

TeamChaos: Lay it on me.

And so Danny, sparing the ghost hunting details, stayed up chatting with Chaos until 5 am. He got along really well with the guy, they had a lot of similar interests. This was just the first of many up-all-night conversations they shared. After a few months, Danny felt a special connection with Chaos, and yet, he didn’t even know his name! 

Astrohaunt: We’ve been talking all these months and I still don’t know your name. I’m Danny. 

TeamChaos: Oh, thought you knew. It’s Sam!

Astrohaunt: Hey! One of my best friends is named Sam! 

TeamChaos: You don’t say!!!

The next day at school, Danny pulled Tucker over to him, whispering, “Dude, help. I think I might be gay....” 

“What?!” Tucker shouted.

“Quiet, Tuck!” 

“Okay, well uh...why?” Tucker sent him a weird look and took a step back. 

“No, not you. Chaos. I think I have a crush on Chaos.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do! I never thought I’d be...you know. Chaos and I just have good conversations and he’s always there to listen to me when I need to vent. I thought maybe I found another best friend but...this is different. Chaos is so cool and I’m crushing and I don’t even know who he is or what he looks like! Or if he feels the same way! Maybe I’m just stupid and-”

“Dude, chill. You’re jumping too far ahead of yourself. Whichever way you, you know, swing...I’m still your best friend.” Tucker pulled out his PDA. “Let me see what I can find out. I know Chaos goes to our school.”

“Thanks, Tuck. As if being half ghost wasn’t hard enough! Oh, and he’s in our class, because he’s talked me through assignments and knows what they are and stuff. He’s almost as good as explaining things as Sam. Crap...Sam. Don’t tell her about this!” Danny started fidgeting. 

“Well,” Tucker raised his eyebrows in surprise, “I can tell you with absolute certainty that Chaos is definitely a girl.” 

“You found out who Chaos is?!” 

“What, like it’s hard?” Tucker chuckled. “I traced the IP addresses she uses. I know who she is. So do you,” Tucker smirked, “It shocked me at first, but it makes total sense! And I can totally see why you like her.” 

“Really?” Danny let out a breath in relief. “Okay that makes me feel a lot better...hey, maybe I can ask Chaos to the dance next Saturday!” 

Tucker rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Go for it. Ask Sam. I’m almost positive she’ll say yes.”

“Okay, I will...wait, not Sam! Chaos!” Danny clarified. “Well, actually, I think Chaos told me her name was Sam. Ha, small world. I can’t wait to introduce Sam to Sam. I think they would really get along.” 

Tucker busted out laughing, “Oh, dude. You go ahead and do that.” He left Danny standing there in the hallway, still laughing all the way to his next class.

Danny, a bit confused by Tucker’s laughter, shook his head and smiled to himself. Okay, good. He’d had enough identity crises to fill a lifetime. Chaos was definitely a girl. Now if he just knew Chaos returned his feelings, things might actually work out for him this time and he could actually have a girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Sam was having an internal debate of her own. Sitting in a class where the teacher couldn’t give two shits about what the students were doing, she had always used this class as her thinking time. Usually her thinking-about-Danny time. She nervously clicked her pen as she thought about recent events. 

She and Danny spent so much time chatting online when they weren’t hanging out in person. Danny was a little bit more bold online, probably because he didn’t have to interact face-to-face or risk his pants falling down in public again. Online, they talked about everything. No topic was off limits. Plus, Sam felt like their friendship had only grown even stronger when they could chat online and not have to worry about blushing or getting teased by Tucker. Chatting online took away all the pressure and made it much easier to connect with Danny. 

Danny hadn’t said anything yet, of course. He was probably scared. Hell, she was scared. She was already so in love with him, and getting closer online only further solidified that fact. She had never been in love before, and even though she hunts ghosts, this was more terrifying! She was fairly certain he returned her feelings, but both were too chicken to actually make that final step. They’ve been best friends forever. She didn’t want to mess up their already great dynamic or force Tucker to be the third wheel, though he did insist he was more than okay with that and encouraged them to finally get together. 

Sam stopped clicking her pen as she suddenly remembered it was senior year. They hadn’t picked colleges yet, but whether they ended up going to the same school or not, things were going to change. Danny was very attractive, and going off to college meant girls may actually approach him when they didn’t know his parents were ghost fighters. The fact had never bothered Sam, but she did kind of like how it kept most girls at school from asking him out or giving him attention. Valerie had been a challenge, especially because she was a ghost hunter herself and probably wanted to get tips from his parents. Sam was glad that relationship ended relatively early. It was too hard on her. Joyous or not, though, she was still mad at Valerie for how she broke his heart. 

But that was 2 years ago. They had all moved on and friendships were more or less mended across the board. This made Sam glance at her favorite picture of her and Danny. Tucker had taken the candid picture and it was now her phone’s background. In it, Danny was giving Sam a piggyback ride. Her arms were lightly strung around his neck, legs looped around his waist. Danny had kept going in the opposite direction Sam told him to go, which frustrated her but also made her laugh. She had rested her chin on his shoulder, her face pressed right up against his. Danny was looking at her and Tucker had captured that rare moment when Sam had a huge grin on her face, still laughing. She smiled at the picture. They would be okay no matter what. Their friendship would survive.

Anyway, Sam also realized she had already come close to losing Danny, in more ways than one. Whether it was to other girls or a ghost, there was always that anxiety stirring in her head that she could lose him entirely some day. Life was too short. She needed to take the plunge for both of them and just get them both over this hurdle, and they could finally, finally, actually get together. 

Sam made her decision. It was now or never. She was going to tell him. Today. The trio was meeting up at Danny’s house later anyway, and if she got there early enough, she could talk to him before Tucker showed up and teased them about it. Sam firmly nodded her head to herself, a confirmation of her decision. It was finally time.

After school, Danny was pacing in his room, trying to figure out how he wanted to do this. Asking a girl to the dance wasn’t a huge deal, and yet at the same time, it was. He would rather ask in person, but he still didn’t know what Chaos looked like, so asking in person seemed to be off the table. He could look in the yearbook for all the girls named Sam at their school. He could already omit one Sam Manson from that list. How many Sams could possibly attend their school? It would be easier to ask Tucker, though. Tucker already knew who she was. Sam and Tucker were on their way over right now. When Sam wasn’t paying attention, he could ask Tucker for Sam’s full name. 

Chaos Sam, not best friend Sam. God, this was so confusing. Why were girls so hard for him? Freshman year, Paulina only liked his ghost half and wouldn’t give his human half the time of day. Sophomore year, Valerie hated his ghost half and that hatred was more important to her than her feelings for his human half. Junior year, he had been denying that he was in love with his best friend. And now that he had finally accepted that he did like his best friend as much more than a friend, a new girl entered the picture and he now found himself trying to choose between two Sams. Because it apparently wasn’t hard enough for him already to make the biggest and most important change he could possibly make in a friendship, let’s add another crush to the mix and give them the same name.

Sam. Best friend Sam - that’s who he was planning on asking originally, even if he chickened out and had to ask her as a friend instead. Plus, he and Sam had somehow gotten closer recently, and he was pretty sure she liked him. Sure, it was only because Tucker told him so, but it was a possibility. The thing was, he didn’t want to ruin things. Especially because he truly didn’t know how Sam, best friend Sam, felt about him. She was a tough and courageous girl, surely she would have said something by now if it were true. So Tucker must be pulling his leg.

But he did have another option - Chaos Sam, who may actually return his feelings. Sure, the feelings weren’t nearly as strong as what he felt for his best friend, but the feelings were still there. Plus, if he got rejected by Chaos, it would be less heartbreaking than being rejected by Sam, someone he had known for years rather than months. He could deal with losing a newer friend, but not one of his best friends. Sam was too important and he knew he needed her in his life.

Danny sighed. This was really hard, but he made a decision. It was easier to go with Chaos than risk ruining things with Sam. Danny had enough drama going on in his life already, he needed an easy win. 

He broke from his thoughts when the doorbell rang. He ran downstairs and opened it, only slightly surprised to see Sam there. She was usually early for things. He and Tuck were more prone to being late. 

“Hey, Sam. Come on in!” Danny moved so Sam could enter his house. He shut the door and followed her upstairs and back to his room as she returned his greeting. She was pacing the same path he just had, muttering quietly to herself. She looked nervous. “Something on your mind?” 

Sam was startled out of her thoughts. “Huh? Oh yeah.” She noticed his disheveled appearance, also noting he was fidgety. Was he going to do what she was about to do? “What about you, you look like you’ve been thinking a little too hard about something.” She smiled softly. 

Danny chuckled, “Yeah, but it’ll resolve itself soon. I’ll worry about it after the movies. Tuck should be here any second. Oh, but I’m glad you’re early. Can you help me with something quick?” 

“Of course.” Sam followed him to his desk, smiling and rolling her eyes when he pointed to a homework problem. “I should have known.” 

Danny gave her a lopsided smile and watched as she showed him how to do the problem in her perfect handwriting. It took no more than a couple of minutes. Now, they were just waiting for Tucker to arrive. 

Sam looked at the time. He would be here soon. She needed to do this now. She needed to tell Danny. She couldn’t wait until after the movies for him to tell her. She had already waited long enough and couldn’t bear another second.

“Danny, can I talk to you for a second?” She sat down on his bed and gestured for him to do the same. 

Danny could sense the seriousness in her voice, and nodded anxiously. He was scared when Sam was serious about things. It was usually something bad.

“Danny…” She decided to get straight to the point. “I like you. As in like-like you. More than like, and more than a friend. And we’ve been doing this dancing around for at least 4 years now and I’m sick of it. I just want to be with you already. What do you say?” Sam held her breath as she waited for Danny to answer. 

He stared at her with wide eyes before nervously rubbing the back of his neck and turning his attention to his shoes, avoiding eye contact with the goth. God, why him?! He had stupidly thought, for once, things would be easier for him this time. He had already sent an offline message to Chaos that he wanted to ask her something, and then Sam had to come along and tell him what he had wanted to hear for some time now. But he couldn’t blow Chaos off when he had already somewhat asked. Of course, his life just had to be complicated every step of the way. He really liked both girls and didn’t want to hurt his best friend. Regardless, he had to be honest. He owed Sam that much. “Well, I mean, yeah, but…” 

“But what?” Sam whispered, clearly already upset. Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He decided to try going with Chaos so he could avoid heartbreak from his best friend. The very thing he had been so afraid of, he was doing to her right now. 

Danny sighed again. “But I can’t. I’m so sorry, Sam.” It was hard to choke out, but he said it, and he felt terrible. He pressed his lips together and kept staring at his shoes until Sam lifted his chin up, forcing him to look at her. 

“What do you mean you don’t feel the same way? We’ve had mutual crushes on each other for years!” Sam said angrily, feeling her heart break as her best friend and love of her life rejected her confession of love. She was so sure he returned her feelings! Especially after all the great conversations they had shared online these last few months. “Or, at least, I thought we did.” Tears swelled in her eyes. Did he lead her on? “I-I need an explanation, Danny,” she quietly stated after he didn’t continue. 

Danny frowned and his heart ached. He didn’t want to hurt his best friend like this. Hell, he really liked her! Of course their crushes were mutual! And if this had happened 6 months ago instead of now, he would have jumped at the chance. But now...now he had Chaos and already forced himself to stick with his decision. It was easy with Chaos; there was no friendship to risk, no denying of being lovebirds or brushing off kisses as fakeout makeouts. Plus, he couldn’t lie to his best friend. She would know if he was lying. And he already told himself she deserved the truth. “There’s...someone else…” 

“What?” Sam whispered before turning angry again, “Paulina? Valerie? Star?” she spat out. 

Danny shook his head, “Ew, no...it’s someone I met online...I’m so sorry, Sam. I like you a lot, I really do, but I think I’ve already come to the conclusion that I like this girl I met online, Chaos, and I have to try to see that through.” 

Many emotions crossed Sam’s face as she pieced together what he just said. At first she was upset, but as he explained himself, she felt disbelief, confusion, anger, and finally, hope. He couldn’t really be that clueless, right? “Show me.” 

“Huh? I mean, I don’t actually know what she looks like, but we message every night and she really understands me! I know it sounds ridiculous, but-” 

“Show me,” Sam repeated. “Show me her profile.” 

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Danny questioned cautiously.

“No, of course not. Just shut up and show me the profile.” Sam was more calm now, and that was kind of scary. Even though Sam said she wouldn’t hurt Chaos, he didn’t want to give her the chance. But he knew how stubborn his friend was, and eventually in whatever way, she would force the information out of him. 

Danny sighed and pulled up the profile to show Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m still your best frien-” 

“Shut up.” Sam scrolled through what Danny pulled up for her and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Closing her eyes slowly, she took a deep breath. “Didn’t Chaos tell you her name?” 

“Uh,” Danny thought, “oh yeah! She said her name was Sam, because I thought she was a boy at first and I had an existential crisis, but then Tucker told me-” 

“Danny. I’m Sam.” 

“No I know, and sure it’ll be a little weird cause you’re Sam and she’s Sam, it’s confusing, but I-” 

Sam interrupted him once again. She could hear Tucker’s footsteps approaching. She was running out of time to not make this a spectacle. “No, Danny. Chaos. Sam. Me. I’m Sam. I am Sam,” 

Tucker only heard the tail end of the conversation as he entered the room. Never able to pass up a comedic opportunity, he smirked and added “I am Sam. Sam I am. I do not like green eggs and ham!” 

It was suddenly silent in the room as his friends seized conversation and glared at him. Oops. 

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Tucker could see the fire in Sam’s eyes. “Uh, oh wait I forgot my...sock. I’ll be downstairs!” He raced out of the room.

Sam turned her attention back to Danny. “No, you stupid fucking MORON. I am Chaos. You’ve been talking to me the whole time. I thought you knew that!” Danny stared at her blankly until she pulled out her phone and he watched her log into her account, proving it to him. Sure enough, it was Chaos’s profile. He could see all the direct messages between them, including his offline message about wanting to ask her something.

“Wait, you? You’re Sam? I mean, Chaos? I mean Sam?” Danny looked back and forth between the profile and his best friend. 

“UGH!” Sam shouted as she threw her hands in the air. “Yes, Danny. That’s me! Did you really not notice that Chaos was the same age as me and a girl who goes to our school? We have the same name and interests! Didn’t you wonder why it was so easy to talk right off the bat? I thought you put that all together and us just pretending to not know each other was a little bit you were trying to do or something!” 

Danny stared at her as he continued to piece it all together. He was definitely embarrassed. He felt so stupid. How could he not tell that Chaos was Sam, his best friend since 7th grade? Talk about being totally clueless. 

Wait. Clueless? Well, fuck! He got the nickname now! 

His eyes flickered back and forth as he thought everything through. Eventually, he started to crack a smile. “Wait, so I’ve had a crush on you and also you? You’re the same person! This is great! Do you know what this means?!” 

Sam slapped her forehead and began walking downstairs. “I don’t even know if this is worth it anymore…” 

“Wait, how come Tuck and I never knew you played video games! We can enter team tournaments! You’re so good!” Danny chased after her. 

Tucker watched as Sam grumbled about Danny caring more about video games than her. An excited Danny was right on her tail. 

“Tucker! Sam is Chaos! I’ve been in love with Sam this whole time!” Danny explained. 

“Tucker, I need you to refrain me from slapping his stupid clueless face,” Sam started. 

“Wait, you didn’t know Sam was Chaos? Dude! I thought I was obvious about that!” Tucker began laughing at Danny. 

“I know, so did I.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Danny, you can calculate levels of rocket fuel and figure out how to get us to Mercury or something,” Tucker started. 

“Mars, actually,” Danny corrected. 

“But you can’t figure out that your best friend and your crush are the same person? You’re more than Captain Clueless, you’re like….Lieutenant Clueless? That’s like, bigger right?” Tucker continued. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Tuck,” Sam chimed in. 

“Shut up Sam, this isn’t about you,” Tucker immediately stopped his train of thought when he felt Sam glaring daggers at him. “Heh, uh. Except it does. It actually has nothing to do with me. I’m sorry I told you to shut up, please don’t hurt me!” He threw his hands up in front of himself in defense. 

“Relax, Tucker. I’m more angry with this fucking dingus,” she pointed her thumb in Danny’s direction. 

The halfa was about to protest, then closed his mouth. “That’s fair, I deserve that.” 

“I can’t even look at you right now. You scared me! I poured out my emotions to you. I thought you were rejecting me and that I would have to change my name and move to a different country! Wait, are you still rejecting me?” Sam stopped her pacing to look at him. 

“Of course not, Sammy!” 

“Oh don’t you ‘Sammy’ me! I told you I love you, you stupid fucking idiot!” Sam began throwing pillows at Danny, who expertly dodged them (though as a result, Tucker got hit in the face by one). 

“Technically, you didn’t say ‘love’ you said ‘like’”, Danny offered as Tucker shook his head and slashed finger across his neck, signaling Danny to stop talking. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! This is all my fault! I’m going to go jump off a cliff now!” Sam growled and Danny let out a small “oomph” as one of the pillows finally got him. 

“I’m out. Good luck, bro!” Tucker quickly slipped out the door, leaving Danny and Sam alone. 

Sam was about to follow Tucker out when Danny stopped her, “please don’t leave!” She still had angry tears in her eyes. He frowned. This was not how he expected things to go. She watched him for a few seconds before sitting down on the couch, refusing to look at him. “Sam I’m so sorry, this is just a huge misunderstanding.”

“No, Danny. It’s not. You were going to turn me down to go out with someone else.”

“But that someone was still you!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that! We’ve been friends for years, and you were more interested in someone you just met a few months ago! I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice, Danny! I’ve been standing by for years as you continuously chose other girls over me. I thought we were done with that, and that you were finally choosing me first, but you won’t and you never will and I’m so stupid.” Sam put her head in her hands as she tried her hardest not to let tears fall. 

And that was when he finally figured it out. It wasn’t just the moment of rejection, it was years of rejection, and at her biggest confession, she still thought he was choosing someone over her. Not to mention, Tucker witnessed most of the conversation. Sam rarely showed her emotions. She always had her heart guarded, and he knew this. Tucker knew this. Hell, she didn’t even tell them she was rich until after a few years of friendship. It took them a while to get her to open up to them. She was a pretty private person. She was probably already hurt like this before. And now, she was probably embarrassed.

“You’re definitely not stupid. I’m stupid. I should have known it was you. That was actually what I really liked about Chaos, she reminded me of you.” 

Sam forced a small sarcastic laugh, “Yeah, right.” 

“No really,” Danny sat on the couch next to her and grabbed her hand, placing it in both of his. “Sam, you’re absolutely incredible. How dumb would I have to be to not notice?” Sam gave him a pointed look. “Okay yeah but it’s not the way you think it is. I liked Chaos because she was a lot like you. She reminded me of you. And it just seemed easier to go with her because she was basically you, but she and I didn’t have a really great friendship that could have gotten ruined if we broke up or something. I could live without her, but I can’t live without you. You’re always my number one. Always have been, always will be. Even if I did just fuck everything up. I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m ready to be with you, if you’ll still have me.” 

Sam stayed silent and stared at her lap, processing this new information. Of course she would forgive him; she always did. She just needed a little time. 

Danny was getting nervous that he really did fuck this up for good. This was so fucking important! He couldn’t risk fucking this up! Sensing her hesitation, Danny tried one more thing to get her back. One thing he hasn’t done before. One thing he just learned how to perfect.  

“Sammy, I’m sorry,” a duplicate popped up next to her on the other side of the couch, startling her. 

“Please forgive me?” Another duplicate was floating in front of her, hanging upside down, hair flopping all over the place. 

“I know I’m a dummy but,” Sam snapped her head towards a third duplicate. 

“I’m only a dummy because I’m in love. With you,” the real Danny finished. Sam looked back and forth between all the Dannys.  

“We’re sorry, Sammy,” all the duplicates said at once. 

Sam was trying really hard to hold back a smile. “You learned how to duplicate,” she stated simply. 

Original Danny grabbed her hands. “Sam. I will make this up to you. I promise.” 

She could hear the determination in his voice and sighed. “You better.” 

Danny smiled and hugged her. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! I love you so much!”

Sam pushed him off of her. “I love you too, you fucking idiot.” 

“But I get to be your idiot!” Sam couldn’t hold her laughter back anymore. “Oh!” Danny shouted, “Will you go to the dance with me? Please?” 

Sam pretended to ponder the answer before saying “alright”. 

“Yay!” All 4 Dannys cheered. The duplicates on either side of her kissed her cheeks as the real Danny kissed her forehead tenderly. The final duplicate, feeling left out, squeezed his way in to give her a hug. 

Sam was now roaring with laughter before kissing the real Danny sweetly. “You know, duplicates won’t always get you out of trouble,” she warned. 

“Yeah, but they could come in handy for other things,” he wagged his eyebrows up and down suggestively before passionately kissing her, the duplicates kissing her neck and touching her in near-dangerous places. 

Sam bit back a moan, eyes lustful before smirking, “I think you just found a way to make it up to me.” She began dragging the real Danny and one of his duplicates back to his room. Fuck the movies.

[lillytalons]

And the Stars Settled Inside

The lovely @cacodaemonia has an amazing reconstruction corps au that this was inspired by, specifically the art titled And the Stars Whirled Overhead

read on Ao3

“Well I suppose it’s a good time to set up camp. Where would you like us to set up Wooley?” Obi-wan shrugged off the pack he was carrying, looking around at the well ordered camp Cody and he had come into that day. The clones had already been searching the abandoned planet, but called in the help of a Jedi to see if they could use the force to locate any important sites. 

Cody had been invited along as often happened with the two of them. Obi-wan would comment on it, except that that could imply he wasn’t happy with how often it happened. There was no reason to give all of their acquaintances that idea.

Wooley looked around the camp and the landscape surrounding them. “Actually sirs, it’s a really quiet planet, we haven’t seen any large wildlife, and there are no sentients here. You are welcome to join the camp, or go farther out. Some of men are going out away from the main camp. Getting away from the main fire makes the stars much brighter.” Wooley grinned, “Or they’re hoping for some peace and quiet.”

“Will they?” Obi-wan raised an amused eyebrow.

“If they think they are going to sleep in, they underestimate some of the brothers.” A couple of brothers behind Wooley tackled a third men and started wrestling amid yells from everyone involved, and several people not involved egging them on. 

Wooley looked behind him at the commotion, and rolled his eyes while laughing. “Exhibit A.” A kicked foot took out a tent pole, causing another yell from the poor man inside the tent. Wooley gave a quick salute and wandered over to the chaos to do some damage control. 

Obi-wan smiled at the antics and looked at Cody. “Where would you like to set up, my dear?”

Cody looked around, watched Wooley try to wrangle his brothers, and looked over at the bluffs nearby. 

“Well we might as well try to get to sleep in.” Cody nodded his head towards the west of the camp and Obi-wan pulled his bag back up on his shoulders. 

As they walked through the camp Cody pulled aside one of the men and got their allotted tent and bed rolls. The man came back with the base supplies plus some extra ration packs. 

They made their way to a flat area to set up camp and split to do their usual tasks before they lost the sunlight. As they finished preparing, the sun finally set, light streaking across the sky. Obi-wan felt contentment as he sat on their blankets in the soft sand. 

Obi-wan watched as Cody poked the logs a couple more times to make sure that the air flow was correct. He had spread out their bed rolls while Cody set up the fire. They had both decided to forgo the tent tonight. The desert air was clean and crisp, with little moisture in the air that would warn of rain. 

Cody finally sat back and after another moment to make sure that the fire wouldn’t need any help for a while, he joined Obi-wan on the blankets. Obi-wan passed him some of their camp rations and he felt some of the tension drain from both of them. They didn’t need constant conversation, living and working together for over 4 years meant that silence was just as comfortable as interaction. 

Obi-wan finished his rations quickly, at least they weren’t nearly as bad as rations had been at the end of the war when there was no funding, constant missions, and Obi-wan swore the rations recipe got worse despite the fact that they shouldn’t have been able to get worse. 

Cody collected the wrappers from him and tucked them away in his pack, to be dealt with later. He leaned against his shoulder when he sat back upright and Obi-wan curled his arm around his waist. 

They stared into the fire and it seemed as if contentment radiated out of the fire, enveloping them. 

After a while, Obi-wan felt Cody hide a slight shiver and he smiled. His robes greatly protected him from the rapidly dropping temperature of the desert, but Cody preferred to wear lighter shirts when possible, and what worked well in the day was much less useful at night. 

“We have plenty of blankets Cody, no need to be cold.”

“I’m fine. Don’t want to mess up your hard work, and the blanket won’t really reach from here if I leave it tucked into the others.”

“Yes I’m sure it would break my heart if you ruined the bed roll that took me minutes to set up.” He raised an eyebrow and Cody just huffed. Obi-wan hid a smile-unsuccessfully-and continued, “Or you could lay down.”

Cody stared at him like he was deciding if he was going to keep being cold (something he hated) and sass Obi-wan (something he enjoyed), or comply. He huffed again and tugged off his shoes. He lifted the top blanket and slid in as carefully as he could so there would be minimal sand in the bed roll. 

Obi-wan grabbed the edges to help him, and gently tucked the blanket around him as Cody settled his head on his lap. “There, that wasn’t so hard was it, my dear?”

“Watch your tone, I can let you get cold tonight.” Cody tried to look tough, and Obi-wan decided not to bring up the fact that Cody would latch onto him the second he fell asleep anyway. 

Obi-wan found a hand easily tangling in Cody’s curls which were slightly longer now that they had been in the war. He found the physical touch soothing, and Cody did as well. Cody hummed softly and stared past Obi-wan to the night sky. The light from the sunset had completely faded, leaving the inky blue sky covered in millions of stars.

Obi-wan fell back on one hand to look up as well. His favorite part of uninhabited planets were how many stars you could see. The core worlds were often too polluted and bright to have many stars, but out in the middle of nowhere, it felt like you could see the whole galaxy. The constellations were mostly unfamiliar, but that had never really mattered to him. The pictures in the sky mattered less than feelings the the sky as a whole brought. In places like this, the force swirled in time with the movement of the heavens.

Obi-wan felt intense calm melt from Cody, the way emotions only did when Cody was pushing them to him. Obi-wan let out a deep breath and looked down at Cody again.

The way the firelight warmed his face but the stars reflected in his eyes was something very intoxicating, and Obi-wan might be in tight control of himself, but even he couldn’t resist that. He leaned over and gently kissed Cody. 

Cody allowed the kiss for a minute before pushing up on one elbow. He managed to keep their lips in contact but Obi-wan’s back was grateful that he didn’t have to lean over quite so much. Obi-wan’s hand moved from his hair to supporting his neck while they kissed. 

It wasn’t hurried or anxious, it wasn’t frantic like their kisses sometimes were. It was slow, and soft, and sweet. Obi-wan felt himself sinking into the force around him, into the feeling of Cody. 

Cody was always grounded and steady, and now after the war he was content too. He slowed Obi-wan down in a way no one else really could. Maybe because he saw the frantic pace Obi-wan kept himself at during any mission or crisis. Even when Obi-wan had his tea and a moment of peace, he was still high strung, ready for any surprise that came (and many did). The older he had gotten the worse it was because since his padawan days he was sent into increasingly dangerous situations with increasingly less time to relax. He didn’t know how to anymore. 

Until Cody.

Cody dropped his shields as he pressed upwards. He allowed Obi-wan to release the last of the tightness held in his center as he felt the present swirling around them. The cool desert air that was rapidly getting colder. The warm fire heating his legs and face, also heating Cody’s face and shoulder. The heat that warmed Obi-wan just from Cody keeping contact with him. The ground of soft sand and softer blankets, the slightly rough blanket pressed between them that kept the warmth in Cody’s cocoon. The gentle desert insects that gave the night it’s chorus, and the men in the distant camp who bled their joy into the force as they told campfire stories in voices too indistinct to make out. He could feel the weight of the blanket on Cody as well as he could feel the weight of his own robes. And most of all he could feel Cody’s mouth on his, anchoring him to this moment. 

They may not have frequent truly silent moments, but Obi-wan smiled into Cody’s mouth as he remembered again, as he often did, that they will have the chance for many, many more. And if kissing Cody in the desert made him like the desert much more than he ever did, well. That’s his business. 

[the-edge-of-great]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ friendsgiving ♥

---------- ----------

The silence that immediately follows “How did you spend your holidays?” is brief but deafening. Her heart sinks. She looks to Luke for help, but he’s watching the guys on the couch, eyes jumping between Alex and Reggie; the weight of the conversation seems to rest on their shoulders, and they don’t notice because they’re too busy avoiding everything, especially their bandmates.

So Julie backtracks, quickly. “I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t—Forget I said anything.” She reaches to fix the sheet music but realizes it’s already perfectly straight, and her hand falls flat, and there’s still an awkward silence, so she begins playing the start of Finally Free, which isn’t at all what they were working on, but this hasn’t happened before. She’s always been careful asking about their past because she doesn’t know how far is too far. And until now, she hasn’t struck out with any questions. They’ve been cool about it, mostly answering anything she wanted to know. If they didn’t want to talk about it, they kindly changed the subject. At some point, she thinks they became open books to her, and she them.

That’s why this question tumbled out so casually.

And that’s why the silence is scaring her.

Luke, finally, saves her. “We’d spend Thanksgiving with my dad’s family,” he tells her with a smile, which she immediately mirrors as her shoulders slump with relief, “and for Christmas, we’d go to my aunt’s place to party with my mom’s side. She actually lives in Pasadena.” He chuckles. It takes her all of five seconds to realize why that’s funny to him, and then she breathes a laugh and rolls her eyes.

“Holidays were always hectic for me,” Reggie says next. Julie’s heart flutters. “Like, three or four days of traveling to make sure we see both sides, both sets of grandparents, and somehow not barf from all the food.” He and Luke share a laugh, and Alex smiles faintly as he jumps to his feet.

“I just remembered,” he says, stepping over Luke, “I’m meeting Willie today.” He looks back at them briefly, his smile weak and probably forced, before vanishing.

Reggie and Luke share a look. Mumbling something about the beach, Reggie disappears too.

As soon as he’s gone, Julie’s face drops to her hands. “That was a disaster,” she groans.

“Family’s just a hard topic for them,” Luke replies quietly.

Chewing on her lip, Julie takes Alex’s spot next to him. “Tell me why?” she asks softly.

“Sure, since they outed all of my shit last month.” He chuckles.

“Whaaat?” Julie shakes her head. “They didn’t—” The look he gives her makes her stumble. Sheepishly, she adds, “They were trying to help.”

“I know.” Shaking his head, he explains, “Reggie’s parents fought a lot. So much that he didn’t like us coming over, like, ever. It was, seriously, all the time.”

“Fighting, like… arguing? Or…?”

“Just arguing,” he reassures. “They’d scream at each other, and sometimes at him if he got in the middle of it, but…” Luke sighs. “Just arguing.”

“And… Alex?”

He pauses, gaze dropping to his lap, and Julie’s stomach turns. She reaches for his hand, half to grab his attention again, half because she feels she’ll need a better alternative to digging her nails into her palm when she hears whatever he has to say. He intertwines their fingers, locking her hand in a grip tighter than she expected. If she wasn’t nervous before, she is now.

“Alex’s parents weren’t cool with him being gay.”

Julie sits up straighter. “What—What does that mean?” She needs better clarification because she knows what that could mean—she’s seen it on the news, on Tumblr and Twitter and Instagram, heard about it through the grapevine of high school—and her heart aches at the idea of Alex—sweet, caring Alex—going through anything of the sort.

“They didn’t kick him out which, I guess, is something, but they just… stopped caring. They stopped acknowledging him.”

Julie shakes her head. “They don’t deserve any praise for not kicking him out,” she says quietly, lip curling at her words. “Not for doing less than the bare minimum of being parents.”

“Getting angry over it is a lost cause.” He smiles sadly at her. “You don’t know how many times we talked about getting him out of his house. Both of ‘em. Bobby and I would spend nights out here, drawing up plans to run away to Vegas or something.”

“I should’ve never brought it up,” she mumbles. “I know holidays are hard for some people.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He shakes his head, turning to her and taking her other hand in his. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. Besides, it was bound to come up eventually. Family’s just… different, you know?”

Julie sighs, shoulders slumping forward. She watches Luke’s thumb rub across her knuckles. Thanksgiving is in a few days; her house is going to be lively with the whole family. When Mom was alive, the studio was a place for the kids to hangout. Obviously, nobody went near it after she died. Dad locked it up before people began arriving. Julie wonders, as she looks around the room, if they’ll open it to the family again. Or maybe it should stay closed for the guys’ sake.

“So… No holidays?” she asks. “At all? ‘Cause… I have an idea…”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “What’re you thinking?”

“It’s this thing called… Friendsgiving.”

~**~**~**~

Star Wars and other movies downloaded to the computer? Check. Computer hooked up to the projector? Check. Two white sheets borrowed from Flynn strung up in front of the instruments? Check.

“Are the lights too much?” Julie asks, waving her phone around the room to show off her decorations. “They feel too much.”

“No, fairy lights are cute!” Flynn exclaims through the phone. “And you went through all the work hanging them up.”

“I know we think they’re cute, but will they think they’re cute?”

“Jules, they’re like puppies; they’ll be excited about anything.”

“Okay.” Julie nods. “Okay.” The lights are weaved around the loft railing and framing the sides of the sheets. She had to improvise with Christmas lights, so when she turns them on, instead of faint white, a soft rainbow glows off the loft and cascades down to the floor.

“Look okay?” she asks Flynn again. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. It’s just Luke, Reggie, and Alex… But Reggie and Alex haven’t had a good Thanksgiving in a while. So, okay, maybe there’s a little pressure for things to be perfect. Or a lot. Maybe the lights is overdoing it—

“Dude, what’s up with you?” she hears Alex say outside.

“They’re here!” Julie stage whispers.

“Okay?” Flynn says just as soft. “Go talk to them? And the lights are cute! Keep them on!”

“As Julie would say,” Reggie adds, voice getting louder as he nears the studio, “you’re acting hella sus.”

“Wait, wait,” Luke says, probably trying to stop him. “Just—Wait a second.”

“I’ll text you later,” Julie tells Flynn as she heads for the door.

“Julie!”

“What?!”

Flynn smiles at her. “They’re going to love it, okay?”

Julie stops, hand inches from the door handle. Taking a deep breath, she returns Flynn’s smile. “Thanks, Flynn.”

Feet shuffle out of the way of the door that swings open a few inches. Julie pokes her head out. “Hi there,” she says, grinning.

Alex squints at her. “You’re in on it too, huh?”

“Alex, honey, I planned it.”

Luke, who froze in the middle of holding Reggie back with arms around his chest when Julie stepped out, backs off and joins her by the door.

“And you guys never figured it out!” he says proudly, fist bumping her.

Reggie and Alex share a look that makes her think yeah, no, they totally figured something was going on. She giggles.

“Well, uh…” Julie glances over her shoulder. “You guys want to see what the secret is?” She leans against the door to push it open and waves them past. “Ta-da.”

Along with the Christmas lights is a lamp beside the couch, covered by a blanket to dim the brightness. In place of the coffee table she pushed to the side are pillows and blankets layered over each other. Board games she found in the loft are stacked high in the chair next to the couch. They’re a mixture of generations: some she received as Christmas and birthday gifts, and others that have been around for as long as she can remember—favorites among her family, especially her parents. Maybe the guys will remember them too.

The shelf behind the couch is empty except for the projector. She had to find an extension cord to plug in her computer and leave it safely on the couch (she may have tried to balance it on the shelf with the projector, but one close call was enough to look into alternatives).

After the door is latched behind her, she joins them in the middle of the room, playing with her hands. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she begins. “I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

Alex shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Julie. You didn’t know.”

“But I do now. And… I don’t know how you guys feel about the holidays, but I hope you give this one a chance?” She steps around them, kicking off her shoes as she goes. “It’s not an official holiday, but over the years, it’s become more popular.” She steps onto the couch and looks back at them with a smile. “It’s called Friendsgiving. Families suck sometimes, and you can’t choose them. But, you can choose your friends.” Standing on her tiptoes, she flips the projector on. A light beam shoots past them and shines across the bed sheets. Two was a better decision than one, it seems. The picture has plenty of room to spread out. Perhaps not the best quality, but at least they can watch it full screen.

“I have all of the Star Wars movies downloaded,” she continues, stepping off the couch, “along with a few others if we get sick of the marathon. I don’t know if you like board games, but I found a few in the loft?” She points at the stack.

“You did… all of this for us?” Reggie asks, almost breathlessly.

“Well, yeah. And Luke helped.” Luke smiles when the guys look at him. Julie adds, “I don’t think I could’ve guessed your movie taste without him.”

“There are some good ones on there,” he promises.

Alex huffs a laugh. He spins in a slow circle, taking in everything. “This is awesome, Jules.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but… You’re wrong about one thing.” She freezes. Luke and Reggie look back at him. Alex shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, looking over each of them, the corner of his mouth curved in a smile. “You can choose the family that matters.”

“And it’s us?” Luke teases. “We’re your Chosen Ones?” As he and Reggie share a laugh, Alex walks away from them.

“C’mere,” he says with a laugh, pulling Julie into a hug. Alex gives some of the best hugs. He’s tall enough to tuck her head under his chin, and she can bury her face in his chest.

Luke and Reggie must move in, because Alex walks them near the couch. “No, no, she’s my Chosen One. You two go away.”

“We were here first,” Luke whines.

“But it’s Julie,” Reggie reasons. He shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips.

Luke nods. “Good point.”

“Still, you’re crazy if you think I’m just going to ignore group hug potential,” Reggie says, lunging for them. Alex pretends to try getting away, but he actually opens an arm for him, and now Julie’s squished between them. Not even a second later, Luke’s on her other side. They’re a mess of laughter until someone missteps. They fall in slow motion, it seems. Julie rolls off of Alex’s chest and into the arms of Luke, who hugs her to his chest immediately.

“Good thing Julie has all of the pillows of the universe here,” Alex jokes.

“Oh yeah, I called in every favor. They asked how many I wanted. I said yes.”

Reggie pushes himself up. He squints at the stack of board games. “No way! You have Candyland?”

Luke chuckles in her ear. “Are those Christmas lights?”

“I improvised.”

“I like it.”

Alex is looking at them. “Me too.”

Julie grins. “Thanks, guys.”

“Reg, Candyland or Star Wars?” Alex asks, rolling onto his stomach.

Reggie pauses, board game in his hands. “Can we… We can do both!”

Julie laughs out loud.

After a few minutes of clearing away the pillows (“Oh good, I thought we’d never see that rug again.”), setting up the game, and playing the movie, they’re ready: Candyland and Star Wars. Not how she ever imagined spending the day before Thanksgiving.

“Hey,” Julie says as she draws a card. It’s green. She looks up at them, smiling. “I love you guys, you know?”

They each share looks, grinning at one another. To her left, Luke draws next. “We know, Julie,” he says, moving his character forward. When he meets her eye, he tell her, “We love you, too.”

“Now, keep that in mind when I completely destroy all of you in these games,” Reggie warns.

Julie raises a challenging eyebrow.

“Bring it.”

[arcanescholar]

Hard To Find The Right Words

Omori Post True Good Ending Spoilers. 

Aubrey having a tough time, etc etc. Enjoy maybe??? Might get more chapters later if I feel like it???????????? FUCK????????????

Ch 2 

On the long, long list of “shit Aubrey’s had to put up with” for the past few days…

This special, insidious sort of dizziness has gotta be a new one. Seriously, give a girl a break right? Who the fuck is able to handle this many highs and lows at once? It’s enough to make her head spin, and the hospital taking her bat away wasn’t helping matters.

The words that tumbled from Sunny’s placid, stony expression, his singular eye barely betraying the shaky, unsteady difficulty in handling recounting the story, made her stomach turn.

Shit, what a time to be thinking about what she had for lunch. If it comes back up right now she might straight up die of embarrassment y’know?

She couldn’t even turn her attention to Kel or Hero but, with the way the younger had to take a step back and struggle to find any words, and how the elder seemed to freeze like a statue, she had a feeling they were in just as bad of a spot.

“… and, that’s what happened.”

Sunny finally finishes recounting his story, and before he can say another word, Hero is already lunging, Ken barely able to snag his less-in-shape brother before he gets the chance to do whatever he was about to.

Aubrey, though…?

Years of anger, years of hatred and fury and bottled up impatience, a near lifetime of bitterness bubbles in her gut and sends her vision swimming.

Huh.

She just remembered, it was pizza.

Weird, why is Sunny getting so much taller? Kel? Hero? How come her knees started hurting suddenly-

Oh.

Oh, her legs gave out. That makes sense. God, her hair’s getting in her eyes, was it already starting to lose its color? Why is it so hard to focus on anything right now? She should be pissed! She should be picking up hospital equipment and chucking it out a window right now! So why can’t she move?! Why?!

For once, Aubrey can’t summon up her anger. For the first time in who only knows how long, she feels like the scared little girl that had to hide away when holes got punched into walls, that covered her head in her room and squeezed herself into a corner with her rabbit when the arguing got too loud. Her breath catches in her throat and refuses to let up. Is she going to die?

She can’t handle this again. Not now. She’s not strong enough, she’s not tough enough to deal with this-

….

Pap

… A hand rests against her head. That brief touch is enough to peel back the veil and drag focus back kicking and screaming into reality. She almost reflexively goes to turn and smack the hand out of the way, only to realize part way through her turn that it was just Basil’s arm, flopping out from the mattress and accidentally brushing against her head for a moment. The boy was still asleep, still a mess of injuries that made her nearly throw up seeing him in that state.

She might have bullied him, fantasized about beating him to an inch of his life, thought about crushing that bat of hers against his skull more times than she could count. She might have turned that weapon on Kel and Sunny both at least once before, but…

Seeing him like this, seeing Sunny with that eye patch, having lost sight in one of his eyes for what might be the rest of his life?

…

She takes Basil’s hand in hers and carefully stands up. Hero and Kel had been shouting for at least a minute now, she’s not sure how long it’s been since they started processing what happened in their own way. A shove is all Hero needs to finally get out of Kel’s grip, giving him time to damn near sprint out of the room, tackling the door hard enough to almost knock it off of its hinges before dashing out of the room.

Almost without thinking, Kel dips out, rushing after his brother with words that only come across like muffled noises in Aubrey’s ears.

… … …

There was a time when she confided in Mari, a time when she spoke to her about what was happening back at home, she remembered the pain in the older girl’s face, and the words she told her as she let Aubrey rest her head in her lap one quiet afternoon, just between the two of them.

“It’s not my place to say, but… If I could, I’d adopt you right now and give you the biggest welcome to the family hug I could…! Family should never hurt family. No one should ever raise a hand to a loved one and mean it, and the fact that they’re scaring you like that just isn’t right…” The older sister murmured at the time. Aubrey remembers now, Mari brushed her fingers through her hair in a really specific and special way that she almost forgot about.

It was like tracing little circles into her skin with her fingers, like trying to massage the fear from her brain, reaching in deep and grasping the wellspring of her despair and coaxing it out to let her think clearly again…

“When you get older… When things seem tough and scary and you don’t know what to do, that you feel like you’ve got nowhere else you can turn to. You might want to get mad, you might get really furious at having to deal with so much as a kid, but… Promise me, you won’t turn that anger on your friends, okay? Take a breath-”

… Haaaaahhh…

“-center yourself-”

Aubrey gives Basil’s hand a light squeeze. She can hear the hum of medical equipment and the sound of Hero and Kel’s footsteps retreating again.

“-and remember all the precious people you have in your life.”

She wasn’t the sort to pay the most attention to school, but, in this moment, a line she read in a book she had to read a few weeks back crosses her mind again.

“They asked, ‘do you love her to death’? And I said ‘speak of her over my grave, and watch how she brings me back to life’.” (1)

Funny how things dredge up in your memory at the weirdest possible moments, she thinks. For the first time, she’s starting to understand at least some of what those words really mean. 

…

After a moment, she carefully tucks Basil’s hand back into the bed, before letting loose a light huff through her nose. He’s still sleeping, if a bit more fitfully from all the noise.

“… Kh. Don’t gotta remind me like that y’know? Puts a bad taste in my mouth…” She nearly spits, trying to mask herself with bitterness.

It wouldn’t be long before hospital security came to drag Sunny back to his bed and cut this conversation short, she had to act fast.

She steps forward, and without hesitation, reaches up… and presses her hand on Sunny’s head, rubbing her fingers through his hair, tracing circles and massaging with a silent, stony expression that matches his own. She was still sick to her stomach, her balance was still terrifically uneasy, but…

“… I’ll come talk to you again later, okay?”

She pulls her hand back, and gives him a light punch to his shoulder before stepping out of the room.

“For what it’s worth…” She says, pausing in the door frame as she hears the sounds of shoes squeaking against tile flooring as the hospital staff finally approaches to do their damn jobs.

“I kinda get it. I understand it. I’ve been there. I’m not good at talking about this kind of thing, but, if you need to talk, I can give listening a try... this time.”

Sunny was going to leave after he recovered enough for the hospital to let him loose with his frankly fucking negligent mom. There was nothing she could do that would change that, but…

At least for now, at least while he was still recovering in the hospital, she could finally, actually speak to him.

“… Thanks for opening up Sunny. Give Hero a bit. That guy’s so strung up trying to be the best of us that I guess even he’s gotta snap at some point right?”

Says the girl trying to play mom-friend to the most broken-ass friend group in the tristate area. Christ, trying to be a decent person sucks. How the fuck did Hero pull it off for so damn long?

“Aubrey…”

“Yeah Sunny?”

“… thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Kh, fuck that, I almost drowned both you and Basil. If I started whining about accidents that happened in fits of rage I’d be the worst hypocrite in history, y’know?”

“…”

“Talk to Basil and let him know what happened if he wakes up before the staff drag you back to your room or something. I’ll let ‘em know you need a sec.”

With that, she carefully shuts the door.

What she says to the staff, what kind of look she gives them is growled with enough force and tinged with enough protective violence that it gives them just enough pause for the young boys to exchange an all too important smile of mutual understanding. 

Even if Aubrey never saw it, that little moment of clarity between them saved both of their lives in a way she’d refuse to take credit for helping make happen, knowing her.

A busted, crappy, cracked-screen phone buzzes to life as she walks past the staff. God, she fucking hates it here. The way her shoes hit the tiles, the way the equipment sounds, the fact that every time she’s come here, she’s ended up crying for some reason or another-

Shit, here come the water works now. Damn it Aubrey, at least make it out the door first-

A trip and a tumble nearly sends her falling straight to the floor but, she snaps out her hand just in time to snatch onto a handrail on the side of one of the hallways, her head still spinning as she sags against the floor, her phone toppling out of her jacket’s pocket and landing on its back with a loud, spinning clatter, settling in upside down to her perspective. Tear drops spatter onto the screen, distorting the light and scattering rainbow patterns across its surface. Gah. Add that to the damage. This just isn’t her day. 

Behind a call notification, her background shows the cork board in her room with the pictures she yanked out of Basil’s album after saving them from their near ruined state, mixed in with pictures of her and her other friends she made in the time that passed since. A little bubble on the screen bounces about, showing a picture of Kim flashing a peace sign with a bright eyed wink that reflects in Aubrey’s tired eyes, refracting as it passes underneath her teardrops.  “… Hhfffhh…”

She eventually picks her phone up off the ground and answers it. A hospital staffer looks about ready to tell her off for using her phone in the hallway but, lets be honest.

The kind of glare Aubrey gives off as she very deliberately swipes her finger across the screen to accept the call is the sort that would give most adults pause.

“… Hey.”

“Aubrey!!!! You finally picked up!!!”

“…”

“I was so worried when I heard about what happened! Kh, stupid hospital not letting us in…!”

“…”

“… Aubrey? Are you there? I can kinda hear you breathing so you probably didn’t butt-accept the call or something!”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m here.”

“Jeez, how come you weren’t saying anything? Did those ner-”

An audible pause. Kim clears her throat after a second.

“Sorry, uh, did those guys get out of the woods okay…? I kinda only caught the cliffnotes of you going to the hospital from that text you sent me so…”

“They’re fine.”

Aubrey steps outside the hospital’s visiting center doors and finally breathes fresh air for the first time in what felt like days.

“Or… They’re as fine as they can be. Sort of. Kinda.” She continues, stepping over to one of the benches outside and taking a seat, drinking in the sounds of chirping birds, gentle breezes, swaying trees, and the sensation of warm sunlight… It was a beautiful day, and she didn’t feel nearly good enough to appreciate any of it.

“That’s good at least yeah? Uh… Hrmggh. I’m bad at this kinda thing but… Uh. If there’s anything you need to talk about, you can hit me and the others up at any time yeah?”

Kim’s voice was surprisingly tender, tender enough that it manages to draw a sniff out from Aubrey, forcing her to bring a hand up to her eyes and rub it across them to make sure she didn’t show any tears yet god damn it-

Ugh. Where’s Kel’s Taurine soaked brain anyway. He’s better about handling this kinda energy! Does- shit, does he even like energy drinks?

“Aubreeeeey, if you keep going silent I’m gonna think someone kidnapped you y’know. Gotta pull the whole gang together, beat up on the nearest creepos till we find you! The Maverick’s got a Style Meter App on his phone that does those shouts from that one game so we’ll even get t’ have our own hype-men-”

The thought of Michael in a parking lot with a buffer sword in one hand and a phone in the other trying to do combos for a video to put on his Way Too Many Social Media accounts hits Aubrey with a second hand cringe that nearly brings her to her knees.

“UGGGHHHH!” Aubrey finally cracks, a doofy grin hitting her lips despite her audible mental suffering, slumping back in the chair and nearly sliding out of it entirely, a few tears finally trickling down her eyes as her body releases its tension at last.

“I can’t believe that try hard seriously sprung for something like that. If he tries that shit in public in front of me I’m making’ his screen look like mine.” Aubrey finally grumbles, adjusting her bow. “… Right, I left my bat at home. Ugh.”

“There we go! Now you’re talking’ again. Jeez, way to make a girl worry… Charlene was getting ready to find some flowers to give to you too, the sweetheart.”

“She’s more of an angel than Angel is…”

“Right?! Maybe we should make Angel give up on his nickname-”

“Don’t bother, Charlene’d never let him do it.”

“You’re so right it’s actually kinda annoying.”

“She’s the best of us, y’know.”

“…”

“…”

“So, can you like, talk about what happened at all now or…?”

“… Hang out spot, by the lake, be there in 20.”

“Should I bring the rest of the group-”

“Not this time, Kim.”

The call ends without another word, another ping showing on her phone’s screen showing string of texts from Kel.

JrangeOoe: hey!!!!! ;v;

JrangeOoe: sorry i left you alone with sunny and basil there, hero was having a really bad freak out

JrangeOoe: mom and dad and i are workin with him now, gonna try to calm him down will be back at hospital to give basil and sunny another visit later

JrangeOoe: gonna be honest, this is giving me a little time to figure this stuff out too so, thanks hero for the panic i guess??????

JrangeOoe: ugh no that’s not fair

JrangeOoe: anyway, if you need to chill and get some ginos later i found 10 bucks in a visiting center couch and was trying to hide it but

JrangeOoe: today’s a “spread the wealth” sorta day

It took a couple of moments of hesitation, but…

headhooligan: dinner, maybe

headhooligan: fuck this whole dumbs week

headhooligan: i got some spare cash so i’ll chip in too to get hero something if it’ll help

headhooligan: also what the fuck how are you so calm about this are your parents not trying to work you through this too or something?!

JrangeOoe: uh

JrangeOoe: no but i think hero needs it more right now!!!

JrangeOoe: i dunno how i feel, i guess i’m just to worried about everyone else to think about it?

JrangeOoe: *too

JrangeOoe: i’ll catch you later for dinner tho, if i can get hero to calm down enough to feel safe leaving him be with mom and dad

JrangeOoe: get a feelings jam up in here

JrangeOoe: pizza and ice cream or whatever

JrangeOoe: not at your place tho tbh your mom kinda freaks me out like a lot

headhooligan: >:/

JrangeOoe: what? it’s the truth!

With a roll of her eyes, Aubrey stuffs her phone away, wrenching her bike out of its lock from the hospital’s parking lot bike rack and mounting up. She takes one, final, long look at the hospital’s monolithic facade, and thinks about just how high up that building goes before shaking her head, and pedaling off.

The whole ride home, all she can do is play back today’s events again, and again, and again. Hear the same story in Sunny’s stilted monotone, again, and again, and again.

Every instinct, every trained gut reaction, every beaten in urge and desire tells her she should hate him.

He stole her from everyone, he murdered her, broke her skull against the floor like some raging animal then strung her up like a horror show for everyone to see just to avoid consequences with Basil’s help-

… But…

That panic that gripped her chest when Basil fell in the water from her shove just a few days ago, the terror at taking not one life, but two when Sunny jumped in after him, still unable to swim.

“…”

Her pedaling gets harder, more forceful, making the aging, damaged frame of her hand me down, fourth hand bike creak and groan in protest, hair billowing behind her in a tangled mess of poorly kept locks…

What should be anger gives way to an oddly calm understanding, what should be hatred and fury and violence wraps itself so tightly in its own chaotic energy that all she can do is…

…

There’s not a cloud in the sky, but raindrops spatter on concrete and asphalt where she rides, leaving a trail of sorrow four years in the making, finally given “closure”, finally released.

—-

(1) Credit to Mahmoud Darwish for this legendary line.

[tokyoghoose]

Make a wish

pairing: haru kato x reader

summary: a little birthday celebration

announcements!

happy birthday to the best tired detective 🥺

just a little something to celebrate him! nothing super big or elaborate, but he deserves some loving and fluff :)

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open

—————

There's nothing more Haru wants than to go home, loosen the tie that feels like it's strangling him, and climb into bed with his fiance. Of course, things could never be so easy—he should've expected as much on such a big day. Was it even that big of a deal, though? After so many years, the thought of getting older just gives him anxiety. No one else gave the day another thought, in fact now that he thinks about it, only one other person has wished him happy birthday since he's come into work and that was Kamei.

Haru's eyebrows furrow at the thought. You hadn't even wished him haply birthday—not even a text. Sure, he left early that morning before you work up, but you'd been texting him. After six years of dating and three more years or just knowing each other, had it simply slipped your mind? He frowns, groaning in his mini cubicle, practically throwing face into his arms. He's the first to delve into his work, throwing himself into each job with everything he has, but even then he has days where he truly hates it. Could today just end already?

The clock ticks down, seemingly taking forever before the hour hand clocks at ten. He basically stumbles away from his desk, quickly slipping his documentation from an earlier case into his boss' box before tugging on his jacket and he's out the door.

It doesn't take long for Haru to get home, but by then its already dark and the city had turned on streetlamps and strung up lights. He notices the lights are off in the apartment and briefly questions if you went to sleep already. It wouldn't surprise him, honestly. Work has taken a toll on the both of you, the hospital getting busier daily. Haru unlocks the door as quietly as possible, immediately slumping over with an exhausted sigh, the warm and familiar feeling of home taking over his senses. He figures he should take a shower, kicking off his shoes before sniffing. Oh? There's something sweet in the air, usual to the normal lavender scent. He looks up, flicking on the light.

Haru gasps in surprise at the sight in front of him before smiling softly. There you are, a cake in hand—vanilla with soft pink frosting. There are unlit candles at the top in a circle, surrounding the sloppy loops of writing: Happy birthday Haru! It's messy, obviously handwritten and maybe even baked from scratch, if he had to guess. You're practically bouncing on your toes, grinning up at him. So, you hadn't forgotten after all.

Haru moves, taking the cake and pushing it over to the counter before pulling you into a hug, practically collapsing into your embrace. He nudges his nose into your hair, taking in the comforting scent. The tension in his shoulders relaxes under your fingertips when you wrap your arms around him. It was obvious not only had today really worn him down but the entire week. You let out a giggle when he squeezes you, entangling your fingers through his knotted hair. "Haru.. baby, you need to eat."

He pulls away, leaning his forehead against your own, nudging your nose with his before closing his eyes. He mutters out a thank you before pressing his lips lazily, gently against yours. If you hadn't been the one to pull away, you're sure he would've kept going by the way his lips moved to follow yours. Pressing on his shoulders gently, you use your other hand to guide his face to the cake and two things of noodles beside it. His eyebrows raised, he hadn't even noticed them there.

"I tried to cook and bake at the same time, but it didn't work out as well as I planned.."

Haru snickers at the failed attempt, moving his hand to ruffle your hair affectionately, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"It's more than enough, y/n."

His fingers dip into the pink frosting on the cake, taking his finger into his mouth to taste the sweet with a satisfied hum. At least one thing came out decent. He passes you a cup of noodles, deciding to go ahead and boil the water.

———

" Oh hey! You have to make a wish!" You scold, pushing the cake cutter away from the good, brushing his hand away. Haru quirks his lip and huffs, not caring for the lit candles. Muttering a fine, he leans in close and holds his breath, thinking of what he'd wish for. His lidded eyes look up to yours, seeing you snap a picture in awe at how the lights glow against his features. It doesn't take long to come up with something after that, closing his eyes and blowing out a steady huff of air around the cake.

"What'd ya wish for?"

He scoffs, but there's a smile on his face as he begins to cut the cake.

"It ruins the point if I tell you. Besides, there's only so much I can wish for when I have everything I could want in front fo me."

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words and he cusps your hand, running a soothing thumb against your flesh. It makes goosebumps creep up your arms. It's an innocent act, yet it teases you kindly. Always so subtle when it came to romance.

"Happy birthday, Haru."

[gothfoxx]

Miraculous Ladybug, Male! Marinette x Lila, They were partnered up with in a project but they hated each other. They have settled their differences or they would fail the project.

(I’m using @virgil-is-a-cutie ‘s male!Marinette name for this)

When Ms Bustier said they would do the project in pairs Marin could feel the eyes of everyone in class glance hungrily in his direction. There was sure to be a fight for an easy grade. “Partners will be assigned at the end of the lesson so please pay attention!” The teacher informed them. ‘Ha!’ Marin thought as all the greedy vultures groaned and moaned about their lost meal ticket.

“That leaves Alya and Juleka as the last girl team and Lila and Marin as our last co Ed team!” Ms Bustier said way too cheerfully for someone that just sent a guy down the river. “Remember I want to see effort from both of you in your project for this lesson, think of it as your idea child. Raise it together with love and care!” The woman added a happy little half clap to emphasize her giddiness at the prospect.

Marin held back an eye roll that he was sure several other students could share. At least it was a subject he liked so if he had to do all the work he wouldn’t be struggling. The plopping down of a bag jars the bluenett out of his musings huh Alya left already and when he looks up he sees his nightmare hasn’t ended yet, “Hey~ Marin. So I guess we’re working together huh?” Lila asks feigning innocence and dripping artificial sweetness. When he doesn’t address her right away she tilts her head and pouts, if he didn’t know it was all an act he might have been swayed into being sorry.

He heaved a sigh to rivial a tiny god’s and puts on his ‘customer service’ smile, “Guess so. So do you have an idea for what we should do? I’m all ears!” Might as well jump to it and prepare for the worst. She surprises him by pulling out a piece of paper with some sloppy writing on it. “I might have one idea.” She beams, ew she can fake that too is that healthy?. “Oh cool.” Came his less than enthusiastic reply as he tried to read the paper, “So what IS the idea?” He finally asks after getting nowhere trying to read from the paper. Lila grinned and this time if was the kind her was used to, the sly cruel smile of a Predator on the hunt.

“I’m glad you ask Marin! It just so happens that my grandpapa’s work involved research of this area. We have some of his old journals at home. We practically have this done!” She boasted, and for a lie this one seemed rather...dumb to say the least. How was she going to get out of something so plainly’put up or shut up’? “So I guess we’re doing it at your place?” He remarks as he looks back at his notes for the list of suggested topics. A sound like a strangled cat catches his attention back to the brunette, she was red in the face and sputtering, “excuse me? Come again?” She wheezes between two steadying breaths. He’s confused at to what set her off but he repeats himself, “Are we doing the project at your house? Where the journals are?” And by golly she goes from looking mad to being embarrassed. “Oh, sure” comes the oddly soft response.

After school Marin texted his parents that he’d be home for dinner and prayed that if this was some kind of murder plot that they would at least start the search for his body quickly. The awkward silence dragged on until it got to be too much for the boy so he asks, “So what did your grandpa do?” After a few steps Lila answers with a grand sweep of her hand towards a front door. “You’ll just have to see, welcome to the Castello Rossi!” For all the grand showmanship it’s a very plain looking house, well kept but plain. “How nice, I like your plants.” Marin comments trying to be civil since they still have work to do.

As Lila opens the door with another grand gesture Marin is shocked to see how empty and impersonal it feels. Most of the front room looks unlived in with just two picture frames sitting on the mantle. “Mama won’t be home till later so let’s go to the office and get as much done as we can.” She states, beckoning him to follow. The office is a stark contrast to the room earlier, stacks of important looking paper tower on the dark wooden desk, Knick-nacks and books fill the shelves, and family phones are scattered along the walls. While Marin is taking it all in Lila goes to a shelf in the corner and pulls out two worn out sketch books.

As it turns out Lila’s grandpa was part of a team of anthropologists that studied post World War I art and his books were a mix of notes on the how the war changed how the art had changed and sketches of people he had interviewed. It was all so fascinating and emotional. Marcelo Rossi had a way with words, Marin felt like he could hear the man’s voice narrate as he read entry after entry. They easily got most of their project done, the impact of WWI in everyday life, all they needed was a second source and they would be finished. All in all it was a not horrible experience, maybe if Lila could shape up they could really be friends like everyone wanted.

Ending 1: not so bad

Marin was surprised that in the week and a half that they had been working together to discover the Rossi family were well known in nitch circles of the anthropology and archaeological sciences. He had seen a picture of her great aunt recording the dying language of the Tihan people of Tiahana, gotten to read the musings of the eccentric late great-great-uncle Sal who studied prehistoric plants. They were amazing people who changed their fields, it was a wonder Lila depended on lies to get attention. When the day of the presentation came up Marin was excited to share what they had written, Lila even brought scans of the sketch books to pass around. Everyone else’s reports were pretty standard in comparison so when it was their turn they knocked it out of the park!

After class Marin walked out with Lila like he had done everyday for a week when to realized that he didn’t need to follow her anymore. It caught him off guard at how sad that made him, he liked seeing the real Lila under all the lies and faux confidence. Did they really have to pop their little bubble just because they didn’t share a goal anymore? “Aren’t you coming?” Lila asked tugging on Marin’s sleeve, “We need to celebrate, that report was definitely an A. We deserve a treat!” She declares, dragging the less than reluctant boy along with her. They announced their relationship a few days later to the cheers of the class.

Ending 2: how did it end up like this

Marin had gotten to know the real Lila over the week and a half they worked together. He had really gotten through to her as he assured her that what her family did was interesting and there was no need to hide behind her web of lie. She agreed to come clean to the class with Marin to vouch for her after the project. He was really proud of her and was planning on asking her to lunch together later that day.

Strangely when they walked in that morning in prep for the report Marin felt the burning feeling of eyes boring into the back of his head. Ms Bustier met them at the bottom of the steps, “Lila is it really a good idea for you to come in today with everything that you’ve done?” The teacher inquired with a grit of her teeth. A murmur rippled through the room as Marin realized the glares weren’t aimed at his mmm for a change. Lila paled and looked around the class before focusing back on Ms Bustier, “What’s going on? What do you mean by what ‘I’ve done’?” The brunette asks a bit nervously.

It was Alya that stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Lila. “You lied about everything, you made me think you were going to help me with my career! You just strung us along like puppets!” She roared, Juleka had to hold the journalist back from rush the Italian. “Alya sit down! I will handle this!” Barked Ms Bustier, looking very run down and already very tired for the time of day. If Marin though Lila was pale before then she looked ghostly now, her eyes looked huge on her face as she looked at the struggling Alya. “As you can see. It would be best if you spent the day with the principal. Your mother should be here soon” the teacher growled.

Just then Juleka lost her grip and Alya rushed forward making Lila bolt out the door. Marin braced his body, the same way he did when Manon tries to escape to cling to her mom, and grabbed Alya around the middle and kept her from chasing his friend. “Why are you stopping me! She lied, you know she lied!” Raved the girl trying to wrestle her way out of his grip. “She played us!” She snarled. “She played you like the cheap kazoo you are!” Marin responded in kind. “I told you before it was a problem that she was lying but none of you would hear me out, you asked for proof, you called me envious! But it’s now that I like her and she promised to come clean that you choose to see the truth!? Fuck you guys!” He yells, dropping Alya on her ass and running after Lila.

He finds her crying in the hall that leads to the principal’s office. Her eyes are red and puffy, it breaks his heart to see her scrubbing her face in an effort to make the tears stop. Kneeling down next to her Matin holds his arm out so she can curl up into his side. “Don’t worry about them. They never knew the real you. After all the talk they spout about friendship and loyalty and giving chances they never even tried to get to know who was under all the celebrity stories. They all dropped you without asking questions or giving you a chance. So don’t worry about them. You have me.” He promises, rubbing her back soothingly. They wait there a long time before Mrs Rossi arrives, Marin stays for the meeting holding Lila’s hand through the whole ordeal. With compromises on both sides Lila is allowed to stay in the school but she will be switching classes and seeing a councilor. After Marin walks Lila and her mom back to their car, it might not be the best time but he’s not sure when he’ll get the chance again, “Once you’re not grounded anymore will you go out for coffee with me? Or a movie, I don’t even know if you like coffee.” He rambles get stopped in their tracks when Lila leans over and places a peck on his cheek. “I’d love to” she smiles, eyes still a bit wet, before having to close the car door and drive away.

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [2]: Defensive Wounds

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.” — Walt Whitman

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The morgue is cool and quiet, gleaming metal polished to a shine that sends little daggers of light into Lir’s eyes. She gives herself a moment to adjust, listening to the faint tic tic tic of the freezers, fingering the bottle of aspirin in her pocket while she waits to see if the subtle pressure in her skull is going to shift from discomfort to agony. Next to the door is a desk, with a state of the art computer, a few files, a cup full of pens, and a half-drunk cup of coffee with lipstick on the rim; beyond that, there is another door, one that probably leads to a storage room, two walls of cold lockers in four rows of four, and two x-ray displays on the final wall. In the center of the room are three slabs. On one of them is the Jane Doe, covered respectfully with a sheet, her eyes closed to give her an expression of peace. At her side is Trish, her blonde hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head and her face partially obscured by a sterile mask that she tugs down on Lir’s approach.

“Thorne,” she greets cheerfully. “You here for the autopsy report?” Lir nods, and Trish beckons her closer. “You’re right on time. Just got done with our guest.”

Lir isn’t sure what to make of having a corpse called a guest. Gallows humor, she supposes. “What can you tell me about her?”

“She suffered, that’s for certain.” Trish turns on the light over the slab and pulls it down, illuminating the Jane Doe with a grisly, fluorescent white that turns her already dead pallor a sickly blue-gray. Then she pulls the sheet down, and Lir is suddenly, incredibly grateful that she hasn’t eaten yet, the bile in her throat bitter but weak. “The throat and abdominal trauma was all perimortem. She was alive, but not struggling, when our killer cut her open. Judging from the tissue damage, looks like the throat happened first, but it was ultimately shock and blood loss that killed her.”

“She was alive for the whole thing?”

“Mm-hm. Though I don’t know how aware of it she was. I don’t have the toxicology report yet—that will take a little longer to run, sorry—but pupil dilation is indicative of intoxication. Judging from the depth of the gash here,” Trish points to Jane Doe’s throat, “it was more to keep her quiet than kill her. She would have bled out from that alone eventually if no one found her first, but it doesn’t go through bone. The hesitation marks at the edges make me think he was more . . . Well, there’s no easy way to say this. Probably sawed through her.”

Lir tries to picture it, being too strung out or drunk to defend herself, being helpless while some maniac slashed her throat and cut her open like a butcher. From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a red dress and pale hair and holds her breath, counting to ten until it fades, then asks, “You said at the scene there weren’t any defensive wounds.”

“That’s right. And there aren’t. No blood or tissue under her nails, no bruising or scrapes or cuts to show that she tried to fight back.” Trish sighs, lifting the sheet back over Jane Doe before tugging off her gloves. “Whoever this is, they’re one sick puppy.”

“Yeah.” Photographs on the wall catch her attention, and Lir walks over to study them closely. They’re all from the crime scene, some of little bits of evidence next to their markers, others of the victim, and it’s the latter she really looks at. “Does that pendant have any religious connotations?”

“You’d have to check. Why?”

“I just thought she looks kind of like an angel.”

Trish comes to stand next to her, her expression grave. “You know, I had the same idea.”

They stand in a heavy silence, the clock on the wall ticking loudly until Lir sighs. She bids farewell to Trish, who promises to have the full report to her by the end of the day, and takes the elevator back up to the bullpen. Dante will no doubt want to know what she’s learned, but she finds that she doesn’t quite want to tell him. Something about this all is nagging her, tugging the thin strands of her memory with an urgency, look, look, you’ve seen this before, even though she’s fairly certain that she never has. Was there a similar case in Fortuna? So lost in wracking her thoughts she nearly runs right into Simmons as she steps off the elevator, and she mumbles an apology and returns to her desk, where she boots up the computer, hunting for a notepad and a pen while she waits for it to finish loading.

A cup of coffee thudding next to her elbow has her peering up. Dante sits back down, a cup of his own in his hand that he raises to her before he takes a sip. His face screws up in disgust. “Fuck. No matter how long I’m here, coffee still tastes like shit. What’d Trish say?”

“That we’d have the full report soon,” Lir replies. She finds what she was looking for and logs into the terminal. “Victim was slaughtered like livestock and left to die. Too something to even try to save her own life.”

“That all?” 

She’s aware of his gaze, critical and assessing on her, and it makes her skin flush unpleasantly. “Until toxicology comes back.”

With a nod, he leans back in his seat. “Alright. What are your thoughts?”

Now you want to know? she nearly asks. Rubbing her temples, she replies instead, “Our guy is bold. A nightclub on one side, a bar on the other, people coming and going at all hours? Not to mention, he had to have been familiar with the location to avoid the security camera, if he did. Speaking of, is that footage here yet?” Dante shakes his head. “Right. Okay. So, Jane Doe was probably at one of the two places. Why risk dragging her any farther than that? And he had to get her to go with him somehow. A knife or a gun would have been too obvious, even for a crowded bar.”

“Could’ve posed as a hook-up,” Dante suggests.

“Mm. If she wasn’t drunk, he might have drugged her.”

“Drugs?”

“Her pupils were blown.”

“So,” he says slowly, “we’ve got a bold, possibly attractive killer who goes to bars to pick up women. Think he knew the vic?”

Lir realizes suddenly that he’s testing her, digging to see her worth, and it makes her angry all over again. “No, too risky. He’s got balls, but he’s not an idiot. All this planning, all the care he took, he wouldn’t want to leave any trace of himself, and that means he was probably a stranger and he picked her out when he got there. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”

“Opportunistic. Well, shit. Means he’s gonna be a bitch to find.” He offers her a crooked grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Want to flip a coin to see who’s givin’ Morrison the news?”

“You do it. I need to look for something.”

Dante frowns then, but the expression is quickly smothered as he stands. He takes his coffee with him into Morrison’s office; once the door is closed firmly behind him, Lir releases a sigh and slumps in her chair, cradling her head in her hands. This was meant to be a new beginning for her. Get out of Fortuna, away from the good-intentioned but condescending men she worked with, leave the bitter break-up and the cramped apartment behind her to set out in the bigger city. Yet here she is, dealing with condescending men, living in an apartment that’s large enough to feel empty, with a killer that she knows she has an infinitesimally small chance of catching on her hands. Maybe I’ll get a cat, she thinks, and then discards it. She’s going to be too busy to give any pet the love it would deserve.

Lir pulls up the database and enters her credentials, watching the wheel spin as the program decides whether or not she’s allowed in. Once it opens, she navigates to the search bar, where she types evisceration, hoping the term will be narrow enough to ping any cases that might have been similar. All she gets are animal cruelty cases, youths torturing cats and dogs, and she groans. Next is religious, but that doesn’t get her anything other than some fraud. Jane Doe is too broad, while trying by location only gets her arrests for petty theft, assault, and drunk and disorderlies. Her fingers drum on her desk as she thinks; maybe, if whatever it is that she thinks she remembers was before her time in the force, it would have been before they started digitizing their records. 

Which would mean figuring out the location and then digging through that city’s physical files.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. Most of what she said to Dante was speculation, and she knows that they’re going to spend at least a week trying to identify their victim and looking for anyone who might have seen her, tracking down friends and acquaintances and ex-boyfriends to see if any of them had the fury and the cruelty needed to butcher someone like that. If they’re lucky, she’ll have gotten into some sort of trouble with the law and there will be prints they can match. If they’re unlucky, it’s beating the streets, shoving her photograph in people’s faces to try and jar their memory.

“Detective?” Lir opens her eyes to find Simmons standing next to her, a USB stick in his hand. “The nightclub owner sent this over. Said it’s all the footage from the last twenty-four hours and you wanted it?”

He sounds uncertain, and she forces herself to smile. “Yeah, thanks. While I’ve got you here, can I ask a favor?” Hesitantly, he nods. “Head down to the morgue to get the victim’s prints from Trish and run ‘em, will you? It’s a long shot, but it might help us figure out who she is.”

Simmons doesn’t look like he finds the idea appealing, but he gives a weak salute and heads down the stairs. Lir watches him until he disappears into the elevator, and then she plugs the USB into her computer and opens the files to scroll through it. Twenty-four hours of hopefully unaltered footage stored in four hour chunks which, when she clicks on the first video to play it, turn out to be monochrome and grainy. She fights through the urge to yank her hair, instead getting up and going to grab a fresh cup of coffee from the canteen. After a moment of hesitation, she takes the entire pot, setting a second one to brew; this is going to be an all-nighter for sure, and the only thing that’s going to get her through it is enough caffeine to make her jittery.

Dante is back at his desk when she returns. He arches a brow at the sight of her with the pot, but that turns into a loud groan as she says, “Footage got here. All twenty-four hours worth. Want to grab a seat?”

“There’s a meeting room we can use,” he mutters. “Bigger screen. Grab it and let’s go. Is that all the coffee?”

“For now.”

His long-suffering sigh draws an unwilling smile from her. Dante leads her down a hallway to a room mostly taken up by a large oval table surrounded by plush leather chairs, and he sinks into one as she sets up the monitor on the wall and gets the USB situated. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Tough shit.” She chuckles and presses play.

Hours pass as they work through both the footage and the coffee, pausing only when they catch sight of a pale-haired woman before slumping back in disappointment and carrying on. Morrison stops by once to check on them, then Simmons with the news that the prints were a dead end, and finally Trish with her full report, toxicology included. None of them linger for more than a few minutes at most. Dante and Lir alternate bathroom breaks and coffee runs, neither of them willing to stop the tape until it’s done. Like ripping a bandaid off, she thinks at one point, stifling a yawn before taking a large swig of her lukewarm coffee. Get it over with in one go, no hesitation. 

It’s just passed four in the morning when Dante lurches in his seat. “Pause it, pause it!” Lir jumps, pressing quickly on the remote, and he squints. “Rewind it a bit. There, stop, stop. Press play.”

“What is—oh!” She scrambles for the file on the table, flipping it open so she can see the picture of Jane Doe clipped to the inside. Pulling it free, she holds it up, glancing between it and the screen. “It’s her.”

“Mm. Looks like . . .” He leans forward, his eyes narrowed as his lips move silently. “Two?”

Lir blinks, then turns her laugh into a rough cough. “No. It’s, uh . . . It’s 3:37.”

Dante scowls at her as he reaches into the pocket of his vest to pull out a pair of square glasses, the style just as noir as his clothing. He perches them on his nose, then nods. “Yeah. Alright. So our victim walked into the club at 3:37 am. Since her body was found at quarter to eight, means there’s a five hour window for our killer to have found her and pulled her into the alley.”

“That’s if you don’t remove however long she was in the bar and the killer leaving,” Lir points out.

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t be a wiseass, Thorne. It’s not cute.”

“I’m not here to be cute,” she replies irritably. 

“Shame.” Just as she’s debating dumping her coffee on him, he asks, “There a way to print this? We’ll take it with her autopsy photo and show it to the staff at the club, see if any of ‘em remember her. Maybe she paid with a credit card, which’d give us a name.”

“You plannin’ to sleep tonight?” she asks dryly.

“Sleep when you’re dead, Thorne. Print and let’s go.”

Biting her tongue, she heads back to the computer attached to the monitor and screenshots the frozen video. Once it’s in her hands, the two of them head out back, where the employee lot is, and Dante leads her to a car that she recognizes from her childhood. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the ‘58 Corvette, the same type her father had often talked dreamily of owning when he retired, the black paint and white cut-outs glossy in the early dawn light. The top is closed against the dew, but she can still make the red leather interior, and she laughs incredulously when Dante unlocks it. “Seriously?”

“You can take a cab if you like,” he replies tightly.

Lir closes her mouth and climbs in, looking around curiously. The seats are incredibly comfortable, and it doesn’t seem like Dante has done any upgrading to it at all: the gearshift is still topped by a clean white knob, and the only source of sound is the radio, the knob of which Dante turns until classical rock filters softly through the speakers. A good car is like a good woman, her father had told her two months before his death, holding her in his lap as he pointed to the yellowed magazine, treat her right and she’ll stick with you for life. She’d put the damned ad in his casket before they buried him, and Lir closes her eyes against both the unwelcome sting of tears and the sight of him with his misshapen head on the silk pillow. Botched robbery, her mother said tearfully. Throat closed with sudden grief, just as sharp as it had been then, Lir hardly notices when they pull away from the curb.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispers.

Dante’s startled silence is the only reply she gets.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 20)

It was over something so stupid, she could have probably forgotten about it entirely if it weren’t such a milestone.

Sokka was absolutely convinced that angelfish and angler fish were the same thing. For some reason, it drove her mad and she just couldn’t let it slide. After a certain point, she was almost certain that he was basking in his wrongness, flaunting it pridefully and adamantly rejecting facts just to spite and bother her.

She searched up images and presented them to him. She edited side by side pictures of angelfish verses anglers.  He would declare that anyone could edit text to make it look like a real search and that all of her images were fakes. And louder than ever he would declare that the fish were exactly the same. And when those antics became tired, he began stating that that ‘angle’ was a mispronunciation of ‘angle’ and therefore that angelfish do not exist.

Azula’s face had grown beet with aggravation that day, her patience worn thin. She began bickering with him about other things; about how he was growing his facial hair out because he knows that she hated the scratchy feeling of it while kissing him, that she was blowing him off for surfing and Chan, that he needed to clean his damn room if he wanted her to come over…

It was endless. She was certain that Toph was watching with a bowl of popcorn. And then he told her that she was too fussy and uptight and that he wanted to find himself a girlfriend that wasn’t so high strung and argumentative.

She was thankful for her own stubbornness, lest she’d have tried to make herself more sheepish and timid to appease him. But she would have been fooling herself if she said that she, even if unconsciously, toned it down several notches. It might have been the product of a low mood. She didn’t really speak with many people that week, no matter how many times Mai and TyLee tried to coax it out of her.

The following week she’d finally vented to TyLee who had nodded along and got teary eyed on her behalf. Azula sighed, the girl seemed almost more distressed about the breakup than she had been.

Evidently that was how things got resolved. Sokka had been passing by when TyLee’s lip began to quiver. He turned around ready to scold her for making TyLee cry and then TyLee had burst out that she was weeping because the two of them had made such a cute couple and she was sad to see it end over angelfish.

How absurd it had sounded when phrased like that.

“Oh man, that is…” his face had gone so very red. “Wow.” And he started chuckling.

For some reason Azula had felt compelled to point out, “you shaved?”

Sokka stroked his chin. “Turns out that facial hair nurtured and grown using spite is very patchy and makes you look like a backwoods serial killer.”

“At least they’ll see it coming this time.”

That was their first fight. That was their first break up and make up.

It wasn’t their only fight but it was their only break up.

.oOo.

The storm raging outside leaves Azula with too much time to think. For awhile she and Jet wander the hotel hallways, stealing kisses when Ozai isn’t there to groan or roll his eyes. But they feel somehow empty and she thinks that he is aware. Evidently she just isn’t in the mood for passion and romance.

She can’t quite place its origins but a feeling of sorrow is choking her, muting many of her other emotions. Jet, Zuko, and Katara have all gone to the cafeteria for snacks. She lies on her bed and stares at the ceiling, tuning in and out of Ozai’s video call. She knows that the storm has broken the connection when she hears a muttered curse, “dammit.” The only other explanation is that Nobu has made another off color remark. Her father has only complained about the squeaky voiced man at every chance he got. “Nobu should be banned from our meetings, he is enough to have a person drinking again.” Is among his most common declaration. It faintly humors she and Zuko both.

He closes his laptop and peers over at her. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

She shrugs. “Maybe I think that your AA meetings are more entertaining.”

“You can lie to everyone else, but not me.” He says flatly. “Are you still thinking about the last storm?”

Azula swallows, it comes to her that, that is a decent chunk of her distress. But it is more than that. Much more. She finds herself staring at the floor with an uncomfortable fluttering in her tummy.

“If you want to talk, I’ll be here…”

“I was going to let Katara die.” She pauses. “Just like I let mother die.”

Ozai inhales sharply. “Zuko is your brother.”

“And Katara is my friend. Her family let me stay at their house…”

“I think that it would have been much harder to have lost your brother, yes. But you don’t have to worry about that because both of them are alive. Even if Katara had fallen, it might have been for the best. She would have been with her brother.”

She knows that he is trying to help, that he is doing his best. “That’s awful, father.” She says flatly.

He sighs. “You know that I am not a very comforting person.”

She nods. “Yes. But I still want to talk to you.”

“Well continue then.” He prompts.

“I think that she is angry with me, she knows that I picked Zuzu.”

“I’m not angry.” Katara replies as she closes the door. “I care about you and Zuko more than you guys know. But I would have chosen Sokka if I had to make that choice. He’s your brother, Azula and losing a brother…” She falters. “I can’t even explain how it feels.”

“Probably a lot like losing your mother…”

“Yeah.” She trails off. “Can I sit?”

Azula makes room on the bed.

“Is that what has been bothering you?”

“One of the things.”

“What are the others?”

Azula stares, with tired eyes, at her palms. She hasn’t checked the mirror, but she is fairly certain that she has rather prevalent bags under her eyes. Decidedly, she is glad that she isn’t on the ship right now. That in itself is exhausting enough. She lays down upon the mattress and clutches a pillow.

“You aren’t sleeping well?” Katara guesses.

“Correct.”

“Do you miss home?” Ozai asks.

She shakes her head. “I’ve been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” Ozai inquires.

“About mother.” Her grip tightens.

“Let me guess, she asks you why you couldn’t save her?” Katara asks.

“No.” She is quiet for a very long time, the knots in her stomach build and tighten. She bites the inside of her cheek. “She doesn’t say anything at all. She just goes under and I don’t see her again.” She is surprised that she can keep her tone so level with such an intense wave of sadness is building up in her brain. “And then I see the bloody foam and the sand.”

Katara swallows.

“I haven’t had that dream in a while.” She adds quietly. “I thought that I was done having them.”

“Well, you were just put in the exact same situation as before.” Katara points out.

“I know.”

“And this time it worked in your favor.” Ozai comments. “You saved your brother and Katara.” He clamps a hand on her shoulder. “That is power, dear. That is something to be proud of. Carry it into your dream.”

“I’ll try.” But, for as much as she fancies control, she isn’t a lucid dreamer.

“I dream about your mother too.” Ozai admits upon growing tired of hearing only the hum of the air conditioner. “She asks me why I didn’t tell her to stay home.” He pauses. “I should have. I had a feeling about that day and I ignored it.”  

There comes a flash of lightning so bright and then the room goes dark. The air conditioner’s incessant whir is cut short, leaving them with only the sound of rain falling as heavy as the death they speak of.

“Why is it always like that? Why do we always feel so guilty?” Katara asks.

“Because, when there’s nothing that you can do, the mind fills itself with fantasies of what you could have done if you had only been stronger.” Ozai answers.

Azula isn’t sure if this is true for her, but it is the only answer that anyone has ever given her. She grips the pillow tighter, if only she had seen it coming. And she thinks that, that is a better answer “We feel guilty because we keep reminding ourselves of what we could have done if we would have just seen it coming.”

Her father suddenly looks so very far away.

Her head pounds and aches as it tries to work through guilt and grief so freshly resurfaced. Doubly so when Sokka’s face slips into the mix.

The door crashes open.

“They found someone in the storm!” Jet declares.

“They’re trying to get them out of the water.” Zuko adds.

Azula nearly covers her ears. The last thing that she needs right now. She isn’t sure why, but she gets to her feet and heads for the door.

“Azula where are you going?” Her father asks.

“To the beach.”

“For what?!”

To be stronger, she notes to herself. For who, she isn’t sure. Perhaps only herself, to prove that she can beat the storm and the ocean more than it has beaten her. She had lost her mother and Sokka to it but she has kept if from stealing Zuko twice and Katara once. She will fight the ocean until the score is so tipped in her favor that the nightmares will cease.

“You are not going out there!” His voice is raised but she keeps walking.

She feels his hand clamp around her wrist, bruisingly hard. This time she doesn’t flinch. “Let go, father.” He is already dragging her back into the room. “Would it matter if I said that you’re hurting me?”

“I’m hurting you?” He asks. “That storm will hurt you more than I ever can.”

“I’m going to help them rescue the sailor, father. I am going to do it so that the nightmares will stop. I am strong, I know what is coming. This time I am going to stop it.”

Ozai rubs his hands over his face. “You enjoy raising my blood pressure, don’t you?” He asks. “We’ll go out there together.”

“I’ll go too.” Zuko replies.

“So, you wanna watch TV or something?” Jet asks Katara.

“First of all, the power is out. Second of all, if they’re going into the storm, so am I.”

Jet groans. “And I thought that my reckless hero syndrome was bad.”

Azula narrows her eyes as she makes her way down the hall. She has already decided the outcome of this fight. The storm won’t fracture another family. The dreams will leave her mind.

[muse-oleum]

Fucknemies (fuckbuddies but with angst)

Yes, I’m aware I have an appalling sense of humor. 

Kingsman - Harry Hart x fem!OC

Based on this lovely anon’s request: Hi! Can ya write Harry with a Kingsman agent, enemies to lovers?

Summary: the mission agents Kay and Galahad were on goes to hell, where they finally stop bickering and start appreciating what the other has to give (*cough cough*)

This is going to be two parts, because I got carried away, so stay tuned for the smut! I toned down the ‘enemies’ to more ‘frenemies’ but I hope it’s still what the nonnie wanted. 

Word count: 2k85

Warnings: violence, swearing, prostitution, heavy themes, mentions of human trafficking

Also, my inspiration for this was this song, it’s badass, sexy and fits the theme of the underworld agencies pretty well. 

Agent Kay landed at Kingsman in the most uncharacteristic manner. She was, first of all, the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy tradesman based here in England; and her mother was an upper-end prostitute. 

Now, that shut up all these snobbish Kingsman boys alright. They didn’t know where to look ever since she had dropped the “w bomb,” as Merlin liked to call it. Her attitude, that of one raised between Soho and the up-end, was so ambiguous that most men were terrified by her. 

Most didn’t include agent Galahad. But then again he was rarely terrified by anything. Kay suspected he didn’t know what fear was. 

Little did Kay know that Galahad, or Harry, as she refused to call him, thought the exact same of her. Such lovely pet names as “hothead,” “idiot” or the more colorful and incontestably heartfelt “fucking imbecile,” were some of Harry’s favorite ways of nicknaming his feisty partner. 

For some reason, Merlin and Arthur absolutely delighted putting these two together for dangerous missions. It was almost as if their constant fighting in-between near-death and near-misses were their Sunday evening football gig. 

They loved it; and Merlin really couldn’t wait for his two friends to get their heads out of their own arses, and end that intolerable sexual tension once and for all. It was hanging over every curtain and curled up in every teapot, sizzling and unmistakably there. 

On that particular evening, Kay and Galahad were on an undercover “recognition” mission - the word had been stoically stressed by Merlin, the painful hitch in his voice the only indication that he already knew that shit was about to go down. Bad. 

So, an undercover mission. At some oil titan’s mansion somewhere in Italy. About two hundred guests and three different pools in which to drown Galahad if he became too irritating. Perfect. 

As Kay was exploring various creative ways to make him shut up if needed, Harry was troubled. 

He was troubled by the fact that he had a hard time focusing on anything else than the way her shoulders shone in the light of the chandeliers, or how her breath caused her chest to rise up, or how the thigh-high split in that godforsaken dress caused his mind to blank. 

It was all really infuriating. She was infuriating. 

Hot-blooded, compassionate, high-strung but cool under pressure, stunning, with the mouth of a sailor. She was delightful and sinful, all at the same time. And the older agent simply didn’t know what to do with himself every time he was near her. 

No doubt she thought him arrogant, snobbish and probably too old-fashioned. 

Little did she know all he longed for was to do very un-old-fashioned things with her. 

So, everything he said came out wrong, and with her quick wit, she absolutely murdered him with every comeback. He wasn’t sure what made her so enticing, apart from all the above, but he knew that virtually everyone was either terrified or drooling after her. Or both. 

Most of the time, both. 

A movement on her left caught Kay’s eye. Galahad was beckoning to her. They were posing as a couple, a little hint amongst the billions Merlin had already worked very hard to give them. 

Eggsy said he never face palmed as much as when his two favorite agents were out in the field together. 

“Do you see him?” Galahad whispered, his eyes unfocused but trained on the far corner of the room. 

Kay followed his gaze, immediately spotting the armed goon, one arm under his vest, no doubt cradling a gun, scanning the room in a would-be subtle manner. 

“They know someone’s there.” 

“On a scale of one to ten, how fucked are we?” Kay asked, her tone all that was innocent. 

Harry shot her a look. Her neck was craned towards the bar, avoiding looking in the direction of the armed man, although he knew she was following his every movement. 

He couldn’t help but notice how the slope of her neck met with her right shoulder in a sensuous curve. Her breaths were coming more rapidly now, and, as ungentlemanly as it was, Harry simply could not take his eyes off of her. 

She caught him staring, arching her eyebrow, and he realized he hadn’t answered her question.

“If they find us out, a solid seven.”

She scoffed, “we got out of a nine before, seven’s a joke.” 

Harry glared at her. 

“Last time, the nine was because of all issues locked, here the seven is because we’re clearly outnumbered. We weren’t outnumbered last time. So let me rephrase that: it’s a nine and a bit and we’re fucked.”

It was her turn to glare, sending him a look that plainly stated that she didn’t see the need for making such a fuss. 

“So what’s the plan now?” Kay asked, eyes going around the room. 

Three more armed agents had shown up, but nobody else here seemed to have noticed them. Wearing dark suits and all-too visible earpieces, Kay wondered how people could be so unobserving. 

“Get the fuck out ‘s the plan,” came a strong Scottish voice, a little too strained for her liking. 

“But we’ve achieved nothing,” she whispered, angry that the mission would be fruitless. 

She knew that oil trader had another, much more unpleasant, and definitely illegal trading business. Involving humans. 

As the daughter of a prostitute, she knew too well what exploitation was like. Her mother had not coddled her, but had shown her the ugly truth of her world. She could not stand by as others suffered a similar, sometimes worse, fate. 

“I agree,” Galahad said, causing Kay to look up sharply, surprised to hear her oh so careful partner agreeing with her. “Kay’s right, there are lives at stake here that we can’t ignore.” 

Kay blinked once, properly stunned. 

It’s not that Harry was unfeeling - he was doing this job to save lives too, after all - but he was sometimes too cerebral and restrained for her liking. 

Although, weirdly, she had to admit she liked that too. They were complementary; one was always there to catch the other. Perhaps that was Merlin’s scheming all along? The annoying Scot had something of a knack for psychoanalysis. 

Galahad’s brow was set, lips pursued and eyes hard. The traits of a man hellbent on seeing at least part of this through. She noticed how handsome he was, and how his charisma came not from his appearance so much as his demeanor. 

“So what do we do?” she asked, a little breathless, “do we keep snooping around and pray to all the gods and goddesses above to make it out in one piece?” 

“Pretty much.”

“You know what, Harry, for once, I won’t call you an arrogant upper-class jerk.” 

Kay left him standing there, a small smile on her face. She could hear Merlin grumbling something about murdering the two of them once he got them back at HQ. 

Nobody really cared about Merlin’s grumbling, as a rule; it was his default communication method. 

“Kay, take the upper floor and search for a door locked with a code. I’ll hack it. Galahad, take the gallery, you two keep an eye out. They know you’re here.” 

“I’m the soul of discretion, Merlin.” 

Kay heard Harry guffaw through her earpiece, earning him a smirk. 

“Ye, I’ll believe you if you come back without a hole through your head. Get to it.”

Always the picture of optimism and positivity, Kay thought, amused. Oh, let’s see what you’re hiding there...

She’d come to a locked door requiring a code. Patiently, Kay waited for Merlin to send her the code through her glasses. She waited a few seconds, before asking:

“Merlin? I need the code now, not in three hundred years.” 

“Afraid you won’t get it, princess,” came a voice that was decidedly not Merlin’s. 

Kay whirled around, face to face with a rather grumpy looking armed guard and his equally grumpy companion. 

Shit. So much for discretion. 

Without leaving her much time to deliberate, he attacked, slashing her arm with a knife she hadn’t noticed. It was painful, but bearable. His friend looked on, a small smile pasted on his face. 

Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’m going to wipe that smile off your face in no time. 

Her retaliation came swiftly. 

If people had been praising Black Widow on screen - and she had to admit Scarlet Jo had the moves down - she was a Black Widow. That man never knew how his neck broke, or indeed how her legs were suddenly wrapped around his throat at all. 

His friend had stopped smiling, a moderate improvement to his otherwise average features. He looked much better grumpy. 

Your turn, sweetie. 

Too bad Kay had failed to notice another armed agent - not her armed agent, unfortunately - because it really could have ended here and there if she had. 

Instead, she felt the bullet slice through her thigh even before she registered the sound of the trigger. It tore through muscle and lodged itself in the bone, causing her to scream out in pain. Blood was gushing out; all she could hope for now was that Harry was near and that the bullet had missed the artery. 

Somehow, she wasn’t too hopeful. 

“Nice little trick you got there. With those legs, it’s hardly surprising. Too bad I had to aim for them, eh?” 

That was the last thing he ever said. 

A disheveled, very angry and murderous looking Harry ended his life here and there, sparing him the pain he had inflicted on Kay only because his conscience told him so. 

A very flimsy, very tiny part of his conscience. 

“Too bad, indeed,” he said, before rushing to Kay’s side. 

Her vision was blurred and even though she tried to stem the blood flow, she knew the bullet had at least scraped the artery. 

“Merlin, what the fuck were you doing?” 

That caused her to chuckle slightly. Hearing Harry swear was one of the most entertaining things in her life. It was so out of place, so opposite his brushed-up, gentleman front. 

“Those bastards cut the connection!” came the angry voice of the Scotsman. “Get her out of here, I’ll send the car. It’ll be a bumpy ride, so you better hold on to her, and whatever you do, don’t let her lose consciousness ye hear me?” 

The car ride was one of Kay’s worst experiences ever. 

She wanted to throw up, almost did, refrained herself from emptying her stomach right on Harry’s impeccable waistcoat. The shivers arrived just before they reached HQ, where a literal battalion of nurses took over. 

Harry, covered in blood, made a move to go after her, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“Wasn’t your fault. They got us clean.”

He turned towards Merlin, jaw set. 

“She’ll be furious, she really wanted to take him and his human trafficking gang down.” 

“And someone else will, I promise. For now, ye need a drink, and a strong one. You also need to finally get it off your chest because I swear, if having her nearly die is what’s gonna take to make the two of you fucking focus again, I’ll do it again.”

Harry turned a disbelieving look towards his friend. With narrowed eyes, he took a step towards him. Merlin held up his hands.

“This one wasn’t my doing, but I hope it’s helped you realize how much of an idiot you’ve been. She’s a keeper, but you keep pushing her away with you high-almighty attitude. Stop being a goddamn idiot.” 

This time, Harry was quite simply speechless. 

“Ex-excuse me?”

Merlin ran a hand over his eyes, sighing deeply. 

“You’re mad about her, she’s mad about you, so you fight because none of you can see how much you mean to each other. Honestly, it’s exhausting. Get it over with.”

Merlin walked away, leaving his friend ruminating the reproaches over in his head. 

That he loved her, he had no doubt. The feeling of utter helplessness and fear that had gripped him when he heard her scream was sickening. 

Yes, she drove him mad. He wanted her desperately; wanted her to like him and want him, need him. Until tonight, when she had snuggled against him, whimpering in pain, he had not thought a woman like her would ever need anyone. 

And she had called him Harry. 

Perhaps Merlin was right and it was time he put the record straight. 

If you guys didn’t notice the subtle hint of Darcy/Elizabeth in there idk what to say to you. Stay tuned for part II!

[hermannsthumb]

Can you do winter prompt 13 obvious setups?

13. my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

from winter writing prompts here

GOD i was so FUCKIN obsessed with this prompt when u sent it in, thank u so much. consider this the remix fic of 45. your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now

--------------------------------------------------------

“I swear,” Newt says, “I didn’t know.”

Hermann--suitcase at his side in an iron grip, snow still melting off the shoulders of his parka, splotchy red spreading across his cheeks--scowls at Newt like Newt’s just dug up his mother’s grave or something equally unforgivable. Newt shrinks away instinctively. “You cannot be serious,” Hermann says. “You must have known.”

The situation in question is this: intimately aware of Hermann’s famously bad relationship with a good chunk of his family, and how it’s likely to have only gotten worse after the whole Breach collapse Hermann-was-right-and-your-wall-was-stupid-and-wrong thing, Newt decided to take one for the proverbial team and just invite Hermann ‘round to his place for low key holiday celebrations this year. The alternative was ditching Hermann in the mostly deserted Hong Kong Shatterdome and listen to his dad guilt him about it for two weeks. Not that Newt would need any help feeling guilty; he knew for a fact that if he did ditch Hermann, Hermann would just be up all hours of the night in LOCCENT monitoring the late location of the Breach and missing Newt.

Newt wasn’t being sentimental, either. Hermann really would miss him like Newt was a limb that’d been lobbed off. Lingering side effects of their drift (even all these months later) has made it difficult for them to be even a few miles away from each other, let alone a fucking ocean. Luckily reluctant co-dependency isn’t new for them.

So Hermann agreed. Newt’s dad was just thrilled. He seemed to take it as confirmation of his decade-long suspicions that Newt and Hermann desperately want to be more than lab partners but are too chicken to make a move (as he explained eloquently over the phone to Newt, while Newt spluttered and protested) and ran with it, to Newt’s horror. Especially to his horror now.

His dad’s only done up one bed--one full-sized, dinosaur-patterned bed--for Newt and Hermann to share.

“Look,” Newt says, even though he knows what he’s about to say is a blatant lie, “it’s gotta be a mistake. We’ve got a sorta-guest room down the hall, I bet my dad meant for you to go there.”

“I certainly hope so,” Hermann sniffs.

Newt takes Hermann’s suitcase from him and books it down the hallway, and Hermann clacks angrily behind him. The sorta-guest room is classified as such because of the lumpy cot they kept in there for when Newt’s uncle would visit, though the bulk of it contained mostly junk, overstuffed bookshelves, and a desk Newt used to grow weird plants on in a fish tank. The tank (Newt discovers when he pushes the door open) is still there. The cot is not.

God damn it. “Dad,” he calls, while Hermann continues to seethe. “Hey, Dad?”

Nothing. Then, finally: “Yes?”

“Where’s the cot?”

Footsteps up the stairs. Dad pokes his head around the doorframe. “Cot?”

Newt sighs. “The cot we used to keep in here,” he says. “Hermann needs a place to sleep. Or I do, at least,” he adds, turning to Hermann, “you can take my bed--the cot’s not super comfortable.” The room never had very good ventilation, either. Hermann will just wake up shivering from the lack of heat with a stiff knee every morning, which means, thanks to drift hangover, Newt will too, and then they’ll both be miserable. At least Newt’s got a bit more meat on his bones.

“Oh, I tossed it out years ago,” Dad says. “Too old. It was falling apart.” Newt spies the beginnings of a smile beneath his beard, even as he feigns confusion. (God, he is so not getting a Father’s Day card next year). “Is there something wrong with your bedroom, Newt?”

“Uh, yeah,” Newt says. He shoves Hermann’s suitcase back at him just to fold his arms angrily. “Whatever, I’ll just sleep on the couch.” It’s a pullout. He thinks. It’ll be better than curling up on the carpet in his room or contending with Dr. Icicle Feet Blanket Hogger of the Year--stuff he only knows also thanks to the drift, okay, he and Hermann don’t make a habit of sleeping together. In both senses.

“But where will your poor uncle sleep?” Dad says. His smile grows.

Right. Illia’s already claimed the couch. Newt takes Hermann’s suitcase back. “Fine. I’ll dig out my stupid Boy Scouts sleeping bag and take the carpet. Hermann--”

“Newton,” Hermann interrupts. He looks slightly embarrassed. “Ah. That really isn’t necessary. I suppose we can manage to make your bed work.”

“Great,” Newt says.

“Great!” Dad says. He slaps Hermann so hard on the back that Hermann squeaks and sways on his feet.

Newt clears away some space in his old dresser--which is easy, since his fashion tastes haven’t evolved from when he was seventeen, and he took most of his clothing with him to the Shatterdome in the first place--and he and Hermann unpack their suitcases with relative ease. Or at least Newt unpacks their suitcases with relative ease. Claiming fatigue from their terribly long journey, Hermann lounges on Newt’s bed with his collar undone, like the picture of Victorian debauchery, and watches him. Frankly, though, Newt prefers the bossy little orders to his previous whining about their sleeping situation, so he’s happy to do it. Mostly. “You haven’t folded that sweater correctly,” Hermann says.

“It literally doesn’t matter,” Newt says. “It fits, and that’s all I care about.” He shuts the drawer to prove his point.

“It matters to me,” Hermann says. “I’ll know it’s not folded, and it’ll bother me.”

Newt grits his teeth. He opens the drawer. He folds Hermann’s sweater.

“There, was that so terribly difficult?” Hermann says.

He stretches his arms above his head, and nestles back against Newt’s stack of pillows with a soft groan that makes Newt’s witty, sarcastic retort shrivel and die on his tongue. Hermann can be awfully, uh...sensual for a guy with a bowlcut. “You really have got quite a comfortable bed,” Hermann murmurs. “I could fall asleep right now. Mm.”

Newt kicks the drawer shut again and flops down next to him. They do both fit, at least, though they’ll be bumping elbows and legs for sure. “It’s the most average bed of all time,” he says. He grins. “It just feels like it isn’t because it’s not one of those fucking cement slabs we have back at the base.”

Hermann makes a face. “I won’t be happy to get back to those.”

“Yeah,” Newt agrees. 

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. The little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars he pasted up there when he was twelve are still going strong, though the Lego spaceship he strung up with fishing twine is long-gone. Probably fell and broke into a million little pieces over a decade ago. “I’m sorry about this, by the way,” he says. “The, uh, sleeping situation. My dad...”

He trails off. Hermann crooks an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“He thinks that we,” Newt says, and swallows, “I mean, like--he wants us to...” To admit they dig each other? To get hitched and have, like, a half-dozen genius physicist-biologist babies? Be happy together? It’s not as if Newt doesn’t want those things with Hermann. (Well, maybe not the genius baby thing. He can wait a while for that.) “It’s just, I’m an only child, you know, and my mom’s out of the picture, and I think he thinks that I need--”

Newt’s saved by a knock at the bedroom door. “Dinner!” Dad says.

It turns out it was only temporary salvation. The moment he and Hermann take their seats at the tiny dining table--seats which are, for some reason, crammed together at one side, when there’s a whole fourth perfectly fine one just sitting there empty--and heaping mounds of everything are piled onto Hermann’s plate (too skinny, Dad says with a sigh, and Hermann only looks mildly offended), Dad and Illia start giving them the third degree. Yes, Hermann was born in Germany; no, he hasn’t spent any significant time there since university, though he supposes he wouldn’t mind going back at some point; yes, a lot of the original jaeger coding was of his own design; yes, he and Newt have shared a lab for the entirety of their time in Hong Kong, and before that in the various Shatterdomes they were shuttled between, and-- “Er, no,” Hermann says, “no, Newton is an--ah--exemplary lab partner, what makes you say...?”

“I raised him, Hermann,” Dad says.

Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “He’s the messiest man I have met in my entire life,” he says. “You ought to see the sort of rubbish he used to leave around--kaiju intestines, blood--oh, and there was one time he left a piece of dead skin louse on the coffee maker--”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better!” Newt says around a mouthful of potatoes. “Last week you didn’t even have to ask me to clean up all that venom I spilled on your desk.” He was proud of himself for doing it as fast as he did. A minute more, and it probably would’ve eaten through to the top drawer. Hermann was less enthused.

“And it only took you half a decade,” Hermann says. “Well done, Newton. If the kaijus ever return, perhaps you’ll have learned to operate a broom by then.”

He takes a smug little sip of his wine that he quickly coughs up into a cloth napkin when Illia--apropos of nothing--says “Are you married, Hermann?”

“Ah.” Hermann coughs a few more times, and wipes at his eyes. Newt suddenly becomes very interested in his plate. “No. I am not.”

“Seeing anyone?” Dad says.

“Dad,” Newt groans, shrinking down in his chair. If he’s lucky, and thinks very hard about it, maybe the Breach will reopen right beneath him and he’ll be tossed into an alternate dimension where Otachi ate him after all and he never had to sit through this conversation.

“No,” Hermann repeats. “I--no.”

Dad and Illia share a satisfied glance. “Our little Newt was always quite a handful,” Dad says, “but--”

No helpful Breach comes to swallow him whole, so Newt resorts to his back-up plan, which is smacking Hermann’s glass of wine off the table and into his lap as Hermann shouts in surprise. “Shit,” Newt says, too-loud, “looks like we gotta get that cleaned up, Hermann--c’mon, here we go--”

He shoves Hermann’s cane into his arms, and then proceeds to shove Hermann down the hallway until they reach the bathroom. Hermann’s glower has returned with a vengeance. “You utter buffoon,” he keeps saying, while Newt (crouched on the floor) dabs at his newly-burgundy pants with a wet handtowel, “you moron, you wretched little--”

“I’m sorry, okay,” Newt half-shrieks. He throws the handtowel to the ground as he stands. His ears are still burning red-hot from the table, and his sudden close proximity to Hermann--noses barely an inch from each other, so close Newt can smell wine on his breath and count every last dark eyelash that frames his soft eyes--isn’t helping matters at all. “What else was I supposed to do? I panicked!”

“These were my best slacks,” Hermann says, “and now--”

“You have a dozen just like them,” Newt says, “two dozen. Three dozen. I just fucking folded them all!”

“Stop shouting,” Hermann says.

“Make me!” Newt shouts.

“I bloody will!” Hermann shouts back, and then he grabs Newt by his tie and kisses him. 

When they emerge from the bathroom and take their seats fifteen minutes later, Hermann with his collar suspiciously askew, Newt with his own buttoned suspiciously higher than it was going in, Dad and Illia pointedly say nothing.

Hermann pours himself a new glass of wine and clears his throat. “What, ah, what were we discussing?”

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 2

The Resonance Cascade hurt. Tommy felt the dimensional rift tear open space as if it were a hole punching through his own body. Even with his limited power there was no way he could have stopped something so catastrophic from happening. By the time the convulsions died down, the monsters had already hopped the gap.

Black Mesa was buckled and warped like a Coke can left in a freezer. Tommy wound up somewhere further away from the blast than he anticipated and had to pick his way through the wasted hallways to get back to the explosion site. What a mess. He passed the bodies of humans and extraterrestrials alike, fighting down a growing sense of nausea as he went. Did Benrey do this? It seemed like a stretch, even for him.

Tommy eventually found Gordon, alive and relatively unharmed, and learned that Gordon had picked up three others on his way out of the test chamber. Benrey was unkillable, as was his nature, so that presence didn’t surprise Tommy. Dr. Coomer was always tough, and it stood to reason that he could survive the blast from an interdimensional anomaly. Bubby, well. He wasn’t dead anymore, was all Tommy knew.

Now, they were trucking through the test facility at a steady clip, picking off creatures as they went. Tommy wasn’t armed - he didn’t need to be - but Gordon was making decent headway with a crowbar and Bubby had… located a revolver somehow. Tommy had questions about Bubby. For now, however, he was hanging in the back of the group, keeping one eye on Benrey, because Benrey was always up to something, and one eye on Gordon, because, well, just look at him.

The elevator crash had shoved him off a cliff he was never climbing back up from. That was a hard thing for Tommy to watch; aside from witnessing the death of three strangers, he also had to see something small and fragile snap inside Gordon, like the breaking of a flower stem. He hadn’t killed those people, not really, but he believed that he did, and that was somehow worse. Tommy didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to tell Gordon that a lot more people would die before this was over.

To make things worse, the company they kept was slowly chipping away at Gordon’s sanity. Bubby was insufferable. Coomer was unhelpful. Benrey was… flirting with him. Indistinguishable from harassment, which Tommy knew from firsthand experience. The new guy needed someone in his corner. It may as well be Tommy.

Gordon was at least adjusting relatively well to the supernatural. He had gotten over the idea of aliens invading pretty quickly, and when Bubby had outright told him he was born in a tube in the lab, Gordon took it in stride. That was right before he had clapped a heavy hand on Tommy’s shoulder, sending a shiver all the way through his body.

Wow, that was nice. Been a long time since Tommy felt something like that. He almost forgot to be offended when Gordon jokingly said that he was five. “We love our little Tommy,” Bubby had commented sarcastically. “We love Tommy,” Gordon had agreed genuinely.

Tommy didn’t know what to think about that, his brain glitching out in a pleasant sort of way with Gordon’s hand still on his shoulder. Then he let go and they kept moving, leaving Tommy just standing there, pulse on the uptick.

Get it together, man. You have an apocalypse to deal with.

A brief raid of the break room brought back memories of that morning. Was it really just that morning? The past few hours had felt like days. There wasn’t a lot to be found in there except the drinks from the vending machine. Tommy hung back while his colleagues pawed through the drawers and cabinets.

Gordon glanced at the bulletin board and over to Tommy, flashing a smile of acknowledgement. Tommy returned it with a wordless raise of his eyebrows. So he still had a sense of humor in this nightmare. That was a good sign.

The eye contact between them lingered for far longer than was appropriate. Take a picture, baby, it’ll last longer, was what Tommy’s brain said. “Grab a soda, it’ll help you see faster,” was what came out of his stupid mouth. Nice one, genius.

The laugh Gordon barked out seemed to surprise him. It was tight with stress, but his smile was lovely as ever.

“I don’t know what that means,” he chuckled, hefting the crowbar in his hand, “but sure.”

He really didn’t know what the hell Tommy was talking about and he still laughed at the bullshit he blurted when his brain stopped working. Tommy smiled and shook his head. He was definitely keeping this one.

The vending machine was cracked open like a walnut and they continued on their way.

It became an unspoken game between the two of them. Who could break the other out of reality, startle them into joy at the end of the world. Tommy won points the most often - Gordon wore his emotions on his face and he was already so strung out from stress that the barest attempts at levity set him off laughing. Occasionally, though, Gordon caught Tommy off guard with his wit. His jokes were more orchestrated. Grandiose. Special presents just for Tommy.

One such occasion was after they’d broken into the locker room. After addressing the corpse by the benches, Gordon began rifling through his locker for his passport in a vain attempt to placate Benrey. Tommy watched him carefully as he entered such an enclosed space with the entity. Just in case he tried something. Gordon found his passport, but his attention snagged on a solitary picture frame in the corner.

“That’s my baby,” Gordon informed the team.

He had a baby? Tommy studied the photo with interest. He didn’t strike Tommy as a fatherly person, and the fact that he had a child complicated whether or not he was single. Of course, that wasn’t an automatic disqualifier -

“I have a son,” Gordon insisted, with emphasis.

Tommy belatedly realized that Gordon was staring straight at him as he pointed at the photo. He blinked. Okay, man. He got the hint. Gordon wasn’t on the market - wait.

That was a stock photo. He could see the watermark stamped across the image. Gordon’s stare was still locked onto Tommy, a barely contained smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“That’s Joshua,” he said.

Tommy had to duck into the adjacent room to laugh.

Damn, he was good. Tommy leaned one hand on the wall, holding the other against his ribs in a fit of giggles. Why did Gordon have that in there? Just for kicks? He distantly heard an  oblivious compliment Dr. Coomer launched in Gordon’s direction and a caustic insult from Benrey.

“What did you say about my boy?” Gordon demanded in mock outrage. “Did you call him shit?”

Tommy sagged against the wall, catching his breath. It took him a couple seconds to recover from that one. What a knockout.

---

It turns out Gordon Freeman’s sense of humor is difficult to nail when one is enduring an extraterrestrial apocalypse. Shambling forms accosted them on all sides, and while the party was able to more or less hold their own, the tension in the air was palpable. Each member of the team was paranoid for their own reasons, making their words sharper, their actions heavier.

Benrey had disappeared shortly after after the explosion in the bathroom, and Tommy could see him flickering on the edges of his vision every once in a while. Creep. He’d turn up eventually, on his own terms. Tommy had learned by now that there was no making the entity do what he didn’t want to do, but his presence nearby still made his skin crawl.

Dr. Coomer was on edge as he came face to face with his doppelgangers throughout the maze of carnage. Tommy had put together that this man was either a clone or a base for one, and it was becoming increasingly apparent as his speech grew more and more incomprehensible. Gordon thought he was having a stroke once. It was probably more accurate to say that he was having a breakdown on the DNA level.

Gordon and Bubby were the only two who seemed legitimately concerned about the aliens that were steadily pouring into the facility. Bubby was a surprisingly excellent shot with the revolver, and while Gordon wasn’t exactly a deadeye, he could at least swing that crowbar around with a decent amount of wallop. The adrenaline was running hot through all of them as they lay waste to the creatures in the facility. This was dangerous, and everyone was on edge.

As the situation grew bleaker, Tommy found himself cracking jokes reflexively, just as a nervous tic. He was used to having a pretty good grasp on reality - or, at least, on his definition of it - but the Resonance Cascade had dropped him in an inkwell and he could no longer tell which way was up. What parts of the impossible were planned? What parts of it could be stopped?

Most of his jokes were ignored by his nervous teammates. Understandable. When he dramatically bemoaned the loss of his tic tac drawer and the crucial calories they contained, he wasn’t even sure if he was being serious or not. They had seen so many people die in such a short amount of time. Watching the group’s brittle humanity crumbling apart at the loss of life was not making it any easier.

When the four of them witnessed a stranger plummet from a precarious catwalk to the void below, Gordon stood there, staring at the place he had disappeared from, for quite a long time. Tommy hung back as he always did, leaning his shoulder on the doorway. This poor mortal with a too-big heart. He was not going to be the same if he made it out of this ordeal alive.

“How deep is that hole?” he finally asked, either to find a sliver of hope that the man was still alive or some comfort that he had died quickly. “How deep is that hole?”

Beside him, Bubby folded his arms and blew out a breath. “Uh, I believe this hole has to be about five hundred feet deep,” he guessed.

Gordon’s face went worryingly blank as he processed this. Tommy watched him, feeling a twinge of sympathy tug at his stomach. There was no solace to be found in the catastrophe tearing through the facility, especially when the facility itself was grown from such rotten roots. Things were about to get far worse before they got better.

“We’re trying to dig to the center of the earth,” he told him wryly.

Gordon’s responding laugh was heartbreakingly sour.

They moved on, and Tommy was about to follow the group when Benrey materialized beside him. He only came up to Tommy’s shoulder where he stood next to him, but he still managed to pull off an intimidating leer.

“Dude, quit hitting on the new guy,” he said thinly. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Tommy paused. Slanted Benrey a stare that could cut glass. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he muttered.

“I’m not hitting on him,” the entity shot back. “I can’t stand him.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. Sure.

“It’s not my fault he showed me his dick,” Benrey went on, crossing his arms. His voice was like a razor, and it set Tommy’s teeth on edge.

He drew in a long, slow breath through his nose. “Why,” he asked, “would you tell me that.”

Benrey grinned, sharklike, and shrugged innocently. “Just something to think about.”

He blinked out of existence, leaving Tommy there alone to frown at nothing. He scoffed. Asshole. No tact whatsoever.

The fact that the entity had his eye on Gordon, too, made him uneasy. Not enough that Tommy felt the need to interfere - anyone with half a brain cell would know not to trust Benrey and Tommy was certain that Gordon had at least two. But he could see him slowly chipping away at the new guy’s sanity, piece by teeth-grinding piece.

The being had no appreciation for subtlety; winking in and out of this plane, killing indiscriminately, parading around like an interdimensional peacock. Tommy watched it all with a growing sense of disdain. That kind of power was not something to be fucked around with, and that was all Benrey ever did.

Tommy and Benrey’s relationship was like a careful dance in a room full of knives, each step a decision that could help or hurt both of them. They shared a supernatural origin, but their similarities ended there. Tommy didn’t trust him one iota, and Benrey vacillated rapidly between being obsessed with Tommy and outright despising him.

He had to remind himself that while the entity rarely outright lied, his words were often so ridiculously, insufferably cryptic that he might as well have been dishonest. The piece of information he had just dropped could mean anything, deposited in such a way to needle against Tommy’s skin like sandpaper. This was how Benrey worked, feeding people bullshit just to get them riled. Tommy didn’t need to retaliate. Unlike Benrey, he was raised with some fucking manners.

He had no power over him as long as he didn’t let it get to him.

He wasn’t going to let it get to him.

Oh, who was he kidding? It got to him. Tommy made a mental note to let an industrial door slide shut on Benrey the next chance he got. What was it going to do, kill him?

Chapter 1 <-----> Chapter 3

[cyberdva]

Fountain Of Youth- Dean Winchester (X Reader?) Prologue

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Summary: Dean Winchester is a Private Detective that is involved with a case of a stolen diamond ring, not to mention the murder of an innocent woman. He knew something wasn’t right from the start and when his co-worker, Bobby Singer, begins to act oddly it was plaintively obvious he needed help. This wasn’t a normal crime, it was something supernatural. He contacts his brother Sam (and possibly his secretary Y/N) and sets off into his secret, second life.

A/N: I wrote this for a school assignment and I thought it was dumb enough to post, enjOY!

Main Masterlist

Date Uploaded: 4/27/20

Edited: 12/16/20

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Cursing, and Description of Murder and Crime Scenes

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

 The junky composite drawing laid on the detective’s messy desk. He has been there for hours upon hours trying to connect the puzzle pieces of the crime. Investigator, Dean, had nothing, no set in stone suspect, barely any eyewitnesses and the murder weapon gave no insight to tie the murder to their crime. It felt like a massive dead end, no matter what door he opened or which way he turned.His frazzled mind even resorted to any method, no matter how absurd or old-fashioned, to try and connect at least one stray line of evidence, which ended in knots of red yarn to be strung from a makeshift posterboard to the metal door handle parallel to the cursed remainings of the crime. Dean sat at his office desk, hands in his head, attempting to string any leads to a whole. 

“You’re still here, son? Dean lifted his gaze off of the painted, menacing scowl. His friend Bobby was at the door, that man was like a father to him. He really cared about Bobby, even though they fought like tigers most of the time. Bobby's eyes glanced around the newfound mess floating around the room. 

“I need to find some sort of new evidence, there are just constant dead ends.”"A forced chuckle erupted from his throat to clear the elephant in the room, not to mention the dry conversation playing out. Bobby gave a nod in agreement, he too had been constantly working around the clock to locate the sick son of a bitch hacking up innocent people, he took it personally with incidences in the past. 

“I just don’t understand why these idgits are so amped up about one ring, doesn’t the family need some kind of closure? Poor woman, I bet she didn’t see herself being put through the wringer like that.” Bobby smiled, “Look at me now, I’m making puns.” He beamed.Dean cocked his head skeptically at the older man, was this a time for jokes? he knew Bobby was lighthearted, but recently something just had to be off. He couldn't put a finger on it, just like the stalemate case. His head had already formed a sickening migraine, pulsing every once and awhile. The small jar of Advil kept in his top drawer couldn't fight it off any longer.

“It was a diamond ring, you don’t see that every day. To be honest, you don't find a mass murder every day too, but here we are.” Dean had given up for the night and began to stuff various papers into his briefcase, making sure to leave all the important items surrounding the mysterious killer in his office. There was no point to agitate himself with it when he should be resting. His leg extended over the leftover materials. If he tripped and made a fool out of himself in front of his higher up would mean a lot of booze and some reoccurring replays in his already clogged mind.

The older man chuckled, “When you’re in this workforce you’ve seen a lot of things Dean.” He took a sip of his coffee, which was odd especially considering the time, it was nearing close to 10 o'clock and the layers of low fog outside meant business. Not to mention Bobby’s disregard for the key problem, this is a rare diamond ring we’re talking about and a murderer, which continuously slipped his mind. Maybe thinking of the bigger picture could help to figure this all out. 

“Singer, I need to see you in my office, we have new updates about an accomplice.” A sleek woman leaned into the doorway with a small file in her hands, most likely new updates, possibly from the police or a witness. Her face drooped lower than it normally was, at least Dean wasn't the only one slaving away over this.

“One second Mills, I’m having a conversation with Winchester 1.0.” Bobby came off as extremely passive-aggressive, which left his boss in confusion. He normally was much more chirpy. The sheriff raised an eyebrow at the younger one as if to question "What's up with him?'" A shoulder shrug in reply, not even registering the odd new nickname given to him. 

“I haven’t been to the secondary crime scene yet, maybe you’ll find something, connect it to the motive. Ya know?” Oddly specific.

“Yeah…. Thanks, Bobby. See you later.” His words were spaced in utter confusion. Maybe he was right there was nothing world-altering while looking at the morgue. The autopsy had all the common things expected. Nothing bold, just normal.

The man walked out of his agency and got some papers from his secretary. Dean flashed her a wink and his signature smile before stumbling out to his car. It wasn’t too far from his little apartment made out of a makeshift hotel room. The stars provided no light and dense mist engulfed the streets. Loud music blared in the old Impala, Dean pulled out a small device, flipping it open, and dialed his dear old brother Sammy's number. Before he knew it, there he was. There was an alley in which the suspect had been caught, the person jumped the fence leaving shards of glass all over the perimeter. Blood was smeared on every corner, leaving the victim in a crumpled bundle on the earthy floor. To make it even better, her arms were sheared right off by the bone, the legs were left with gashes half-way cut, as if the assaulter was rushing, about to be caught. The investigator looked around for a bit until something caught his eye. Through the dried up mounds of vital fluids and minuscule flesh chunks laid a blue fountain pen. Dean grabbed a pen, there was familiar writing engraved onto the top. The script read “Private Investigator Singer” in bright bold letters. The man couldn’t believe his eyes

Dean grabbed a pen, there was familiar writing engraved onto the top. The script read “Private Investigator Singer” in bright bold letters. The man couldn’t believe his eyes. His voice was caught in his throat, the utensil dropped from his calloused fingers, his prints were not defined on the quill.

"It can’t be…. This has to be planted.” Dean had only seen these pens in Bobby’s office, someone must’ve planted it, but then again his “friend” knew everything about the crime before anyone else. They had all thought he was just a wiz at connecting the dots

The man ripped out his telephone yet again and dialed a number ferociously, “Sammy somethings going on here, and think Bobby’s going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“I’m on my way.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Part 2? Including Y/N Possibly? Send me an ask and let me know!

[sworn-unbeliever]

16 - Lucubration

((For some context, Teremy + Reonora’s gang had their adventures in Norvrant and have all arrived back at the source here. Reonora had asked Teremy to work at Fortunes & Fancies for the next 45 days three months. So this entry is part of Teremy working there.))

wc: 1,859

Joey stood on top of the counter and cleared his throat. “Due to an influx of customers suddenly showing up at once and coincidentally wanting their commissions done within--” Joey flipped open his notebook, “--the next three days, I’m calling this morning meeting to organize and delegate tasks. So...” He paused again as his red eyes scanned his notes. “Reo, due to your knowledge of where everything is, and the nature of this job requiring many gathered and crafted objects from this and that occupation, you’ll be in charge of helping the free company do sweatshop--er, workshop stuff.”

Reonora tilted her head and patted herself, smiling. “You can count on me!”

“Teremy, since you’re a carpenter and blacksmith specialist, you’re the only one who can make these Tsukuyomi weapons. Specifically, the client wants a Tsukuyomi’s Moonlit Cane and Tsukiyomi’s Moonlit Great Axe. They already handed over the celestial kimono remnant. All that’s left is to gather the rest of the materials yourself and make the thing. Oh, and a manor cello.”

Teremy arched an eyebrow. “What does a manor cello have to do with anything?”

“The client wants it as part of their collection, I guess,” said Joey.

“And drying the wood?”

“I’ll take care of that. Just leave the spruce lumber with Rosemary and I’ll dry it out at some point within the next three days.”

“Sounds good.”

“As for me,” Joey scrunched up his face in a way only a lalafell could, “I’ll take care of the dance troupe costumes. Sequins. Why sequins.” He shook his head. “And Rosie, that leaves you to take care of the store. You okay with that?”

Rosemary nodded. “Mm! I’ll do my best.”

Joey clamped his book shut. “All right. You all know what you have to do. Feel free to ask me anything if you have any questions. Dismissed.”

Reonora picked up Rosemary, gave the plainsfolk a smushing hug and kisses to the cheek, then scoured Rosemary’s inventory for any items she had onhand. As Joey reopened his notebook to even begin counting the number of materials he needed, including sequins, he glanced over to see Teremy looking down at his own books. One hand on his hip, the other holding a book of carpenter recipes, the miqo’te frowned pensively. Joey was about to ask what was the matter, but Teremy spoke first.

“Tsukuyomi… you said?” Teremy asked.

“That’s right.”

“I can’t find any recipe that bears her name.”

Joey froze. “What? Lemme see that.”

Teremy moved closer to the counter and held out the book for Joey to see. Standing beside the miqo’te, Joey turned the pages of Teremy’s crafting manual.

“I see what’s the matter. You have the master recipes book? It’s the sixth one,” said Joey.

Teremy glanced at Joey blankly. “... master recipes?”

“You don’t have any of the master recipe books?”

“Unless these recipes fell out of my brain from years of experience, then no. First time I’ve heard of such a thing.”

“And let me guess. No folklore books either?”

“Such knowledge failed to fall out of my head the day I slept under a faerie apple tree. I deeply regret my error.”

Reonora passed by the two in the background, materials already collected. “He’s your protege, Joey. You agreed to show him the ropes.” She waved and left the store.

A chime rang as the door closed. All Joey could do was inhale reality, exhale frustration.

“I’ll start from the top and then tell you where to get them.”

* * *

Zhloe clapped her hands together and raised a foot, her face lighting up with such pure happiness that her smile may as well be the sun. “Oh, Teremy, these items are so beautiful! But no, I must think of the children. Thank you, thank you so much! This is not much, but it’s all I can give you.”

Teremy scooped up the armsful of yellow scrips. “Your happiness is enough. Yours and the… orphans…”

“Yes, and clothes--no, food! Ah! By the way, speaking of food, did you want to stay for dinner? I promise I’ll give you the bigger half of my portion!”

Teremy took a step back. “You keep your food for yourself. You need it more than me. T-take care!”

Down in the depths of Sui-no-Sato, Kurenai smiled politely and bowed. “Such splendor, such beauty. Your--” Her gaze quickly moved away from his chest to the objects in his hands, “--works never fail to impress me. Please take this gift of scrips in return.”

Teremy bowed and responded in Hingan, “The least I can do to help the cause.” Although Kurenai spoke Doman, he understood her somewhat as one who spoke a different dialect of the same language. And same for Kurenai in return. He hadn’t spoken his native language in awhile and doing so made him feel a little happy on the inside.

“I shall be looking forward to your subsequent return, if you will grace us with your presence again.” Kurenai bowed again.

“Wherever the wind will carry me.”

As Teremy turned around to leave, thankfully he had no clue as to Kurenai peering over at his two shapely ‘cloud pearls.’ All the miqo’te heard was a smack from Sanana’s hand. “Keep your eyes off the guys and on the prize!”

Thanks to the yellow scrips, Teremy now left Rhalgr’s reach with both the aforementioned master recipe book, as well as books of folklore native to Othard and Gyr Abania. One third of the battle done.

* * *

“Chromite Ore. A decent-sized piece of rock containing the metal chromium.” Teremy read out loud while dodging several demons. “Self-explanatory.”

Book in one hand, gunblade in the other, and with his face completely engrossed in the book of Othardian folklore, Teremy’s instincts took over in the heat of battle. He spun and weaved around any threat that dared come close to him in Haukke Manor. A couple of cuts from his gunblade was all he needed to disperse the voidsent from whence they came.

“Chromium. Difficult to discern from a single glance. Dark grey to black in colour. Slightly magnetic.”

The manor sentry screeched at him as his fire-endowed gunblade sank into its person. With an indignant flap of his wings, said sentry flew off to open the ritual spell blocking the door. But Teremy’s destination was elsewhere, namely the room of which said manor sentry hung out in itself. Teremy opened the chest and was greeted by two pots of manor varnish. Exactly what he needed.

* * *

“Rhea. A variety of ramie better suited to the climes of Far Eastern Othard.” Teremy glanced at the picture beside the descriptive text. “Compared to the usual ramie, rhea has smaller leaves green on the underside. Huh. Good to know.”

Teremy placed planks of spruce lumber by Rosemary as instructed. He petted her on the head and sauntered off to his next destination, his nose still stuck in the folklore book.

* * *

“Torreya Log. A rough cut of torreya timber. Then what the hell is a torreya tree--”

“Ignoring us would be your greatest folly!” cried Ascian Prime.

Teremy was sure he felt a tickle of… something. He merely summoned a small barrier around him in the form of a technique called Rampart and allowed the damage to brush off of him. Gunblade in one hand, book in the other like his previous run through Haukke Manor, his body moved on its own while he buried his face in the folklore book.

“Torreya, a genus of conifers. Spiky leaves. Destined to prick you before you prick them. Ah. All right. What a prick.” Teremy muttered as he stepped into a black portal for safety.

One he stepped out of the area, he found himself rewarded with enough poetic tomestones to appease Rowena’s employees. Bone charcoal and demicrystals acquired.

* * *

Torreya Log. The Lochs. Six o’clock. Teremy found said tree at the peak of its gathering time at some point in the evening. Thanks to the description, he recognised the tree’s needle-like leaves immediately. Hacking away with his patented axe--he trusted his faithful warrior’s axe more than he would a botanist’s tool, he acquired as many logs as this tree allowed him to have.

“Tsukuyomi’s Moonlit Cane. Three torreya lumber, two rhea cloth, 2 molybdenum ingot, one celestial kimono remnant, five demicrystal.”

Chromite Ore. The Peaks. Ten o’clock. Teremy brought a small magnet with him. When not latching onto his pickaxe, the magnet did do the job of detecting the relevant ore. Once again, Pick Clean, Blessed Harvest II, and as many ores as this node allowed him to have. He gave up with the magnet after awhile and left it hooked on one of the ores.

“Tsukuyomi’s Moonlit Greataxe. Three chromite ore. Two palladium ingot. Two palladium nugget… which makes how many nuggets? Hrm. One celestial kimono remnant, five demicrystal.”

Rhea. The Azim Steppe. Twelve o’clock. As someone accustomed to working with ramie, Teremy found the plant easily. Sure enough, smaller leaves green on the underside. Just like the other two folklore materials, he gathered as many leaves as he could.

“Manor Cello. Two manor varnish, one glazenut, four spruce lumber, four cobalt ingot, one dew thread. Interesting. Dew thread for strings.”

Teremy closed the master recipe books.

“Now for all the rest of that good shit.”

* * *

He returned to Fortunes & Fancies late at night. Reonora had locked the door, but Teremy had a key. He excused himself to no one on particular and turned on the lights as he entered. The planks of spruce lumber now laid by the side of the counter with a note in Joey’s handwriting. Drying done.

Teremy had all the materials he needed to start work. He rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his own list of items to make. Starting by propping the relevant master books up on the counter.

* * *

The fated third day had arrived. Reonora, Joey and Rosemary stood in front of the store bright and early. Reonora had no items onhand as all of her necessary materials went towards the free company workshop, but her clothes looked a little ragged and a few strands of white hair strung out of place. Joey dragged behind him a cart containing nothing but folded shimmering clothes and many sequins. Rosemary, who had to take care of customer service, had dark circles under her eyes.

“Have either of you heard from Teremy?” Reonora asked.

“I tried contacting him earlier but no answer.” said Joey.

“I hope he’s okay…” Rosemary looked down.

Reonora turned the door handle to her store.

The handle was open.

“Strange. I thought I had locked the door last night.” Reonora furrowed her brow.

Rosemary waved her hands. “Hopefully robbers didn’t come in!”

“Only one way to find out.”

The three entered the store. Thankfully everything seemed intact as usual. However, from the moment they entered, Reonora and Rosemary sensed a presence from downstairs from powerful, yet familiar energies. To Joey, who could only sense magic and therefore not this specific presence, heard soft, rhythmic breathing, also from downstairs. The trio headed downstairs and saw Teremy passed out on the couch. Beside him were all the items he had been requested to make, finished and gleaming from the highest quality possible.

[rebsrebsrebsrebs]

🌟 ❤ ☕ ☁ 👀 for the twins

When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why?

Val turns first to her mother. She benefits from physical comfort, hugs and shoulder pats, snuggles and forehead kisses. Luckily Mama believes that her babies are never too old to receive motherly loving and is always there for them. Since the kids are taller than her it’s super cute when Val curls up all tiny to snuggle in her lap. Val needs time to feel the extent of her emotions first, and then they can be processed with a little help later. There isn’t really any calming her down in the moment, but later on, her sadness or fear can be reasoned with. She will sometimes go to Lori if the matter at hand is something she feel like she can’t or shouldn’t discuss with their mother. Those things are few, but not nonexistent. 

Lori turns inwards and tries to deal with it himself. Even though his mother has never been anything but supportive of him, he doesn’t feel like he should burden her with his problems, especially when most of them are his fault. For most things he just adds the straw to the camel’s back, as it were. He carries his hurts until he breaks. When he does finally crack, he’ll go to Val first, and she’ll comfort him the way she likes to be comforted since it’s what she knows, and it works for him too. The physical comfort, the letting him get it all out. He will verbalize his worries in an unhealthy way - lots of self blame - and she’ll calmly refute him with kind words and reassurances.

What would your OC’s ideal lover be like? Appearance, personality, voice? Would their family approve or would it be a civil war?

Val idealizes someone who can live a calm life with her. She has a weakness for brown eyes but they aren’t a requirement. Her ideal spouse would support her in her dreams of running her own flower shop, want kids, can bake, and will do an even share of the chores. Being taller than her isn’t hard but she likes it anyway. Her heart is very open to loving any kind of person so long as they are kind, good-hearted, and not too high energy for her.

Lori doesn’t envision himself with a long term partner, but the kind of person that would be best for him is someone who can both keep up with him and slow him down. Thing is, he’s high strung and going hard all the time. Whoever wants him to love them will have to meet him where he’s at and then pull him into a slower pace. Someone he can be fully relaxed with, without having to put up the act. Someone who likes dogs too. Someone who isn’t afraid to kiss him in public.

Give us one (or more) of your OCs deep dark secrets! Why do they keep it hidden? Spill the tea!

Val actually let her depression get way worse than she let on before she asked for help. She likes that her family and others see her as bright and resilient, and doesn’t want to ruin that for them.

Lori has been in significant danger that he hasn’t told his family about. He doesn’t want to worry them with his fighting exploits since he usually recovers. Mama and Val only find out when he gets sent to the hospital for a particularly bad injury during a bar fight that he’d been getting in fights the whole time. All the other times he’d lied and say he got hurt at the gym.

What’s something your OC wishes they could forget? Why is this? Or, what is something that your OC has forgotten? (or do both!)

Both Val and Lori have bad exes they’d rather not remember.

Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

This turned into a whole minific from their mother’s perspective so have fun with my FEELINGS this is super not proofread so lollll

Varathiel Jeong will admit that she has had doubts about the way she chose to raise her children. But isn’t that what a good mother does? Everything she does should be in service of making them happy. She chose to bring them into the world, and she believed that, for making them bear that burden, she should give them as much as she can. It makes sense to her that she would doubt herself in the attempt to make her children as happy as possible.

When Valonriel announces her engagement, she is overjoyed. Daniela is a wonderful woman, and she already makes Val inexplicably happy. But she worries as well - Val had always dreamed of the white wedding. She did her best to assure her daughter that romantic love was not necessary for a happy life, and she would always reply with how much she wanted it anyway.

The poor girl got her heart broken so many times in her pursuit of love, and every time she came back for comfort, her mother was there, waiting with open arms.

The planning goes.. .well, all things considered. There are budgets to make and cakes to taste, disgruntled caterers and venues with strict no-refund policies. But the shimmer in Valonriel’s eyes when she daydreams of making Daniela her wife is worth it.

Varathiel worries often after the announcement that she will not give her daughter everything she needs to have the wedding of her dreams. She has no father to walk her down the aisle, nor to dance with her. It was not something she had considered when she was deciding to have children on her own. 

Unbeknownst to her, her wonderful, caring children had solved that problem before she could vocalize it to them.

She enters the front door of the house with an armful of groceries, and pauses in the doorway when she hears what sounds like an argument.

“Hey, I’m learning how to dance for you, can you at least go easy on me?”

Val giggles. “It’s my wedding, I get to be picky!”

In the living room of their home, where Varathiel had raised them, stand Val and Lori, hand in hand. Pictures of them as small children sit on the mantle behind them, contrasting the maturity of their faces now that they were grown. The sound of soft bossa nova plays from one of their phones set aside on the coffee table. The furniture is shoved aside to give them space to practice. Lori scoffs at his sister’s admonishing.

“Then you could pick someone else to be your first dance, you have your friends and stuff. All of them are probably better dancers than me.”

Val giggles “Oh, definitely. But none of them are you though.”

She watches them pause in their clumsy steps to look each other each other.

“What do you mean by that?” Lori’s eyebrows knit together above his characteristic pout. He got that from his mother, and she knew it well. Val squeezes her brother’s hands a little tighter.

“I always wanted you to be my first dance, Lori. Ever since I was little... And I’m not giving up my wedding dreams now.”

“.... Guess I don’t have a choice then.” But he smiles back at his sister anyway.

Once every few years comes a moment when Varathiel finds her heart impossibly full, thinking that she couldn’t possibly love her children more.

She is pleasantly wrong every time.

[thebarsondaily]

Yes, Noah, There is a Santa Claus

Written For: @untapdtreasure

Title: Yes, Noah, There is a Santa Claus Author: motherbearof03 Rating: Teen and up Summary: Noah asks for something special for Christmas and his mother has no idea what it is. A/N: 

“Mom?” 

“Yes, Noah?” Olivia asked absently. 

It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving and the SVU Captain was enjoying the last day of her four day weekend, grateful nothing had happened over the holiday that warranted her squad calling her. Dinner was in the oven, laundry had been finished, folded and put away, and she was trying to finish the book she started on Friday. It was the first long weekend they’d had in a long time with no interruptions.

“Those red mailboxes we saw in the store. Do the letters kids put in them actually get to Santa?”

She and Noah had braved the stores for some Black Friday shopping and she had to stop for a moment, taking her focus off the page in front of her and think about what he was asking.

“Mailboxes? Oh, in Macy’s you mean?”

He nodded. Her son had turned seven less than two weeks before and she wondered if he was trying to ask whether Santa was real or if he wanted to send a letter to the Jolly Old Elf.

“Why? Did you want to write one?”

He nodded again.

“Yeah, but I want to make sure it actually gets to him,” Noah explained and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 

He was too young to stop believing in the magic of Christmas. Fortunately, she had been able to get him just about everything he’d asked Santa for since he started writing letters. Last year and the year before he asked for a puppy and Santa had to reply explaining how their apartment and his mom’s work schedule didn’t really make for a good time for them to have a dog, but promised he could play with Frannie whenever he wanted; the promise made with Amanda’s blessing.

“Why don’t you write your letter and I’ll find out about the Macy’s mailboxes. Otherwise, I can get the address for you,” Olivia suggested.

“How can you get Santa’s address?” Noah’s blue eyes narrowed.

“I may be Captain now, but I’m still a detective, remember?” She winked at him.

“Oh, yeah! Can I have some paper?”

“May I?” His mother corrected and pointed toward the computer printer on the shelf. “You can use that.”

Noah got up and took several sheets of paper and settled at the coffee table with a pencil. Olivia returned to her book and his letter was forgotten until he asked for an envelope after dinner. She got him one, helped him fold the pages and put it on the refrigerator until the Macy’s mailbox was verified or she tracked down Santa’s address. He didn’t have school the next day and so she was running behind, having allowed herself the luxury of a couple extra minutes in bed. 

“Don’t forget my letter,” her son reminded her as she pulled on her winter coat by the door.

Olivia spun on her heel and  walked back to the kitchen reaching for the envelope. It was held in place by a magnet with a photo of a bird flying across an intersection with the words “Is it still jaywalking if you fly?” 

She paused, and for a moment was transported back to that day two years ago when her family not by blood but by choice had come to the apartment in the days after Noah’s kidnapping by his grandmother, Sheila Porter. Carisi, Amanda and Jesse had shown up first, with casseroles of homemade food from Sonny’s mother and cookies and cannoli from his favorite bakery. Fin was next, with a large box of Legos that the kids dove into while the adults opened a bottle of wine. The last knock at her door was the one she’d secretly most hoped for and when she opened it to see Rafael Barba standing there, her heart skipped a beat. 

Olivia always thought nothing was more attractive than him in one of his coordinated suit, tie and suspenders combinations but to see him on her threshold in dark jeans, a casual pullover shirt and wool coat, asking how she was with a look of concerned sincerity made her want to throw herself into his arms and feel them around her again like she had in her office. Time stood still as they spoke and drank each other in and he finally had to prompt her to let him enter the apartment. That was when Noah told him about the deer that crossed the road in front of the on the way home from New Hampshire and he made the silly dad joke about how in New York he’d be arrested for jaywalking that made Noah laugh. That was the first thing that the then ADA did that day that surprised her. The other was that he knelt down at the table and immediately began to play with the children. At one point he’d glanced up at her and caught her watching, her expression soft. Before she could allow herself to think about where Barba was or what he was doing now, her son broke the moment.

“Mom? Did you hear me?”

Pulling the envelope free, Olivia turned to face Noah.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, what did you say?”

“I said, it’s snowing!”

She glanced at the window and frowned. Just what she needed when she was already running late. Then she moved to kiss the top of Noah’s curls.

“Be good for Lucy today. I love you.”

“Love you too. And I’m always good.”

He gave her a lopsided smile that was so familiar to the one she used to get from the former ADA who left her standing outside the courthouse that her breath caught. Shaking her head to rid it of any more thoughts of the man, she tightened her belt and left the apartment. It wasn’t snowing, Olivia discovered when she got out of the building, but sleeting. Fine pellets of ice that stung against her face. Punishment for allowing herself to think about Barba, she thought wryly, and pulled her collar higher, falling in with the crowds on the sidewalk. She’d trained herself not to think about him; or at least to only think about him when she chose to and could control her emotions. But lately everywhere she turned there were reminders. When they were decorating for Carisi’s party to celebrate his move to the DA’s office, the bartender had been playing a black and white western. The outfit Noah chose to wear to Billie’s christening included suspenders. And now the jaywalking magnet.

Olivia was surprised when, after writing his letter to Santa, Noah announced he wanted to see him as well.

“I just want to make sure he got my letter and understood what I told him,” the boy said.

She tried to assure him that Santa got his letter and that of course he understood, but there was no dissuading the boy. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he’d been taking lessons in courtroom arguments from Rafael Barba. He parried back at every statement she presented to him, and was accepting none of it. He needed to talk to Santa in person. 

That was how Olivia found herself standing in line at Macy’s one evening after work in December. For some reason she thought the crowds would be smaller than on the weekend. She was wrong. She was reminded of the scene in “A Christmas Story” when Ralphie and his brother arrive to see Santa and are told the line starts “back there”, because the man in the red suit wasn’t even in sight when they took their place in the lane of candy cane striped poles, between which were strung ropes of sparkling tinsel. As they made their way slowly through the serpentine, Noah was content to take in the festive surroundings and try and figure which fairy tale each tree was decorated to represent. This freed his mother up to check her personal email, deleting numerous ads for holiday sales, cookie recipes and DIY decorating tips. She paused when she saw the one from Noah’s teacher.

“Noah, why did Ms. Tatum send me an email?”

He was standing on one foot, arms over his head, imitating the pirouette of one of the ballerinas on the Nutcracker tree. 

“Probably because I told her I was bored at school,” he replied nonchalantly, raising up on the toe of his high tops and attempting to spin around; the rubber sole on the thin carpeted walkway preventing him from being successful.

“Bored? Since when? I thought you liked school?”

Noah shrugged, and took a step forward as the line moved, reassumed his position and tried again and was again foiled by his footwear.

“Stupid sneakers. If I had my dance shoes on, I could do it,” he muttered.

“Don’t say stupid, honey, and answer my question,” Olivia told him. 

“I don’t know.” He shrugged again and she bit her lip to keep from telling him not to shrug. “It’s all easy. I get bored when Ms. Tatum has to stop and help someone else because I’ve already finished my work.”

“It’s her job to make sure everyone learns the lesson.”

“I know, so I just read or draw a picture or something. I’m not disruptive, Mom,” Noah said with a hint of disdain and slight eye roll and again she felt the ghost of a former ADA in the room.

“You’re next,” she said, deciding to see what the teacher had to say while he spoke to Santa.

Not surprisingly, the email echoed what Noah had said. His teacher asked Olivia to let her know when she had time to meet to discuss some options, because she didn’t want the boy to lose his passion for learning. The SVU Captain liked the young woman and was glad to see she had picked up on the issue and was bringing it to her attention. She replied with a few days and times and looked up to see if Noah had finished. He was still sitting on the lap of the man in the red suit and speaking intently, as if making sure he got his point across. Olivia walked up to the pair.

“Noah, there are other children who want to talk to Santa. I think your turn is up,” she said with a smile.

“It’s all right, officer,” Santa told her, spotting her badge. “Noah and I were just finishing up.”

“My mom is the Captain,” Noah informed him proudly. “But she’s still a detective.”

Santa, who sported his own whiskers, grinned from behind them and his eyes twinkled at her. They were blue, but reminded her a lot of a pair of green ones the way they lit up with amusement.

“Is she now? Well that’s an important job and I’m sure your mom works hard,” he told the boy. “You need to be an extra good boy for her.”

“He’s always good,” Olivia assured Santa, holding her hand out. “Come on, Noah, let’s go.”

“Noah, go get your treat from one of my elves. I want to ask your mom what she wants for Christmas.”

The boy hopped off his lap and went obediently a few yards away where he could choose from a pile of small wrapped packages that were being watched over by pointed eared elves wearing curled toed shoes.

“Noah was telling me he’s bored at school and that’s a terrible thing for a child at his age. He seems extremely bright,” the man said when the child was out of earshot.

Olivia nodded.

“He is. I’ve just gotten a letter from his teacher wanting to talk about it.”

“Santa has a lot of friends in education, as you can imagine, working with so many children. There’s a wonderful charter school run by a friend of mine.”

He reached into the pocket of his red trousers and pulled out a card.

“Maybe go visit it first without Noah and see what you think.”

The woman took it from his white gloved fingers with another nod.

“Thank you. I’ve been wondering if a charter school might be a good option for him.”

Olivia turned to leave.

“And Captain?”

She turned back.

“I hope you and your brother are able to mend fences for the holidays.”

Shocked and confused, Olivia simply nodded and walked to Noah as the next child approached Santa. Her brother? What had Noah told the man? When Simon died, she told Noah about it only because he had met his uncle. Of course, she hadn’t explained that the man overdosed, but simply that he had an accident. Maybe someday she would explain more. She was still working out her own guilt that her phone message had pushed the former addict to seek solace in drugs again and resulted in his death. Beside her, Noah was telling her about the coloring book and crayons he’d opened and asking if he could eat the candy cane that had been attached to the package. 

Later that night, once Noah was in bed, Olivia called Amanda Rollins. At work, the two women maintained their commanding officer/detective relationship, but outside, they had become fast friends and spoke often about everything non-SVU related, including parenting and their relationships. Although those conversations were mostly one-sided, with Amanda sometimes complaining, but often telling her about the sweet things that Sonny Carisi did. Olivia was never surprised; she knew the new ADA had a romantic streak a mile wide. Tonight, she filled her friend in on the visit with Santa.

“So you have no idea what he said or what he wants?” Amanda asked.

“Not a clue.”

“Didn’t you read the letter before you put it in the mailbox at the store?”

“No, dammit. I took it after he wrote it and then made the mistake of admitting I hadn’t dropped it off, so then we had to actually mail it,” she explained.

“Rookie mistake, Liv,” Amanda laughed. “Always read the letter.”

“I know. I usually do. But this year he wrote it himself without any help and sealed it up. Maybe he didn’t want me to see it.”

“Is he testing to see if Santa is real?”

“I don’t think so,” said Olivia. “Otherwise why would he insist on seeing him in the store? Who, by the way, is the only Santa, according to Noah, because he comes in the parade. He said all the others are just elves that dress up like Santa and report back to him.”

The two women laughed, then Olivia added,

“I just hope this isn’t something I can’t figure out or fulfill. And why would he say something about Simon? He only met him that one time.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s picking up on your unresolved feelings about Simon’s death,” Amanda suggested.

“Now you sound like Dr. Lindstrom.”

“You were the one who said I should try therapy,” her detective shot back. “Must be working.”

On her end, Olivia just smiled and shook her head. 

Noah appeared to be satisfied after his visit with Santa, and didn’t bring it up again as the days grew shorter and his mother tried to balance work and final holiday preparations, along with fitting in a meeting with his teacher. The conference went well, with both parent and teacher in agreement that the boy needed additional enrichment and stimulation and that a charter school might be a good option, validating the opinion of the Santa from Macy’s, who, Olivia thought had looked like a retired schoolteacher himself. Noah’s teacher provided two recommendations; one of which was the same as the school on the card that had been in the SVU Captain’s coat pocket since the night at the department store.

Olivia stood in the office of the school recommended by both Noah’s teacher and Santa, waiting for the principal. It didn’t look much different than his current school but there was a different vibe. As she walked through the hallway, she’d heard music coming from one classroom, and a glimpse through the window in the door of another saw children at various stations around the room. Even the ones she passed where students were seated and listening to the teacher, they all had engaged expressions on their faces. None of them looked bored or uninterested in the lesson. Instinctively, Olivia felt like this might be a better fit for Noah.

“Ms. Benson?”

Olivia turned in the direction of the voice to see a familiar figure but one she hadn’t seen in several years.

“Mrs. Barba?”

“Lieutenant Benson!”

The older woman came closer and embraced her, then stepped back and held onto her arms, looking Olivia over. 

“You’re looking well, Lieutenant,” Lucia said.

“It’s Captain now, actually. And so are you, Mrs. Barba.”

“Captain? That’s quite a feather in your cap, isn’t it?” Then she waved her hand at the return compliment. “Ah, you’re kind for saying so. But years are catching up with me.”

Olivia couldn’t have disagreed more. Other than a few more lines around her kind brown eyes, Lucia Barba didn’t look much different than she did the first time they’d met in the courthouse and the woman had told her she drove Rafael “a little crazy”. 

“So what can I do for you, Captain? I hope you’re not here on police business?”

“Please, call me Olivia. And no, I’m here to look at possibly sending my son, Noah, to school here.”

“He’s in school? He can’t be old enough to be in school!” Lucia exclaimed. “I remember when Rafi told me you adopted him.”

“He’s seven years old and in second grade,” Olivia confirmed with a smile. “But he’s complaining of being bored at school, so his teacher suggested I look into a charter school and this one was recommended by both her and a friend of yours.”

The older woman linked her arm through Olivia’s and led her into the hallway. 

“Let me give you a tour. Who was this friend of mine?” she asked.

Olivia laughed.

“I don’t actually know his name. He’s playing Santa at Macy’s right now. Blue eyes, real white beard. He gave me your card.”

Lucia shook her head.

“I can’t think of who that might be off the top of my head, but I give my cards to a lot of people.”

Olivia nodded. She did the same thing.

Lucia gave Olivia the full tour of the school, just as she did with every prospective parent and the captain couldn’t deny it seemed like a better fit for Noah. She was ready to ask if she could bring the boy for a visit as they returned to the main office when the words stuck in her throat. Bent over a desk was a man wearing jeans, a white shirt with the sleeves turned back to his elbows and a vest. Olivia knew immediately who it was. She had looked at the stripes on the back of that vest so many times, admiring the broad shoulders beneath it and wondering if they were maroon and dark brown or maroon and charcoal gray. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as her eyes lingered over his form.

“Rafi! What are you doing here?” exclaimed Lucia. 

The man straightened and spun gracefully on his heel, speaking as his did.

“Five days before Christmas and your Civics teacher breaks his ankle trying out snowshoes. On carpet. So I’m here to sub. Didn’t anyone……” 

Rafael Barba’s voice trailed off when he saw the woman standing beside his mother. He recovered, although his voice cracked slightly on the last word.

“Tell you?”

“Yes, yes, that’s right. I’d forgotten you were coming in today.”

Lucia Barba looked between her son and his former coworker; the woman he hadn’t seen in 683 days, if the small number he wrote on his desk blotter calendar was to be believed. For the longest time she didn’t realize what those little consecutive numbers were that appeared every day. Then in February, when he made an off handed comment about how long it had been since he left the District Attorney’s office, his mother put the two things together.

Barba couldn’t take his eyes off of Olivia.

Over her arm she held the same winter coat he’d seen her in more times than he could remember and she wore her usual work attire: black pants and blazer, although beneath the blazer she had on a soft looking green sweater. In the v neck a pendant lay against her skin he hadn’t seen before and he wondered fleetingly if someone gave it to her or she bought it for herself. The badge at her waist caught his eye. It was different.

“Captain Benson was just getting the tour,” Lucia told him with a smile, since neither one of them seemed to be able to speak. “She’s considering sending her son here.”

Captain? She finally did it, he thought, meeting her eyes. Then he smiled before wetting his lips and finding his voice again.

“Congratulations, Liv.”

He got no return smile. Her brown eyes were burning with controlled anger although it wasn’t reflected anywhere on her face. Olivia’s gaze traveled from his shoes up over the jeans she had rarely seen him wear in the years they worked together, the familiar vest and shirtsleeves, skimming over the bare forearms she’d looked at so many times, to the beard and mustache he now sported and more casual hairstyle, all of which held more gray than she expected, but was surprised to find it suited him.

“Nice to see you’re still getting some use out of your suits, Barba.”

Then she looked at the woman beside her, her voice softening.

“Thank you very much for the tour, Lucia. I’ll be in touch about bringing Noah to visit,“ Olivia said. 

She turned and left the room, leaving the two Barbas looking at each other. Olivia’s heels echoed as she strode quickly toward the exit, the sound matching the pounding of her heart. Pushing the door open, she stepped out into the cold air and paused, taking gulping breaths. Back in the school office, Lucia looked her son, who had taken a step backward at Olivia’s sharp words and was leaning limply against the desk he’d been bent over minutes before. Olivia Benson was the last person he expected to see at the school at which he occasionally taught and where he had served on the board of directors for the last year and helped with funding efforts.

“I’m guessing that means she didn’t know you were still in the city?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, we haven’t spoken –”

“In 683 days. Yes, I finally figured out what you were keeping track of on your desk calendar. So are you really going to let her walk away?”

He said nothing. Lucia folded her arms across her chest and fixed her son with a look.

“Rafael Barba, do you think I don’t know how you feel about Olivia – have felt about her for years? I know you did what you needed to do; quitting the DA’s office, but you didn’t have to leave her behind too.”

Then she reached out and took the papers he’d been holding.

“Go. She can’t have gotten very far. I’ll take the class.”

Rafael found his voice for the second time and kissed his mother on the cheek.

“You’re right. Thank you.”

“I know. And you’re welcome.”

He grabbed his coat from the nearby coat rack and sprinted down the hall toward the same exit Olivia had gone out, and burst through the doors, coming to an abrupt halt when he didn’t see her there. Barba mentally kicked himself. Had he really expected her to be standing on the other side of the doors, waiting for him? But part of him had. His gaze swept the small fenced area outside the school where the children played in good weather and his heart stuttered when he saw a familiar figure on a bench. Olivia was hunched over her arms crossed in front of her, still holding her coat. He saw her shoulders move; from either cold or because she was crying he couldn’t tell. Before he could think twice, Rafael was down the stairs and across the playground. He didn’t speak until he was standing in front of her.

“Liv.”

If she heard him, Olivia gave no indication, so he crouched down in front of her, like he would one of the children.

“Liv,” he said again, reaching out to gently touch her arm.

She pulled away and raised her head.

“You’ve been here the whole time?” she asked hoarsely, her voice thick with unshed tears.

He nodded guiltily.

“Almost two years,” she said fiercely. “Almost two fucking years, Rafa! I thought you had dropped off the face of the earth and you were here all along?”

Her use of the nickname that only she used brought a lump to his own throat.

“Mostly, anyway. I went away for a little while,” Rafael replied. He shrugged and spoke again. “But this is my home. I couldn’t leave it.”

“You left me.”

The three words were said so quietly he almost missed them. But he didn’t miss her violent shiver.

“Liv, you must be freezing. Put your coat on.”

She let him tug it from her grasp and stand up to hold it out for her to slip her arms into. It bunched up behind her on the bench and she stood to button and belt it. Face to face for the first time since that fateful February day, Rafael reached out and took her hands in his. She didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry.”

Before she could reply her phone rang. Removing one hand from his grasp, she took it out and answered.

“Benson. Yes, I’m done. I’ll be right there. Thanks, Fin.”

Pocketing the device, she met his eyes. They weren’t as angry as earlier, but were still serious.

“Work,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. Trying to get things wrapped up before the holidays.”

She didn’t offer him any details and he didn’t ask. That wasn’t his life anymore.

“We need to talk,” he said, not wanting to let her leave, but knowing he had to.

Olivia nodded. She had more than a few things she wanted to say to the former ADA. She thought for a moment and then said,

“Carisi is taking the kids Christmas shopping tonight, so Noah won’t be around if you want to stop over.”

She didn’t want the boy to see him again until the two of them had ironed out their differences. His questions about his Uncle Rafa had dwindled to once a month or so, when something reminded him of the man. At first, he asked at least once a week where he had gone and when he was coming back.

“What time?” Rafael tried not to sound too eager. But if she had said 2 a.m. at the top of the Empire State Building he’d have agreed.

“He’s picking Noah up around 5:00. I might not be home by then. Is six okay?”

“I’ll be there.” 

She didn’t say, so he presumed they were in the same apartment.

Olivia looked down where he was still holding her other hand and then offered him a small smile.

“I’ll see you later, then.”

He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and released her.

“Later.”

It was 5:45 when Olivia rushed through her apartment door. She had hoped to leave the precinct by at least 5:15 but it was pushing half past by the time she finally closed her office door and wished Fin and Kat Merry Christmas. Amanda had already gone with Carisi when he showed up and went with him to her place to get her girls before picking up Noah. She was going to dinner with him and the kids before returning home to wrap presents while he took them to choose gifts for their respective mothers. Amanda told her he had volunteered and she wasn’t going to say no to any time alone before Christmas.

Olivia had had a hard time concentrating after returning to work. Rafael Barba was the last person she expected to encounter at a prospective school for Noah, and a chance encounter wasn’t the way she had envisioned finally seeing him again. She’d hoped for some advance notice. Like Carisi telling her Barba had returned to the DA’s office, or getting a phone call or an email. Something to give her a chance to emotionally prepare herself. She shrugged out of her blazer, unzipped and kicked off her boots, and shimmied out of her work pants. She liked the sweater she’d put on that morning, so she left that on and pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans. A quick tooth brushing and freshening of makeup and Olivia was pulling a brush through her hair when she heard a knock at the door. She pressed a hand to her stomach to quell the sudden flight of butterflies and took a breath before walking down the hall.

Rafael was feeling the same nerves on the other side of her door. He’d stood there so many times before, but this was different. All those other times he was welcome; he’d been there as a colleague and then as a friend. Now he was there to see if he had burned all the bridges between them. The door swung open and for a moment they took each other in, just as they had after Noah’s rescue from Sheila. His coat was open, revealing he still wore the clothes she’d seen him in earlier, less the tie. Olivia spoke first, stepping back to let him in.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He walked past her to the kitchen bar where he put the takeout bag he carried.

“I brought dinner.”

Olivia smiled as she closed the door. That was the Rafael she remembered. Thinking with his stomach. She joined him to inspect the containers he was unpacking. He remembered all her favorites from the Cuban place he’d introduced her to years before. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before moving to get plates and utensils. It felt like old times. Only it wasn’t. Before, they would have settled on the couch, each in their own corner, sharing bites from the other’s plate as they ate and talked. Now, Olivia sat down on one of the tall stools and Rafael perched stiffly on another. He popped a plantain chip in his mouth but it felt like he was chewing cardboard. She picked at the rice and beans on her plate with her fork.

“Liv.”

“Rafa.”

They spoke simultaneously. Then she continued after he inclined his head for her to go first.

“Why?”

He chuckled.

“That’s a broad question. But I owe you a few answers.”

As he talked, their familiarity returned, along with their appetites. Before long, they had moved to the couch. Rafael explained that when he was found not guilty of the charges brought against him by Jack McCoy, he felt like he had been given a second chance. That day outside the courthouse when he told her she’d changed him, he was trying to tell her that. So when he said he needed to move on, he meant from law, not her.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Olivia asked.

“I thought you knew,” he admitted. “But then you didn’t say anything, so I thought –” 

Rafael paused, putting his food on the coffee table while he chose his words carefully.

“I thought I had let you down.”

“Let me down? Why? Because you needed a breather from a career that was sucking the joy from your life?”

Olivia put her own plate down grasped his forearm with both hands at the quizzical look on his face.

“Yes, I saw it. How could I not? I saw what those last few months – those cases – were doing to you. I could see it in your eyes, your body language. You were carrying a huge weight on you. You weren’t happy.”

He closed his eyes then, for a moment, and reopened them to meet hers.

“I was happy when I was with you. But because you didn’t try and stop me from leaving, I thought if you couldn’t have me as an ADA, you didn’t want me,” Rafael said softly. 

“Stop you? You were the one who walked away from me, remember? As for wanting you, I’ve always wanted you, Rafael. When you said you were quitting the DA’s office I thought we could finally admit our feelings for each other, because we wouldn’t be working together. Because we wouldn’t have to worry about a conflict of interest. What did you think I wanted you to say when I said ‘And?’ I wanted you to tell me how you felt!”

Olivia had been leaning closer to him as she spoke and almost shouted the last two sentences, her brown eyes flashing with emotion.

Rafael quickly moved the arm she didn’t have hold of, put his hand at the back of her neck did what he’d wanted to do for years: kissed her. She was surprised at first, her eyes opening wide, but then they slid closed and she gave herself up to the sensation of his lips against hers for the first time. They were warm and firm and his mustache tickled just enough to make her shiver with delight. He ended the kiss and began to pull away but Olivia moved one of her hands to cup his jaw and initiated a second one. Rafael wanted to put his arms around her but they were seated awkwardly on the couch. He began to shift so he could pull her against him when she suddenly pulled away. 

“What’s wrong?”

Before the words were out, he heard the apartment door open and Noah call,

“Mom, we’re home!”

Olivia sprang to her feet, hoping her lips didn’t look as thoroughly kissed as they felt. Rafael stood as well, discreetly adjusting his jeans. A few more minutes and he’d have needed to stay seated. Then he reached out and gently brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. That and the heated look in his eyes confirmed her suspicions and never had she been less happy to see her son, she thought, smiling at the man beside her before stepping toward the hallway to greet Noah and her former detective. The boy came running into the main room, the tall ADA following, carrying a shopping bag containing wrapped packages. Noah skidded to a halt when he saw Rafael and his eyes lit up.

“Uncle Rafa!” he cried and flung himself at the man, throwing his arms around his waist for an exuberant hug. Then he turned around and spoke to the other man who was looking between Olivia and Rafael with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Uncle Sonny, Santa was right! He told me he was sure I’d get what I wanted for Christmas!”

Then he looked at his mother with a huge smile on his face.

“We went to see Santa again because Jesse didn’t see the real Santa and he told me he was sure I was going to get what I wanted for Christmas as long as I was good. But I thought I’d have to wait until Christmas or maybe after.”

“I’m just gonna’ see myself out,” said Carisi, putting the bag on a nearby chair. “Good to see you, counselor.”

Rafael lifted his chin and smiled at the other man.

“Thanks, but I think I’m the one who should be calling you counselor now.”

“You’ll always be counselor to me, Rafael,” he replied. “See ya’ later, Liv.”

“Bye, Carisi. Thanks again.”

Once the apartment door closed, Olivia turned to Noah, who had removed his arms from around Rafael’s waist but was still gazing at the man with a mixture of happiness and awe.

“Noah, what do you mean you got what you wanted for Christmas? Christmas is still a few days away,” she said.

“I told Santa I wanted to see Uncle Rafa again. I missed him and I know you did too,” the boy explained. “Your face got sad when you talked about him.”

Then he addressed Rafael.

“Are you back now? Where have you been? Will we get to see you more?”

As she listened to her son talk, something that had puzzled her finally made sense. If he told Santa in the store that he wanted to see his Uncle again, the man would have naturally assumed he was talking about her brother. Olivia glanced at Rafael who looked slightly panicked about answering Noah’s questions. She rescued him momentarily by sending the boy to put on his pajamas.

“He won’t take too long,” she said. “Do you want to answer him or should I and you can jump in where you want?”

She picked up their plates and carried them to the kitchen. Rafael followed her. After a quick glance down the hall to make sure Noah wasn’t returning yet, he put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Olivia’s eyes fluttered closed at the feel of his strong embrace and slid her own hands around his back.

“As long as you tell him he’s going to be seeing me a lot more, I don’t care what else you tell him,” Rafael said softly in her ear.

Then he pressed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss and she opened her eyes to gaze into his green ones.

“How about if I just tell him that there really is a Santa Claus?”